//------------------------------// // Hospital Blues // Story: Strange Bedfellows // by BRBrony9 //------------------------------// Corporal Breeze blinked as plaster rained down on him. An enemy gun, something heavy and ballistic, was punching a string of holes through the wall of the hospital. That was what it sounded like; and that was good, because it meant he could hear again. He remembered the rocket coming in. He had seen it, the actual projectile, for what must have been a fraction of a second but seemed like minutes, long enough to see every groove and curve on its near-conical surface, or so it had felt to him. He had thought it would be the last thing he would ever see, yet there was the ceiling of the hospital room above him. He tried to sit up, and found that he was able to do so. He looked down at himself; there were no evident wounds on his body, other than a few scratches and contusions. His rifle lay beside him, covered in dust and debris. He picked it up and cleaned it off as best he could. it seemed unharmed, just like he was. He stood and staggered through into the room where the rocket had detonated, and it became immediately apparent that the rest of the squad in that room had not fared so well. There was blood, on the floor, on the walls and even on the ceiling. Two ponies who had been closest to the explosion had become little more than grisly smears. One upper torso was intact, though the head was missing. The other pony's body was mostly still in one piece, but almost all of his skin and coat had been torn away, meaning he no longer resembled a pony at all but more a butcher's counter in some backstreet Griffon market. The two other ponies who had been firing from the window and had dived for cover were also dead, though they had been spared the worst of the disfigurement and dismemberment that had befallen their fellows, killed instead by the concussion and the blast that liquified their internal organs. Breeze was lucky to have escaped without serious injury, shielded somewhat by the door frame. He felt bile rising in his throat. He had seen death since the invasion began, but never quite so violent and bloody. The missile strike had shown the true fragility of the pony body. Breeze managed not to vomit, and returned to the other room. The rest of his unit were still firing, working the actions of their rifles and trying to hit enemy infantry across the street. Breeze rejoined them slumping against the wall and breathing heavily. 'Are you ok, Corporal?' one pony asked. 'What the hell just happened?' 'Some kind of artillery...' Breeze replied. 'Hit the other room, it's...it's gone. I'm alright.' 'Artillery? Shit...they have portable artillery?' the pony muttered. The missile had come from the accommodation building opposite; it was clearly being carried by an enemy soldier, and the ponies had nothing that was portable that could provide such heavy firepower, save for a unicorn's horn. Magic was, indeed, being used in an attempt to defend their position, with shields and offensive blasts being employed by the unicorns in the hospital. That just added to the cacophony that now filled Breeze's ears; at least his hearing was intact, and his eardrums had not burst from the overpressure. Indeed, above the sound of guns, he could hear something else, a drone, a whine, getting louder and louder. He frowned. Was this a Chaos vehicle of some kind? Perhaps their tanks had broken through from the main city gate- but surely not so soon? No, it sounded familiar...not a ground vehicle, but...an airship! Breeze peered up from the window, without exposing himself to enemy fire. He couldn't see anything, but the drone was getting louder still, and he knew he recognised it. It was definitely an Equestrian airship, finally some reinforcement for the hospital as they faced down the enemy charge. Breeze had always loved the Air Corps, but felt that the Royal Guard was a better choice for him since he was not a Pegasus. While there were plenty of unicorn and earth pony members of airship crews, Breeze felt that he wanted to be able to be in charge of his own destiny, and to be able to potentially save himself from any situation. Being trapped on a burning or crashing airship with no wings was the potential vision which had made him choose the more ground-based life of a Guardspony instead. There was, at least in theory, less of a chance of being killed in such a horrific way if you were merely guarding Canterlot. That was different now, of course. Every branch of the military was now exposed to the same risks, with the possible exception of the Navy who had spent most of the invasion at sea or enjoying parties and Zebra whores while at port across the ocean. For the rest of them, death was now a constant companion, evidenced again by the sharp crack of bullets once again punching through the hospital wall all around them. Breeze and the others crouched down. The enemy were trying to push forward, to break the pony and Imperial line. They were, perhaps, being spurred on by the impending arrival of the airship, which could re-establish friendly air superiority in the immediate vicinity and render the Chaos forces vulnerable to attack from above. 