Secret War: Upon Blood Sands

Chapter 31

Karmen was overwhelmed by exhaustion; her power armour's servos kept making her take step after step forward. Advancing in front of her were Vark and Verenth; they'd both run out of ammo, so Vark fought with a bayonet attached to his hell gun, while Verenth had 'borrowed' a lasgun with a bayonet. Verenth was surprisingly effective, not on the level of Dellenger, who'd mastered the form, but he held his own. The thought of Dellenger made her fight the urge to glance at the scout, who was almost hypnotising in his preternatural grace and skill. He was also exceedingly handsome, but of course, he didn't even spare her a glance; she'd be offended if she didn't know the scout was completely clueless on the matters of human interaction. That and he was fighting three cultists at once, despite his numerous injuries.

But the real battle was between Tathe and the Marangerian in a captain's uniform. Both exchanged power sword swings almost faster than her eye could follow. She couldn't help be impressed at the Marangerian's skill.

The loss of her kineshield allowed for numerous casualties to be wrought from the guns of the guardsmen Resurrected. The guilt gnawed at her; in her earlier days as Estella Erith, she too had idolised the Velrosians, so now to see them die like flies around her without her being able to do anything hurt her more than she could say.

More good people she'd failed.

Not just that, but her bolter had run dry, and she couldn't fight at the front either; she had to regain her strength for the very last push. When they finally descend into the city's depths.

So here she was, useless, yet again.

A Galak Heim trooper advancing beside her fell; he flew off his feet and landed on the sand, writhing, screaming. Karmen hadn't even seen what hit him. Two troopers broke from the gun line, one a Marangerian, the other from Despasia and picked up the man and turned to take him to the medicae truck as the soldiers behind them parted with admirable discipline. Karmen couldn't help let a smile cross her lip; all these men and women all from different cultures were like family. From countries that had warred and hated each other for millennia before the coming of the Imperium came were now fighting side by side, blind to the hate-fuelled tremulous past and the colour of each other's skin.

This was unity; this was god-Emperor's vision. The pride of finally fighting alongside her heroes flooded into her, but along with it came regret. Regret because she knew this would be the first and only time. The Elbyran contingent was dead. Dead the second they stepped out of their makeshift fortress and began for the tower. Not just that, but this suicidal mission was made on Attelus' and Karmen's volition. More souls sacrificed in the god-Emperor's name—more deaths to hang onto her conscience.

She shook away the thought; it wasn't about her or her conscience. This was about the Elbyran; this was their battle, their glory, their sacrifice. The long-suppressed soldier within her bubbled back.

Another one of the flame troopers died; her head exploded in a welter of blood and brains. She collapsed and began to spin toward the Elbyran.

Karmen, only in the last millisecond, managed to raise her hand and send the flame trooper spinning forwards again.

"Someone, stop her," Karmen roared through clenched teeth. "I can't...hold it for long."

Both Verenth and Vark moved to comply, fighting with a sudden burst of ferocity that somehow broke through their almost palpable exhaustion. Karmen couldn't watch their advance as much as he dearly wished to, too entrenched in concentration. She cursed Attelus' name through gritted teeth, wondering yet again where that idiot went.

"Karmen?" said a voice over her vox unit, a voice she recognised as Verenth's. "You can let go of the body, Vark's getting on her flamer."

With a gasp, she let the flame trooper's corpse fall. It sickened Karmen to see the poor woman's body disappear beneath the feet of the advancing Elbyrans, but what else could they do? She had a very good idea how many soldiers were left, but she refused to name the number, not even in her thoughts, not until she had to.