Attila on täällä taas, mukanaan lisää englanninkielistä riipustelua.
”Oh feth, oh feth, oh feth…” Trooper Lem Kiira of the Sariolan 18th Airborne had little else in mind while sprinting through the sporadic gunfire rattling on the street of the city. That is, if “sprinting” meant “a combination of a low crouch, clumsy running, and desperate struggle to stay upright despite the boxes of heavy bolter ammunition on one’s arms”. His heavy carapace armour didn’t help it either, but that thought disappeared from his mind as a bullet ricocheted off his shoulder pad, sending him tumbling through the door of his target building.
Reciting his favourite oaths, he made his way hurriedly up the stairs leading to the roof where the platoon’s heavy bolter had been placed. As he raised his head to the warm sunlight, he could see the grins of his squad-mates, no doubt raised by his profuse swearing. He tossed the ammo boxes to Ilmar, their gunner. Unlike some troopers lugging heavy weapons, Ilmar wasn’t particularly large, but his slightly smaller frame belied the strength and constitution necessary to carry the heavy bolter in battlefield conditions.
“What took you so long?”
“I just had to stop for a drink in the bar down the street,” came the sarcastic reply. “I wouldn’t have minded some more covering fire out there, you know.”
“Well, I figured they’re such Orks when it comes to shooting that the commissar might execute me for wasting the Emperor’s ammunition. Besides, you’re so skinny even Lumi would have trouble hitting you.” At this he pointed at the young woman holding a long sniper’s rifle. Her expression clearly showed her opinion on the matter.
“Well, if there’s one thing in the universe I can count on, it’s your ability to look after your skin. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re a tall ratling.” This exchange received new grins from their audience. The two were always picking at somebody, usually each other, and they were good at it.
“Okay you two, cut the trash,” said Vaen, the squad's sergeant. “Lem, while you were avoiding real work down there, we got new orders. There’ll be a big push around these parts, so we’ve got the immeasurably valorous duty of taking the local munitions warehouses, clearing those traitorous rats from the next few intersections on the way. To that end, we’re going to be aided by a half of the 4th Virean Armoured. They’re mostly Leman Russ, some Hellhounds and a couple of Sentinels. Any questions?”
“The hat guys do know we’re in a stalemate here, right?”
“I’d guess that’s why we’re getting the armour support in the first place. Anything else?”
“We get to be on point, don’t we?”
“How did you guess?”
---
“How come it’s always us who get to be on point?” Lem asked from Lumi as they made their way through the debris of the contested city. The Sariolans had, with the help of the Vireans’ “armoured fury”, dispatched of the rebels that had kept them busy and were now advancing towards their main objective, the warehouses.
“Well, have you ever seen a 61-tonne battle tank try to scout the ground ahead for ambushes?” she asked.
“Not that I can think of, no.”
“There’s a reason for that.”
The squad had spread themselves halfway across the street on the right, while the platoon’s other squad guarded the opposite side. Two Sentinels of the Catachan pattern – in grunt terms; armed with heavy flamers – had the job of supporting the Sariolans and deep-frying everyone dumb enough to take cover in a building. The tank column followed them some 600 meters behind, as they had to slow down to clear some rubble the Sariolans easily climbed over. Lem adjusted his pack, where he had the tripod and ammo for the heavy bolter, or heavy B, as the Sariolans knew it. Then a flash of colour amidst the reddish buildings caught his eye.
”Lumi, did you see that?”
”I think I did.” She spoke into her comm-bead: ”Corporal Linae here. Possible contact in 11 o'clock, advance with caution.”
”Roger that, Lumi, thanks,” came Vaen's reply. ”You heard the corporal. We're possibly walking into an ambush, stay awake.”
”And all thanks to me again,” Lem grinned at Lumi as he quickened his pace somewhat to catch up with Ilmar. It wouldn't look good if the platoon's only heavy bolter was rendered useless in the middle of a firefight because its loader was having a chat with the platoon sniper, no matter how beautiful she was.
