Planetfall

[Lysimachus]

just wanted to get some feedback on a piece i've started working on, really just 1st section (or chapter depending how long it gets) but would like to hear what people think of it. it's a little non-PA to start but we'll get there! :(

 

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Lieutenant Hayes ducked quickly behind the meagre cover afforded by the hastily and poorly constructed earthworks that crossed the broad street that his men held. As he did so a pair of wildly spiralling rockets soared above him, smoke and flame belching from their tails, and impacted against the brick and mortar of the building behind his position. The wall shuddered and held firm, but loosed a shower of clogging red dust down onto Hayes and his squads. Stifling a cough, Hayes stood and checked his soldiers. With a grim smile he realized they had taken no casualties. It was about time they had some luck.

 

“At least they can’t aim properly, praise the Emperor!” he yelled encouragingly to the tired men of the 83rd Gravian regiment of the Imperial Guard. “Now, give them hell!”

 

With a ragged cheer, the dusty and dirty guardsmen took up firing stances at the earthwork. As one, forty-six lasguns supported by an impressive three autocannon heavy weapon teams on the roof behind them spat a hail of deadly laser blasts and solid shells into the approaching enemy. At the far end of the street, perhaps one hundred metres away, dozens of the enemy fell, blasted apart by the fusillade of firepower but this only seemed to enrage the far greater remainder. Howling a deafening, wordless roar of pure battle lust they charged toward the barricade. Even as he drew and fired his bolt pistol into the oncoming horde, Hayes’ blood seemed to freeze in his veins. Orks. He hated them. No matter how many times he had faced their kind, they still sent a chill of terror through him. With their hulking muscular green bodies, long sharp fangs and beady red eyes full of fury they seemed more monsters of childhood nightmares than creatures of flesh and blood. Mostly, he hated their total lack of anything remotely resembling fear of their enemies. The Orks seemed to lack any emotion except unbridled aggression and wild savagery. Even now, as they advanced into a firestorm that would have seen any other lightly armoured host broken and scrambling for cover, their eagerness for spilling blood kept them rushing forward, even jostling and shoving one another to be first to reach the earthworks and the “pink skins” beyond it.

 

It was, however, a tactic that seemed to be working for the green-skinned invaders. Less than three and a half months had passed since the long range augurs of the Haggia system detected the first ramshackle ships of the Ork fleet crossing the border into Imperial space from the vast Ork Empire of Charandon. As more and more vessels poured forth it had become clear to the Imperial strategists keeping watch along the ever-volatile frontier that a new Waaagh had begun. Within eight weeks the Orks had overrun three of Haggia’s five inhabited planets, their furious assault blunted barely at all by the meagre defences of the sparsely populated outer worlds. The commanders of Haggia’s defence, with typically cold Imperial efficiency, had made the decision to leave the thousands of citizens of Haggia IV, VI and VII to their fates and use the time their deaths brought to strengthen the fortifications around the systems capital world, Haggia III.

Seven regiments of the Imperial Guard, among them three of the Mordian Iron Guard as well as two regiments made up from the proud warriors of Gravius, were quickly transported from all along the edges of the Charandon Empire to support the Haggia III Planetary Defence Force, and a compact battle group, formed from Imperial Navy cruisers and escorts drawn from the Sector Fleet, was dispatched to oppose the monstrous Ork armada as it ploughed through the system. From what Hayes had heard from his commander, Captain Dorian, the crews and officers of the Imperial Navy fought with courage and skill, sending dozens of Ork ships and hundreds of thousands of Orks back to whatever heathen gods they worshiped, but in the end the greater numbers of the enemy had taken their toll. The noble vessels of the Emperor were gradually overwhelmed, either destroyed or forced to withdraw by the reckless savagery of the Ork captains.

 

Little more than two weeks after his regiment had set foot on the soil of Haggia III the Orks arrived. For a day and a night the massive orbital and ground based defence batteries spat torpedoes and vast bolts of burning light into the sky, filling the space around Haggia with shattered hulks and numberless drifting green corpses, but again the ferocity and sheer weight of numbers of the Ork Waaagh began to prevail. As the mighty weapon systems protecting Haggia were overwhelmed, destroyed or ran out of ammunition, cracks began to appear in the defensive net over the planet. Slowly at first, but soon in greater and greater numbers, black dots had appeared in the sky trailing thick black smoke and plumes of fire, rickety Ork landing craft making their descents at dangerous speed, their occupants eager to fight and kill. Over the next six days, despite the efforts of the Imperial ground troops to shoot the Ork drop ships down, the logisticians of Haggia’s High Command estimated that more than three thousand landing craft successfully delivered their battle-hungry cargo to the surface. With an approximate troop capacity varying anywhere between two and three hundred green-skinned aliens, Waaagh Gorfang, as Hayes had later discovered the Ork horde to be named, numbered at least six hundred thousand warriors strong; at best more than ten times the numbers of Haggia’s defenders.

City after city had fallen in quick succession, fighting bravely and slaughtering thousands upon thousands of the invaders, but finally proving unable to hold out against the pure, animal aggression of the Waaagh. In two weeks over twenty-five thousand warriors of the Imperial Guard, along with countless P.D.F. troopers and civilians, died brutal, bloody deaths, among them many men Hayes had counted as close friends. Soon only Haggia Primus, the worlds only Hive city and the heart of Haggia’s defence, and Selusa, the strongest of the planets old cities, stood firm. The dregs of Hayes’ regiment, barely escaping the destruction of another city, had been assigned to support the 34th Mordian Iron Guard in protecting Selusa and so here Hayes and his men stood, fighting again this most terrifying foe. More than half had suffered some kind of injury; all were dirty and fighting against fear. Even as he fired his pistol into the roaring horde, Hayes silently wished that his men and the other remaining platoons of the 83rd under Captain Dorian could have been assigned to the Hive city, there to rejoin their brothers of the Gravian 46th. In his heart, as he watched the rampaging Orks approach his lines, Hayes suspected that he would more likely rejoin his lost brothers of the 83rd in death first.

