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“This is General Alcas to all troops on the Isthmus Watch.”
The resonant voice emerged from com-systems, and address horns, and over-rode non-dedicated pict systems along the lines of fortifications and barracks. Imperial Guardsmen turned to look if not on duty, while their comrades stared across the land bridge to ork lines on the horizon.
“I have good news for us all, from a slightly surprising source.”
There was a series of mutters and scoffs, the occasional mild insult thrown out. The officers and commissars noted but took no action; morale was at an ebb right now, better to let them grumble a bit.
“As with many of you, I’ve been listening to the Caine’s Commandos update. They were pretty damn good, weren’t they?”
There were sighs, there were nods. There were a few who made the Aquilla and said a quick prayer. As they’d stood in deadlock with the Orks, the thrilling reports of Caines Commandos had been packaged and transmitted for morale purposes; Led by a Commissar Caine, a scratch force of Guardsmen, PDF and civilian volunteers had rallied in the Ork-infested heart of the east Perlia continent, and carved a bloody path through the Ork raiders, growing in strength and pushing steadily west. Observed from orbit, their comms traffic picked up by Imperial receivers, but tragically unable to hear anything back, Caine’s Commandos had been a symbol of resilience and victory. Again and again had come the call from the Commissar, from minor skirmishes to major battles, “Rally on me!” And they had. Till hundreds of Guardsmen and dozens of vehicles followed Caine from victory to victory….
Till the Valley of Daemons. They’d listened to the comms traffic as Cain’s forces found themselves backed up to the mighty dam complex, an Ork horde sweeping through the valleys towards them. They’d heard the screamed orders to blow the dam as the Orks got far too close. They’d seen the pic-captures as the dam dissolved in dust and spray, while the vengeful flood swept away a thousand Ork warbands in all the valleys below like the Emperor’s own wrath.
And they had mourned, for brave Caine and his valiant commandos, as they’d fallen in battle, taking all their foes with them. A worthy end, but a bitter one.
“It is my honour and pleasure to bring you another episode of Caines Commandos. Sit tight boys, I don’t normally do these.”
The Guard looked at the speakers and screens genuine surprise. What was going on?
“When the skies cleared above the dam, we checked but could find no sign of Caine’s Commandos, not a tank or survivor anywhere. And given their resourcefulness, we found this odd. The Tech-priests then suggested that Caine may have escaped through a flood tunnel, taking him out of the valley and under the mountains, to the coastal paths….”
There was a clutching of Aquila, and an indrawn breath amongst the audience.
“And we checked, and calculated the timings, and there they were! Caine’s commandos had escaped again, and were rolling down the coast, right towards us…”
A few cheers rolled around the barracks, grins on the faces of the sentries as they watched the horizon. The screens showed a series of orbital captures, tagged tech signatures edging down the strip between the mountains and the beaches, a brave little column still moving…
“Oh, but it doesn’t end there. We tracked them as they drove straight into the nearest Imperial supply dump. Probably looking for some tanna.”
There were a few chuckles.
“What follows is verified footage, transmitted by Tech-seer Tayber from Caine’s retinue….”
Clear snippets of audio. On the screens, slightly fuzzy pictures of figures, one human, several looming orks, shakey as if zoomed on from an unstable platform.
“It’s damn Korbul!”
Bellows, chainsword buzz, shouts, calls, blade on blade, screams, las-shots…. And the huge ork figure falls. The human walks away. Ork voices rise in screaming argument.
“Commissar Caine found Warboss Korbul, and killed the Ork leader in a duel.”
Cheers and laughs echoed down the Imperial lines.
“I’ve watched this three times, and I barely believe it myself! But Korbul is dead, and the Orks are falling apart, and Caine himself…. Is still trying to get home.”
The cheers died as the Generals audience thought through this last.
“He’s on course to try to punch through the last 100k. Through half the Orks on the continent. Through their lines. And though they’ve started shooting at each other, and there’s a full clan war breaking out over there…. They’re not going to make it.”
Heads went down. Fists were clenched.
“At our best guess , the last of Caine’s commandos will die just as they get onto the isthmus. After a dozen battles and over 6000k, they’ll die just able to see our lights….”
There were curses, and clutched weapons, and a few tears.
“And I’m NOT having that!” General Alcas’ voice rose in passion and anger. “I’m not going to let him fail at this point! The Orks are falling apart! The deadlock has been broken! And I’m going out there to pick up Caine and bring him and his brave boys home! And the Titans will walk with us! And the tanks will be with us! And you’re all coming too! And the Emperor will look down on us, and we will make Him proud! Imperial Guard, we’re moving out! We have comrades to evac!”