'They're moving up!' somepony shouted. Heavy gunfire from lower floors indicated that the defenders were trying to stop short any push by the enemy, but a quick glance out of the window showed Breeze that they were not being deterred. Several dozen men were charging across the road, heedless of the gunfire from the defensive line. The tank, still parked at the crossroads, backed up slightly to allow its starboard heavy bolter sponson a clear firing arc, and it opened up, heavy shells cutting down several of the hostile infantry and leaving them in pools of blood in the middle of the street. But they were persistent, and many of the enemy reached the main hospital block, flinging themselves into cover against its walls and tossing grenades in through the ground floor windows. Others unloaded their magazines or lasgun power packs in through the openings, killing some of the human defenders, who retaliated with their own grenades. But the explosives were more effective and more devastating inside the building, their blast contained and magnified by the confines of each small room. More men died as a result, and others backed away, clearing the rooms and firing from the internal doorways that connected each patient room to the corridor. A group of Chaos troops breached the main door and rushed into the lobby, only to be cut to ribbons by a stubber set up at the top of the central staircase. The lobby was heavily defended by Imperial infantry backed up by ponies who lined the upper mezzanine of the chamber, firing down at the doorway with their rifles. The few Chaos survivors scrambled back out to the relative safety of the street, but the main doorway was not the only way into the building. More troops were clambering through the ground-floor windows where they had cleared out the rooms or forced the defenders to retreat to the hallway. Overhead, out of sight from Corporal Breeze, the airship opened fire with a rippling crack of heavy guns, followed by the whoosh and roar of shells passing overhead, then finally a string of explosions as they detonated among the advancing Chaos reinforcements coming from the park to aid their brethren in breaking through the line. Breeze could see none of that, only hear it. What he could also hear was gunfire downstairs. Even from the fourth floor, it was audible, and it meant that the enemy were inside the main hospital building- and that was most decidedly not good. Breeze risked another peek outside. More enemy were pushing up, buoyed by the success of their fellows in gaining entry to the main block. The street was not yet safe to cross, with Imperial and pony forces firing down from the higher levels of the hospital structure, but the first floor was now open. Those who could make it through the gauntlet of fire could flatten themselves against the wall of the structure and then make their way inside to join their comrades. The stubber at the staircase was holding the enemy at bay, but more Chaos soldiers were moving in from the flanks, coming out of the first floor corridors from the rooms they had cleared. The Imperial forces pushed back to the corridor had retreated to the lobby to reinforce the defences there and prevent the enemy gaining access to the higher floors. But there was more than one staircase in the building; it was only a matter of time until the enemy found another, and if they were able to break through the troops defending it, they could roam freely into the higher floors. Breeze couldn't worry about that right now. He had to leave those thoughts to the ponies and men on the lower floors, and focus on stopping any more enemies crossing the street to join them. He raised his rifle, drew a bead on a target, and fired. A man went down, writhing in the street. Others fired back, both at him and at other windows, other floors. Breeze saw another man appear in a window opposite, his weapon raised. Instinctively he ducked back, just in time, as a bright las-bolt flashed in just about where his head had been. Another of his ponies returned fire and killed the man, who slumped over the windowsill. The airship overhead continued to fire, the echoing booms of its cannons reverberating in Breeze's head as every volley raced out in an arc. Explosions rippled through the open plazas and waste ground where the enemy reinforcements were still advancing from the park. It was a tough slog, now that the defenders were aware of their direction of travel. Shells were bursting among the infantry, tearing bodies apart and killing many. Those that did make it through the barrage were then exposed to fire from the tank protecting the crossroads, which had repositioned to bring all of its guns to bear now that it became apparent that no enemy tanks and very few heavy weapons had been landed in the park that could threaten it. Two heavy bolters, a lascannon and a battle cannon proved very effective at locking down the junction, but the enemy were still able to advance through the back alleys and the other buildings. Heavy forces were also pushing at the next junction along, defended by two companies of Imperial Guard who were holding firm. Farther along the line, however, the situation was different. At the main gate, The enemy pressure had finally told. The Leman Russ tanks were gone, and the walltop was a shattered mess littered with dead bodies and wounded ponies trying to crawl to safety. Enemy infantry had pushed through the hole in the wall and managed to open the gate from the inside, at the cost of horrendous casualties. The assault force was all but wiped out, but they had opened the way for the rest of the advancing troops. Tanks rolled in through the gate, personnel carriers following behind and disgorging their passengers. Only a limited number of vehicles remained uphill of the crater and blocked road caused by the orbital strike, but there were still plenty of them. They rolled freely into the city, unmolested by the broken wall defences. The survivors among the defenders were left without heavy weapons and without tank support. Friendly aircraft made attack runs, destroying several vehicles, but the enemy vehicles were through and inside the city. Corporal Breeze aimed his rifle once more. The enemy were advancing across the street again in ever-growing numbers. They were trying to flood the main hospital block with men in order to outnumber the defenders and try to break through the line toward the palace. They had to hold them back, but even with air support, that would not be a simple matter. The enemy clearly