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Planetfall


Lysimachus

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Hi all, some of you may remember I started and posted this story quite some time ago, but recently i've had another look at it and I decided to try and rewrite it to use my favourite DIY Chapter, The Emperor's Blade (link to IA in my sig). In fact, the story revolves around the characters and squads of the 4th Company that i'm actually building for playing with (2nd link in sig!).

 

C+C are very welcome, hope you enjoy it!

 

cheers

 

Lysimachus

 

 

 

Planetfall

 

Chapter 1

 

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.

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Thanks Hubernator!

 

although where is the PA...

 

fair point, guess I'd better get the 2nd Chapter up, into the PA bit!

 

 

 

Chapter 2

 

“Two minutes to impact. Final litanies.”

 

All around him, Brother-Captain Erastus 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 He on Terra guide your blades.”

 

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

 

Erastus 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, “Righteous Heart”. 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 in the same hue counting down beside each one, signifying that each of the twelve drop pods decorated with the colours and insignia of the devout 4th Company of the Emperor’s Blade Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes would deploy its mighty cargo exactly where and when he had calculated.

 

Erastus 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, Erastus had no doubt, but if Selusa fell now, the cost in time and casualties to re-conquer it would be huge. Such assets were the property and people of the Divine Emperor and as a man of devout faith Erastus could not countenance their loss if it was not necessary. He hated the thought of such waste almost as much as he hated the Orks themselves.

 

In Erastus’ 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.

 

* * *

 

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 outlines of the nearest pods 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 pods and Hayes felt a sudden rush of fear. The Space Marines would be trapped within their vehicles 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 first 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 pods 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, massively bulky figures in their powered armour coloured in deep blue and adorned with white swords on their shoulder pads. With calm, cold precision, they stood in loose semi-circles around their pods, bolt weaponry held easily but ready to fire in a split-second. 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, a third carrying a tall banner of plain cloth marked with a long blade and covered in flowing script; 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 blade. He carried a plasma pistol festooned with numerous kill markings and a long-bladed power sword hung from his hip, its hilt and pommel a rich gilt that stood out against the plain cloth 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 Erastus of the Emperor’s Blade 4th Company requests a word with you to discuss tactics.”

 

Wordlessly Hayes took the comm.

 

* * *

 

Erastus 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 Emperor’s Blade 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 ‘Heart’ and began to order his squads forward.

Tactical Squad Rufus had dropped furthest into the enemies midst and were already engaged, holding against a heavy assault by multiple Ork units, so Erastus quickly moved squads Philemon and Matthias supported by ancient Brother Constantine 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 Herodion, 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 and plasma cannons they carried.

 

Over the next hour Bother-Captain Erastus 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 God Emperor. As had been their Chapters way for countless centuries, his brethren fought with unbreakable faith and righteous fury, tempered and channelled in accordance with Guillimans divinely inspired masterwork, the great Codex Astartes. Aided by Erastus’ skilled use of his internal Strategium, the Emperor’s Blade 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 Gravian regiments, 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 mistake 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.

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thanks, Hubernator, glad you enjoying it! anyone else got any comments/crits/suggestions?

 

rewrite done on 3rd Chapter, here it is!

 

 

Chapter 3

 

“Trouble up ahead, Brother-Captain.” Veteran Sergeant Rufus voxed to Erastus.

 

Even as he calmly used his armoured boot to push the corpse of the Ork Nob he had just slain off his power blade, Erastus voxed his acknowledgment of his Sergeants warning and looked to his Strategium. Rufus 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 Erastus’ 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 neared the Gate into the city so Erastus was not surprised to be so outnumbered, but it did cause several problems. Destroying the Ork horde ahead was well within his troop’s abilities, but it would take time and if the Emperor’s Blade 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. Erastus 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.

 

Erastus 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 Rufus and Philemon, 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 holy fury down upon them. Acknowledge.”

 

A stream of affirmative signals flowed almost immediately from Erastus’ squad leaders. Satisfied, he nodded to Brother-Sergeant Gaius, 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 Erastus 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 Erastus’ 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.

