Ashes Page 22

  “Form up. Everyone on this side of the city is moving forward to attack that breach! We have a chance to punch through and get the prisoners out of this hell hole,” yelled Sergeant Curtius elated at the new turn the battle had taken.

  “Hold!” countermanded Lieutenant Gratius. “They have suffered a set back, that much is true, but what would the Empire expect a rebel force to do in this situation? Would they not attack regardless of a lack of credible intelligence? No, we should send a scout force to determine their capabilities. There is every probability they have set a trap. They have been a step ahead of us almost every time so far. We have to stop underestimating their tactical ability.”

  “Sir. Ranger Groups 5 and 14 front and centre. Move forward slowly, report back, avoid engagement and assess. Do not fire unless fired upon.” Sergeant Curtius took the change in tactics in his stride.

  “Lieutenant? I’ve been talking with Jamil, one of the prisoners. He used to be an Engineer before the Empire found out he was an unbeliever. He’s had an idea about these servos and detonators we found in the Armoury. He said we could rig them to the spare weapons we took and fire them remotely. Effectively they would be low tech drone turrets,” said Vice-Corporal Balbus, who, for someone who had started in the Squad as a true believer, had got on remarkably well with the prisoners. Lieutenant Gratius put this down to the care and concern Balbus had shown for the girl, Mya. The interaction had brought out a caring side that had been hidden or concealed before the trek from Egypt. “I thought, maybe they would also expect a scout force. A trap would be hidden, wouldn’t it Sir?”

  “Yes, what is your plan Vice-Corporal?”

  Balbus visibly puffed out his chest at the mention of his new rank “Well, the scouts could place the make-shift turrets in range of the enemy without being seen. Then we could spring the trap without having anyone in the area. We could see what they have planned, with the added advantage that if it’s a one-shot trick then they’ve used it to no effect.”

  “Interesting. See to it. Balbus, this is your plan, so you brief the scout team and tell them your requirements.”

  As Balbus ushered the Ranger Groups off to consult with Jamil, Sergeant Curtius leaned closer to Lieutenant Gratius and whispered, “Did you ever suspect he could come up with something like that?”

  “No Sergeant, I have to say he certainly surprised me. Let’s hope he surprises the Empire as well.”

  After, to Sergeant Curtius’ mind, a morass of technical discussions about rate of fire, wavelength interference and range as well as attenuation rates in which Balbus seemed to hold his own despite a lack of any knowledge on the subject, the ranking soldiers of the groups returned to report on their readiness. With the technical details hammered out the trap was ready to be sprung. Lieutenant Gratius and Sergeant Curtius watched the scouts creep out of their temporarily secure positions.

  “I didn’t see anything in Balbus’ file about any technical training.”

  “He listens Sir. Remember how he was word perfect on the teachings and was always attending the Temple. Well take that drive and ability and re-direct it. That’s what happened. He found something new to put all those skills to. Did you listen to the discussions he had with the rangers and Jamil?”

  “Yes, I could barely make head nor tail of it, Sergeant.”

  “Neither could he, at least to start with. Did you notice how he let the discussions happen and didn’t start making contributions until he knew what was going on?”

  “Now you mention it, yes.”

  “That’s part of my job, Sir. To observe the men, to find out what makes them tick and to use them to the best of their abilities; not just to yell obscenities at them when they don’t pass muster on parade.”

  “What do you think of the plan?”

  “It’s bat-shit crazy, Sir. But everything that has worked for us so far has been. It’s when we’ve stuck to the rules of engagement for the Imperial Guard that we have had our arses handed to us. You had a point when you departed from those tactics and attacked the artillery. I just don’t know how many insane schemes we have left to throw those bastards off balance. You know that Investigator will catch on eventually and then we’ll be finished as she stops playing whatever game she is playing.”

  Lieutenant Gratius sighed. “I am aware of that. Do you not think that despite the end result that it is important that something be attempted? That we at least try? That to just lay down is worse than to fail despite the same end? I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just right to fight this, to maintain the hopeless struggle.”

  “Sir, I’m with you. Now and to the end. I can’t say what it is either, but I know I’ll spit death and blood back at them and that’s all that counts now right?”

  “Indeed it is Sergeant, indeed it is.”

  Small flashes illuminated the light as Jamil hit the red button on the remote controlled detonator. He hadn’t expected the detonator, designed as it was for one firing per item, to be able to stand sustained triggering but it seemed to be working correctly for the time being. He had, in order to preserve the illusion of human triggermen, programmed random delays into the triggering circuits. Even though he only had one trigger, the guns would fire at different intervals each time so that a pattern could not be discerned. Judging from the distant shouts and commands it would appear that the illusion was being perceived exactly as planned. Surprisingly, even though the fire arcs were fixed, an occasional scream punctuated the darkness indicating a casualty on the Imperial lines. In the darkness a scout team was, using pre-defined routes to avoid the automated fire, reloading the guns as they emptied their clips. The return fire centred on the gun placements making the reloading the most hazardous part of the mission. The guns could not be easily moved so the restocking of ammunition had to take place in situ as the enemy sought to strike the person operating the machinery. The saving grace was that by the time the scout got to the weapon the clip was empty so the location of the gun was not as broadcast as when it was firing. The real danger came immediately after reloading when the gun once again opened fire, the light of the discharge once again giving the Imperial forces a bead on the location.

