03 - Savage Scars (12 page)

“Looks like they intend to make a stand,” Lucian said, as much to himself as
to his second-in-command. “If they want a fight…”

“Standing orders require us to bypass them, my lord,” Major Subad
interjected, “and leave the main body to engage them while we press on.”

Lucian looked the officer in the eye, gauging the tone of his statement. “How
far behind is the main body?”

“Command states the advance has become stalled on several fronts, my lord,”
said Major Subad.

“So there’s a very real chance that if we bypass the enemy position, they
will escape before the main body can engage?”

Major Subad’s bionic eye glinted in the sun. “A very real chance indeed, my
lord,” he said.

“Then clearly, it is our duty to engage the enemy. Pass the word, major.”

Lucian remained at his vantage point, maintaining his watch on the tau while
his forces prepared for the assault. During a brief conference with the company
commanders it was decided that the battlegroup’s heavy weapons, mainly missile
launchers and heavy bolters, would deploy to the enemy’s front and pin them
down. Meanwhile, one third of the battlegroup would advance north-west, hooking
around the enemy’s flank to assault them from what should be a lightly defended
front. Finally, the remainder of the battlegroup’s companies would work their
way around to the enemy’s rear, block his escape route and guard against enemy
reinforcement.

When the three elements were finally ready to begin their advance, Major
Subad approached. “My lord,” the major said. “Will you be joining us?”

Lucian looked to his second-in-command and raised an eyebrow. “It would be an
honour, major,” said Lucian. “Where would you have me?”

Subad’s face lit up, and he bowed to his commander, before answering. “The
flanking group would very much benefit from your presence, my lord. I myself
shall lead the blocking group, while Sergeant-Major Havil directs the heavy
weapons. I shall vox you when all units are ready.”

“Well enough,” Lucian answered, keen to press on. Taking his leave of his
officers, Lucian strode towards the companies he would be leading into battle,
an adjutant vox-operator close behind him. The companies were mustered amongst a
large cultivated fruit tree plantation, each platoon having moved forwards to
its ready position in near total silence. Lucian felt suddenly very aware that
while his troops were lightly equipped and camouflaged, he himself was wearing
hulking power armour adorned in the deep red and gold trim of his clan’s livery.
No matter, he told himself. A good commander should be seen and heard, leading
from the front, as much an inspiration to his own troops as an object of fear to
the enemy.

The Rakarshans were eager to advance. Each was grim-faced and dark-eyed,
every movement fluid and ready for battle. Lucian had seen hardened Imperial
Navy armsmen look more nervous before boarding a harmless cargo scow, and he
almost felt pity for the tau warriors. Almost.

“All units in position, my lord,” Major Subad’s voice came across the
vox-net. “Advance at your command.”

“Stand by, major,” Lucian replied, locating the riflemen of the foremost
platoon. He crossed to the unit’s position, and nodded to its lieutenant before
replying to Subad. “You may begin, major.”

There was a brief pause, before the sound of a missile launcher being fired
from Sergeant-Major Havil’s fire support element filled the air. The missile
streaked from its launcher upon a billowing black contrail, its firer hidden
amongst the fruit trees of another plantation south of Lucian’s position, and
detonated upon striking one of the dome-shaped buildings. The resulting
explosion was the signal to the entire battlegroup that battle was joined.

The air was suddenly filled with the deafening roar of dozens of heavy
weapons opening fire at once, thousands of rounds of explosive ammunition
hammering into the settlement.

Taking his cue, Lucian drew his power sword from its scabbard and turned to
the platoon commander beside him. Though the man was much younger, his eyes were
filled with the desire to advance. Lucian nodded, and the man yelled an order in
the Rakarshan tongue.

An instant later, the riflemen were charging from cover and so too was
Lucian. The sunlight was harsh after the shade of the fruit plantation, and it
took Lucian a moment to get his bearings. Ahead of him was a cluster of low,
white buildings, towards which the Rakarshans were advancing. The riflemen moved
quickly, darting from one piece of cover to the next, each platoon covering
another with weapons sweeping the buildings ahead. Despite the disciplined
manner of the advance, Lucian knew that the final seconds would be a wild,
ferocious charge as ceremonial blades were drawn.