On the battered earth, on the narrow landbridge linking the continents, mechanised Imperial might surges forth! Warhound Titans leading the way, tank squadrons churning along in close support, and a command Leviathan in the centre of hundreds of Chimeras, with occasional Guardsmen howling and waving flags, as aerial squadrons roared overhead! The Imperium forces roll out in fury and force, towards a rising cloud of smoke and death on the horizon!
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Commissar Caine leaned out of his command Salamander, skilfully holding on with one hand as he surveyed his column. Confidence, determination, and faith burned in his eyes, and he gave a nod and a smile as they swept past a battered Imperial sign on the road. “By the Throne, we’re nearly there!”
Dropping back in, he nodded to his driver Jurgen.
“Another 100 clicks, Jurgen. And then we can get some tanna.”
His faithful assistant, scruffy little rogue that he was, gave a cheeky grin, and replied without his eyes leaving the road ahead. “It’s been a bit of a drive sir, but I’d follow you further!”
Caine dropped back and grabbed the comms in a decisive sweep. “All vehicles, this is Caine! We’re on to the last 100 clicks! Stay together, watch out for the greenskins, and if we get separated….”
“Rally on me!” came the cheer from the column. A dozen Imperial tanks, engines running hard, a score of Imperial Chimeras, and as many civilian trucks, packed with a motley collection of Imperial subjects and troops, waving all manner of weaponry, and united in devotion and loyalty!
On a dusty hill, scarred with tracks, Sergeant Tayber halts his bike. He scans the hilltops from beneath a gloved hand, and mutterers “Throne preserve us….” And activated his comms.
“This is Caine to all vehicles! The greenskins are coming from the south! Sautine, tanks to the left of the column, Tayber, watch our right flank, we keep moving! Fire and move!”
And they drive into the scattered xenos like an axe into groxmeat, Commander Sautine’s scratch-built tank formation honed by practice and hard-won experience. Her Leman Russ fires on the move, and turns hard to return to the column, On its flank the fighting vixen insignia had been joined by a grim motto, “Last Fox Running”. But she and hers keep fighting, pushing onwards, one more click, one more click…
As the Orks grow thicker, the column grows tighter. The tanks take point and blast a way through! Ork trukks close enough that the PDF and civilians exchange fire with the xenos! A Chimera dies in fire beneath a pack of Ork buggies, and is avenged by the furious fire of the rest but still the column forges on!
In a command Chimera, a red-cloaked techseer is working hard at a comms system, a Guardsmen at her side. The vehicle rocks and bounces along, and sometimes they freeze as fire patters off the armour. He watches the screens, winces, and calls out. “Commissar, we just lost Jaxon’s truck as well.”
“May the Emperor hold them close,” comes Caine’s steady voice over the comm. “By their sacrifice, we push forwards.”
“Commissar… we have a lot more xenos coming in…” his voice trembles a little.
“Have faith Maysdon! We shall cut through these xenos, by the His Will! And we have but 50k to go! With your courage and His Blessing, we shall win through!”
“Yes sir. Sorry sir!”
“Don’t make me come over there, Maysdon!”
Guardsmen Maysdon grins, and is about to say more, when the tech-seer jerks and punches a button. Her voice is clear and fluting and joyful, “We have a comms signal! Commissar, patching you through!”
Caine grabs the vox pickup. His hand does not tremble. His gaze stays on the way ahead.
“This is Commissar Caine! What unit!”
“Thunderbolt Squadron 166 sir!”
Caine closes in eyes and mouths a quick prayer of thanks. “Good to hear you! Your mission?”
“Bombing run in support sir! We’ve got you locked in and will clear your road a bit. Can you maintain speed and course!”
“By His Will! Time to impact?”
“Less than a minute Commissar!”
“See you soon! End!”
He flicks a couple of switches. “Flyboys going to burn us a path, Jurgen. Don’t jump.”
“Aye sir!”
“Caine to all vehicles! Rally on me! Match our speed and course and tighten up! Friendly bombers coming in!”
The Thunderbolts sweep in, howling through the atmosphere in two wings of planes, lower and lower…. They start taking fire from the Orks below them, a few bullet holes, a few trails of smoke, but they hold….. and then drop their bombs! For a moment there is silence, and then a long wide trail of fire blooms along the roadway, and the planes bank for the clouds.
