‘The dead and dying surround us, Viktor, and barely enough medics to cope. How better could I spend my time?’
‘You know what I mean,’ said Hark.
‘No, actually,’ said Dorden. ‘Should I go off somewhere quietly and wait to die so I don’t become an inconvenience, or can I use what little life and skill I’ve got left to help the regiment?’
Hark shook his head. There was triage and field surgery going on all around them. Lesp was fighting to save Raglon’s life. Medicae from Spika’s crew were working on Maggs and Vadim.
‘I was sitting in the infirmary, Viktor,’ said Dorden. ‘I heard the casualty alert. Old habits.’
‘We appreciate your efforts,’ said Hark.
‘Let him work,’ said Zweil. ‘He just annoys the shit out of me when he hasn’t got anything to do.’
The ayatani bent down to whisper last rites to Marakof.
‘When do you go in?’ Dorden asked.
Hark shrugged.
‘We’re running way behind schedule thanks to this mess,’ he replied. ‘Captain Daur’s taken a clearance team in. We’re waiting for him to signal us to follow.’
Hark glanced over at Mohr and Captain Spetnin. Both shook their heads.
Dorden fished in his medical satchel to get some dressings for Major Pasha.
‘Waiting’s the worst part, isn’t it?’ he said.
Hark agreed, but he had a queasy feeling he knew what the old regimental doctor was really talking about.
Merrt took his fourth shot in fifteen minutes. The saline round punched the trigger cap clean out of the suspended tank of explosives. Perfect. Four for four.
Haller moved forwards to make the device safe and mark it up.
‘Major tunnel route opening up ahead,’ said Vahgner.
‘We’ve cleared quite a way,’ said Belloc.
Daur nodded. Maybe they had caught up a little time on Strike Beta after the disastrous start.
‘I’ll signal them to follow up,’ he said. He adjusted his link.
‘Daur to Gamma, Daur to Gamma.’
‘Gamma here, captain,’ Mohr answered.
‘Instruct Hark and Spetnin to start leading the strike inside,’ said Daur. ‘Follow the marked route and go slow.’
‘Understood.’
‘Inform command we are deploying.’
‘Understood.’
Daur looked at the others.
‘Let’s clear a little more of this path, shall we?’ he said.
‘Strike Gamma!’ Spetnin yelled in his thick, Verghastite accent. ‘Get up and get ready to deploy!’
‘We’re going in!’ Hark called out, walking the line as the Ghosts assembled. ‘Squad order. Get ready!’
‘The Emperor go with you,’ Major Pasha croaked to Hark, her throat bandaged. Hark nodded.
‘Come on!’ Spetnin cried.
‘Where are you going?’ Hark asked Dorden.
‘Intending to advance without a medicae?’ asked Dorden.
‘Oh, Throne. Come on, doctor, I haven’t got time for this.’
‘Lesp can’t leave his patient,’ Dorden said quickly. ‘He’s got his hands full. I trained him well, so he’s not about to walk off in the middle of surgery. I’m your only option. And the rulebook states–’
‘Don’t quote regulations at me, doctor,’ said Hark. ‘You’re not strong enough, and you’re not fit enough.’
‘Of course he isn’t!’ snapped Zweil. ‘He’s dying, you pompous arse. Look at him, he’s wasted away. He’s almost see-through, he’s so skin and bone. Let him have this much for feth’s sake.’
‘Father–’ Hark began.
‘Don’t you get it?’ Zweil asked. ‘He doesn’t want to die idle, and he doesn’t want to die on his own.’
‘Show him some respect, father!’ Hark growled.
‘Actually, I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ said Dorden. ‘That’s all I’m afraid of, Viktor. Dying in bed and thinking there was a little more I could have done.’
Dorden stared at Hark.
Hark found the pale, bright eyes hard to look into.
‘I swore,’ said Dorden, ‘on the Founding Fields at Tanith Magna, to serve the Imperial Guard and the Tanith First for the rest of my days. Are you, an Imperial fething commissar, really going to stand in the way of me performing that sworn duty? Because if you are, that’s one staggering irony.’
‘Get your things,’ said Hark.
Dorden looked at Zweil.
‘The Emperor protects,’ said Zweil. ‘Even stubborn old bastards.’
‘That’s why I never worry about you,’ said Dorden. ‘Look, I’ll… see you later.’
‘Of course you will,’ said the old priest.
‘Medic!’ Kolea yelled.
Curth ran forwards along the line of cover, her head down in an instinctive posture that anyone who spent time on the battlefield quickly learned to adopt. She dropped in beside him. Fairly continuous gunfire ripped over their heads from the Sons of Sek positions in the vault chamber ahead. Crew-served weapons on either side of them rattled out return fire. Flamers roared.
‘Are you hit?’ she asked.
‘Not me,’ Kolea replied. He pointed at Fazekiel beside him. A shot had clipped her shoulder and flecked her face with blood.
‘It’s nothing,’ Fazekiel said.
‘It’s light, but it’s bleeding a lot,’ said Curth, leaning in to dress it. ‘You’re no use to Gol if you’re faint from blood loss.’
‘Exactly what I told her,’ said Kolea, turning back to his scope.
‘Yes, well, from what I hear, you’re hardly demonstrating the most rational behaviour today,’ said Curth. She torn open a gauze pack.
‘You heard about that, did you?’ asked Kolea.
‘It was the most amazing thing I ever saw,’ said Fazekiel, wincing as Curth packed her shoulder. ‘I intend to have him shot for it later.’
‘Are we winning yet?’ asked Curth as she worked.
Kolea shrugged. After the charge had reestablished contact with the Space Marine push, Strike Alpha had made some serious ground, breaking through into a series of vast internal compartments beyond the hangar bay and the engineering depot. These vault chambers were towering spaces like the insides of bulk manufactories. Huge machines filled their cavities. Kolea supposed they had something to do with atmosphere or gravitics.
The Archenemy had fallen back to dig in here. Sons of Sek, some loxatl, along with cult troops and weaponised servitors, held the line across three vault chambers, and harried the determined Imperial assault via the networks of ducts and sally ports. Loxatl were also using the roof spaces and conduits to gain advantageous firing positions.
Kolea’s response was to systematically mine or burn out all ducts and hatches as they advanced, and scour the ceiling vaults and pipework with flamers. It slowed the whole force a little, but it was worth it.
It was costly, however. H Company, under Elam, was busy ferrying munition restocks up through the line from the hangars, where the landers and lighters that had delivered the troops for the assault were returning with cargoes of ammunition, flamer tanks, charges and rockets. Some of the lighters were turning around to make their third run of the day.
Jan Sloman scurried up.
‘The brother-sergeant wants you to know that he and his brethren are about to make another push,’ said Sloman.
‘He could have told me on the link,’ said Kolea.
‘He tried. Distortion’s even worse in here.’
Kolea knew this was true. He’d had to send Rerval back through the depot to keep the vox-link open with the Armaduke and the other strikes. Rerval had seconded a team of runners to keep messages flowing.
‘Did he give any idea how long before this would happen?’ Kolea asked Sloman.