V2 Chapter 79: Dawn Over Nev City
The inner city of Nev City was close to falling.
The artillery had not stopped since before dawn. The Blood Pact's siege guns continued pounding the last perimeter wall.
The reinforced composite gates, their adamantine bracing badly deformed, had cracked down the centre, opening a gap wide enough for several people to push through abreast. Outside the gap, Blood Pact infantry were massing. They advanced under their officers' screaming commands, flags and weapons raised, one push after another.
The heavy guns on the plasteel perimeter wall answered only occasionally, one or two shots at a time.
After each discharge, the gun crews needed a long interval to reload. The shells were nearly gone and the propellant charges were almost exhausted. Bodies were stacked beside many of the gun positions; the defenders had not had time to move them.
The inner city garrison fought on under General Petrov's command.
They had packed sandbags, steel plate, and abandoned vehicles into every street, turning every road leading to the gate into a temporary firing line.
The civilians who had withdrawn into the inner city were all mobilised. Those who could carry things moved ammunition. Those with medical knowledge worked the aid stations. The elderly and the wounded were set to sorting feed belts in the rear. Young people ran water and magazines to every fire position under the direction of runners.
Every person who could still move had been given something to do.
In the half-collapsed command post, dust fell continuously from the ceiling. General Petrov stood before the holo-map, his eyes sunken, his lips cracked. He had not slept in a long time. His uniform had been dried into a single piece by blood, sweat, and grit.
An adjutant hurried to his side, his voice stripped raw.
"General. Our ammunition will not last another half-day. Clean water distribution has stopped. Food reserves are down to minimum rations for the wounded and the gun crews only."
Petrov slowly raised his head.
"The relief force?"
The adjutant did not answer immediately.
Petrov turned sharply. "Where is our relief force?"
"General, based on the last communication we received, General Bleddin's forces are estimated to..." The adjutant forced the words out. "Estimated to reach the outer perimeter of Nev City at the earliest in one week."
Petrov stared at him.
Artillery thunder continued outside. The vox operators were still taking desperate calls from every position. Everyone in the command post had heard the answer.
"One week?"
Petrov's voice cracked upward.
"Then he will arrive to find our bodies being dragged to the cultists' altars!"
No one answered.
They all knew Petrov was right.
Without something extraordinary, Nev City would not last until dawn.
At that moment, a concussive roar arrived from the distance. The entire command post shook. Several emergency lights went out simultaneously. The tactical projection on the wall flickered repeatedly, and the red alert indicators covering the gate sector expanded to fill the entire display.
A runner stumbled inside, his face covered in ash and blood.
"General! The main gate has been completely breached!"
Petrov's fingers closed hard.
"Move every available reserve there." He said immediately. "Order the west-side gun crews to put their last rounds into both sides of the breach. Medical teams fall back. Civilian auxiliaries move ammunition. Every person who can hold a weapon goes to the gate."
The adjutant said urgently: "General, we have only two companies left in reserve."
"Then two companies."
Petrov picked up his chainsword and drew the bolt pistol at his hip.
"Personal guard with me."
No one in the command post tried to stop him.
At this point, staying at the rear to command had very little value. The moment the gate fell, the Blood Pact would come through the main road and into the inner city, and the last command node, the wounded sections, and the civilian shelter areas would all be cut open.
Petrov led his guard out of the command post at a run.
The streets were fire and smoke. Wounded soldiers were braced against walls and still shooting. Civilians pushed ammunition carts through the cross-streets. A Ministorum priest stood before a damaged devotional statue, reciting prayer at full volume, the words immediately swallowed by the artillery.
The Blood Pact had already come through the breach in the gate.
They wore their dark shell armour, carrying lasrifles, combat knives, and demolition packs, pushing inward through the shattered gate along the blown-open crack in the doors. The defenders fired at point-blank range. Many of them had barely discharged a handful of rounds before enemy heavy weapons tore them apart.
Petrov drove his guard to a barricade and fired directly into the breach.
"Push them back!" he roared. "Drive them back through the gate!"
The defenders began a counter-push.
They had made their peace with dying here.
Then a high, sharp sound tore through the sky.
Petrov looked up by instinct.
Several tracer arcs cut across the sky through the shellfire and smoke, falling fast toward the enemy's rear area outside the gate. They were moving extremely fast, dropping at almost flat trajectories, striking the Blood Pact's rear formations just beyond the gate.
The first drop pod hit the enemy's rear position and the ground shuddered.
Then the second. Then the third.