 

Erastus watched as Brother-Apothecary Cephas moved deftly around the Emperor’s Blade 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 eighty-six Marines and three Dreadnoughts that had taken part in the drop assault to retake Selusa, only three Battle-brethren had been slain and four injured to the point of needing care from the more sophisticated facilities of the Apothecarium aboard the “Righteous Heart”. Three of these seven losses had been within one squad, the Company’s 4th Tactical under Veteran Sergeant Saul, 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 Saul 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 Erastus 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.

 

Erastus 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 God Emperor another day. With this thought in mind, he turned his full attention back to his tactical displays and squads Rufus and Philemon. 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 Erastus 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 Erastus’ 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 Erastus of the Emperor’s Blade 4th Company receiving. State your name, unit designation and purpose in making contact.”

 

There was a long pause, and then a nervous voice that Erastus 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, Erastus 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 swear by Our Lord on the Holy Throne that 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 blue 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 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 Erastus, 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, Erastus saw from the Emperor’s Blade line that squad Philemon 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 blue clad Marines unleashed a torrent of bolter fire towards the alien enemy. Moments later, squad Rufus 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 Rufus’ unit passed him, Veteran Sergeant Philemon 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.

 

Erastus 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 Herodion’s missile launchers and plasma cannons, along with the heavy bolters of Devastator squad Apollos 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 Erastus’ 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 Erastus’ 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 Emperor’s Blade away in a tide of green. However, if Erastus’ 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.

 

Piles of green bodies began to fill the open compound but the remaining Orks were nearing the Astartes defences. Crude rounds started to ping off barricades and power armour alike as the invaders weapons came into range. Erastus watched as they bloodily pushed further forwards, frowning thoughtfully, and then spoke one word into the Company comm.net.

 

“Now.”

 

Until this point, the 4th’s flamers had remained silent; their wielders crouched quietly behind the barricades. Now, along with the heavy flamers mounted on the hulls of Brothers Constantine and Epaphras, they spoke in deadly unison. Gouts of purifying, holy flame spewed forth into the closely packed mass of approaching green-skins, killing the closest instantly and snaking past to burn and maim those behind them. The air became filled with the smell of charred Ork flesh, along with violent popping sounds as the enemy’s primitive ammunition cooked off in the intense heat and exploded, adding even further to the death and destruction beyond the barricades. For a moment the Orks fell back in confusion, having lost several of their brutish bosses in the inferno who had been leading from the front, and Erastus suddenly saw an opportunity to end the encounter now.

 

“For He who sits on the Holy Throne,” he roared, “Charge!!!”

 

Ancient Brother Constantine responded at once by lifting the entire barricade before him in his massive power claw and hurling it into the enemy, crushing several Orks beneath its weight. With a rousing war hymn bellowing forth from his vox-casters, he strode out into battle, his assault cannon and heavy flamer purging the hated xenos in their dozens. Immediately behind him, headstrong Brother Tertullian, the 4th Company’s standard bearer, charged out, raising the sacred banner for all to see and slashing out at the enemy with his chainsword. Inspired by the faith and courage of these warriors, the 4th swept out of their positions, bolters chattering furiously as they engaged the Orks at point blank range.

 

Erastus drew his power blade but paused for a moment at the warehouse threshold to review his Strategium and assess the Astartes tactical situation. Milling in confusion, the leaderless Orks within the compound were no match for the disciplined fire of the 4th Company; but once they had been dispatched, could the marines safely move on to their main objective? Quickly, Erastus checked the satellite feed from the ‘Righteous Heart’ and was reassured to see that no more bands of Orks had broken off from the torrent heading south towards the Isis and his force could therefore move to retake the North Gate. Relieved, he offered a brief but heartfelt prayer of thanks for the Holy Emperor’s blessing, then marched out to join his men in the slaughter.

 

 

 

 

thanks for reading, C+C still very welcome!