 

As the Orks came closer and closer, spits of fire from their short ranged pistols began to impact against the hard earth of the makeshift barricade. While their strength and accuracy were pitiful compared to a disciplined volley of lasgun fire, the sheer number of shots forced Hayes and his men to duck back behind the earthwork. Several were not quick enough and fell, bodies pierced by crude metal slugs, screaming in fear and pain.

Perhaps this would be their time, Hayes wondered, panic rising within him as he listened to the growing howl on the other side of the rampart. He didn’t want to die, he wanted to live, to get away, to run… but he would not. With a calm in his voice that he did not feel, Hayes yelled, “Fix bayonets! Close order drill! For the Emperor and for the honour of Gravius, drive them back!”

 

The guardsmen around him yelled a wordless, weary battle cry and surged up with what little vigour they had to smash into the Ork warriors climbing the other side of the barricade. The first few were easily dispatched with point-blank las rounds or darting steel blades but quickly more and more blood- hungry monsters pushed their way into combat, their crude, jagged weapons raised. The Guard had the advantage of higher ground and the supporting fire of the autocannon teams thinning the approaching enemy but the Orks had greater numbers and pure savagery. Hayes watched the combat, picking off Orks with his pistol and shouting orders and encouragement to his men. The Imperial line was buckling, simply unable to match the abilities of the Orks in hand-to-hand fighting. His men were dying, blasted, hacked and torn apart.

 

“Hold the line!” he yelled desperately, “Hold! Hold I say!”

 

They had to hold, or Selusa would fall. Less than an hour ago, an Ork assault led by two of their rough dreadnoughts had somehow broken through one of the great gates along the northern section of the cities great defensive wall. Orks had poured through the breach into the city itself, looting and burning and killing, but their advance had been halted by the natural defence formed by the River Isis which flowed through the city to the south and then the west of the gate which the Orks had penetrated. However, while the Imperial troops holding the few bridges across the Isis were successfully stopping the enemy from crossing, the Orks were also pushing eastwards in their hundreds. Dozens of units like Captain Dorian’s had been moved in to block their progress and hold them in the sector of the city bounded by the wall and the river until enough troops could be spared to push them back out of Selusa. The Orks, it seemed, did not want to be penned. What made the situation truly dangerous for the Imperial defence was that perhaps two hundred yards north of Hayes position ran the city wall and less than a mile east along it stood a guard tower with access from the streets right up to the ramparts of the great wall where the majority of Selusa ’s defenders stood holding back the vast hordes of Orks that surrounded the city. If the Orks could push through the thin line of Guardsmen spread between the river and the wall and gain access to the tower and thus the wall itself, they would quickly and brutally rampage along the ramparts around the entire city. The massive Imperial batteries pummelling the hosts outside would fall silent and Selusa would drown beneath a green-skinned sea of violence.

At that moment the fire and noise from the roof lessened as one of the autocannons ran out of ammo and roaring eagerly the Orks rushed forward. Desperately, Hayes looked for a solution as the Orks began to push his men back off their earthworks. There had to be a way! They couldn’t be allowed to reach the tower!

Suddenly he noticed an Ork at the heart of the huge mob, a monster even bigger than the others, waving a powered claw and bellowing abusive encouragement to those around it. Hayes realized immediately that it must be the mobs Nob, perhaps even a Boss of some sort. Orkish moral was a far different creature to that of an Imperial company but if he could take it down, perhaps…? With a trembling hand he aimed his bolt pistol at it even as it smashed one of his men more than six metres through the air to land in a crumpled, bloody and broken heap. He fired, the bolt hammering into the beasts shoulder and exploding messily in an eruption of green flesh. The Ork rocked backwards, howling in pain and fury and turned to look for the source of its hurt, beady eyes narrowing as it caught sight of Hayes. Growling, it began to shove its way through the raging combat towards him even as he fired another shot that pinged from its crude plate armour. Hayes fired again and again, emptying his clip into the charging brute. Several shots hit home, tearing chunks of pulpy matter from its body, but it only seemed to make it angrier. It reared above him, its massive claw raised to strike. Hayes dropped to one knee and fired his last shell with a prayer to the Emperor on his lips. The bolt took the Nob in the throat and exploded a fraction of a second later, destroying the creature’s neck entirely and sending its decapitated head flying. The Orks thickset body stood for a moment; seemingly unaware of the death wound it had received, and then toppled like a felled tree to the ground with an almighty crash. Yelling in triumph, Hayes’ troops swarmed forwards, revitalized, and the Orks, suddenly realizing that there were not that many of their mob left and lacking the motivation provided by their Boss, began to fall back. With a weary grin, Hayes dropped his empty bolt pistol, picked up a lasgun from beside the body of one of his fallen men, and joined the survivors of his force at the barricade to fire at the retreating backs of the enemy.

 

In moments the Orks were gone and Hayes paused to take stock. They would be back in a matter of minutes rather than hours and in even greater numbers. Close quarter fighting drew Orks like moths to flames. He spoke quickly to one of his sergeants then looked around for his comm. man. Trooper Reece, a young man with the platoons’ heavy comm. unit on his back, was approaching him with a worried frown.

“Reece! Glad you’re not dead, lad! Get me Captain Dorian on the comm. Tell him we can’t hold here much longer without support. I need more men and more ammo…”

“Sir!”, Reece interrupted nervously.