Despite having been forewarned, the ambush still surprised them. Suddenly, the distinct, high-pitched scream of a Tau rail rifle pierced the air, and the knee-joint of the Sentinel on Lem's left seemed to spontaneously disintegrate. As the walker fell, the promethium tanks attached to its side hit a sharp piece of rubble and the highly volatile liquid erupted from them in a potentially deadly geysir. All it needed to ignite was the guide-flame of squad 2's flamer. Another scream, and the surviving Sentinel swayed back as the hypervelocity slug was deflected by its frontal armour.
Lem watched as over a half of the second squad burned to death, nearly paralysed of shock. Then his instincts got a hold of his muscles, and he darted after Ilmar to behind the nearest pile of rubble, where his friend was already setting the heavy bolter to a firing position. He quickly placed the tripod for the weapon so that the bolter's recoil wouldn't throw it off balance and inserted the belt feed into the bolter. Lem scanned the scene ahead: His squad had taken cover in the rubble, as had the remains of the second. What had seemed like a quiet street was now alive with opposition and gunfire, and Lem recognized the bluish-grey uniforms of the traitorous PDF. Much to his amazement, he also saw the distinctive armoured forms of Tau soldiers.
What in the Emperor’s name are those damn xenos doing here? Bloody hell if the major has ”forgotten” to give all the facts again, like he did on that cursed sandball of a world where we lost Joukan and the others... Of the ten man squad, only Lem, Ilmar, Lumi and Vaen had survived.
While Lem was still in his toughts, Ilmar began firing short bursts at the traitors and their Tau allies.
Then the Sariolans were surprised a second time, as an explosion behind them lit the sunny street even brighter. Altough the flash blinded their enemies for a while they were too shocked to take advantage of the situation. As Lem glanced behind, he saw the lead tank, now barely recognizable as a Leman Russ, burning.
It must've driven into a mine, he thought. Then he realised that the wreck blocked the way of the surviving Vireans. Over the comms he could hear them announcing that they'd have to find another route if they were to help the Sariolans. The thought made him swear.
”Wake up, Lem, and feed that ammo! We can't risk this thing jamming!” With another curse, Lem turned back to the matter at hand. He did it just in time to see the surviving Sentinel pour what he would've described as quite a substantial amount of burning promethium into the enemy positions. Traitors and xenos alike screamed as they fled the inferno or burned alive, and it was with gleeful remorselesness that the Sariolans finished off the last of the traitors that had slain so many of their friends.
---
”...By thy Golden Throne and thy death, by thy destruction and re-emergence as the God of men, keep and strengthen us, we who fight for thee,” Vaen finished the prayer. As he stood up, he couldn't help but think about the turn of events that had occured. Their platoon had been reduced to half and by what he had heard, the bloody Vireans had gone and gotten lost in the streets! He gave a frustrated sigh. At least Lumi had nailed that cursed xeno that was responsible for the casualties of the second squad.
Those weren't the day's only bad news. The platoon's LT had been found wanting by the commissar, who in turn was killed by a traitor bullet. Well, most likely, at least. That left Vaen in charge, and so vacated the squad leader's position. Being a corporal, Lumi now had a new job.
I hope she can handle the Heavy B operators, he thought.
And on top of it all, the other Sariolan platoons had decided to try to find another route instead of risking going near the burning tank. Vaen could understand it; he had seen what happened when that heavy ammunition caught fire. The problem was, they were now as lost as the Vireans. He wanted to find a good, solid wall to bang his head against.
”Sir! We've got new orders!”
Great... Hopefully the smart ones have decided we've done our job and deserve a basket of beer and two weeks of R&R.
”Go ahead, lad,” he said to the young trooper carrying the vox.
”We're to make our way to the original objective, drawing as little attention to ourselves as possible.When there, we are to destroy the AA cover of the objective and then withdraw to a safe distance before the Navy flyboys blast the warehouses.”
At least they could've given us the beer. Twenty against that opposition is not a battle I'd like to fight sober.