 

Lysimachus

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thanks guys! here's another update, next Chapter:

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4

 

From his vantage point on the third floor of a ruined hab-block, Captain Erastus had a clear view across the vast open plaza that had until recently been the heart of a thriving Selusan market community. It was surrounded on three sides by the now empty homes of the Haggian people and on the fourth by the thick plascrete perimeter wall of Selusa itself. Bisecting the centre of the square ran a broad thoroughfare that extended from the base of the North Gate directly south into the heart of the city.

Erastus and his brethren on the ground floor below looked out on the vista before them with righteous hatred in their hearts, but not one of them moved. To do so would be death for even an Astartes Battle Company, for the entire plaza, more than five hundred metres square, was filled with a heaving throng of raging green madness. The Orks jostled, pushed and brawled among themselves to be the first to reach the great battles being fought for the river bridges, flooding in their hundreds and even thousands down the main road. The noise from their passing was deafening, causing Erastus’ autosenses to engage in order to block out the cacophony of sound. With a deep breath, he forced from his mind both the awe and hatred engendered in him by the display of the enemy’s raw power and focussed on his objective.

 

While the perimeter wall itself was still intact, the gatehouse over the North Gate had been hit again and again by the Orks crude but effective heavy weaponry, throwing the Imperial defenders back from their gun emplacements. The silencing of their artillery had allowed the Orks to bring up their war machines and penetrate the gate itself, which was now nothing more than a tangled and twisted piece of metal, further bent and trampled by the heavy tread of countless iron-soled boots. The loss of the gate was not a problem for Erastus, as its portal, with good cover and a wide killing ground outside the walls, could still easily be held … if it could be retaken. However, despite the careful plan Erastus had laid out for achieving their goal, the flow of Orks through the gate and down the highway was simply too great to fight against. Any opposition would be quickly washed away in the green tide. Erastus had to find some way to lessen the flood of Orks pouring through the gate so that his force would stand a chance of retaking the objective, but how? He paused for a moment, searching his memory of the Holy Codex for some strategy, some tactic of the sainted Primarch Guilliman himself that would serve their purpose, but his contemplation was interrupted by the voice of Sergeant Gaius. Oddly, for one of the few times in the several centuries during which Erastus had served with the grizzled and usually imperturbable veteran, he sounded concerned.

 

“Brother-Captain, we have a big problem.”

 

Erastus looked from the gate to his second-in-command and then to where Gaius’ power fist pointed, out over the perimeter wall. Though Selusas primary defence rose more than forty feet from ground level, Erastus immediately saw what had made his Sergeant so troubled.

 

Visible even above the high wall were the monstrous metal head and shoulders of an approaching Gargant, the Orks primitive answer to the blessed war engines of the Titan Legions.

 

The Astartes commander immediately pushed the challenge of retaking the gate out of his mind. The city could still survive its continued loss, but if the wall itself were breached by the massive bulk, roaring chain blades and powered claws of the Gargant, the tide of xenos would treble or quadruple in a matter of moments and nothing would stop them until Selusa was a burning waste.

Erastus knew that even if his men focussed all their firepower at the gigantic construct to the exclusion of any other target, it would take hours to bring the beast down; in which time either the Gargant itself or the Orks swarming in the square below would have slaughtered the 4th Company to the last man. With a frown, he opened several comm. channels at once, delaying the plan he had created to take the gate.

 

“All ground units, stand down, repeat, stand down. Operation ‘Heaven’s Retribution’ is on hold. Brother Sergeant Demas, keep your command back but be ready. Fleet Lieutenant Antonius, respond.”

 

There was a brief pause, and then the comm. link crackled as Erastus’ steward aboard the ‘Righteous Heart’ replied. Though not an Astartes, Antonius was a capable, efficient man with many years of experience serving the Emperor’s Blade Chapter Fleet.

 

“My Lord Captain? How may I serve you?”

 

“How goes the battle for Haggia’s skies?”