Hayes frowned. “What is it, Reece?”

“Sir, I have Colonel Martinez of the Mordian 34th on comm. for you.”

Hayes swore under his breath. Martinez was commander of the entire defence of Selusa. What did he want with a lowly lieutenant? Anxiously he took the speaker set.

“Yes Sir, Colonel Martinez, Sir. Lieutenant Hayes, Gravian 83rd here, although I believe you might prefer to speak with my commanding officer, Cap…”

“Dorian is dead, Lieutenant. Killed by a lucky Ork rocket. You are the next ranking officer in that sector.” Martinez spoke with authority, but in the clipped, hurried and frustrated tone of a man mounting a defence of a city that was not going as well as it should.

Hayes swallowed. “Understood sir. What are your orders?”

“The 83rd has the greatest Imperial strength in that sector of the city. The other Imperial units currently holding the line with you will stay in position to ensure no enemy slip further into the city. You will gather your remaining platoons and on receiving a signal you will move forwards to hold the city gate and prevent any more Orks from entering the breach.”

As Martinez talked, Hayes had to stifle a near hysterical laugh. He was ready to die serving his Emperor as faithfully as the next guardsman, but Martinez’ orders were insane. Getting himself under control he responded, “Sir, I don’t know about the other platoons, but if their situation is anything like mine, they are badly under strength and dangerously low on ammunition. Without support, there is no way we can push the Orks out of Selusa or retake that gate…”

“Shut up Hayes and pay attention! I’m not a fool!” retorted Colonel Martinez irritably. “I did not say ‘retake the gate’, I said ‘move up and hold the gate’. I don’t have time to explain strategy to every Lieutenant in this city! Now, can you follow your orders or do I need to find a commander who can?”

Nonplussed, Hayes nodded. “Yes Sir. Sir? What signal do I move on?”

Martinez sighed. “I have no idea, Lieutenant, but I’m absolutely sure you’ll know it when you see it. Martinez out.”

 

Hayes looked at the now silent speaker set in his hand in complete bafflement. “What in the Holy Throne’s sake was that all about?!” he swore under his breath. Reece shrugged nervously and Hayes swore again, spat on the dusty ground and shook his head, thinking.

“Fine,” he grunted finally. “Let’s follow our orders. Reece, get hold of Abel, Lister, Miriam and whoever is in command of 12th platoon now Captain Dorian is gone. Tell them what’s happened and to get their men ready to move out on my signal. Sergeants, that goes for us too!”

 

Four minutes later, Hayes knelt uneasily on the rooftop where his heavy weapon teams had been set up, watching for signs of another Ork assault. It would be just his luck for them to attack at the same time as he’d ordered all his real firepower broken down for transport.

From his higher vantage point and using an ancient pair of field binoculars, Hayes could see more of the city he defended. To the north the vast city wall ran east and west as far as his eyes could see. To the south he could just make out the wide curve of the River Isis and the first plascrete structure that bridged it. In the sector of the city in between, Hayes could see hundred and hundreds of plumes of thick, oily black smoke rising into the sky as the Orks burned and destroyed, and especially towards the river side the distant signs and sounds of battle: weapons fire, explosions, shouting and death.

Trooper Reece joined him on the roof and saluted. “Sir, the other platoons report that they are ready to move out on your signal. The 12th platoon is under the temporary command of Commissar Lucian.” He coughed uncomfortably. “He reports that the Orks in his area seem to be massing for another assault and requests to know why you are preparing to order our squads into what is clearly their territory?”

Hayes swore. “Five minutes in command and already the damned Commissariat wants to kill me! Tell Lucian that I am following the orders of City Defence Commander Colonel Martinez of the 34th regiment of the Mordian Iron Guard himself and if he wants to take the matter up with him he is more than welcome to.”

 

Inwardly he cursed again. Lucian was right, the Orks were massing again and if Martinez’ ‘signal’ didn’t show itself soon he’d have no choice but to order his troops back into a defensive line to hold them back.

“Where is your damned signal, Colonel?” he muttered, his eyes wandering over the burning city before him and then following one of the twisting, changing smoke plumes up into Haggia’s once-clear blue skies.

Suddenly, Hayes saw something, a tiny dark pinprick in the upper atmosphere. Almost imperceptibly, it grew into a dot and two more pinpricks appeared above it. Whatever they were, they were coming in fast. He frowned.

“What in hell is that?”

Trooper Reece looked up and gave a start. “Holy Throne! They’re going to use an orbital bombardment on the inside of the city!” he cried.

Hayes swore. If an Imperial vessel had managed to get past the Ork ships in orbit and foolishly launch a strike there was no guarantee of how much time they’d actually had to accurately locate and target the Orks within the city. Such a barrage could just as easily wipe out the city’s defenders as its attackers! He looked up again at the rapidly growing dots and wondered if somehow his death might ironically come, not at the hands of the Orks, but rather at those of his own brothers in arms.

“Everyone down now! Take cover!” Hayes yelled. Not that it would make any difference. If one of those weapons hit anywhere near their position, every man, woman or Ork within its blast radius would die together. He scanned the sky again, trying to determine where the massive bombs would fall, but suddenly stopped short, his mouth agape. More pinpricks had appeared in the upper atmosphere but the first, now far closer, had resolved itself into a shape that was clearly not a missile, a shape that Hayes, in thirteen years of fighting in service to the Emperor, had seen only once but never forgotten, a shape that filled him with hope and joy.

“Sweet Emperor be praised,” he whispered.

 

* * *

 

“Two minutes to impact. Final litanies.”