Petrov suddenly recalled something. The enemy anti-aircraft coverage above Nev City had cut out a short while ago, but the grinding intensity of the fighting had prevented him from registering what that meant.
Then the bolter fire started, and the chaos erupting in the enemy's rear made everything clear.
Those belonged to the Imperium.
"Press forward!" Petrov bellowed. "Everyone forward! Now!"
He led his guard over the barricade and drove toward the gate breach.
Through the burning light, Petrov saw the tall figures.
Thirteen black-armoured Astartes had cut into the enemy from the rear. They wore grey cloaks. Their power armour carried no Chapter markings, only the old lines visible under the black paint and a few Inquisitorial seals.
They moved faster than Petrov could follow.
The Blood Pact soldiers tried to reform their line. Several officers raised chainblades and flags, shouting orders to turn the formation around. In the next instant, the lead black-armoured giant had already crashed into them. A storm shield drove the front rank apart. A power sword swept level and took the officer and the two guards beside him in a single stroke.
The bolters began firing in a continuous rhythm.
Every bolt-round drove into the Blood Pact's packed ranks. Chest armour, helmets, and weapons were blown into fragments. Several Blood Pact heavy weapon crews had barely swung their muzzles toward the Astartes when the black-armoured giants were already on top of them. The weapon mounts were smashed. The ammunition crates were crushed underfoot. The crews were pinned down by power swords.
Petrov had expected a brutal, grinding assault action.
It was faster than he had imagined.
The Blood Pact vanguard were an elite force. They did not break immediately. They tried to counter-attack in small unit elements. Some came at the black-armoured giants with thermal charges. Others attempted to suppress them with heavy stubbers and bolter weapons.
None of it stopped the thirteen Astartes.
These warriors were operating at a level that touched the edge of what Petrov understood as possible in a living soldier. They exceeded every Space Marine force he had encountered before, moving through the Blood Pact as something from a different tier of existence entirely.
No ordinary mortal force could maintain an effective close-quarters response to them. A Blood Pact blade was raised and the man holding it was cut apart before the swing completed. A fire position completed its traverse and was destroyed by a bolt-round before it could fire.
One of the Black Shields drove into the exterior side of the breach, caught a Blood Pact soldier by the chest plate with one hand, and used him to batter the heavy weapons team beside him. Three men became an indistinguishable mass. The soldiers behind them had not finished reloading when the chainsword came down into the formation.
Another Black Shield raised his bolter and put aimed fire into a Blood Pact element that was pulling back, each shot dropping several men. The garrison defenders beside him could not reload fast enough to contribute.
Petrov's guard reached the gate area behind the Astartes.
They fired and threw grenades, trying to hold the flanks for those Astartes. They quickly understood that all they could do was clear the scattered remnants who had broken away into the surrounding streets. The main engagement had been taken entirely by the thirteen black-armoured giants.
The Blood Pact vanguard was pushed back out through the gate.
Several hundred Blood Pact soldiers who had already pushed into the gate area were cleared in a very short time. Shattered armour, broken weapons, and burning flags were spread across the ground on both sides of the gates. The surviving enemy began withdrawing. Officers in the distance were still trying to organise the next assault, but their formations had already lost their shape.
Petrov did not waste the window.
"Rebuild the barricade!" he shouted. "Push the vehicles up! Gun crews, put the last rounds outside the gate! Everyone who can still move, help me seal the breach!"
The garrison responded immediately.
Civilian auxiliaries pushed steel plate and sandbags forward from the rear. Wounded soldiers were supported back to their fire positions. The west-side gun crews put their last shells outside the gate. The detonations came down on the Blood Pact's forming second wave and broke it temporarily.
Several minutes later, the fighting inside the gate finally went quiet.
Petrov stood in the blood and broken armour, his chest heaving. His bolt pistol's magazine was empty. His chainsword was covered in blood and flesh.
The thirteen black-armoured Astartes walked toward him.
Their grey cloaks were burned through in places by shellfire. The black power armour carried impact marks and blood. The figure at the front was large even by Astartes standards, the lenses of the helmet giving off a cold red light.
The garrison soldiers raised their weapons on instinct.
Petrov raised his hand and stopped them.
He did not know which Chapter these Astartes belonged to. He did not know why they had appeared here. But they had just saved Nev City.
The lead Black Shield stopped in front of Petrov.
His voice came through the helmet vox-amplifier, low and clear.
"By order of Colonel-Commissar Duvette Erdmann, the Nev City siege situation is being resolved."
"The 112th and the Krieg 1173rd Provisional Siege Combat Group are opening an external relief corridor. Hold your positions, mortal."