And as the smoke starts to ebb, as the fires die down, a Leman Russ comes roaring out of the haze, crunches over the charred remains of an Ork buggy, more tanks and trucks rolling in its wake, a cheer arising as they crash through the wreckage, smoke trailing off them, and less than 30k to go!
On all sides are orks fighting orks. From all sides there comes the rumble of heavy guns, explosions, screaming, roaring. And then from ahead there is an enormous crack, and something far too big looms on a hill.
“Ork stompa up ahead sir!” Jurgen calls out, his long expertise allowing him to identify and categorise even the crazed xeno construction.
“May He preserve us,” mutters Caine, and calls again.
“All tanks, focus fire on that stompa! All trucks covering fire on our flanks! By His Will we WILL prevail!”
There is a volley of fire from the building sized xenos thing, and a civilian truck explodes. Another. A tank shreds along one side, swerves off the road, erupts in flames. The rest of Caine’s Commandos drive forwards, firing all they have!
“Keep moving! Bring it down!”
And then a bright bar of light comes from the distance, and the stompa explodes in debris and incinerated remnants.
“I have it, Commissar.” Comes a calm voice on the vox. A new voice.
“What unit?!”
“This is Princeps Brennan of the Warhound Alta Decreta, Legio Invicta!”
Along the road ahead, a figure is standing on a hill. A hunched figure, yet still the height of ten men.
“We’re here to pick you up Commissar, and we’ve brought friends.”
The vox voice grows in volume and pride as the smoke clears, revealing the God-Engine, guns smoking, standing on a hill overlooking the roadway, proud livery gleaming in the scattered sunshine. Around its mighty metal feet a squadron of Leman Russ tanks power forwards, watching the flanks.
“Commissar Caine…. It’s your turn. Rally on me!”
In the Last Fox Running, Vixen 12, Sautine bounces along, trying to keep track of her squadron in a vehicle not made for command. And then a vox channel pings. Long unused, it’s silence wept over.
“..xen 12, Vixen 12, come in!”
She hesitates, as she had not done in any battle, and there is a catch in her voice as she responds.
“Captain?”
“This is Vixen 1, 12. We’re here for you.”
And as the column closes with the oncoming tanks, which can now be seen to have the symbols of the fighting vixens on each side, Viveca Sautine replies with her crew screaming in joy and tears down her face. “Permission to rejoin the column, Vixen 1?”
“Granted 12. And next time when I order us left?”
“We go left. Even if it looks crazy. Missed you.”
“Not done yet Viveca. Welcome home.”
And as the battered column of fighting refugees passes the Imperial lines, tanks and Chimeras and infantry disembarking into fire lines, the Titan plays “Forward the Guard!” over its speakers, and unrolls a banner: the Commisariat symbol, the Perlian crossed spears, and [Caine’s Commandos] in huge letters. Cheers erupt from all sides, the trucks full of civilians are going crazy, and even Commissar Caine has a smile on his face. He nods, acknowledging a job well done.
And from one side comes a Sentinel squadron, Valhallan markings on them, and as they come alongside the Commissars Salamander, the pilot waves and hails him.
“Sir! Sir!”
And extends out a long pole. At the end, mag-clamped on, is a thermal flask. Caine takes it in some surprise, opens in with care in the rumbling vehicle, and sniffs. A beatific expression softens his duty-worn face, and he pours out a steaming dark fluid into the cup, and takes a sip.
“Ah. Tanna. Finally. Praise be to the Emperor of Mankind.”
For they have made it home.
And broken the Siege of Perlia.
And more importantly, he’s finally got that cuppa.
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“That was ridiculously bad.”
“Well I enjoyed it.”
“You didn’t have to live through it. I did NOT look anywhere as good as that at the end! And Jurgen has never looked that good!”
“At least they put him in this one!”
“And a lot of other old friends. I don’t think Viveca ever shed a tear though. And how much did General Alcas pay for that speech?”
“It’s a good speech! And pretty close to what he actually said!”
“Amberley, that was polished almost beyond recognition! But by the Throne, that’ll play well with the troops. Smashing stuff.”
“Bit brutal towards the end.”
“In sacrifice, victory. Nobody would believe we made it through without losses. Better than that other version with what-her-name dying tragically in my arms at the end….”
“Damn right. I’d better be the leading lady in your life, Caiphas.”
“Yes Inquisitor. Another flarn tart?”