Killing Ground w4u-4 Read online

  Beside him, Cawlen Hurq cradled a battered missile tube, the projectile already loaded and primed. Across the street, on buildings to either side of him and within burned out chassis of tanks, were another five missile teams and thirty gunmen armed with a variety of ancient lasguns and simple bolt action rifles.

  The men had been hastily assembled and though acting with such haste and lack of planning went against everything he taught his soldiers, the chance to take out Kain was too tempting to pass up.

  The Chimeras were rumbling at speed through the ragged outskirts of the city, where the buildings became more decrepit and bled out into the landscape. Even now, Sons of Salinas sympathisers would be clearing the dwellings below him of innocents. Pascal Blaise was careful not to place the people of his world in any unnecessary danger, but the Falcatas would not be so careful when they retaliated.

  Hopefully, by the time such retaliation was unleashed, he and his men would have vanished into the maze of ruins and abandoned vehicles that filled the city.

  'Ready?' he whispered, the rumbling of the tracked vehicles growing louder with every passing second.

  'Damn right,' said Cawlen.

  'Let the walkers go past and then take out the lead vehicle,' said Pascal. 'The others are waiting for you to fire.'

  'I know,' hissed Cawlen. 'Believe it or not, I have done this before.'

  'Yes, of course. Sorry,' replied Pascal, fighting his instinct to micromanage.

  Confident that Cawlen Hurq would unleash the ambush at the right moment, Pascal looked up at the Iron Angel, the guardian and lucky charm of the Sons of Salinas.

  The great sculpture of scavenged parts towered above him. Her wings were those of a crashed Thunderbolt, her body shaped from the crumpled remains of its fuselage and her features formed from engine parts.

  She was crude and unfinished, and she was beautiful.

  'Watch over us today, fair lady,' he whispered.

  Pascal slid his body up to look over the parapet.

  The Chimeras had entered the killing box.

  Cawlen Hurq rose to his knees and swung the missile tube over the parapet to point at the Chimeras on the street below.

  'For the Sons of Salinas!' he yelled and mashed the firing trigger.

  FIVE

  Uriel heard the explosion through the armoured skin of the Chimera as a dull whump, the concussion of the detonation rocking the vehicle back on its tracks. Bright light flashed through the vision blocks and a series of rattling pings sounded as blazing shrapnel smacked the hull.

  Another explosion sounded, this time from behind and the internal speakers suddenly exploded with chatter and screams.

  'Ambush!' he shouted, before the echoes of the first blast had begun to fade.

  A tremendous impact hammered the side of the Chimera, tipping it up onto one track. The soldiers cried out and Uriel snatched for the grab rail as the vehicle slammed back down to earth. A portion of the Chimera's side bulged inwards. Smoke and sparks spewed into the compartment and Uriel smelled blood.

  One of the soldiers was down, his neck clearly broken. Another was screaming, his face a mask of red where it had smashed against the interior of the hull. The others lay bruised, but unhurt and Uriel surged from his seat against the hull to hammer the release mechanism of the assault door. Immobilised, the Chimera was a death trap.

  Hot fumes blew inside and Uriel caught the reek of burning propellant and scorched flesh. Outside, morning sunlight illuminated a blazing vehicle, flames spewing from its ruptured sides and thick, tarry black smoke billowing into the sky.

  'Come on!' he shouted. 'Out!'

  Pasanius grabbed the wounded soldier as Tremain helped the others escape the stricken Chimera. Bodies and shredded pieces of meat littered the ground, the exploded remnants of the soldiers forced to travel on the roof.

  Another whooshing roar made Uriel look up in time to see a missile streak from its launcher and slam into the roof of another of Colonel Kain's Chimeras. This time the missile punched through the thinner armour of the vehicle's topside and it shuddered as the warhead exploded inside. Smoke ripped upwards and a rattle of gunfire barked from the rooftops as previously hidden gunmen revealed themselves.

  Uriel dragged another wounded soldier away from the fire that was taking hold of their stricken vehicle. The engine was ablaze and it was only a matter of time before the ammo and power pack on board cooked off explosively.