”Right. Okay, folks, you heard it. We're moving off in 10 minutes, get ready. Ilmar, Lem, you better leave the Heavy B behind, it won't be of much use now.” The two didn’t seem to like the last comment, but decided that their old squad leader was right. They went to grab a lasgun for Ilmar, as well as a few – or rather, quite a few - power packs, as both knew that they might not have a chance to resupply in a while. They also knew how much ammunition could be wasted on an enemy in cover, and the city was full of rubble to hide behind.
---
The sun kept rising as the small force travelled through narrow alleys. Before long, everyone had lowered the photoreactive visors of their helmets to shield their eyes from the sun's glare. Although their helmets provided some relief, the rest of their equipment conspired against them: The dark grey camo pattern, while effective in urban warfare, was also effective in absorbing sunlight, making the uniforms feel like portable saunas.
Just like on that bloody sandball, Vaen thought. He had ordered the troopers to take every drop of water from the canteens of the fallen, but the Sariolans couldn't still do much more than moisten their tongues if they wanted to get back to their own lines after the mission.
”Sarge? May I ask a question?” The voice belonged to the young trooper carrying the vox. His name was Otso, Vaen remembered.
”Shoot.”
”We're airborne, right?” he asked.
”Last time I checked, yes.”
”Then wh-”
”Because the Navy flyboys haven't found an effective base of operations yet. I hear it's quite hard to refuel if someone keeps dropping ordnance the size of a Leman Russ on you, and also a bit annoying if you run out of fuel in the middle of an ocean.”
”I think I see what you mean.” After taking a small sip from his canteen, Otso continued: ”Do you think we'll reach the warehouses before nightfall?”
”Hopefully. That way we can hole up in some building to rest a bit. I'm planning to attack just after midnight, to avoid being seen.”
”A night-fight, eh? Great, that way I don't have to worry about perspiring my boots off.”
Vaen's microbead crackled to life, followed by Lem's voice.
”Lem here. We're getting closer. A mechanized squad just went by. Traitors, no blue-faces in sight. They don't seem to check the alleys though, so if we stick to those, we shouldn't face too much trouble. They're propably thinking we couldn't smuggle an effective force through these. If we keep the same pace, we should be there just after the sunset to educate them a little.”
”Hope you're right, but watch those auspexes of yours. I'm not keen on running into anyone who had decided to take a leak here.”
---
Lem's estimation was correct: Exactly six minutes after the sunset, the guardsmen had occupied an empty building near their objective. They gathered around Vaen as he spread the map of the area on the floor.
”All right, people. This map was taken by the Navy yesterday, so it shouldn't be too old. These big buildings are the warehouses outside,” he pointed at a group of squares. Someone whistled; the squares took a third of the map's surface, and the scale wasn't very big. ”Those are the Navy's job, don't worry. Our job are these little things,” he pointed at the small crosses circling one of the warehouses. ”Standard Hydra platforms that I know you've seen before. There's about ten of them out there. The place is protected by a chain-link fence and barbed wire, with heavy bolters on the roof covering the yard. There are a few Hydras on the roof as well, but that's what the Navy boys have assault craft for.
We divide into two squads. I'm taking mine and the remnants of the second, Lumi takes the first. Squad one – that's us – will sneak through the traitor perimeter and destroy first five of the Hydras. Squad two – that's you, Lumi – will make their way to these habs behind the objective. When we blow up our Hydras, you'll attack from the rear and dispose with yours. Remember, you've got only twenty minutes to do your job and get back before the Navy arrives to blow this place up. They won't wait, and we can't make them, unless we want to fight the traitors from here back to our lines. Everything unclear?”
”We're going to assault a defended position with only ten people?” Ilmar asked.
”It's not like we haven't done it before. Remember the shitty drop on the sandball?” Lem replied with a wry grin. Ilmar grimaced as he remembered.
”Lem's got the right attitude. Okay, first squad, leave your carapace behind, take only the chest-plate and your helmet. Second, you keep yours on, you're going to need it,” Vaen instructed.
”Thanks for the encouragement, sergeant.”