All around him, Brother-Captain Talien heard the sounds of helmets being locked into place, bolters and chainswords being readied and rechecked, all accompanied by the quiet intonation of devotional pre-battle mantras. As silence fell again, he nodded, satisfied and checked his armours internal chronometer.

 

“One minute to impact. May the Emperor guide your blades.”

“May He guide them,” his squad responded with one voice.

 

Talien nodded again and turned his thoughts inwards, scrutinizing the tactical readouts within his minds eye. The ancient technology painstakingly built into his master crafted bionics provided a neural link directly into his brain via an implant in his cranium, relaying a constant stream of information taken from the satellite feeds aboard the orbiting strike cruiser, “Emperors Glory”. Multiple overlays showed a vast array of strategic information, maps of Selusa showing objectives, routes, strongpoint’s and high ground; all marked with blue and red dots of varying size indicating friendly and enemy troop concentrations. Above this, twelve green dots flashed with timers counting down in the same hue beside each one, signifying that each of the twelve drop pods decorated with the colours and insignia of the noble 4th Company of the Blackhammers Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes would deploy its mighty cargo exactly where and when he had calculated.

 

Talien frowned thoughtfully. It was just as well that the Astartes strike cruiser now hanging in low orbit had forged ahead of the slower imperial transport vessels bringing Imperial Guard reinforcements for the defence of Haggia, slipping past the clumsy Ork blockade to deliver its deadly cargo. In a few hours the ships of the Imperial Navy would arrive and crush the Orks ramshackle armada, but within that time the Orks would have overrun the city walls and slaughtered the Imperial defenders, leaving only Haggia Primus as a lone bastion of humanity in a sea of green. That the Imperial battle group following behind him would eventually retake the Haggia system, Talien had no doubt, but if Selusa fell now, the cost in time and casualties to re-conquer it would be huge. Talien hated waste almost as much as he hated the Orks.

 

In Talien’s mind, the green counter beside the dot signifying his own drop pod turned warning amber as it hit ten seconds, followed immediately by two others, then three more. As the counter hit three seconds and turned bright red, he calmly checked his weapons and braced for impact.

 

* * *

 

 

 

more to come if its any good and worth carrying on with, what does everyone think?

[Marshall Strat]

You can't stop there! That'd be rather anti-climactic, and evil. Good story so far.

[I AM THE AWESOME]

More! MORE!

[Brother Barkus]

Very nice working on a piece myself would love to see the end. :D

[Lysimachus]

thanks for positive comments guys, glad you like it so far! here's the next bit, let me know what you think!

 

* * *

 

Lieutenant Hayes hit the parapet of the warehouse roof hard, thrown from his feet by the massive tremor caused as the first Adeptus Astartes drop pod smashed into the ground with concussive force less than three hundred yards from his position. He clung to the low wall, nearly toppling over the edge as he waited for the vibrations of the earth to subside. Other, only slightly lesser quakes rattled the building and his teeth as more pods hit the city streets. Hayes tried to count them but a vast cloud of thick, red dust billowed up from the first impacts, obscuring all vision beyond a few metres. A hush seemed to come over the urban battlefield as weapons fell momentarily silent, men and Orks suddenly alike in their curiosity.

 

Even as Hayes watched, the smoke began to clear and the outline of the nearest pod started to become visible. The Orks too, who had been massing to attack Hayes position but were scattered by the drop assault, appeared to be aware of the new enemy in their midst. Slowly at first, they were finding their feet, reforming their units and looking and pointing with what appeared to be delighted glee at the Astartes transports. With a roar of battle lust, the invaders surged towards the drop pod and Hayes felt a sudden rush of fear. The Space Marines would be trapped within their vehicle by the mass of bodies, an easy target for the crude krak weapons most of the Orks seemed to carry.

 

“Give them covering f…” he yelled to his men, but even as he did, the pods heavy metal sides opened with a thunderous clang. Before Hayes even saw the first power armoured warrior a deep staccato chattering sound filled the air and the first wave of rapidly approaching Orks was scythed down, stumbling and falling as one in a bloody eruption of detonating body parts. At the same moment the occupants of the pod swept forwards out of the smoke, taking up positions in the rubble caused by the drop and firing en masse into the mass of Orks who still advanced against them. The chattering of their bolt guns increased to an almighty roar and within seconds the Ork mob had been dispatched. As the noise of bolter fire subsided, Hayes used his binoculars to get his first good look at the Gravians’ saviours.

 

They were giants, even from this distance, seven massively bulky figures in their powered armour coloured in pure black and adorned with white hammers on their shoulder pads. With calm, cold precision, they stood in a loose semi-circle around the pod, bolt weaponry held easily but ready to fire in a split-second. Within the semi-circle several more Astartes warriors stood together; a marine with a huge armoured gauntlet covering one fist, another in pure white armour decorated with the insignias of the Imperial Medicae and a final warrior who, from what Hayes could see, must be the Astartes commander. His armour was clearly beautifully crafted and ornately decorated with purity seals, honour badges and the same white war hammer. He carried a bolt gun festooned with what looked like numerous kill markings and a short-bladed power sword hung from each hip, their matching hilts a rich gilt that stood out against the deep blue tabard that covered his chest. His features seemed stern, determined and proud, even though much of one side of his head and one of his eyes had been replaced or augmented with bionics.

 

The commander turned abruptly from looking out over the Ork held parts of the city to stare in Hayes own direction and the Gravian lieutenant suddenly got the feeling that the Space Marine was looking right at him. Through his binoculars he saw the warriors’ lips moving and raise a hand as if in greeting. Startled, Hayes lowered his binoculars.

“Was that for me?” he asked wonderingly under his breath.

Trooper Reece coughed uncomfortably and Hayes turned to look at his comm. Officer. The young man looked pale but his voice stayed firm as he held out the comm. link handset.