  Solid rounds and las-bolts smacked the earth and Uriel ducked as he and the wounded soldier made their way into cover. A hail of shots tore into the wall next to him. Fragments of rock billowed and he blinked dust from his eyes.

  Pasanius joined him, propping the wounded soldier against the rough stone of a sagging ruin, and Uriel laid the man he carried next to him. Shots rattled from both sides of the street, a street that Uriel could see was composed of rough, adobe brick buildings and what looked like the shells of abandoned tanks.

  Canvas awnings and corrugated iron porches had been built into the rusting hulks and these ad hoc dwellings outnumbered those constructed of more traditional materials.

  'We should get into this fight,' said Uriel.

  'With what?' pointed out Pasanius. 'Kain's lot seem like they know what they're doing.'

  That at least was true. Colonel Kain's Chimeras were roaring forward to protect the damaged vehicles while spraying bright bolts of las-fire into the buildings on either side of the street.

  The soldiers were fighting from their vehicles, letting the armour take the weight of small-arms fire while the turrets opened up with the snapping fizz of heavy las-bolts. A Chimera pulled ahead of Uriel in a skid of dirt and fumes as it sought to protect a damaged one.

  Hard bangs of gunfire echoed from the turret-mounted heavy bolter, the rounds chewing up the stone parapets of the opposite buildings. Uriel saw puffs of red and heard screams over the incessant gunfire. The shooters had sprung their ambush well, but they were hunkered down behind a parapet that might as well have been fashioned from paper for all the protection it provided against bolter rounds.

  Uriel watched as a loping Sentinel unleashed a torrent of autocannon rounds towards a group of men moving between the ruins. The heavy calibre shells exploded among them and they all fell, chewed up and unrecognisable, their blood spraying on the pale stone walls in looping arcs.

  A shot rang out, distinctive and high pitched, and the Sentinel pilot's head snapped back, a ragged hole punched in the back of his head. Sniper.

  Uriel glanced in the direction of the shot and saw the blurred outline of the shooter through the smoke of the battle. More of the Chimeras were pulling up to the damaged ones and soldiers were helping their comrades from the blazing wrecks to pull them inside those that had, thus far, escaped attack.

  Uriel risked a glance around the bullet-chipped corner that he sheltered behind. To stand by and watch a battle being fought around him was anathema to him, and he knew he could not sit idly by while others were dying around him.

  He turned to Pasanius, but before he could open his mouth, his sergeant said, 'You're going in, I know. Go. I'll cover you.'

  Uriel nodded and slid from the alleyway, running towards a damaged Chimera that listed horribly to one side. Smears of blood and oil streaked its surfaces and smoke spat from its stinking interior. Its main gun was buckled, but Uriel had seen that its pintle-mounted weapon was still intact.

  Bullets filled the air, the distinctive whine and buzz of them telling Uriel how close they were. Ricochets spanged from armour and he felt a burning line across his calf of something hot and sharp.

  He dived into the cover of the listing Chimera and rolled to his feet in its shadow. He gripped the upper edge of the Chimera's hull and swung himself up onto its roof, scrambling across the upper armour towards the pintle-mounted gun. He snapped off the safety and swung the weapon around, his posture unsuited to firing it, but his strength more than able to bear the brunt of its recoil.

  The sniper reared up
to take aim at another Sentinel and Uriel pressed down on the palm triggers. The noise of the weapon was deafening, uncompromising, and designed to intimidate as much as wound. Heavy slugs spat from the barrel in a flaring burst. Uriel's target flew apart into flesh chunks and a fountain of blood.

  He swivelled the weapon on its mount, raking the pounding thump of heavy bullets across the parapet line of the buildings opposite. Clay bricks dissolved under the impacts, blasted to powder by the high velocity slugs. The recoil was prodigious, but easily controllable by the strength of a Space Marine.

  A las-bolt creased Uriel's shoulder and he flinched at the sudden pain, but kept his weapon trained on the roof-lines opposite. Arcs of bronze shells spewed from the smoking breech.

  'Uriel!' shouted Pasanius from below. 'Your left!'