outnumbered them, and for whatever reason, they seemed to have picked this particular junction to be the focus of their main thrust from the park. Perhaps they believed its defences to be weaker than the surrounding areas; Breeze did not know if that was true or not, as he had not seen the other positions. Perhaps it was simply the closest to the enemy landing ground, or seemed to offer the safest approach. The crump of grenade explosions could be heard ringing throughout the building. There was no word from down below on whether they should relocate, or if assistance was needed on the lower floors. The fog of war had descended again, despite the human vox operators being attached to each pony platoon. They could only relay what was being put out over the airwaves. The silence could mean two things; either there was nothing to be overly concerned about, or that the officers and vox-men on the first floor were either dead or too heavily engaged to send any messages at all. Judging by the sheer number of enemies now rushing across the road, the latter seemed all too real a possibility. Breeze fired and fired until his magazine was empty, then reloaded and fired some more. Heavy fire from the hospital brought down many of the humans, and the tank added its own tally to the death toll, at least for a while. Though Breeze did not see its destruction he did hear it. Chaos infantry managed to bring up a pair of missile launchers and deploy them in the windows of the radiography building. Firing almost in unison, the two projectiles struck the turret and hull of the now-exposed tank, knocking it out of action and killing several of its crew. The survivors tried to flee, opening hatches and crawling or stumbling away toward the main hospital block, but they were gunned down before they could make it across the street, in a sick reversal of fortune from moments earlier when they had been inflicting the same merciless end to the enemy infantry trying the same thing. Finally, the orders came through; the enemy were in the building, which Breeze and his troops already knew. They and the rest of the platoon were to move down to the rear of the third floor and help defend the emergency fire stairs, used to evacuate patients and staff in the event of a blaze in the building. Breeze directed his ponies, and they joined the survivors of the other squads and made their way to the rear of the building. Breeze was glad to be out of the firing line, at least for a moment, rather than being in constant danger of enemy troops in the building opposite. But within a minute, they would be back in the thick of the action. They never made it to the emergency stairwell, because the enemy had already broken through. There were panicked shouts on the vox from the second floor, then the third, then the fourth. The enemy was charging forward, using their momentum to carry themselves onward and upward, heedless of casualties. Their only objective was to capture the building, however many losses they might take in the process, and charging up a stairwell heavily covered by enemy guns was bound to inflict huge numbers of casualties. However, there were enough Chaos troops that they were able to overwhelm the defenders, clambering over the bodies of their own dead to reach the Imperial and Equestrian troops as they frantically tried to reload. Each man and each pony in turn went down, either to gunfire or to the simple press of bodies, stabbing and kicking and mauling with frightening ferocity and vigour. At each level, some of the Chaos troops pushed onward up the stairs, while others poured out across the floor to sweep and clear. The fourth floor was no different, and with howls of blood lust, men began to spread out, through the halls and corridors, fighting with whoever they found. Some rooms had no defenders, while others were strongpoints, heavily held, especially the main central ward room, formerly used to house cardiac patients. The room was long, though not particularly wide, with wood partitions every few feet dividing up the beds. Bullets and las-fire now ripped through them as men tried to take cover. Breeze heard gunfire up ahead, and even without the vox calls, he knew they were in trouble. The enemy were on them, and this time it was up close and personal. He gripped his rifle tightly. The platoon leader shouted orders; move to the nurse's station, take cover. Third squad was to defend the hallway. Breeze led his ponies through the corridors and staff-only rooms. He had been to this hospital several times in his life. It was where he had been born, and now it might be where he would die, as well, not from a disease, but from a bullet. That serendipity was only just now occurring to him; what a cruel twist of fate it would be, a strange irony that only war could create. The nurse's station was located at the end of the cardiac ward. There were some Imperial Guardsmen already there, firing out from behind the counters and the pharmaceutical storage room. Breeze and the others were directed to take up positions. There were already casualties; two men lay dead in plain sight, just outside the nurse's station. Gunfire flickered and flashed across the length of the room as the Chaos invaders exchanged shots with the defenders. Screams and shouts indicated that there was melee combat going on, as well. Now that the Chaos troops were inside the building, their advanced seemed relentless, unable to be slowed. Like others before them, they had shown a strong propensity to get involved in hand-to-hand, or hand-to-hoof, fighting, and in the close confines of urban warfare, inside a building, fights often devolved into exactly that, either by accident or by design. It was a situation that clearly favoured the attackers; the initiative was with them, they had bloodlust filling their veins, and they had the long history of up-close violence on their side. Breeze's ponies took up positions and, where they could, opened fire. But the hospital ward was filling with smoke from gunfire, grenade explosions and small spot fires caused by lasgun fire. It was already hard to see halfway down, and the far end of the room was completely shrouded in smoke and obscured from view. Breeze found that he couldn't see a target for him to engage. The rest of the platoon tried their best, some firing blindly into the smoke, but Breeze put a stop to that. 