C. Goto - Dawn of War

Tanthius shared a glance with Isador before signalling the orderly retreat to the remaining Terminators. Isador ducked an axe blade that cut into the side of a building next to his head, and then reached out with his hand and unleashed a fountain of pain directly into the flesh of the salivating ork that had struck at him. The Librarian’s thoughts were riddled with doubts. Another bombardment, Gabriel? This is not the captain that I have come to admire.

The concussion of a huge explosion rippled up the street, knocking the remaining orks from their feet as the Space Marines continued to cut them down. A line of Blood Ravens appeared at the end of the road, marching backwards in an orderly fashion and firing continuously into the crowd of orks that were threatening to overrun them.

“The Devastators from the east gate, captain,” said Sergeant Matiel, nodding in the direction of the retreating Marines, as the last of the ork gang was dispatched at the blade of Gabriel’s chainsword.

“Yes, sergeant. So it seems. The explosion must have been the Vindicator,” answered Gabriel as he started to run towards the retreating line, keen to get back into the action and to rally his Marines.

The vox channel hissed with static. “Captain, the Litany of Fury reports that its bombardment arrays are now ready for firing.” It was Corallis, back at the cathedral. “Reports from the wall defences suggest that the orks have breached the city limits, captain. If we are going to use the bombardment cannons, we have to use them now.”

Gabriel shivered as he heard the words, and he tried to ignore them. He was still running when he burst through the line of Devastator Marines and plunged into the wave of orks that hounded them. His chainsword was already spluttering with ichor, but he was roaring with energy himself. “For the Great Father and the Emperor!” he yelled, and the Devastators stopped retreating. They planted their feet and braced against the onslaught of ork bodies, powerfists humming thirstily, multi-meltas whining with heat, and heavy bolters rattling off shells.

The Space Marines had kicked their jump packs into life and were hovering above the Devastators, adding their rain of bolter shells to the fury of heavy weapons blasting out from their battle-brothers on the ground.

“Captain,” crackled an inconstant signal into the vox in his amour. “There are too many of them. They are spilling around the edges of our position, flanking us on both sides and penetrating further into the city. We cannot hold them here,” reported Matiel from his vantage point above the skyline.

“Understood,” said Gabriel with frustration, as he dragged the teeth of his chainsword across the neck of one ork and jammed his bolt pistol into the mouth of another. “Sergeant Matiel, take your assault squad back into the cathedral precincts. And Brother Furio,” he said, nodding a greeting to the sergeant of the Devastator squad who was fighting at his shoulder. “We must pull back towards the cathedral-we can make our stand there. It is senseless to spend our lives so cheaply in these streets.”

Switching the vox-channel, Gabriel reluctantly made the call to Corallis. “Sergeant. Recall the Marines from the wall and tell that idiot Brom to get his men into the cathedral precinct. Tell the Litany of Fury to give us five minutes.”

Standing at the top of the steps in front of the cathedral, Gabriel and Isador watched the bombardment shells sear through the sky like falling stars. They thudded into the plain outside the city and exploded into sheets of white light. Mushrooms of dust and dirt billowed up from the impacts, and ripples of concussion throbbed across the skyline of the city.

A second flurry of meteoric strikes flashed down into the outskirts of Magna Bonum, just inside the ruins of the once defiant city wall. The immense explosions pounded the rockcrete and tore buildings apart, sending waves of fire rushing through the streets. Huge fountains of rubble and broken masonry were thrown high into the air, only to rain down again like cannonballs into those structures that had survived the initial blasts.

The edges of the city and the plains of Bonum beyond were submerged under a blanket of brilliant white as the superheated charges from the bombardment shells fried the air itself. The orks at the gates and those that had just broken through into the city were instantly incinerated, leaving nothing but faint thermal shadows scorched into the crumbling rockcrete.

“Did everyone make it back?” asked Isador, looking past Gabriel and addressing the question to Sergeant Corallis.

“Nearly everyone,” answered the sergeant without turning. He couldn’t take his eyes from the awesome scene before him. “All functional Marines are within the limits of the cathedral compound. Some squads of Tartarans were cut off in their wall emplacements.”

Gabriel was just staring at the ruined remains of the city. The bombardment had prevented the loss of Magna Bonum, but it had levelled most of the city in the process. He was speechless as he struggled to reconcile himself with the wisdom of his decision.

“It had to be done,” said Corallis, turning at last and bowing slightly to his captain. “The walls were breached and the orks were simply too numerous for us. The city was lost, captain.”

“And now it is won?” muttered Gabriel in self-recrimination.

Without saying a word, Isador walked slowly down the steps into the crowded plaza. The rattle of gunfire had started again, and the Librarian paused to look out into the streets nearby. Some of the orks had clearly penetrated more deeply into the city than the blast radius. He signalled to Colonel Brom, who was standing at the bottom of the steps with a group of subordinates, summoning him.

“Yes, Brother-Librarian Akios?” said Brom without ceremony as he walked over to Isador. “I think that the Tartarans could have let the orks destroy Magna Bonum themselves, without the help of the Blood Ravens,” he added, as though unable to keep his rage bottled up.

“Quite possibly,” replied Isador. “But the captain’s purpose was to eradicate the orks, not to preserve your precious city, colonel. He has done Tartarus a service, even if you are too short-sighted to notice it.”

Brom smarted at the personal slight. “Is this the same service he did for Cyrene?”

Isador’s hand slapped across the colonel’s face in a blur, knocking the man from his feet. “You will not speak that way, colonel. Captain Angelos is an honourable man and a fine strategist. He does not take his responsibilities lightly.” Isador paused for a moment, conscious that he should not react too much to this provocation. “Besides, colonel,” he continued, “it seems that the Tartarans did quite a fine job of destroying their own forces, even before the bombardment.”

Climbing back to his feet and wiping the blood away from his lip, Brom replied. “I am sure that the Blood Ravens know better than most not to listen to rumours, Librarian Akios.”

“Colonel Brom,” said Isador, ignoring the last slight, “I expect that the Tartarans will want the honour of cleansing the remaining streets.”

Brom brushed the dust from his tunic and turned back to his subordinates. “Sergeant Katrn, take your Armoured Fists squadron and sweep the ruins in the south of the city. Trooper Ckrius-you are now a squadron sergeant-form your own squad from whatever men you like and sweep the east.”

C.S. Goto (ebook by Undead)

01 – Dawn of War

“Knock it off, all of you’z! We’ze movin’ out!” bellowed Berzek, clattering the gretchin round their heads with a sweep of his huge arm. The grots snivelled and whined, flicking recriminating glances up at their massive keeper.