03 - Savage Scars (15 page)

But despite their seeming reliance on technology and their aberrant social
order, the tau had proved a highly capable foe. While their skills in close
combat were no equal to the sheer ferocity of the Rakarshans or the Space
Marines, their advanced weaponry made up for that deficiency. The Departmento
Tacticae was slowly piecing together a picture of the tau’s capabilities, which
it was disseminating to the ground force commanders as quickly as the reports
could be compiled. The Imperium had learned more about the aliens’ battlefield
doctrines in the last forty-eight hours than it had in the entire crusade, for
in previous ground battles Imperial forces had encountered little more than line
infantry. Now reports were flooding in from all fronts of anti-grav armoured
vehicles, target designator-equipped artillery spotters and a myriad of equally
unanticipated, yet highly deadly foes.

“Be advised,” the voice of the Departmento Tacticae advisor crackled over the
vox-net. “Spearhead Sarik reports contact with enemy heavy infantry equipped
with some form of stealth field. Ex-loading tacticae script now.”

Lucian lowered his magnoculars and took the data-slate handed to him by Major
Subad. He scanned the reams of information being transmitted from General
Gauge’s command centre on the
Blade of Woe
, ignoring large portions of it
and zeroing in on what was most relevant.

Item; main advance stalling, Imperial Guard units engaged by multiple
ambushes resulting in fractured progress. Regimental Provosts to increase
activities pending Commissarial intervention.

Item; advance to be consolidated into three main fronts. Battlegroup Arcadius
to advance along present axis to probe city outer limits. Space Marine
composites to amalgamate as soon as possible to reduce main enemy concentration.
Titans to amalgamate ready to face enemy destroyers.

Item; second wave Imperial Guard units to proceed in attached order of march.
Armoured and cavalry units to be made ready for push against enemy units
consolidating along River 992. Armoured infantry to move up in support of
armour. Mechanised units to muster as per attached orders.

“Havil, better get the boys fed and watered,” Lucian told the sergeant-major
as he lowered the data-slate. “Subad, draft a warning order. We’re going in. I
want us moving by nightfall.”

The outskirts of Gel’bryn lay ahead, the details lost to the static-laced,
monochrome green of Lucian’s prey-sense goggles. Battlegroup Arcadius was
advancing towards a small conurbation on the eastern shore of the watercourse
designated “River 992”, beyond which lay the city and the bulk of the tau
defenders. Patrols platoon was a kilometre forward, the very finest of the
Rakarshans’ scouts leading the rifle companies forwards under cover of darkness.

Though he had wanted to go in with the foremost platoons, Lucian had been
told in no uncertain terms that he was nowhere near the equal of the Rakarshans
when it came to stealth and field craft. His insistence on wearing his
ancestors’ suit of power armour tipped the argument. Lucian was currently
positioned halfway down the line, where he was less likely to give away the
Rakarshans’ approach.

Lucian knew that the advance into the outskirts would not go undetected for
long, for it had been established that the tau had their own low-light
technology. Though he kept the heretical thought to himself, it seemed likely to
Lucian that the tau’s technology was superior to the Imperial forces’ in this,
and many other fields. Though the Rakarshans’ own night-vision devices were
offset by the tau’s, they had other advantages and skills to draw on. The
Rakarshans moved with such utter silence that one could be marching right next
to Lucian and he would not have heard. Their use of cover and concealment was
beyond any human unit Lucian had ever witnessed. In fact, they were almost
supernaturally good.

With a slight start, Lucian realised that he was alone, no Rakarshans visible
in the darkness around him. He continued his advance nonetheless, knowing that
there were probably over a dozen of the stealthy riflemen within ten metres of
him. The terrain dipped as it ran down towards the distant river, beyond which
the Tacticae advisers reported a concentration of the enemy units gathering.

“Sir!” an urgent whisper hissed out of the darkness. Less than three metres
in front of Lucian was a Rakarshan section leader, barely visible in the shadows
behind a low shrub. Spread out behind him was a whole rifle section, which
Lucian had not even known was nearby.

Lucian halted, lowering himself into a kneeling position beside the corporal.
“Report.”