---
Hmph. It's past midnight, and it's barely grown dusky. Thank the Emperor I don't have to sneak through the lines like squad one, Lem thought as he sat in the shadows between the habs. From where he was sitting, he had a clear view across the warehouse's courtyard. It was even bigger than it had seemed on the map; there would've been enough room to land a dropship there. He was thankful of the piles of crates scattered here and there; without them the yard woud've been a simple killing field. He tried to memorise their locations, as his target was the Hydra furthest away from his current position and he would need the cover.
His observations were broken by the brief flashes of detonating krak grenades.
”That's our mark, people. Move it!” came Lumi's voice over the comms and Lem begun running. The traitors' ranks were in clear disarray, as the sudden attack had taken them completely by surprise. Everyone in the squad was grateful of the fact, as they had to practically stand in the open while they cut their way through the fence and barbed wire. As the cutters struggled with them, Lem could hear the distinctive bangs of Lumi's signature bolt-action rifle, as she disposed of the heavy bolters on the warehouse roof. Then the small group of troopers surged forward as the fence was pierced.
Lem sprinted towards a pile of crates he had noticed before, firing quick bursts at the enemy. He noticed some of the shots even hit, before he ducked behind the cover. He wasn't very surprised to find Ilmar there as well; after all, they had the same target.
”Evening.”
”Evening. Y'know, I get this funny feeling these people don't want us he- Ow! Shit!” A bullet had passed through an apparently empty crate and scratched Ilmar's cheek.
”You think so?” Looking around the crates with a mirror, Lem added, ”By the way, there's another nice-looking pile of crates in about eleven o'clock. Cover me so I can clean some fish-heads from behind 'em.”
Ilmar grunted in agreement and began laying fire in their enemies' general direction. As the Tau took cover, Lem rose up and threw his grenade. The throw was a perfect one, exploding right above the xenos and shredding them in a cloud of shrapnel. Lem didn't stop to admire it, however, and took up his lasgun to keep the xenos and traitors alike down, as Ilmar sprinted to the cleared crates. Moments later, Lem too had reached the cover. They had executed the manouvre so many times that it had become almost instinctive to them. Behind them, the muffled implosions of krak grenades signified the destruction of the first Hydra.
---
On the other side of the courtyard, Vaen was already retreating. They had done their job, and there was no point in staying. Now it was up to Lumi's squad to finish it. He just hoped they could do it in the less than twenty minutes remaining.
Right next to him, Otso had proven himself to be a decent shot with a lasrifle. The young vox-operator had already killed five traitors and two xenos during their retreat, and his thirth Tau fell as it foolishly raised its head above cover. Both of the Sariolans could see the enemies turning their attention towards the rear of the yard, where two more sudden flashes marked the efficiency of Lumi's squad.
Two more to go, thought Vaen.
---
”Can't you set them any faster?” Ilmar asked from Lem, while desperately trying to keep the traitors pinned down. He could've killed for a heavy bolter had he got the chance, but currently he was stuck with the lasrifle.
”Guess what I'm trying? You just concentrate on the fething traitors!” came the frustrated reply. Lem hadn't handled heavier explosives than grenades after his training, and was having trouble in attaching the charges to the vulnerable parts of the Hydra.
”We're going to get flanked, if you don't hurry up.” It was true, already a small group had realized the usefulness of crossfire, but they weren't in a good enough position to threaten the Sariolans.
”Then shoot faster! I'm not a frigging pioneer!” After a bullet knocked off his helmet, however, he decided that it was better to half-ass it than get killed and let Ilmar do it. He'd hate to have to explain it to the Emperor. ”Done! 30 seconds, move it!”
As they dropped their smoke cans, they could hear the sound of the other remaining Hydra's destruction.
Another mission well done, all that remains is to get out. Preferably alive, Vaen thought as he tossed another grenade into the smoke, and started running.
30 seconds later the implosion of the krak charges completely wrecked the last Hydra platform, the debris cutting down the traitors and xenos stupid enough to go near. It was scant relief for the two Sariolans, as more than enough had gathered to swipe them from the contested yard. Neither the cover they were crouched behind nor even the support of the other guardsmen helped the two, such was the amount of fire keeping them there. To raise one's head would've been to commit a suicide. Not that they hadn't been to such situations before, but they never had had a wing of Navy bombers coming to finish the place off. Lem realized this when the wind bought the highly distinctive roar of quad ramjets, most likely belonging to planes carrying Imperial Aquilas and frightening amounts of explosives.