“Lieutenant Hayes, Sir, Captain Talien of the Blackhammers 4th Company requests a word with you to discuss tactics.”

Wordlessly Hayes took the comm.

 

* * *

 

Talien mentally disconnected the comm. link he had created to the Guard Lieutenant, satisfied that the Gravian platoons would adhere to the orders he had given; to keep up with the Blackhammers advance as best they could but not to engage the Orks and get in the way. Content that one small part of his battle strategy had been put in place, he turned his full attention back to the main issue – pushing the hated Orks back out of Selusa.

He quickly checked his readouts, confirming that his force, consisting of six Tactical squads led by his own Command unit and supported by two Devastator squads as well as the 4th Company’s three Dreadnoughts, had dropped precisely on target. Already, his tactical array was being swelled by a stream of on-the-ground information from each of his Veteran Sergeants and with practised ease, he compiled this with the information he was still receiving from the ‘Glory’ and began to order his squads forward.

Tactical Squad Ragen had dropped furthest into the enemies midst and were already engaged, holding against a heavy assault by multiple Ork units, so Talien quickly moved squads Okar and Danis supported by ancient Brother Oberon forward to reinforce their position. At the same time he sent the rest of his force into flanking positions, ready to capitalize on any weakness the first engagement revealed, with the sole exception of the Devastator squad under Veteran Sergeant Sendic, who set up a heavy weapons emplacement on the third floor of a tall Administratum building that provided excellent fields of fire for the missile launchers they carried.

 

Over the next hour Bother-Captain Talien deftly led his squads through the ruined districts of Selusa and he was entirely satisfied with the way his Company were performing their duties to the Emperor and the Chapter. The battle to retake the Selusan streets was exactly the kind of warfare at which the Blackhammers excelled and Talien was once again moved to give praise to the Primarch Vulkan, whose genetic legacy he and his brethren shared. From their forbears in the Salamanders Chapter, the Blackhammers had learned the qualities of steadfastness and determination, along with a predilection for close range firepower. All of these were serving them well as they fought the Orks from building to building, using their bolt guns and flamers to drive the enemy back while their plasma and melta weapons obliterated any target whose armour might prove harder to penetrate.

 

Aided by Talien’s skilled use of his internal Strategium, the Blackhammers were able to quickly identify, isolate and eliminate smaller elements of the massive Ork horde that had invaded the city. By carefully manoeuvring to create and exploit weaknesses in the Ork battle lines, by ruthlessly destroying Ork mobs attempting to out-flank and surround them, and – when facing a massed force of Orks at once became unavoidable – by briefly taking up defensive positions at shrewdly chosen strongpoint’s to annihilate the enemy with precision bolter fire, they were gradually pushing their far more numerous enemies back.

 

For Lieutenant Hayes, following closely behind the Astartes, it was an almost unbelievable display of deadly skill. In his mind he could picture it only in the terms of one of the boxing matches popular among the Gravians, with an incredibly talented pugilist taking on a far larger and stronger opponent with a mixture of speed, cunning and pure resolve; throwing out a blistering series of jabs and punches from all angles to pummel and disorientate his foe. Should his lumbering adversary recover his wits enough to charge forwards and throw a return strike, it would be calmly blocked or avoided, then met with a vicious jab that bloodied the larger mans nose and sent him reeling back once more.

However, Hayes mused, he had actually seen more than a few bouts like that end badly for the smaller fighter. All the bigger man needed was one tiny error, one that allowed a single, meaty fist to connect with its intended target and deliver a massive knock-out blow.

 

Nervously, the Lieutenant continued to watch, hoping and praying that would not happen here.

 

* * *

 

its only a little bit more done, the next bit will start getting into the real action so if you enjoying it keep watching!! thanks again for comments :)

[Grand Master SFDRF]

dam thats good.

thats all i have to say

[Chief L. Rome]

I liked how the POV was changed from the Marines to the Guardsman Lt. Very well.

[The God Emperor]

Gimme more, MORE!!!!!!!!

[Lysimachus]

hi, thanks again for feedback everyone, next section up:

 

* * *

 

“Trouble up ahead, Brother-Captain.” Veteran Sergeant Ragen voxed to Talien.

Even as he calmly used his armoured boot to push the corpse of the Ork Nob he had just slain off his power blade, Talien voxed his acknowledgment of his Sergeants warning and looked to his Strategium. Ragen was correct; the smaller bands of Orks they had just routed were massing together along with other mobs entering the city district and beginning to move back towards Taliens Company. From his Sergeants observations and his own satellite feeds, he estimated that the enemy force numbered more than three times his own. It was to be expected that the Orks numbers would increase sharply as they nearer the Gate into the city so Talien was not surprised to be so outnumbered, but it did cause several problems. Destroying the Ork horde ahead was well within his troops abilities, but it would take time and if the Blackhammers were held in one area for too long more and more Orks would be drawn towards them, bogging them down and eventually drowning them with sheer weight of numbers. Talien widened the angle of his mental map to take in more of the city. Less than two miles away lay the Gate through which the Orks were invading Selusa and although most of their number were following the main road south through the city towards the battles being fought over the bridges over the Isis, there were still many large bodies of the enemy active in close proximity to his force.

Talien frowned thoughtfully and began to plan out his strategy. The Orks ahead must be drawn forward, away from their comrades and swiftly trapped and destroyed, allowing the Astartes to move on to take the Gate before more green-skinned reinforcements could arrive. Quickly he searched his memory for a place to lead the Orks to, somewhere defensible with good fields of fire. After a moment, he nodded to himself and smiled tightly, then opened a comm. link to all of his Sergeants.