 

“Well, my Lord. The Imperial Navy Fleet has entered the system and the bulk of the Ork blockade has moved out to meet them. As far as I can discern from our position, Fleet Command is punishing the Orks. We have destroyed or crippled several Ork vessels that followed us into orbit without taking major damage to the ‘Heart’, though I must report we lost one of our escorts to a ramming attack by a dying Ork cruiser.”

 

“You have done well, Lieutenant. Now, quickly, I need you to bring the bombardment cannon on-line and target the heat source at the co-ordinates I am transmitting to your station. Signal the moment you have a lock. The defence of this city and the lives of all the God Emperor’s faithful people in it depend on your urgency, Lieutenant.”

 

“Understood, my Lord. Antonius out.”

 

Erastus broke the link with his subordinate and watched impatiently as the vast war machine ground closer and closer to the North Gate. Clearly, its crew’s intent was to smash the already weakened structure of the gatehouse, opening a gaping hole in the city defence that could not be secured. This could not be permitted to happen.

Just as Erastus was about to contact his Lieutenant again, he paused, noticing something in the plaza below him. The flood of Orks moving down the thoroughfare had lessened, as the warriors beyond the gate moved aside to avoid being crushed by the smoke belching behemoth as it passed. Suddenly a solution to both his tactical problems became clear and he smiled, thanking the God Emperor for his great providence.

 

“My Lord,” his comm. crackled once more as Antonius spoke, “we are locked and preparing to fire…”

 

“Hold fire until I give the word,” Erastus interrupted. “Brothers, stand ready. Brother Sergeant Demas, Heaven’s Retribution is on, begin your run on my mark. Mark!”

 

As he spoke, Erastus began a count on his Strategium display that he watched at the same time as he watched the Gargant approach the gatehouse. At fifteen seconds the Gargant was approximately fifty metres from the wall and the flow of Orks through the gate had reduced to a trickle as they massed behind the war engine.

 

As the counter hit seventeen seconds, Erastus roared into his comm. link,

 

“Antonius, now!”

 

Aboard the ‘Righteous Heart’, Fleet Lieutenant Antonius nodded to his Gunnery Officer and the Strike Cruiser shook momentarily as its bombardment cannon fired a massive shell towards the planets surface.

 

Using both his satellite feeds and his own eyes, Erastus watched in satisfaction as the bombardment shell plunged through Haggia’s atmosphere and towards the earth. It was perfectly targeted, the heat from the Gargant’s massive furnace reactor making it almost impossible to miss. As Erastus’ counter reached twenty seconds, the shell dropped from the sky and smashed through the metal beasts shoulder with huge force, penetrating deep into its belly, and then exploded with devastating force. The Ork Titan disintegrated in a vast fireball, instantly killing hundreds of Orks sheltering in its shadow. Its ugly metal head and deadly weapons were blasted from its body from within, only to land in the midst of the horde, crushing dozens more. The shell of its body continued to burn, letting off further secondary explosions as the vast quantities of ammunition within it ignited.

 

Erastus smiled. The threat of the titanic war machine had been nullified and for a time, the flow of the enemy into the city had been stopped entirely as none could safely pass the inferno that the Gargant had become. The battlefield was almost silent as the Orks inside and outside the city walls paused to watch their giant idol die.

 

Their mourning was short-lived, however. As the counter on Erastus’ display hit twenty-four seconds there was a huge rush of air that swept the plaza as, right on time, a trio of mighty Thunderhawk Gunships soared out over the great square from the west. As they passed overhead, their battle cannons and missiles reaped a deadly tally among the tightly packed Orks, dozens of explosions tearing up the flag stoned surface and sending green skinned bodies flying. The gunships banked in formation, coming in to hover ominously twenty feet above the ground on the opposite side of the plaza to where Erastus and his men waited. A handful of Ork rockets bounced off the Thunderhawks thick armour plating, then the Astartes transports retaliated by engaging their heavy bolters. A torrent of countless high-calibre explosive shells hammered into the enemy below, scouring clear a landing site for the heavy troopships. Even as the three Thunderhawks began to descend, the assault ramp on the first opened and the last members of the Emperor’s Blade 4th Company joined the battle for Selusa.