”Shit, guys, you have to get out of there! The Navy's coming! I swear, if you two don't get moving, I'll leave you there!” Lumi yelled over the comms. Lem didn't doubt for a second that she wouldn't do it. He could see her, some sixty meters from where he was. Sixty meters of nearly open rockcrete, followed by a stack of ammo crates and a former anti-aircraft emplacement. Someone behind them was obivously smarter than your average Guardsman, Lem noticed, as a smoke grenade flew through the air and... Fell short. Lem swore.
The two looked at each other. Ilmar shrugged.
Well shit, Lem thought. Guess there's no two ways around this.
As one they pushed themselves to the open and dashed zig-zagging towards the cloud of smoke. The other guardsmen did their best to cover them, but the smoke hampered them more than the Tau and their allies: As Lem ran into the cloud, his fatigues were alredy scorched by the numerous las- and pulse blasts. He felt almost relieved, until a short, burning pain shot through his unarmoured thigh. The force of the hit threw him a full circle around, and as he fell, his face met the hard surface of the yard with a crunch. For a few seconds, he was happily devoid of any thought, until the pain again made itself known. Then something grabbed him from his clothes, and began dragging him.
Why can't I just stay here? I'm so tired of all this, I just want to sleep... he thought, numb from the blood loss. He absently noted a roar in the distance. Where have I heard that?
”Shit, Lem, stay awake! It's just a few more meters, stay awake!”
That you, Ilmar? I've done my job, jackass, let me sleep. Bloody hyperactive git... More hands grabbed him and raised him over something. Lem groaned, and as world began to jump up and down, he groaned once more.
”Dear Emperor... Someone get the HQ on the vox, tell 'em we need a med-evac now!” A female voice shouted over the ever-increasing roar. Lem was sure he'd heard it before.
Funny. Lumi sounds worried. What's wrong with her? I'm just tired, that's all.
”Heads down, people. The Navy boys are coming!”
Marauders, that's it! The bumping had stopped and now he was laying on the ground. He had a nice view of the sky, and of the Marauders above. He could see the bombs falling, the traitors and xenos alike running madly on the courtyard, the few remaining Hydras on the roof opening up. Then the first explosions blossomed from the rockcrete, throwing corpses and rubble around. Then a few more, and again, until the warehouses were an inferno, a giant pyre for the Emperor’s foes. With great effort, Lem made the sign of the Aquila over his chest, as tears welled up in his eyes.
Now that's a sight to die for. Not that I'm planning to...
---
The destruction of the warehouses of the Objective Primaris was the blow that ultimately shattered the traitor defense of City #42. Without supplies, their heavy weaponry were rendered useless and they were forced to fall back to the northern wilderness of Estia.
For this achievement, the Sariolan sergeant Vaen Karol was promoted to a lieutenant and corporal Lumi Linae to a sergeant. Both received the Macharian Cross for their actions while commanding their limited forces.
The Sariolans lost 7 men during the operation, all of whom were awarded the Medallion Encarmine post-humously. Among them was trooper Lem Kiira.
The commander of the Virean detachment was executed for incompetence by their regimental commissar.
The Guns of Estia (40k, englanniksi)
The Guns of Estia (40k, englanniksi)
Taktiikka? Minä olen täällä heittämässä noppaa.
Erittäin hyvä. Realistisen tuntuinen, ja tunnelmaa riittää vaikka muille jakaa. Voin hyvin kuvitella, että IG-mosurin päässä voisi hyvinkin liikkua tällaisia aatoksia vastaavassa tilanteessa. Toi myös mieleen Band of Brothersin (Taistelutoverit suomeksi), etenkin lopussa kun kerrottiin miten kaikki loppujen lopuksi meni. Ei löytynyt edes yhtäkään kirjoitusvirhettä, ainakaan yhdellä lukemisella.
Tätä lisää!
Tätä lisää!
Sigini on linnani.
