@#@#@# Taylor's POV @#@#@#
Armor compromised.
The words hung in empty air as a diagram showed just how fucked my ribs were, complete with a stylistic drawing of my armor overlayed to highlight the bullet holes. None of my bones were broken, but there were some serious fractures around the more direct hits. A PDF medic rushed over to me, ushered by Amos, to examine the damage. The medic, a kid who probably hadn't hit twenty, fumbled around my breastplate to find some hidden latch, and failing miserably. With a thought, I willed the armor to separate, and Jacques pulled it aside.
“Throne on Terra!” the young man shouted, doing a very poor job of maintaining his composure. Were I one of his men, I would have started panicking, but I probably had a better idea of what was wrong than he did. Immediately, he wiped at the blood seeping from the five holes in my chest, and looked stunned when the rag came back black, rather than the bright crimson he must have been expecting. Honestly, we were both equally surprised.
“Either patch me up, or get out of my way,” I said, pulling myself into a sitting position. Black blood was a phenomenon I'd noticed back during the war way back when; if I spend too much time wearing the Deceiver's armor, so I wasn't really scared anymore. Jacques helped me to my feet as Amos sprayed a burst of lasun fire around the corner, though whether he was trying to discourage the traitors from assaulting us or hoping to kill one of them, I had no idea. With a flick of my mind, my armor enclosed me once more, minus the five dings in the front. I popped out one of the autocannon slugs with my fingers, and held it out so the medic could get a better look. “I'd say I fared better than our driver, wouldn't you?”
“You're insane,” he said, looking at the flattened slug, and the dark blood that coated it. I turned my head to the others and repeated his words in English, and for a brief moment, the sound of laughter rang over the din of gunfire. “Why are you lot laughing? Can't you see we're fighting heretical Space Marines?”
“I assure you this is merely how they deal with stressful situations,” Cain said, trying to save face with the PDF. The battle, as much as it could be called that, had been going on for about thirty minutes when we'd stumbled upon it, but something was jamming outward vox signals. The troopers could still communicate with each other over short-range frequencies, but anything that would carry from this general area would scramble, and it worked both ways; they hadn't received a bit of information the entire time.
“First rank, fire! Second rank, fire!” a lieutenant shouted at a mass of PDF troopers, which looked to be three or four squads combined into one massed unit. The men responded by an ordered wave of lasfire, each rank shooting as their platoon commander gave the order. I imagine one of the Marines saw him, and with most officers being bait for incoming fire, it didn't take long for bolter rounds to turn him into chunky paste. From my position, I couldn't tell if they'd killed any of the enemy, who were Word Bearers, if my memory served.
“I can't get anyone on my comm-bead,” Cain said, cursing his luck. Every vehicle we could reach was wrecked, and we would be cut down if we tried to run the way we came.
“Neither can I,” Amberley replied, looking more than a little angry at the prospect. “You, trooper! What are our chances if we try to go around them?”
“Not good, ma'am,” a young recruit answered, possibly the last of his squad, though I wouldn't put it past the Marines for him to be the last of his platoon or even company. For the most part, he seemed to be taking our rather dire situation in stride. “Whole complex was full of orks last anyone checked; probably worse off now, too.”
“We can't retreat, or reroute, so our only option is forward,” I mused, pondering our options. Charging Space Marines, even with numbers on our side, wasn't a very bright idea, and left little chance for any of us to survive if we charged directly into oncoming fire. Technically speaking, Cain had seniority, and therefore command fell to him with the death of every other officer, but that didn't mean my role as an adviser was a fancy term for meat-shield. “We've got superior numbers, one combat-ready psyker, a giant bastard with a missile launcher, and whole helluva lot of lasguns.”
“So now you're planning, Taylor?” Amberley asked me, and for a moment I considered asking her how much tech heresy I could get away with before she was obligated to kill me, but I bit my tongue and nodded in a way that looked friendly.
@#@#@#@#@#@#
It was a glorious day to serve Chaos, and as Brother Eridar fired at te entrenched PDF soldiers, his hearts filled with joy that could only come from service. His brothers, indeed his entire Host, were faring better than many would have expected with the Inquisition maintaining such a presence, but there were only eight loyalist Marines on the planet. Cultists, enlightened men and women who would give their souls for the cause, chanted ceaselessly over the Word Bearers' extensive vox network as they jammed the loyalists' own. Scripture from the Book of Lorgar filled Eridar's ears as his heavy bolter shredded a pesky lieutenant, and for a brief moment, he wondered why the weaklings were hiding in the rubble instead of fighting back.
Drop your weapons and your deaths will be painless, a voice whispered into his mind. Eridar was accustomed to the voices of daemons as he prayed, even the voice of his Primarch, but this was different, mortal. I can only do this once because there are two inquisitors with guns to my head, so please, for everone's sake, surrender!
“We will do no such thing!” he shouted back, broadcasting over their short-range channels to ensure the witch heard him.
So be it.
The Havocs ceased fire for a moment, unsure of what to make of the words left hanging in their minds. The troopers were hiding deeper than before, and it would only be a waste of ammunition to keep firing, so they waited for them to make a move. All was quiet for those moments, and Eridar counted off the minutes as they passed. There was movement to the right, a flicker of fire as a missile was fired directly beneath their feet, at the ork vehicles they perched on. As thw warhead detonated, a single lasbolt struck the man next to him, a sniper's shot that punched a hole through a lens in his helmet.
Then, shouted by dozens of desperate men, came a warcry that powerful enough to quake the rockcrete around them.
“For the Emperor!”
@#@#@# Cain's POV @#@#@#
“Did it work?” I asked, hoping for once it would be that simple, but Chaos being Chaos, simple is never an option. The Burned Man shook his head and sighed, checking his ammunition reserves as Dirge readied a krak missile to undermine the heretic's platform. I knew better than to hope, but it still unnerved me. I couldn't run without being killed in any number of horrible ways, and even if I made it away, it would only be a matter of time until we were overrun elsewhere. “I've given your plan some thought.”
“Really?” he asked me as he locked a large knife in place just under his weapon's muzzle. Even with his face hidden, I swore I saw him smiling. “Made your decision?”
“See for yourself,” I shot back, grinning in a show of bravado I imagine even he knew was false. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I took a deep breath. “Fix bayonets!” The effect was immediate, with the sound of our seventy-odd troopers sliding their issued blades into place; some of them sported looks of bleak determination, while others looked resigned to their fates. The Burned Man's mercenaries seemed eager enough to charge, with their power weapons crackling in anticipation.
Lyra and Dirge moved into position, their outlandish hair muted with rockcrete dust, mud, and things I'd rather not think about. Lyra, as I'd learned, was an experienced sniper, and commandeered a long-las from somewhere, and worked with Dirge to formulate an effective opening to our suicide run. He would fire at their feet, then immediately as the missile hit, she would take out the traitor with the autocannon.
On the Burned Man's signal, they fired. In the instant after, I gave the command to charge. The troops opened up with their lasguns on full-auto, filling the air with the brilliant crackling of lasfire as we sprinted towards the stunned Marines. Though I did not trust Amos and his mercenary friends, even they joined the men in their warcry.
“For the Emperor!”