The section leader clearly spoke a small amount of standard Low Gothic, for
Lucian could just about understand him when he said “Enemy, right flanking.”

Lucian adjusted the gain on his goggles and studied the terrain to the right
of the group. The land continued to dip as it ran towards River 992, which
sparkled in the middle distance. Three hundred metres to the east was an orderly
plantation of the ubiquitous purple fruit trees, but to Lucian, they harboured
nothing but dark shadows.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, sir. Ghosting in the thick.”

“Well enough,” Lucian said. “If you’re sure.” Lucian looked around for the
signalman who had been his shadow for the last day or so. He was not surprised
when the man appeared from the darkness nearby.

“Advise Subad we’ve detected movement in the woods to the east. Tell him I’ve
ordered a sweep, but the advance should continue.”

The signalman passed the message on, shielding the pickup of his vox-set with
his hand as he spoke in hushed tones.

“Right lad,” Lucian whispered to the corporal. “Let’s go see what we have.”

The man’s eyes narrowed in disapproval and he nodded to indicate Lucian’s
power armour. “You go first then,” Lucian conceded.

The section leader saluted silently and in a moment was gone, along with his
men. Lucian engaged his prey-sense goggles again, and could just about make out
the Rakarshans’ thermal signatures as they dashed across the open ground towards
the plantation. Lucian cycled through his goggles’ range bands, looking for any
sign of an enemy in the treeline. He found none, but that did not mean there was
no enemy there. If the enemy the Rakarshans had detected were the
stealth-fielded heavy infantry the White Scars had encountered, then it was
incredible the Rakarshans had detected them at all. According to the tacticae
reports disseminated to the various commands, the stealthers were not just
shielded from the eye, but from other targeting devices too. Perhaps even from
the war spirit that animated Lucian’s prey-sense goggles.

Lucian was overcome by the notion that someone was watching him. He told
himself it was nonsense and moved out in the Rakarshans’ wake, but could not
entirely shake the feeling. Wanting to be ready for combat, he drew his plasma
pistol, and was just about to activate its power cycle when the signalman put a
restraining hand on his forearm. He was right of course; the high-pitched whine
of the containment coils drawing power from the plasma flask would ring out like
a bugle signalling a cavalry charge. Lucian nodded his thanks to the signalman
and re-holstered the pistol, drawing his power sword instead, but not activating
it for now. The sword could be powered up in a second, so he could leave doing
so until really needed, whereas the pistol could take long seconds to be readied
to fire.

Lucian continued as quietly as he could, leaving a generous distance between
himself and the leading Rakarshans. He was painfully aware of every little sound
his suit made, marvelling that he had never noticed any of them before. The
fusion core of his backpack gave off a low hum, while the actuators at the
suit’s joints hissed and strained with his every movement. Ordinarily, the
sounds were practically inaudible, but in the dark night, with a concealed enemy
potentially training a crosshair on Lucian’s forehead, they were appallingly
loud.

“Sir!” the signalman hissed, dropping to a crouch. Lucian followed the man’s
example, and scanned the treeline through his goggles. Still nothing.

“What?” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

“The riflemen, my lord,” the man said. “They have detected movement beneath
the trees. It must be an ambush.”

Lucian located the riflemen, who were spread out in a line about a hundred
metres ahead, each taking cover behind the low lying shrubs that studded the
area. Lucian felt suddenly that whatever would happen next was down to him to
decide. He was used to such situations in the void, where his actions in a space
battle might doom himself and thousands of crewmen, but this was something else.
What would Sarik or Gauge do, he thought?

Both would fight through the ambush, he knew. And they would do so from the
front.

Turning back to the signalman, Lucian was about to give the order to press on
when a thunderous burst of gunfire erupted from the treeline. Five Rakarshans
went down, dead or wounded, Lucian could not tell which. “Damn this,” he spat,
and drew his plasma pistol from its holster.

“Charge!” Lucian bellowed, uncaring of the high-pitched whine of his plasma
pistol powering up. He stood, the signalman following his example, and strode
forwards. A second burst of gunfire sounded, pale blue bolts whipping through
the air all too close.

“That’s it!” Lucian yelled as he picked up his pace towards the treeline.
“Come out and play!”