Then came the whip-crack of a hyper-velocity projectile splitting the air
nearby. The tau had seen their advance, and were firing on the flanking group.

The leading riflemen opened fire on the cluster of buildings, from where it
appeared the shot had been fired. Lucian pressed forwards, making use of what
cover he could, knowing that to fall to an alien sniper at this stage would be
an ignominious way to start, and end, his military adventures. Lasgun rounds
sang through the air, hammering into the white buildings and stitching dirty
black scorch marks across their flanks. A second hyper-velocity shot scythed
past, and Lucian imagined he saw a thin line etched through the air in its
passing. A grunt sounded from somewhere behind, followed by the thud of a body
hitting the ground. First blood to the tau, Lucian thought grimly, knowing that
his flanking group could not afford to become stalled so soon in its advance.

“You men!” Lucian shouted to a platoon opposite from his position behind the
trunk of a tall fruit tree. “With me!”

The riflemen looked back at Lucian, their faces blank. He might as well be
offering to make them a cup of recaf. Raising his power sword high, Lucian
decided to lead by example.

Lucian stepped out into the open and swept his power sword towards the tau
position. The Rakarshans got the idea immediately, and those nearest to him
limbered their weapons and drew their ceremonial blades, springing forwards to
join him.

A shot whined past Lucian, way too close for comfort, and sent a shower of
grit into the air scant metres behind him.

“Forward Rakarshan!” Lucian bellowed, to be answered a moment later by the
ululating war cry of the riflemen.

The charge towards the cluster of buildings was a mad dash, Lucian only
absently aware that a relentless rain of blue energy bolts was being unleashed
from somewhere up ahead. He heard several screams of pain from the accompanying
riflemen, but he knew that to falter now would be fatal.

Closing on the nearest building, Lucian was confronted by a tau warrior
emerging from cover to bring a long-barrelled weapon to bear. The warrior wore a
blank-faced helmet, its single lens locking on to him as the alien swung his
weapon upwards to draw a bead.

As he closed the final metres, Lucian brought his power sword up and back,
and then finally his charge hit home.

Lucian’s blow struck the alien warrior’s weapon, scything it in two in a
shower of blue sparks. The tau uttered an unintelligible curse and stepped
backwards, even as a second warrior emerged behind him. Lucian let his momentum
power him forwards, and shouldered his full weight into his enemy’s chest,
pinning him with a bone-crunching impact to the wall of the building.

The alien slumped to the ground, his body pulverised. Lucian drew his plasma
pistol with his free left hand and swung it upwards towards the second tau.

Before the pistol was fully raised, the other fired his weapon, a shorter,
carbine type firearm well suited to the close quarters battle. The carbine’s
discharge was almost blinding at such a short range, the energy bolt slamming
into Lucian’s shoulder armour. The impact blew Lucian backwards, his body
striking the ground with a gut-wrenching thud. An instant later, he was looking
directly up into the barrel of his enemy’s weapon.

“Gue’slo!”
the tau said, the words sounding metallic as they came from
his helmet speaker.

“I’ve had guns pointed at me by far more scary people than you, tau,” Lucian
sneered.

On hearing Lucian speak the name of his race, the alien cocked his head
slightly. “
S’nae’ta
…”

“
S’nae’ta
indeed…” Lucian replied, playing for time as the Rakarshans
pressed forwards.

The word must have been an insult, for the tau shouldered his weapon, his
finger closing on the trigger.

Then the tau’s head snapped back violently as a las-bolt slammed into it from
the side. The alien warrior dropped heavily to the ground at Lucian’s side, the
blue-grey of its face visible through the smoking crack in the helmet. A hand
appeared in front of Lucian’s face.

“Rha ji?” the Rakarshan trooper said.

“Great,” Lucian grunted as he took the rifleman’s hand and got to his feet.
“Does no one speak the Emperor’s holy tongue around here?”

Before the Rakarshan could answer, the air was filled by a storm of las-bolts
as the rifleman’s platoon charged forwards and passed the building. As they
closed on the tau positions, the riflemen drew their ceremonial blades and
unleashed an ululating war cry that stirred cold dread in Lucian’s heart. He
could scarcely imagine what it would do to the tau.