 

“Brother-Sergeants, move your squads to the co-ordinates I am transmitting to you now and prepare to repel an assault. Brother-Sergeants Ragen and Danis, move up to engage the enemy. Do not allow them to mire you in combat but strike then retreat. Snare them, lead them to us and we shall bring the Emperors fury down upon them. Acknowledge.”

 

A stream of affirmative signals flowed almost immediately from Taliens squad leaders. Satisfied, he nodded to Brother-Sergeant Cray, who signalled to the other veterans of the Command squad to move out.

Less than seven minutes later, the 4th Company had taken up positions at the co-ordinates Talien had specified, a large warehouse which had presumably once belonged to a fairly wealthy merchant. The building was ideal; big enough to provide cover for most of Taliens men, the walls were strong and a large open yard extended out on three sides with a steel fence at the perimeter. There were gaping holes in both the fence and the walls of the warehouse itself where the Orks had passed by hours earlier but the Astartes had quickly and efficiently filled them with simple barricades formed from machinery and heavy crates taken from the stores within.

Talien watched as Brother-Apothecary Nael moved deftly around the Blackhammers defences, tending to the brethrens needs and the Captain smiled at his medical officers’ skill and determination. The grizzled old veteran had spent the last few hours alone, bravely making his solitary way across the battlefield to care for any of the Marines of the 4th Company who had been wounded or, when necessary, to collect the precious progenoid glands that ensured the Chapters future from any fallen warrior killed or too seriously injured to survive. Thankfully, losses had been mercifully light and of the ninety Marines and three Dreadnoughts that had taken part in the drop assault to retake Selusa, only five Battle-brethren had been slain and two injured to the point of needing care from the more sophisticated facilities of the Apothecarium aboard the “Emperors Glory”. Three of these seven losses had been within one squad, the Companies 4th Tactical under Veteran Sergeant Varden, occurring when they were attacked by a pair of crude Ork walkers. The first was quickly dispatched by the squads’ melta gun but the second cannoned into close combat and slaughtered two brave Marines and severely mauled a third before Brother-Sergeant Varden was able to bring his power fist to bear with his customary skill and precision. When the squad leader had reported the skirmish, he had been full of shame and anger at his losses, but Talien had commended him and laid no penance upon him. He knew the sergeant had done well in the circumstances, and that the loss of two of his men would be punishment enough for any good leader.

 

Talien frowned. How many of his men would he have to sacrifice this day? Not that any of the Astartes present, himself included, would be unwilling to give their lives to achieve their mission but he would prefer to do so and keep his loyal warriors alive to serve the Emperor another day. With this thought in mind, he turned his full attention back to his tactical displays and squads Ragen and Danis. Although outnumbered more than fifteen to one, the twenty Battle-brethren had delivered a stinging attack on the flank of the Ork force they faced and even now, they were goading them towards the trap Talien had laid. The 4th Company Captain could picture the two squads in his minds eye, working in tandem under the skilled command of two of his most experienced Sergeants; taking turns to provide covering fire as the other unit carefully retreated towards the Astartes position, doing so quickly enough to avoid being swamped by the Orks but slowly enough to make sure that the green skins followed them.

 

A tone pinged in Taliens ear, indicating that someone was attempting to contact him on a standard Imperial channel. He frowned and responded coldly. He did not need any interruptions at this time.

 

“Captain Talien of the Blackhammers 4th receiving. State your name, unit designation and purpose in making contact.”

 

There was a long pause, and then a nervous voice that Talien recognized answered.

 

“Uh… Lieutenant Hayes, Gravian 83rd, sir. We’re just moving up behind you, holding the 3rd district Administratum building. Sir, several of your squads seem to be cut off. I have just seen them retreating under heavy fire from a very large force of Orks. Do they need assistance? My men are in a perfect position to engage…”

 

Even as the Guard officer spoke, Talien was checking his Strategium. The building in which the Guard platoons were hunkered down did indeed overlook the route along which his own squads were leading the hated Ork savages. However, he could immediately see that the structure and layout of it made it a poor choice of defensive position compared to the one the Astartes had taken up. Also, it was far too close to the main Ork hordes moving south towards the bridges. If the Gravians engaged now, they would end up drawing a huge mass of green skinned death down on both themselves and the Space Marines nearby.

Harshly he responded “Lieutenant, order your men to stand down and stay out of sight. The Orks are going exactly where they should be going. If one single las round changes that, it will most probably mean all of our deaths and the fall of this city, and in the unlikely event it does not and we both survive, I will kill you myself. Is that clearly understood?”

 

* * *

 

Hayes looked nervously at Reece and swallowed. “Understood, sir. We’ll wait here for your instructions. Hayes out.”

The Space Marine Captain did not answer and Hayes passed the comm. handset back to Reece with a low sigh of relief. He did not want a member of the Adeptus Astartes angry with him. Turning, he looked out carefully of the third floor window beside him. At ground level far below, he could see a squad of black armoured figures running full pelt along the street, followed by a heaving, roaring throng of Orkoid madness less than two hundred yards behind them. Another squad identically equipped stood at the far end of the street pouring fire over the heads of their comrades into their pursuers, preventing them from catching up to their quarry. Suddenly, having spoken to Captain Talien, it hit him that the small force of Marines could easily have slipped the Ork force chasing them if they had wanted. As the commander had said, the Orks were going were they were meant to be going.

He motioned Reece for the handset again.

“Stand down, all platoons, and keep your heads down.” he voxed to the other Gravian officers. “The Astartes have a plan in motion. Let’s let them do what they do best.”

