The "Chimera" APC, at full speed, tore forward, breaking trees in its path. The hull of the machine creaked and rumbled, sweeping away trunks, and the forest filled with the sounds of cracking and splintering wood.
At this moment, the rebels hidden everywhere launched their offensive. They burst from their cover and rushed towards the armored personnel carrier from all sides.
The auspex operator inside the vehicle instantly noticed the threat – a scattering of red dots on the screen was rapidly approaching the center. He yelled:
"Enemy attacking! They're pushing from all sides!"
Lieutenant Winchester shrieked in panic: "Fire! Open fire from all guns! Don't let them get close! Those damn bastards aren't afraid of death – they probably want to blow us up with suicide belts to take us to the afterlife!"
He ordered his bodyguards in the troop compartment to open the firing ports, stick out the barrels of their lasguns, and fire at anything that moved. Then he grabbed the loudspeaker microphone and barked at the S.P.O. soldiers outside: "And you, drunks, get moving! The main enemy forces are here! If you want to live, open your eyes!"
The S.P.O. soldiers, who really didn't want to die, moved faster. They formed a defensive ring around the "Chimera," dropped to the ground, and began aiming their weapons towards the forest.
The two heavy stubbers needed to be assembled and turned into stationary machine gun positions. Their huge barrels had to be aimed into the thicket.
Although these fools had been warned in advance, their trembling hands and shaky legs did their job – they moved slowly, like sleepy flies.
Normally, a stubber crew would take fifteen seconds to assemble, but now almost a minute had passed, and the weapon was still not secured.
The ammunition feeder even dropped the box – the belt of cartridges scattered on the ground. The guy started frantically collecting them, but the more he fussed, the more confused he got.
And then, amidst this mess, the rebels attacked. The close-combat squads rushed first – rebels armed with melee weapons charged forward with wild cries.
There were many of them. From the dense gloom, a wave of silhouettes rolled towards the S.P.O. troopers – a truly terrifying sight.
The S.P.O. soldiers were already in a deplorable state – their heads were splitting, their vision was blurred – and seeing such a horde, they became completely terrified and started shooting without orders.
How does a drunk person shoot? These S.P.O. troopers sent bullets either into the sky or into the ground. Pressing the trigger, they held it all the way: the weapon either remained silent – the idiot forgot to disengage the safety – or it roared incessantly, emptying the entire magazine in one long burst.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!!
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!!
The forest echoed with the roar of gunfire, through which the rhythmic beat of the "Chimera's" auto-cannon could be heard. The air quickly became saturated with gunpowder smoke.
When the shooters had emptied their third magazines, the heavy stubber crews finally got their weapons under control.
The shooter yanked the bolt handle – a metallic clatter sounded, and a 20mm round took its place. Without aiming, the soldier gripped the trigger and opened fire.
Dung-dung-dung-dung-dung!!
The roar was infernal. Flames several meters long erupted from the barrel. The heavy bullets – essentially shells – tore through the forest in front of them with monstrous energy.
The shooter was so drunk he could barely distinguish targets. He just pressed the trigger and swept the barrel from side to side until he had expended the entire ammunition load.
The 75-round belt emptied, and a clearing formed ahead – trees were cut down to the root!
This weapon was called a "woodcutter" for a reason: its power allowed it to chop through trunks like straws. One burst was enough to clear a whole section of forest.
The rebels advancing from this direction disappeared. The metal storm tore them to shreds. A hit of this caliber instantly dismembered the body.
"Empty! Reload, quickly, reload!!"
The shooter yelled at the top of his lungs. The second man, straining with all his might, dragged a new box of cartridges – a 75-round belt, weighing almost forty kilograms.
The mechanization of human armies in Warhammer 40k was at its peak, and weapons tended towards gigantism. The heavy stubber – essentially a small-caliber cannon – was considered standard equipment for Imperial Guard infantry.
Usually, ammunition was carried on the "Chimera's" armor, but Lieutenant Winchester had turned the transport into his personal carriage, and now the soldiers carried the boxes themselves.
When the stubber came alive again, the roar resumed. Another section of forest was mowed down – a new wave of rebels turned into mince. By the time the third belt was loaded, there was no one left to shoot at.
There was not a single living soul left in the forest. The assault group, numbering almost three hundred, was destroyed, their mangled bodies littering the ground.
The firepower of the S.P.O., even in the hands of drunkards, remained terrifying. The rebels were ground to dust.
"Haha! That's what those dirty bastards get! Died quickly and cleanly! Let's keep moving!"
Lieutenant Winchester watched the field of corpses through the periscope and laughed with satisfied glee. He had no idea that the melee detachment was a decoy, created to lull their vigilance.
The "Chimera's" driver pressed the pedal. The hull shuddered, the engine ground, and the APC slowly crawled forward.
The turret operator, monitoring the auspex, reported: "Four hundred meters to the enemy camp! I'm detecting over six hundred enemy signatures!"