  The lack of any meaningful resistance except small arms fire and rifle shots meant that it was starting to look as though there was no trap and the entire operation was a complete waste of time when several trails of fire lanced into the sky.

  “BACK! Retreat!” yelled Sergeant Curtius into the comm-link.

  As the silhouettes of the scouts could be seen hurdling the degraded walls on their way to return to the rebel lines, the blazing curves in the sky began their downward trajectory after seeming to hang motionless for a brief second. Several of the scouts, who had been attending to the furthest emplacements, were hurled from their feet as the missiles hit; the shockwave impacting their bodies even as they ran from it. The epicentre of the blasts had, as planned, been centred on an area near the emplacements and so the scouts, suffering from numerous bruises, made their way back to the positions. The last of the bedraggled scouts made their way past the lines. Scorch marks and dust marked their faces and uniforms. The fires raging as a result of the impacts flickered orange and yellow light over their faces. Grim faces stared back at Sergeant Curtius and Lieutenant Gratius as each man returned. Each man was counted back in, even though Gratiius and Curtius could see that there were no casualties. Old habits were hard to break, even without the threat of punishment for departure from procedure.

  “Is it just me or was that explosion badly placed?” asked Lieutenant Gratius.

  “I’m just glad we got our boys back, sir. Who cares if they missed?” Sergeant Curtius shrugged.

  “I do. The Empire has enough technology not to miss. Look at what they did to the building with the children in. If they wanted to hit the lines then they would have. This was intentional. I am familiar with the rocketry designs available and we were out of direct range of anything I’m aware of. It seemed as thought they were tryi
ng to use their forces to pin us down so the splash damage would weaken our positions and eliminate some of our men. The Empire has a manpower advantage; it doesn’t care if it looses a few men. Sometimes I got the feeling they only surround and contain rebellions until they starve so that they conserve ammunition.”

  The fires blazed as the light in the sky dimmed, it consumed vast chunks of the battlefield, the Imperial Soldiery with it. Occasionally the odd burning figure could be seen stumbling back away from the rebel forces towards its own rear lines, only to stumble and fall as the inferno fuelled by its own body consumed it. A cloud of stench, burning flesh rolled out towards the rebel fallback positions causing many of the former prisoners to start retching violently where they stood.

  “Get everyone back out of this stink,” yelled Sergeant Curtius “That’s it for tonight. They’ll want to see what damage they’ve done before they try anything else.”

  “Set watches,” added Leuitenant Gratius “They may be regrouping, but I don’t want to be caught unawares”.

  Chapter 18

  Another light had been extinguished; the other had been at work. The light was sure of it, in as much as this confusing vista could allow it certainty. Perhaps the answer lay not in resisting the inexorable tide, but in allowing the irresistible force to move toward a goal that was hidden to it. The pain would be immense, but what was time here but a collection of waves from the permeable matter that so pervaded this region. Time would pass and so would the pain, but the light would be diminished by this sacrifice. Still, all would be nothing in entropic inevitability and all would start once again, changed yet similar. Would that such measures were not necessary and that intrusion into this plane would not again be necessary, but the goal justified the inconvenience to the light. Sacrifice for a greater goal was all part and parcel of a greater ability and presence.

  Preparations had to be made, for the effective planning would be the key to the eventual success. The light flew to whence it came and began to mould that which would hold it and those parts of those with light for so long. This would in part be a prison, yet a sanctuary. Acceptance of the message would be the key to transferring the key components across the barriers erected to halt the progress of such an enterprise. To contain and mould would take almost all of that which would be left to the light after the inevitable conquest of the dark other. To hide and re-emerge, to reseed the message, hopeful that although the dark would be free to wreak havoc the regrouping of essence would be an effective counter to this. Rebirth, an overlooked power by the dark other, was a stock in trade for the light, forming a temporary loss in the struggle could lead to greater reward over time.

  The construction took shape, heralding to a shape previously held, and had yielded much success to the light in the previous iteration. The weakness had been its limited experience and in this the light hoped the shared positive attributes of those it hoped to transfer past the veil would assist in the ineffable plan which it had moulded. Each part in itself was not something that could hope to turn the tide, yet combined it could grow to be something greater than the sum of its parts. The energy expenditure would be colossal and the light would only be able to ease the suffering of those that remained but a part. The sacrifice had to be made.

