Secret War: Warhammer 40,000 by Ben Agar (romantic novels to read .TXT) 📕

I slipped around their wall, my reloaded pistol drawn and firing. I fired six shots, four for the mercs in front of me, two for the remaining two at the first wall before; then I bound back behind the safety of the second sandbag wall.

There, despite the tiredness and exhaustion that was starting to wear on me, I threw back my head and laughed. I laughed at the insanity of it all, of how I could do all this. Was I even really human anymore? What other transformations had the Farseer wrought on me? I guess I had to wait and see.

I was tired of it already, scared I'd pushed my luck too much and wished not to move even an inch as the remaining four mercs fired my way.

I looked to the other balcony, seeing that they were more concerned with exchanging fire with my colleagues as they advanced into the dining hall than trying to kill me, thank goodness.

As I clenched my teeth, I tried to glance around the wall but was quickly forced to flinch back from the shots whizzing my way, and I cursed savagely, wishing I hadn't used all my damn frags.

Then an idea hit me; I still had grenades just of the 'krak' variety; I didn't know why I'd just grabbed six frags instead, but oh well.

With quick hands, I opened my flak jacket and pulled one out, not even bothering to pull the pin; I stood and threw it as accurately as I could before throwing myself to the floor.

"Grenade!" I heard the yell and needed no more prompting before I was up again with my pistol raised. All four had scattered, two moving left, two Right. In a rush, I opened fire, my first two shots went wild, but my third winged one on the Right and my fourth blew a bloody hole through the bicep of his mate behind him.

Before I could draw a proper bead on the left two, they'd already realised my ploy, and their withering fire caused me to duck behind cover again.

Perhaps I should've pulled the pin; it may've been a krak, but it still could've frigged them up a bit. Once more, I glanced at the other balcony and down into the dining room below. I could see we'd lost at least three more men down there while they hadn't lost any. I would've liked to shoot at them, but I had enough attention on me already, didn't want anymore. At least I'd diminished the casualties a bit by risking my arse to get up here.

I breathed deeply and took out my mirror from its pocket in my flak jacket and raised it on an angle to allow me to see the muzzle flares of my enemies.

One was left, the other Right; they were advancing, trying to flank me. It was hard to tell this just from listening alone as there were so many munitions exchanged in here I couldn't tell high from low.

With another deep breath, I was up again and shooting at the right one. My first shot missed the merc, but my second hit him in the stomach; the manstopper round blew through his flak armour and with a pained cry, he reeled limply and fell onto his back.

I switched my aim to the second, just as his autogun pointed at me.

In that split second, I realised he had me, and I dived to the floor, throwing myself to the other side of the wall, just before his full-auto flurry cut through the air where I'd stood.

Then I shot him through the skull.

I lay there for what felt like an age, eyes wide and gasping for air, not daring to move, not even daring to blink as the battle raged. Emperor, that was insane! And close, so frigging close! I barely noticed when the fire finally died and was climbing to my feet when Garrakson, Torris and Arlathan appeared at the top of the stairs. Garrakson now carried a lasgun.

"You alright, kid?" asked Torris as he approached and helped me to my feet.

"Yeah," I sighed, shaking my head to try to regain my composure; all the gak that I've been through over the last day must've been wearing on me, not just physically but mentally as well. "You run out of ammo, Garrakson?"

"Yeah," he said with a guilty grin as he scratched the back of his shaved head. "Sorry about that."

"How many lost?" I breathed through clenched teeth.

"Sixteen dead," said Arlathan. "Three wounded, but I'm sure we would've lost more if you hadn't run the gauntlet, gak you're insane."

I gaped at him, unsure what to make of that...compliment? But despite myself, I felt a smile cross my face.

"Please, Arlathan, tell me something I don't know," I said.

"What? That you're a complete screw head?"

"No, both."

Arlathan shrugged and shook his head.

The Olinthre-thing with a few other soldiers arrived at the top of the stairs. "Yeah, yeah, stop the dilly dally, no time to waste we have a building to capture. Oh, and next time you decide to pull a stunt like that, tell me beforehand. I am y'know, your commanding officer."

Torris and Garrakson turned to face It, but it was hard to miss the hatred in Garrakson's eyes.

"I..." started the ex-guardsman.

"Sorry, sir," Torris quickly interrupted. "We've just been working independently for so long it's easy to forget, right, Jeurat?"

"Right," Garrakson growled hesitantly.

The Olinthre-thing smiled and looked at me. "Yeah, right, whatever. Just don't do it again. Now move your arses. Let's go!"

It turned and began to descend the stairs, waving us after It. It was enjoying this command shtick.

I grinned as we followed its wake. "Well, enjoy it while it lasts," I hissed under my breath. "It isn't going to last much longer."