"Haha! Forward, crush them! Kill them all!"
Winchester shrieked with delight – five hundred heads ahead plus those already killed here, that was enough for a promotion!
The S.P.O. troopers, staggering, trudged after the armor.
As the "Chimera," breaking the last trees, rolled out to Old Man Sen's base, a trench with fortifications opened before their eyes – a network of trenches filled with shooters, over three hundred and fifty souls.
Sen had dug some of the trenches in advance, others had been dug the previous night – they knew the executioners would come in the morning. The main rebel forces, weapons at the ready, were waiting here.
Seeing the "Chimera," they raised their weapons and opened a hail of fire on the vehicle and infantry.
The S.P.O. troopers panicked, some falling, some backing away – chaos ensued. In the first few seconds, seven, maybe eight, died.
Inside the armored vehicle, Winchester, looking through the periscope, spat: "Rats only know how to dig holes?! Blast them with the cannon!"
But the main gun lacked the depression angle – the high-explosive shells only hit distant buildings. And the corps stabber was supposed to deal with the trenches.
It had considerable power and good mobility. The shooter lowered the barrel and poured lead into the rebels who dared to show themselves. The large-caliber bullets dug into the parapet, tearing up earth and flesh mixed together.
The shooter swept a twenty-meter section – everyone there turned into mince.
But the "Chimera" was alone, and there were too many trenches. Rebels sat every few meters, occasionally peeking out. It was impossible to completely suppress them with one vehicle. And the drunk S.P.O. troopers trembled in their shelters.
The rebels had cover, the S.P.O. had only hangovers and double vision. Accuracy was zero.
Winchester roared into the microphone: "You pigs! Get up and shoot! Where are the stabbers?! Stabber crews, move it! Suppress these trenches with fire!!"
He was already tired of yelling – these degenerates only moved after a kick.
The S.P.O. troopers reluctantly began to rise, without much enthusiasm. Some just lay there, firing blindly, raising their weapons over their heads – the main thing was to shoot for the report. But two crews had no choice – the lieutenant named them individually.
Gritting their teeth, the crews crawled to the "Chimera," set up the machine guns, and opened fire on the trenches.
But they hadn't even fired a couple of bursts before the head of one of the shooters exploded like a ripe watermelon. Red and white splattered everywhere. The body fell onto the machine gun, and it fell silent.
The second man, stunned, pushed the corpse aside and grabbed the handle – at that very moment, a bullet pierced his chest. The impact of monstrous force knocked him onto his back. He wanted to see where he was hit, but his body no longer obeyed. In a moment – it was over.
The neighbors, seeing their comrades fall, sobered up instantly.
An S.P.O. officer yelled: "Someone! Make this stabber shoot!"
One soldier rushed towards the machine gun – and immediately fell, his head shot off. Three dead in one position. Then everyone understood.
It was a damn sniper!
"Sniper! Be careful! Everyone to cover!!"
The cry had just swept through the positions – and the second stubber fell silent. The shooter's throat was torn by a bullet, blood gushing onto the machine gun.
On the distant slope, Li Qingyu cycled the bolt. A smoking casing fell to the side. A new one slid into the chamber.
He swept the scope between the machine guns, looking for the next one who would dare touch the weapon. Three shots – three corpses. The S.P.O. troopers understood that a sniper was working on them, taking out the crews, and no one else approached the stubbers.
Li Qingyu shifted his aim to a machine gunner with a light machine gun. He, hiding behind a tree, was pouring fire on the rebels.
The crosshairs froze on his chest. A pop – and the target disappeared. When the image returned, a corpse lay there.
The rifle used fifth-level ammunition, while the S.P.O. troopers' armor was only third-level. From six hundred meters, Li Qingyu pierced them through and through.
Next, he found another machine gunner and blew his head off. The muffled pops of the sniper rifle were lost in the general roar of battle. No one could understand where Li Qingyu was shooting from, but the result was obvious – the S.P.O.'s fire support was melting away before their eyes.
The pressure eased, the rebels began to raise their heads and open return fire. Three hundred rebel barrels seized the initiative.
One of the S.P.O. officers, driven mad with rage, ran up to the "Chimera" and pounded on the armor with his rifle butt: "Damn it! You stupid pigs inside! The rebels have a sniper! Find him and kill him! He's already taken down seven of my guys, damn it!"
Normally, the crew inside the armor wouldn't have heard anything, but now the firing ports were open – Winchester's bodyguards were pouring lasgun fire on the enemy.
The shout reached the guards' ears.
"Master, the officer outside says a sniper is working on them. Heavy casualties."
Hearing this, the turret operator didn't wait for orders – this rich kid knew nothing about war anyway. He cranked the auspex power to maximum and located Li Qingyu.
The main battle was at two to three hundred meters, a mess was happening there. But on the slope, six hundred meters away, a single point was glowing. Who else, if not a sniper?
The operator raised the gun barrel.
Dung-dung-dung-dung!!