Chapter 11: The So-Called Commissar
The engineers deployed their folding ladders, creating an efficient assault path. They took point, their heavy carapace armor capable of withstanding autogun fire. The Guardsmen followed close behind, advancing the line alongside grenadiers carrying heavy weapons.
In truth, the battle's outcome was sealed the moment the Death Korps entered the trenches.
Dos approached the Champion and performed a standard Aquila. His courage and compassion had placed him in danger, but also preserved the lives of many soldiers.
This salute was Dos's genuine respect for the Astartes. The Salamander nodded in acknowledgment, then advanced into a tunnel.
Dos, however, sensed this tunnel was dangerous. What kind of passage stood three meters high? Was it meant to accommodate heavy weapons, or...?
A wise man does not stand beneath a crumbling wall. Dos had no desire to get involved. But he had little choice.
If he remained where he was, he'd be alone. As for the Stuar? They were still laboriously climbing the ladders. The poor quality of this Guard regiment left an indelible impression on Dos.
So Dos chose to accompany the Champion, along with a full-strength Krieg infantry squad of ten men, which gave him some measure of security.
Dos jogged forward and caught up with the group. Then he witnessed a frustrating scene: the Guardsmen walked ahead of the Astartes, lasguns with fixed bayonets.
Astartes referred to the Imperial Guard as the "Mortal Auxiliary Army," and the Adeptus Astartes always led the charge. After attempts to persuade them failed, the Champion had grown accustomed to the arrangement.
As they advanced, the Guardsmen eliminated concealed enemies one by one. The dim lighting didn't affect their marksmanship. They were far superior to someone like Doss, a mere novice. Whenever a junction appeared, a frag grenade cleared the approach, then two engineers alternated providing cover as they cleared surviving hostiles.
The team suffered no casualties, allowing Doss to relax slightly.
For the Krieg, returning to trenches and tunnels was like coming home. Every critical position was marked. Even the most stubborn opponents were efficiently dispatched by the Champion.
If nothing unexpected happens, something surprising is about to happen.
The Champion suddenly halted, his vox-amplified voice roaring. "Fall back. Behind me!"
He drew his power sword, activating the disruption field. His green armor gleamed with ghostly blue radiance, and his red visor caught a faint black shadow.
The Guardsmen went on alert and pushed Doss aside. Just as Doss was about to speak, he felt a massive tremor from his flank.
Thump!
The reinforced wall crumbled like parchment, sending earth, wood fragments, and rubble flying as an Astartes in red power armor burst through. His chainsword screamed, stained with crimson blood.
The Champion parried with lightning reflexes, firing his bolt pistol in rapid succession, but the usually effective mass-reactive rounds ricocheted off the enemy's armor.
The foe was favored by the Dark Gods and possessed considerable ranged resistance. The Champion immediately discarded the ineffective pistol, retreated two steps, and adopted a two-handed grip, but the enemy pressed forward, his spinning chainsword flashing in the dim light.
The Ruinous Powers had blessed the weapon in his grasp, as it resisted the disruption field on the power sword.
The battle's intensity made it difficult for the Guardsmen to approach, and the soldiers with plasma guns hesitated repeatedly, fearing they'd strike the Champion.
"Spirit of machine, heed my will." After a quick aim, Doss fired and hit the enemy, but even with the Machine Spirit's blessing, it couldn't penetrate the traitor's defenses.
The enemy was overwhelmingly powerful. Even with the Champion's exceptional martial skill, he could only fight to a stalemate. These traitors had gained unnatural power from their Dark God.
After a prolonged deadlock, the Champion seized on the traitor's weakness and struck with full force, attempting to break his opponent's balance. But suddenly, blood-red light emanated from the enemy.
The shockwave forced back the Champion, and the enemy didn't waste the opening. The chainsword shrieked and pierced into the Champion's torso, tearing his secondary heart to shreds.
The Champion, clutching his opponent's blade, collapsed. Just as the enemy moved to finish him, a Guardsman charged forward. In an instant, the Guardsman was disemboweled. But more Guardsmen followed, launching a fearless assault like wolves charging an elephant.
One by one, they were killed with single blows, flesh and blood scattered, organs destroyed, no chance of survival.
The squad's sergeant spoke quietly. "Back off, Commissar. You're more valuable than us." Dos noticed he gripped a melta bomb.
The device was compelling; it could cripple a Dreadnought, let alone kill Astartes. However, the drawbacks were equally apparent.
This type of melta weapon, commonly used by engineers, had a delayed fuse. Given an Astartes' reaction speed, he could easily evade it in those few seconds. But... Dos understood their plan and, without hesitation, turned and ran.
The sergeant tucked the melta bomb into his webbing and launched his final charge. The traitor didn't even glance up, raising his chainsword, but this time a massive explosion ended his millennia of evil.
The heat wave knocked Dos to the ground, searing his back with pain.
Dos wasn't concerned about the Champion's survival. While the melta bomb was powerful, its range was limited. With the enemy as a buffer, the Champion would live. Dos knew he had survived, once again...
He dragged his weary body toward the tunnel exit, only to witness a scene that enraged him, the Stuar's were looting the spoils of war. Their commissar had fallen during the charge, and they'd become like stray dogs without leashes.
He picked up the blood-stained commissar's cap from the ground. The insignia on the cap was the double-headed Aquila representing the Imperium, but this symbol of honor hadn't protected its master...
While Dos stood stunned, a heretic with a primed melta grenade charged at him, astonishingly, the Stuarts didn't fire!
"Blood for the Blood God, skulls for the Skull Throne!" The deranged heretic shouted blasphemous slogans, wanting to die with Dos, the highest-ranking officer, to gain the Blood God's favor.
A quick-thinking Guardsman tackled the enemy and grappled with him.
Bang!
This explosion was close, and the blast blew away Dos. He crashed heavily to the ground and rolled twice.
The pain made him feel as if his internal organs were twisted together and thrashing inside him. He opened his mouth, but the agony was so intense he couldn't even scream.
It felt like an eternity before a Guardsman helped him up.
Once the ringing in his ears and disorientation subsided slightly, he asked, "Who is he?"
"6827," the sergeant replied.
"Why did he save me?" Dos struggled to control his gaze, refusing to look at 6827's remains. Those killed by the melta bomb detonation left only carbonized bones. Their equipment melted into molten metal instantly, flowing down their skeletons. Their flesh and blood incinerated to white ash.
The only response was prolonged silence.
6827? He vaguely remembered, but Dos couldn't quite recall. That didn't matter. At least he knew what he needed to do.
He gently pushed the sergeant aside and straightened his cap. Then he drew his power sword and activated its disruption field. The eerie blue light illuminated his features, making his sharply defined face appear like a blade. He was about to reveal his fangs for the first time.
Dos slashed diagonally at a Stuar, and the man's body ruptured along the cut, internal organs spilled onto the ground, blood still gushing from his carotid artery. He didn't die immediately, but he struggled to crawl toward his comrades, and his comrades avoided him like a plague carrier.
"Passive resistance and disobedience to orders!" Doss surveyed the assembled troops. "I'm executing him. Do you have objections?"
"We..." an officer began to speak.
Dos roared, "If you have complaints, keep them to yourself! Now take your men and get out of here! Leave the materiel behind. It's the spoils of the 946th Regiment!"
The group scattered like rats.
As a commissar, Dos knew he'd handle many more similar "diplomatic affairs." It was his duty.
"Take inventory of everything," Doss ordered the quartermaster, then headed toward regimental headquarters.
He had a headache and just wanted to rest. He hadn't taken more than a few steps when he collapsed and lost consciousness.
[End of Chapter]