 

Roaring a stirring battle hymn that Erastus could hear over the Company comm. net, Veteran Sergeant Demas led his Assault squads to war, dropping on fiery contrails directly into the Orks trying to take cover from the withering bolter fire. With his enhanced vision, Erastus watched as his finest warrior laid out about him with his glittering power axe, killing with every strike, even as he roused his squad mates to greater religious fervour. Demas remained in control of his righteous hate, though, carefully directing his men as Erastus had commanded against any Ork units that might have the weapons necessary to damage the other Astartes forces now disembarking from the Thunderhawk Gunships, the 4th Company’s armoured support.

 

Three Predator battle tanks, supported by a Vindicator and several of the Company’s Rhino APCs as well as Erastus’ own Razorback, moved out from the Thunderhawks to engage the Orks. Both the armoured vehicles and the jump-pack equipped troops would have been next to useless in the close confines of the city streets but here in the plaza they were in their element, scything into the Orks with heavy weapons and bolt pistol and chainsword. Behind them came Brother Tychicus, the 4th Company’s ancient Techmarine with his retinue of servitors, and Tactical Squad Linus, of the Chapters 6th Company, in position to hold any gains made by the assault.

 

Even as the Orks turned to face the Thunderhawk assault, another part of Erastus’ Operation Heaven’s Retribution was being put into effect. A shimmering distortion of light was forming in the very shadow of the North Gate itself. The light became blindingly bright for a moment, then disappeared entirely, leaving in its place the final asset Erastus had at his disposal to accomplish his goal.

Ten hulking figures, taller even than a warrior in power armour, took up positions in the rubble of the gate portal. Even now, as an experienced Captain, the sight of them made Erastus’ twin hearts leap with pride and joy. They were members of the ‘Anointed’, the mighty brethren of the Emperor’s Blade 1st Company clad in ancient Terminator armour. As both vastly skilled warriors and devout men of faith, they were paragons of everything the Space Marines of the Chapter aspired to be.

Though Erastus had originally dictated that half the squad would hold the gate against enemies outside the city, Veteran Sergeant Ignatius had only positioned a single Veteran to watch for approaching Orks. He commanded the remainder to direct their fire into the raging mass of green within the city walls, recognizing that few Orks, if any, would be able to make it past the blazing wreckage of the Gargant for several hours at least. Erastus trusted the venerable Anointed’s judgement implicitly, having served under him in the 1st Company for more than twelve years before his recall to the 4th to take up the mantle of Captain.

 

As the massed storm bolter and assault cannon fire of squad Ignatius began to pick off Orks in the flank of those attacking Brother Demas’ strike force, Erastus carefully examined how successfully his battle plan was being followed, using both the information relayed from the ‘Righteous Heart’ and that from his own experienced eyes. Immediately he could see that though Demas and Ignatius had made an excellent start, without aid they would soon be swept away under the Orks counter assault.

Quickly he climbed down to ground level and ordered his men to make ready to engage the enemy, but paused before giving the order to charge. Even with the gate blocked, Erastus estimated that more than fifteen hundred of the enemy were packed into the plaza, supported by perhaps twenty walkers, numerous trucks and several battle wagons. Such a vast horde was a deadly threat even to a full and well supported Astartes Battle Company. However, the great square had to be retaken now; there would be no better opportunity without waiting for the Imperial reinforcements fighting their way towards Haggia, and waiting would mean Selusa’s fall.

Looking at his brave brethren around him, he spoke softly.

 

“The enemy is great, Brothers, but the God Emperor watches over us. In his strength, we shall prevail. May he guide your blades.”

 

“May he guide them, Amen.” the Faithful responded quietly as one.

 

Erastus nodded, proud of his men’s strong devotion. He drew his sword and pointed it at the filthy xenos before them.

 

“For the glory and honour of He who sits on Holy Terra,” he roared, “Kill, kill and kill again!!!”