 

* * *

 

In what seemed only a matter of heartbeats, Talien saw from the Blackhammers line that squad Danis had reached the steel fence surrounded the warehouse yard and taken up positions just inside. Turning back to face the way from which they had come, the black clad Marines unleashed a torrent of bolter fire towards the alien enemy. Moments later, squad Ragen hurtled past their brethren at a run, bodies hunched down to weather the storm of largely inaccurate return fire that whistled over their heads. Even as the last member of Ragens unit passed him, Veteran Sergeant Danis waved for his own men to fall back. As one, the Space Marines abandoned the outer fence to the Orks and loped towards the warehouse barricades. Only a hundred metres behind them, the Orks roared as they saw their opponents fleeing and swarmed forwards into the compound.

Talien watched in utter hatred as the Orks poured into the yard but with a voice of controlled calm he gave the order for his men to open fire. Against most enemies, he would have waited for all of them to get within the weapons range of his troops, but when fighting Orks one learned to take every shot one could. No matter how devastating the opening salvo against them was the green skins would still surge forwards, eager for the bloodletting to begin. Though the bolters of the majority of the 4th Company were still out of range, squad Sendics missile launchers, along with the heavy bolters of Devastator squad Toram and the various mighty weapons mounted on the three Astartes Dreadnoughts, spat forth a deluge of death towards the growing mass of green within the yard. Dozens of Orks died under the blistering barrage, but the rest howled with a mixture of anger, hate and battle joy on realizing how many of the Emperors finest they actually faced and together they piled forwards to attack the Marine strongpoint. As the enemy came into range, more and more of Taliens force opened fire, their weaponry reaping a deadly tally among the Orks in the front lines. Even so, the attackers showed no sign of shying away from the assault, their massed numbers giving them confidence to keep pushing on.

To Taliens experienced eyes, the battle seemed balanced on a blades edge. The Orks were still inching forwards metre by metre despite the heavy fire being heaped upon them, but it was taking a hideous toll on their fighting strength. If the enemy could reach and take the barricades with enough of their force intact, they would sweep the Blackhammers away in a tide of green. However, if Taliens men could hold the Orks back long enough to seriously deplete their numbers before that happened, they could quickly crush the assault and move on towards their objective at the city Gate.

 

Even as he watched wave after wave of Orkoid attackers break against the solid wall of fire power from the Astartes defence, a warning flashed amber within the displays of his Strategium. Talien searched his maps and read-outs for the danger, quickly determining the source of the alarm. A small force of Orks, represented by a tiny red blip on his mental plans and no more than twenty in number by his estimation, were moving along the street that ran around the warehouse and towards a small emergency exit that would have provided a means escape for any workers within the structure in the event of a fire. The cunning Orks were attempting to outflank the Space Marines and, although Talien knew that such a small force would be no threat to his men on its own, if they were to enter the warehouse and assault the brethren at the barricades it would be more than enough of a distraction to allow the far larger force outside to storm the defences. That could not be allowed, but again he could not spare any of his squads from the firing line overlooking the yard. The Captain scowled thoughtfully for a moment and then smiled as the solution to the problem came to him.

 

“Brother-Sergeant Cray” he signalled his second. “Take command of the line. A small party of our green skinned guests have become curious about the rear entrance to this building and I am moving to welcome them.”

 

“Aye, Brother-Captain. Good hunting.” Cray responded dutifully. He had served as Taliens First Sergeant for over a century and needed no further explanation, his trust in his Captain unbreakable.

 

Talien strode quickly through the darkened rows of stock towards the rear of the building, calmly readying his bolter and loosening his matched power blades in their sheaths. After a few hundred paces he found himself standing before the portal in question. Checking it over, Talien could see that the lock had been broken and that the door itself hung loosely on its hinges, the damage probably done when the Orks had moved through the area earlier or perhaps during the looting that he had heard had occurred during the evacuation of the Selusan citizenry. He took up a position in the shadows about five metres back from the entrance and settled himself into a relaxed firing stance with his bolter set to fire single shots, ready for the enemy to arrive. Talien had always been a skilled marksman; in fact, it was this talent that had earned him his veterans badge long years previously, and he had no need to waste ammunition using fully automatic fire when he could just as easily execute the enemy one by one.

Moments later, his enhanced hearing picked up the clumsy sounds and whispered arguments as the Orks attempted to approach the warehouse quietly. He raised his bolter as the door swung drunkenly in on its ruined hinges. A thick, green skinned face appeared as a cautious Ork peered around the door jamb into the darkened interior. When all seemed safe, the beast raised a hand to wave its comrades forward and two more hideous, hunched creatures shuffled inside, their crude weapons held ready and their red eyes shining in the dark. Taliens first shot hit the first Ork directly between the eyes, blowing out its tiny brains as the bolt exploded violently, and the second took the other in the throat, another clean kill. After a moment of tense silence, the ‘cautious’ Ork poked its head in again to see what had happened to its fellows and received a bolt shell through the eye for its trouble. Its body fell backyards out of sight and there was a moment’s pause. Talien heard the sound of a brief scuffle as the mobs leader ‘encouraged’ his troops to press on, followed by an angry roar as they attempted to drive themselves into a battle rage. Suddenly three, no, four Orks charged full tilt through the portal, trying to overwhelm their opponents in a rush. Taliens bolter spat shells in quick succession and the first three Orks died. The fourth barely avoided the bolt that should have killed it, taking it in the shoulder rather than the head, and stumbled; rolling forwards to lie prone on its back at Taliens feet. It looked up at the Astartes Captain and he looked down into its piggy red eyes. Talien couldn’t tell what the Ork was thinking as it lay there struggling to rise – pain? Hate? Fear? In truth, he did not care. Coldly, he raised one armoured boot and smashed it down, staving in the creatures’ thick skull. The crunch of splintering bone was entirely satisfying.