  The sun rose over a pock-marked battlefield; shadows only marginally shortening in the craters blackened with the ashes of those that had stood there previously. With it rose more vapour trails and shining lights in the skies.

  “What the fuck?” yelled Sergeant Curtius. “Are they going to eliminate more of their own side?”

  “They have to know that we pulled back. They would never reach us. The same tactic would be pointless.”

  The rockets impacted in the now demilitarised zone that had been the left flank of the previous engagement. Somehow the explosions seemed muted, less destructive and of little threat compared to the blasts that had rocked the battlefield last night. Sergeant Curtius gave a glance to Lieutenant Gratius and raised his eyebrow. It was a look that the two men both knew meant that Sergeant Curtius was puzzled by events but didn’t want to worry the men by expressing his confusion.

  “We both saw where those rockets hit; a fully primed rocket should have blasted a crater the same size as the ones from last night. The new craters are at least half the size, if that. It’s as though there was just the propellant and a small charge exploding.” Lieutenant Gratius explained.

  “Well, what would be the point of that? Isn’t the whole idea behind a rocket attack to blow the hell out of whatever is underneath it when it hits?”

  “Normally yes, but I have read in some of the more obscure pre-imperial texts of rockets being used to deliver other payloads to the battlefield.”

  “And you think that’s what happened?”

  “That’s just what I’m afraid of; I have no idea what the Empire is up to. We have obviously forced them into using unconventional tactics as well.”

  “Well at least it means we have them worried, Sir.”

  “Sergeant, a desperate enemy is a dangerous enemy. It will use every resource at its disposal to save itself, even those that should never be used. Think back to what you learned of the pre-Imperial history in school. The deprivations visited on our fellow man were extreme and borne from fear. We were always taught that the Empire protected us from that evil ever returning. They could now be unleashing exactly those horrors upon us.”

  Both men stared towards the enemy lines with growing trepidation. Tactically a slower moving threat was the greatest concern for it would be all the more devastating to make up for its lack of speed. The cries of the Imperial forces first alerted the men to the presence of an alien force on the battlefield. Blood-curdling cries pierced the dark.

  “Has whatever they used backfired?” asked Sergeant Curtius.

  “Possibly, or whatever they did use affected such a wide area they could not target us alone and they decided that they would sacrifice their own troops to hold us in position while the weapon was deployed.”

  “So why hasn’t it affected us?”

  “We are too far back. They took the bait and the automated guns made them think we were actively engaged with their forces.”

  “So what did they do?”

  Lieutenant Gratius stared into the distance in the direction of the enemy lines in silence, not knowing what to answer though he dreaded that which would follow. He had not the heart to impart the fate that may result and only he suspected. As he gazed into the distance with only the haunting cries of the enemy forces carrying over the gap in deployment he saw a brief trace of colour. A noxious green tinge reflected from the distant lights of the Imperial buildings. Lieutenant Gratius peered into the gloom trying to see what could cause such an effect, dreading the outcome of such investigation yet unable to stop himself. As the green mass crept slowly across from the enemy positions Lieutenant Gratius noticed imperfections in the edge, swirling tendrils as the accumulation moved. A green fog enveloped the emplacements that had earlier merely been the subject of a tint of jade.

  “Gas! Get everyone back now!” yelled Lieutenant Gratius.

  “GAS!! Retreat!” echoed Sergeant Curtius.

  One of the scouts, exhausted from the previous night was struggling to keep up with the rebel forces; he had obviously been injured by the explosion as his limp kept threatening to upend him on the uneven ground. Even small rocks and pieces of debris caused his feet to skid and slide making small avalanches of dust career down the slopes of the battlefield. Suddenly, a large rock shifted in the dark at the base of one of the slopes and the scout tumbled to the ground rolling as he impacted. A sick crunch carried on the breeze as a shard of white appeared from within his uniform piercing the grey camouflage. The white patches quickly stained red as the blood flowed from the wound that was obscured by the livery. As he struggled to regain his feet the green gas cloud moved ever closer, accelerated by the wind as it shifted towards the rebel lines.

  Several soldiers m
oved to assist the stricken scout but were halted by a call from Sergeant Curtius. They had been too far ahead to assist and the cloud would reach the scout well before the well-meaning Samaritans could reach him. One soldier, further back than the rest, still ran towards his fallen comrade either oblivious or uncaring of the hopelessness of the situation. The gas enveloped the staggering soldier he was rushing to assist but still he continued on. Even as the screaming and coughing started he ran towards the emerald nebula, he did not even pause when blood erupted from the man’s mouth in a crimson spray. As the scout fell to his knees the soldier who had run to his aid caught him in an embrace and gently lowered him to the ground even as his own coughing started. With an ethereal gentleness and grace he sat next to his comrade in arms and rocked him gently as the gas robbed them of their breath and even their very lives.