Home Fires – Chapter Thirty: A Wish, Granted
Chapter Selection
Intro 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 Epilogue
Antonius wasn’t in the Theater of War anymore. There was no point. There was no more strategy. No more resource management. No tricks, feints, or stratagems.
The Orks were coming with everything they had.
Antonius pulled PDF forces into a funnel shape, reinforced in the weakest places by the Saratogan 58th Imperial Guard; the only reinforcements to survive. The entire city had been transformed into a spring jaw trap. The bait: the remaining Azure Flames. Once Gargatok Gitsmasha dedicated himself to the fighting, PDF and Guard forces would close in form both sides. When Gitsmasha fell, Ork coherence would falter. The remaining Ork forces would be scattered and flee the city. This would allow the defenders time to regroup. Once they held fast, the splintered Orks would take time to fight each other to regain their command hierarchy.
That was the plan.
However, as Captain Daniel of the 10th Company had drilled into Antonius so long ago: ‘the best laid plans are naught but dust as soon as the first Bolt round is fired.’
In order for the plan to work, four things had to be true.
First, Gargatok Gitsmasha had to personally commit himself to the fight. This was a given. Sandrip had assured him Gitsmasha was eager for a fight.
Second, the Warboss had to lead. This was only probable. Sandrip said he was going to needle the Warboss’ pride if he hung back, but Antonius had no further communique from the brave little man. Perhaps he was busy. Perhaps he was dead. Antonius could not help him now.
Third, the Orks would have to surge into the jaws of the trap. If they took the bait, this would work. If they turned left or right and attempted a breakthrough into the inner city, it would be disaster.
Finally, Gitsmasha would have to fall. The honorable combat the Warlord craved was certainly a possibility, but so was flattening him with an artillery barrage. This was the riskiest part of the plan. If Gitsmasha killed Antonius or broke the Astartes formation, the Orks could rampage through the city. The spaceport would fall. The refugee camps would be destroyed.
It was a gamble. But with the Orks reunited under Gitsmasha, it was the only hope for the people of Altea. Antonius was prepared to give his life and the lives of his men to accomplish that goal.
What he wasn’t prepared for was the outrush of support. Camps made smaller targets and were easier to defend, so when the attack was announced, the orders were for civilians to shelter in place.
They didn’t.
They said goodbye to their loved ones and lined up to join the PDF. Women. Teens. The Elderly. The Wounded. Anyone who could hold a rifle was given one until they ran out. Then they asked for knives. Then they asked to strap bombs to their chests. The citizenry of Altea had spoken with one voice:
They would follow Captain Antonius unto the flames of death.
The trap was set.
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