 

 

For a long time, we moved through the maze of corridors kicking in door after door, clearing out any enemy within. Thanks to Arlathan's auspex, we were able to tell where they were, but we checked every room at my insistence, even the ones lacking heat signatures, just in case. It was slow going, gritty and tedious work, but it needed doing. We cleared out a total of thirty rooms, twenty of which had enemies, killing at least thirty enemy mercs who'd attempted to fortify themselves within. We lost about twenty more of our own in the process, twelve of which were injured, three fatally. Luckily for us, there seemed to be a constant flow of reinforcements to replace the men we'd lose. The rooms without signatures were all empty, of course, but I just had to be sure.

Most of the time, I listened in to our other forces' comm chatter, keeping the others updated on their progress. Casualties were mounting well into the hundreds now. Brutis Bones' army had it the worst, they were made up of the less well-trained Hammers, and it seemed his side had the highest concentration of enemy numbers. Ours was doing the best much to my surprise; we advanced the fastest and suffered the least. I also kept track of Hayden, Darrance and Castella's activities; unsurprisingly, they were on the front lines, each performing admirably, killing countless and preventing numerous casualties single-handedly.

I just hoped they'd get through it. But what really bugged me was; why were we doing the best? Was it because we were facing the least numbers? That was the only reason I could comprehend, which was interesting, very interesting indeed. Yes.

The Olinthre thing didn't seem to mind this fact, though. It just choked it up to us being the best, but I doubted that.

Finally, we arrived at the end of the corridors to a pair of large, ornate doors, according to the schemata, led into a large ballroom beyond.

"Arlathan?" said the Mimic as we lined up at the wall, there were sixty of us total now. "What we got?"

Arlathan cursed as he fiddled with the auspex. "Nothing! Can't pick up anything! It's like the dining room back there!"

I nodded, for the more essential areas the enemy had a way to block out our scanners that or there was no one in there, but I doubted that. Quickly, I echoed this find to the other forces through my vox link.

'Olinthre' sighed and turned to me. "What about your psyker girlfriend? She able to help us?"

I shrugged, "I haven't heard from Karmen since I was scouting outside. I don't know even if she's alright or not. She's probably still locked in an invisible war with whoever that psyker was she'd mentioned before."

It cursed colourfully, "we got flashbangs?"

Three of the nearest mercs nodded and pulled out one each from pouches on their belts.

"Good! Now we've got a plan!" It exclaimed, and then it turned to me. "Attelus Kaltos, would you kindly cut a hole..."

"What? Through the doors?" I interrupted.

It gave off no outward sign of emotion, but its next sentence blatantly sounded like it was through clenched teeth. "No, through the wall, there!"

It pointed to a part of the wall about two metres left of the doors. "You said earlier that your power sword could cut through the wall, right?"

"Uhh, yeah," I said dumbly, quickly seeing the genius behind the Mimic's plan.

"Well, then cut a hole that'll allow them to throw their grenades through!" It snapped impatiently. "Hurry!"

I nodded and approached the part of the wall indicated, activating my power sword in a blaze of blues as the three mercs followed.

"Garrakson! Torris!" snapped the Mimic. "Get ready to take out the doors on my signal!"

With surprising obedience, both of them nodded and set themselves on each side of the door.

I exchanged glances with the three mercs, then clenched my teeth and, with four quickfire slashes, cut a hole just large enough for one person to fit.

The enemy fire was almost immediate, but that didn't stop them from blindingly throwing their grenades through.

The Olinthre-thing then lifted its hand with three fingers raised, and one by one, It lowered them then pointed to the door.

Torris nodded grimly and, with one shotgun shell, blew out the lock allowing Garrakson to kick them open and with lasgun raised, he, Torris and five other mercs advanced inside, firing.

The Mimic turned to me, pointed to the mercs and waved us through my makeshift entrance.

I nodded, and immediately, two of them fired their autoguns on full auto through it, pinning fire. Then with shotgun raised, I slipped inside, weaving quickly leftward toward the nearest pillar. Seven thick pillars held up the big balcony overhead, the two closest were about six metres from the door, and two dead men lay in pools of blood just behind them. I could see the enemy had turned over tables and reinforced them with more sandbags, all set in between the farthest four pillars, which were another good seven metres away. I could make out the twelve mercs cowering behind the middle two barriers, six behind each. All of them still reeling from the flashbangs, and Garrakson, Torris and the others were advancing as they exchanged fire with enemies further into the vast room.

I pressed my back against the pillar, trying to get a better assessment of the situation. The room was huge, easily one of the largest of this infernal mansion-fortress, the balcony above must've been at least three stories off the floor, and who knew how high the ceiling itself went.

Amazingly ornate, golden chandeliers hung every few metres (much to my annoyance, none were situated anywhere near the enemy fortifications). The walls and floors were polished white and silver marble, lined with silver and gold.

It was all in surprisingly good condition, emphasis on 'was' as now it was pockmarked, torn through by the countless munitions exchanged.

Two small staircases were set after the enemy fortifications about leading two metres upward, there were handrails, but they were already being shot to shit by Garrakson and his men.

I watched as they converged on the just recovering mercs and couldn't help wince as they brutally executed them with point-blank fire.

The rest of our force was now advancing into the room, taking