 

There was a new sound from the street, a heavy, metallic tread that was growing steadily in both volume and frequency. Something big was approaching the warehouse at a run. Talien hurled himself backwards away from the doorway and behind a large crate just as the door frame and a large area of the surrounding brickwork exploded inwards. He ducked as chunks of masonry flew through the air over his head, and then peered out of his cover to where the wall had been.

A hulking robotic monster of crude design stumped forward, shaking brick dust from its hull and lashing out clumsily with its arms that each ended in a cruel looking powered claw. A heavy calibre solid-shell weapon mounted on its shoulder began to loose noisy bursts of fire into the shadows, none of which came anywhere near where Talien crouched. He pondered for a moment whether or not to vox Sergeant Cray for heavier support to deal with the primitive Dreadnought, but there was no time. In any case, he could take care of the beast himself.

 

Talien stood and emptied his clip into the Ork foot soldiers that were cautiously entering the building behind the Dreadnought, felling two more. The spent clip dropped to the ground and the grotesque Ork machine started to swing around to bring its weapons to bear on the lone Space Marine. Talien, however, was already moving to stand before the Dreadnought and even as he did his hand was reaching into one of his belt pouches. From it he took a single bolt shell and loaded it manually into his bolt gun.

The bolt was a piece of Chapter history, created by one of their greatest artificers according to an ancient design that produced a shell that was superior in both explosive power and armour penetration over standard bolt ammunition. Talien had been honoured with a full clip of such bolts when he had won the first place in a marksmanship contest during a festival held on the Blackhammers home world several centuries ago, but as they were so valuable and rare because of the difficulties of manufacturing them, he had broken down the clip and saved the shells for use only in times of direst need.

With a vox-amplified roar, the pilot of the dreadnought sent its machine charging towards Talien. The Captain dropped to one knee and, with a prayer to the Emperor on his lips, took aim at the thick plexi-glass vision slit that appeared to have been scavenged from the wreckage an Imperial battle tank and that now sat high in the centre of the ugly constructs square body, only slightly less protected than the rest of its armoured form. Talien fired and the bolt flew through the air at the Dreadnought. The target was tiny and moving but his aim was true and it punched through the thick glass. There was a dull, muffled thump as the shell exploded in the cramped confines of the pilots’ compartment and the Dreadnought stumbled mid-charge and toppled forwards to crash into the ground scant metres from Taliens feet. A cloud of dust was thrown into the air by its impact and there was a moments silence as it settled, the remaining Orks who had followed the Dreadnought into the warehouse standing motionless and seeming stunned by the defeat of their metal champion. Talien took the opportunity to reverently place his bolter on top of the crate he had sheltered behind and to draw his twin power blades.

 

“For the Emperor!” he roared furiously and hurled himself into battle. The first Ork did not even resist, still looking in horrified amazement at the fallen Dreadnought, and died as Taliens blade cleaved through its thick neck. The others, perhaps a half dozen in all, seemed to stir themselves from their shock and turned to face the mighty Astartes commander, but by that time two more were already dead. The last few charged in, brandishing their crude cleavers and axes but now the odds were firmly in Taliens favour. He whirled through the combat, ducking one clumsy swing and parrying another with one of his blades, even as the second lashed out and disembowelled one of his opponents. Its body fell backwards and Talien shoulder charged one of the others, who tripped over its corpse and sprawled on the ground. The final two, seemingly the most skilled of the group, separated to attack him from two different directions and Talien stood for a moment with his blades held ready for an attack from either side. The two Orks however, appeared somewhat reluctant to be the first to charge in so Talien took the initiative, moving speedily to attack the Ork on his left. He gutted the beast then, on hearing the other closing rapidly, picked up its body and swung it up and around to meet the axe blade that had been rapidly falling towards his head. The cleaver embedded itself with a crunch in the first Orks corpse and Talien used the opportunity to disarm his enemy, twisting the body and hurling it away with the weapon still sticking out of its back. The final Ork, alone and unarmed, turned to run but Talien coldly slew it before it could get very far. He spat on its corpse contemptuously.

 

“Coward. Brother-Sergeant Cray,” he voxed his second. “How goes the battle?”

 

There was a brief pause as he waited for Cray to answer, then the veterans voice sounded confidently on his comm. link.

 

“Well, Brother-Captain. The Orks have been battering themselves on our defences for a while, but they’ll soon start to fall back now we’ve thinned their numbers a little. I was just about to order the Company to move out of the warehouse and eliminate the remnants, and then we are ready to move on to the objective.”

 

“Good. Well done, brother. I will rejoin you in a few moments. Talien out.”

 

Cray signalled his acknowledgement and Talien turned to walk back through the warehouse to where his brave men waited. As he did, the Ork who had tripped over the corpse of its comrade was attempting to rise. Calmly, with an almost casually effortless skill, Taliens blade slashed out as he passed, neatly decapitating the sole survivor of the failed attempt to flank the Astartes defence. The body of the Ork dropped back to the ground and Talien walked on, stopping only to retrieve, check and reload his precious bolter. The battle for Selusa was not over yet.

 

* * *

 

 

there we go, hope you all enjoyed it! C+C are always welcome and the next bit (big apocalypse type fight to take the gate with Thunderhawks, tanks and lots and lots and lots of Orks) will be up when i get around to writing it! :)

[Erenarch]

its really cool FF, and what I most liked it's the Astartes tactics in your story!

[Lysimachus]

Thanks Erenarch, this was actually the first version of this story. It's been changed a bit, using one of my other DIY Chapters, and finished. If you'd like to read the whole thing, it's in the Librarium Fiction section.

[Erenarch]

yes. I read it :P

do you wrote something else?