'Only fire when you have a confirmed target!' he ordered. To fire wildly would likely result in friendly casualties, and he had no doubt that enough were already being inflicted on them by the enemy, without any aid from the defenders. The shouts and screams grew louder as the gunfire up ahead slackened somewhat. Nervous glances were exchanged between defenders. To add to their dismay, there were shots being fired in the side corridors as well, and in the smaller intensive care unit that was just on the other side of the main 4th floor corridor. The enemy were spreading out and pushing forward wherever they could, finding ways through, even hacking their way through interior plasterboard and breeze block walls using their bayonets and rifle butts to try and keep advancing, outflank the defenders, and get into close combat with them. A nearby vox crackled with a warning message. 'All units, all units, be advised, the enemy has reached the 5th floor! I say again, the enemy has reached the fifth floor!' Breeze could tell their position was starting to become untenable. Surely they would get the order to pull back? The enemy were on every floor except the top one, giving them free reign throughout almost the whole building via the staircases. The danger was obvious; they would be cut off, if they weren't already. 'All units, proceed to the fourth floor and fall back to the research annex!' Finally, orders were being issued. Whoever was in command was awake to the danger. The fourth floor had a sky bridge connecting from the main hospital building to a research building operated by Canterlot University in conjunction with the city health services. With the ground floor taken, and all the stairwells in enemy hands, it was the only way out of the building. It wasn't far from the nurse's station, and Breeze was tempted to lead his ponies straight there. But he had to wait for orders from the platoon leader. A mass exodus would not be wise and could lead to the survivors being overrun. They had to pull out unit by unit, covering each other's retreat. 'Alright, first squad, covering fire!' the pony platoon commander shouted over the din of gunfire. 'Second squad, third squad, get moving to that sky bridge!' Breeze remained crouched behind the desk of the nurse's station. His squad would hold the line, then move by bounds, covered by one of the other squads, repeating until they reached the sky bridge and a way out of the hospital. The enemy were still pushing up, and now, finally, Breeze could see a target. As the rest of the platoon peeled off, he sighted in and fired. Enemy soldiers were bursting through the smoke, along with several Imperial Guardsmen who were running for safety. One Chaos trooper used a bed as a springboard, and with a feral howl he leapt upon one of the fleeing troopers, dragging him to the ground and immediately stabbing at him viciously with a serrated knife. Breeze responded by putting a round through the attacker's head, and he slumped down dead. That was one less, but it was too late for his victim. 'First squad, move!' came the shout from the rear. Breeze shouted orders to his squad, and they broke contact, heading back out from the nurse's station as the remaining Guardsmen there covered the retreat. Breeze ran out into the hallway. A sign on the wall showed the directions to various wings and wards of the hospital, including a sign for the sky bridge. That was where they had to go. The squad galloped along the hall, covered by the guns of the rest of the platoon, who were hiding behind every available piece of cover; pillars, medical carts, benches. When an enemy appeared, they fired, careful to avoid shooting near their fellows. The retreat went well, until they reached the next bend in the hallway. Up ahead were not the friendly forces they had expected, but the enemy. Evidently they were squeezing the fourth floor from both sides at once, and again they had made remarkable progress. 'Contact!' Breeze shouted. 'Contact front!' He ducked for cover as las-fire began to flash around him. He heard the gargled scream of one of his squad and the thud of her body on the floor. The crack of rifles responded, but they had been caught by surprise. They had only expected friendlies between them and the sky bridge. Now it seemed they were truly cut off. Breeze peered out from behind a pillar, feeling nothing but a deep sinking feeling in his gut. Unless they could punch through... There were a dozen enemies firing at them, while others continued to advance toward them, shouting and hollering. Breeze was working almost like an automaton now, squeezing the trigger, working the action, firing again, and again, working the lever, slamming home a fresh magazine, firing. The enemy got closer and closer, losing men as they came, but still coming, all the time, on the move. Within a few more seconds, they were upon the survivors, and a bayonet flashed toward Breeze. He jumped back and brought the butt of his gun around, trying to create space. It was enough for the man who had attacked him to stagger for a moment, and that let Breeze take a few steps back. One of the other ponies fired a shot and struck the man in the stomach, sending him slumping against the wall. More men were pushing up, Chaos troops howling for blood. The only way out, the only chance of survival, was to push right through them.