  He turned towards where Pasanius was gesturing with the stump of his arm, seeing a flicker of movement between two blackened hulks of tanks that were now homes. A group of three men were preparing to launch a missile, and Uriel pulled the trigger as he brought his weapon to bear.

  The bullets described a curving line as the weapon discharged, the impacts ringing like the sound of a hundred bells as they ricocheted from metal hulls. One man was hurled from his feet, a hole the size of his torso blasted in his body.

  To their credit, neither of the other two men balked at the horrific death of their comrade, but kept the missile tube aimed squarely at the Chimera that Uriel sat upon. He kept the weapon trained on them, but the gun coughed dry, the hammer snapping on an empty chamber.

  Uriel could see triumph on the gunner's face as he closed one eye. Then his head exploded.

  Uriel heard the distinctive report of a bolt weapon and saw Pasanius running towards him from the alleyway, the welcome sight of a bolt pistol bucking in his left hand. His sergeant fired again and the second man was pitched from his feet. A tremendous explosion mushroomed skyward as Pasanius's next bolt connected with the spare warheads in the canvas sack he wore.

  The gunner's missile corkscrewed up from his fallen corpse, spinning wildly before exploding and smearing the sky with black tendrils of smoke.

  More grinding sounds of tracks and the heavier, percussive thump of concentrated volleys of fire filled the air and Uriel released the grips of the heavy stubber. Colonel Kain's soldiers had the situation under control and Uriel could add little to the battle.

  He saw a flash of green and gold and looked up to see a cloaked man with a shaved head and forked beard through a pulverised section of parapet. The man was shouting, but his words were inaudible over the roar of gunfire and the mad revving of engines.

  Even Uriel's enhanced hearing could make out little of what the man was saying, but the sense of his words was clear as gun barrels vanished from rooftops. The weight of fire fell away as the ambushers disengaged and melted into the tumbled ruins.

  The man risked one last glance from the rooftops and his eyes locked with Uriel's.

  Uriel knew hate when he saw it. He had seen enough on Medrengard to last a lifetime.

  This man hated him and wanted him dead, and not just him, but everyone in this bloody, smoke-filled street: the Falcatas, Uriel, Pasanius and every soldier who fought and shouted to their wounded comrades.

  The man vanished from view and Uriel rolled from the roof of the Chimera.

  He landed in the dirt beside Pasanius.

  'Thanks for the warning,' said Uriel. 'That missile could have really spoiled my day.'

  'No problem,' replied Pasanius. 'He'd have probably missed anyway. These idiots didn't know they were beaten until it was too late for them.'

  Uriel had to agree with his friend's assessment of their opponents. The Falcatas had taken a serious hit when the ambush had been sprung, but had reacted with commendable speed and calm. The soldiers had followed their training and got into the fight without the confusion and panic that might have handed their attackers a victory.

  Instead of retreating after their initial success, the ambushers had fought for longer than was sensible and had suffered the worst of the encounter, unable to match the discipline and firepower of a well-led force of Imperial Guard.

  'Did you see the man with the green and gold cloak?' asked Uriel.

  'I did,' said Pasanius, awkwardly trying to reload the bolt pistol. 'He looked like the leader. Stupid of him to wear something so noticeable though.'

  'That's what I thought,' agreed Uriel, taking the bolt pistol from Pasanius and sliding a fresh magazine home. 'Where did you get this?'

  'From him,' said Pasanius, indicating a dead sergeant of the Falcatas at the edge of the battlefield with a chunk of shrapnel the size of a shoulder guard buried in his face. 'Didn't think he'd be needing it again and thought it would be appropriate to use his own weapon to avenge him.'

  'Very appropriate,' nodded Uriel.

  'It means I don't have to use that other damned weapon…'

  'Where is it now?'

  'In there,' said Pasanius, pointing at the wreck they had clambered from what must only have been minutes ago. 'I'll let it burn.'

  Uriel understood Pasanius's sentiment, for there was no honour and only risk in using a weapon that had been touched by the Ruinous Powers. Better to let it perish in the fire than risk it turning upon you.

  Another Chimera pulled up beside them, the hatch in the turret open and Verena Kain leaning on the handles of a pintle storm bolter. The barrels smoked and Kain's face was black with dirt, pink lines streaking her features where sweat had run from her scalp.