Lucian strode past the Rakarshan section leader, the man’s face staring up at
him with a stunned expression. “Now’s your chance, lad,” Lucian hissed. “Get
moving!”

Understanding dawned on the Rakarshan’s face and Lucian grinned like a fool.
In an instant, the man was leading his riflemen away, starting a wide loop that
would bring them towards the hidden enemy’s left flank.

Now Lucian was picking up speed as he neared the dark treeline, and a third
volley of gunfire split the air. The projectiles were the same condensed energy
packets fired by other tau weapons, but the discharge of the weapon firing
sounded distinctly different, somehow cruder and certainly noisier.

The signalman was directly behind him, and thankfully, so too were several
other sections. Lucian brandished his power sword and thumbed it to full power,
arcs of white lightning leaping up and down its length. The nearby Rakarshans
followed his example, limbering their lasguns and drawing their ceremonial
blades.

Now the treeline was only twenty metres ahead, and Lucian heard a ripple of
lasgun fire from fifty metres to the left. The Rakarshans had engaged. An
ululating hoot sounded from within the trees, and was repeated along its whole
length. The sound was utterly alien and savagely barbaric, and not like any
other Lucian had heard so far on Dal’yth Prime.

Then the trees rustled, and a dark shape leaped to the ground in front of
Lucian, followed within seconds by a dozen more. The figures glowed bright green
in Lucian’s prey-sense goggles, and were tall, muscular and whip-fast in their
movements. In the last few moments, Lucian tore his goggles free, knowing they
would hinder his three-dimensional awareness in the brutal melee to follow.

The creature in front of Lucian let forth a high-pitched, almost
avian-sounding cry, and charged in. It lifted its rifle, which was fitted with
wickedly sharp spikes at barrel and butt. Lucian brought his power sword high to
parry the blow, and the rifle erupted in sparks as it was cut in two.

The creature kept on going, brandishing the two halves of its ruined weapon
like hatchets. If anything, it was now more dangerous. With a twist, Lucian
turned his forward momentum into a sideways lunge and brought his power sword
down in a wide arc aimed at the creature’s middle. It anticipated the move and
sprung backwards with an angry hoot.

The war cries of the Rakarshans and the whistling calls of the aliens erupted
all about, and a swirling melee engulfed the entire treeline.

Lucian’s foe leaped through the air, directly for him, and he raised his
power sword again. In a split second, he saw that he could not hope to deflect
both of the alien’s weapons, so he parried one, reducing it to a useless stump,
and turned his shoulder to the other causing it to glance harmlessly from a
shoulder plate.

The creature hissed its anger in Lucian’s face, its sharp, beak-like mouth
open wide as if it meant to bite into Lucian’s flesh. The alien came on,
barrelling into Lucian and forcing him backwards as its weapon scraped down his
chest armour. Lucian saw an opening and brought his power sword up to plunge it
into the thing’s chest, but again, his foe twisted aside and sprang clear.

For a second, Lucian and the alien circled one another, the shadowy forms of
bitterly interlocked combatants swirling around them in the dark and grunts of
pain and anger filling the air. Its beady eyes were fixed on his and sharp
quills at the back of its head rattled as they stood on end like the hackles of
some enraged predator.

Lucian feinted to the left, and the creature dodged his blade with
preternatural speed. But that was what he had hoped it would do. With his left
hand, Lucian brought the plasma pistol up, levelled it directly at the alien’s
head and pulled the trigger.

The darkness erupted into violet brightness as the plasma bolt spat from the
blunt pistol’s barrel and consumed the alien in a roiling ball of searing
energy. Lucian’s vision swam with nerve-light and he was momentarily blinded. As
he blinked furiously to clear his vision, Lucian heard the wet thud of meat
striking the ground and knew his foe was dead.

A Rakarshan yelled something from nearby. Though Lucian did not understand
the words, he guessed their meaning and ducked blindly. The sharp hiss of air
parted by a razor-sharp blade sounded a hand’s span above his head, and Lucian
knew the rifleman had just saved his life. He straightened again and as his
vision finally cleared he saw another three of the alien warriors closing on
him.