The tau defending the cluster of buildings fired a last, desperate fusillade
and half a dozen Rakarshans went down. The high-velocity weapons tore straight
through their bodies, but unlike many weapons used by the Imperium, they did not
kill outright. Instead, they left the victim to bleed out on the ground, out of
the fight but a drain on resources as medics would have to deal with them and
stop their cries demoralising their unwounded fellows.

Then the Rakarshans were upon their foe, and their blades were drinking deep
of the purple blood of the tau.

“Leave some for fleet intelligence!” Lucian yelled as he rejoined the
riflemen. “Leave some… Emperor’s balls, will you just…”

With the Rakarshans unable to understand Lucian’s words, he had no choice but
to wade in amongst them, locating a rifleman whose blade was raised to deliver
the killing blow to a tau warrior at his feet. Lucian stepped in and grasped the
man’s wrist, staying his blow.

“No!” Lucian said firmly. “Intelligence. We need to get at least…”

“Band’im?” the Rakarshan said, the savage light of battle fading from his
eyes.

Lucian relinquished his grip on the other’s wrist, and the rifleman lowered
his blade. “Aye lad, band’im. Band’im right now.”

The Rakarshan nodded his understanding, and then drew his ceremonial blade
across his palm, drawing blood, before sheathing the weapon in the jewelled
scabbard at his belt. A crowd of riflemen was gathering about the scene as
Lucian turned on the tau.

The warrior’s helmet had been torn off in the melee, and he had a blackened
wound at his shoulder where a las-bolt had struck home. There was no blood; the
heat of the blast had cauterised the wound, but would have flash-boiled the
surrounding tissue making the entire arm useless and collapsing the adjacent
lung. If they even had lungs. “Looks like the war’s over for you, tau,” Lucian
said. Then, remembering the mess Inquisitor Grand had made of the first tau the
crusade had taken prisoner, he added “Better get you to Gauge’s staff…”

An explosion sounded from somewhere amongst the settlement, followed by a
last burst of heavy bolter fire before the sounds of battle finally ended. The
sound of whining turbines came from the far side of the cluster of buildings,
rising in pitch before fading as the vehicles fled.

“Vokset, sir,” the vox-operator said as he handed Lucian his headset.

“That I understood,” Lucian said. Like most Low Gothic dialects Lucian had
encountered, the Rakarshan tongue contained elements common across the Imperium.
It was just a matter of deciphering the underlying terms. “Gerrit here. Go
ahead.”

“The enemy are retreating, my lord,” said Major Subad over the vox-net. “They
put up an honourable fight, but they are now fleeing west by anti-grav carrier.”

“Understood, major,” Lucian replied. “Congratulate the men on a battle well
fought and meet me here. Have Havil deploy a screen to the west in case they
counter-attack. Out.”

As the rifle platoon’s lieutenant arrived and set about ordering his men to
secure the area, Lucian took stock of the tau settlement the Rakarshans had
captured. The dozen or so buildings were constructed of the off-white,
resin-like compound he had encountered in previous battles, and were low and
domed. They were so unlike anything humanity built or dwelt within, all clean
lines devoid of ornamentation. Despite their functional appearance, there was
something elegant about the design of the buildings, for there was obviously
some alien aesthetic at work.

Lucian located the door of the nearest building, comparing its design to that
of the defence station that had been captured at the outset of the war and used
for a brief time as its base of operations for the planetary assault on the
tau-held world of Sy’l’kell. A shallow recess to one side of the door concealed
a simple command rune, which Lucian pressed, causing the door to hiss as
pneumatic systems engaged and opened the portal.

Lucian stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the relative gloom. He kept his
plasma pistol drawn, just in case any defenders lurked inside. As his eyes
adjusted, Lucian saw that the room he had passed into was some sort of workshop,
with dozens of tools arrayed in orderly rows across the walls. A moment’s study
told Lucian that the tools were little more than agricultural implements, but
they appeared not to be designed for use by the tau, whose four-fingered hands
would surely be unsuitable to wield them. The tools looked more like they were
designed for use by some sort of…