  'Get in,' she barked. 'They could be back.'

  'Unlikely,' said Uriel, but he picked himself up and helped Pasanius to his feet. The armoured door at the back of the Chimera opened and Sergeant Tremain and two other troopers stepped out, their lasguns trained on the roof-lines.

  Tremain beckoned them over and Uriel and Pasanius jogged over to the rumbling vehicle.

  The street was filled with smoke and five blazing wrecks were abandoned where they had been destroyed. There were no bodies to be seen, the dead and wounded gathered up by the crews of the surviving vehicles. The Sentinel whose pilot Uriel had seen shot had collapsed, its leg broken by a careening Chimera. The pilot was nowhere to be seen.

  Uriel shielded his eyes and asked Kain, 'Where to now?'

  'To the barracks,' said Kain. 'It's closer and we have wounded.'

  He had more questions, but the needs of the wounded took precedence and seconds could make the difference between life and death for some of these soldiers. Tremain clambered inside the Chimera, but as Uriel gripped the sides of the door, he saw that the compartment was full to bursting with wounded men who groaned as they lay on the sloshing floor. Uriel knew that the other vehicles would also be like this, thick with the stench of fear and pain and blood.

  Soldiers sat shoulder to shoulder, packed in more tightly than even the most ambitious vehicle designer could have hoped, and Uriel saw a respect and admiration in their eyes that hadn't been there before.

  Soldiers shuffled as they made room for them, word of Uriel and Pasanius's involvement in the fight having spread to those who hadn't seen it. Corpsmen cared for the wounded as best they were able in the red-lit compartment and a sullen anger simmered below the surface of every man on board.

  'We'll ride on top,' said Uriel. 'You need all the room you can get in here.'

  The Chimeras sped onwards through the city of Barbadus, and Uriel was afforded his first proper look at this Imperial capital. It appeared to have grown up around the ruins of an ancient battlefield, such was the litter and detritus of warfare that lay strewn around. Entire graveyards of armoured vehicles had been abandoned and left for the elements to devour and the people of the planet to colonise.

  Buildings of agglomerated stone, brick and metal leaned precariously, supported by iron buttresses that had once been the main guns of armoured vehicles. The further into the city the racing column of vehicles went, the more solid and conventional the structures became, high-walled towe
rs of pink stone and bleached timber.

  Buildings of dark iron and tempered glass that were of Imperial origin nestled uncomfortably amongst the pale stone and clay bricks of the city and Uriel saw evidence of the war that had been fought to win this world on every one of the older buildings: las-burns and bullet marks, the latter worn smooth by the elements.

  Uriel caught glimpses of green and gold streamers wafting from high spires and sagging clotheslines, the same green and gold that the man with the forked beard had been wearing. Many of the memorials in the dead city had streamers of the same colours attached to them and Uriel wondered what they symbolised.

  'Emperor's blood!' hissed Pasanius, looking towards a gently sloping hill that rose to the west of the city.

  'What?' said Uriel, fearing another ambush.

  'Would you look at that?' said Pasanius. 'I've never seen the like.'

  Uriel followed Pasanius's gaze and saw a strangely shaped building on the plateau of the hill. There was a familiarity to its silhouette, but it took him some moments to realise why.

  The inhabitants of the city had been thorough in their cannibalisation of the discarded armoured vehicles, rendering many of them into dwellings, but this act of refurbishment was surely the apex of the scavenger's art.

  Three towering Capitol Imperialis, mighty leviathans of vehicles used for command and control of entire battlefronts, sat side by side and had been transformed into something else entirely. Hundreds of crewmen and officers could operate from within each of these incredible war machines, directing entire regiments of artillery, hundreds of thousands of men and entire companies of armoured vehicles. To see one such colossus on a battlefield was rare, but to see three, abandoned no less, was unheard of.

  They were surely abandoned, for the rust and corrosion on their sides was clear proof that these machines were no longer in use. The Imperial eagles on the sides of the outer two were gone, though it was impossible to tell whether they had been erased by the elements or by design. Swaying walkways joined them and iron-sheathed tunnels connected them at lower levels.