 

 

 

 

 

there we go! another bit for C+C. the next (and probably final) Chapter will take a little longer to get up as i've not written any of it yet (whereas the others so far just have some smaller changes to fit with the Emperor's Blade fluff) but hopefully will be worth the wait! :wallbash:

 

cheers

 

Lysimachus

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  • 5 weeks later...

thanks Hubernator, really appreciate the ongoing support! anyone else got any comments?

 

anyway, here's the next update, was going to be the final chapter but it kind of grew a little, so will need one more after this.

 

 

Chapter 5

 

The remnant platoons of the 83rd Regiment of Gravius arrived at the edge of the Selusan plaza scant moments before the appearance of the Ork Gargant. For Lieutenant Hayes, already awestruck by the sheer terrifying numbers of the enemy passing by, it was simply a confirmation of his earlier assessment; he and his men would die here today. Not even the mighty warriors of the Adeptus Astartes, wherever they now were, could hope to stand against the vast horde and their iron idol.

 

With a leaden heart he ordered his men to take up defensive positions in the building around him, overlooking the point where the main road left the great market square. Perhaps their deaths at this bottleneck could at least give the other Imperial units fighting for the bridges to the south some brief respite; some time to prepare for the deluge of Orks that would flood into the city after the Gargant did its work on the city wall. Hayes could see no other option but fleeing back into the city, and for a true officer of the Imperial Guard, this was no option. Nor would he blindly stick to the Astartes commander’s orders not to engage the enemy, leaving his brave boys waiting passively for their deaths. Forcing his voice to remain calm and strong, he told his soldiers to take aim.

 

At that very moment, the Gargant died. Even at a distance and in cover, Hayes could not help but flinch back as the Ork construct exploded with thunderous force. Looking back at the blazing wreckage, he tried to determine what had happened. Even as he did, the Astartes struck.

 

Within the space of less than a minute, so quickly that Hayes was not even sure what was happening, the battle for the North Gate turned. Thunderhawk gunships rocketed across the sky, Terminator squads teleported in and as he watched in amazement, the main Astartes force struck like a hammer blow into the rear of the Orks who had turned to face the new threat. Suddenly the Orks, who had seemed so unstoppable only a few moments before, were being forced back. Hayes raised his binoculars to watch as the Space Marines struck again and again into the horde, fighting in a tight formation that allowed them to provide support, concentrate their firepower and prevent the enemy from bringing their far greater numbers to bear. Step by bloody step, and led from the front by the frighteningly skilled and deadly Captain Erastus, the blue armoured warriors were driving a wedge into the Ork host that would soon allow them to link up with the other Astartes on the far side of the plaza. Even though the flood of Orks passing his men’s position had dried up completely as every green skinned invader who had entered the city in the last half hour turned to face the Emperor’s chosen sons, Hayes could only feel confident that the Emperor’s Blade would emerge victorious. Observing them in open battle was like watching some titans out of ancient legend; gods of war come to conquer on the field of mortals.

 

The enemy would not fall easily though. Already, the Orks fragmented by the attack from all sides were reforming into a solid mass of green muscle that was gradually tightening around the Imperial saviours. Hayes looked out over the great horde and suddenly noticed a ripple moving through the packed ranks of Xenos scum, as though something huge and powerful slowly pushed its way towards where the Space Marine Captain fought at the very tip of the Astartes spearhead. The Lieutenant quickly tried to focus his binoculars on whatever was causing the ripple and for a moment, through the swirling chaos of battle, he caught a glimpse of something that truly horrified him.

 

* * *

 

With a skill that seemed almost effortless, Erastus parried the heavy blow of a crude Ork weapon, and then swept his own ancient war blade in a glittering arc that smashed into his opponents shoulder guard and nearly split the hulking beast in two. Thick gore spurted from the massive wound but Erastus had already yanked his weapon clear and sent it lancing forward in a powerful thrust that took another green skinned xenos directly between the eyes.

Even as the Astartes Captain fought, killing or maiming with every stroke, his mind never forgot the greater battle occurring around him. Deftly he ordered his squads, roaring commands and encouragement in equal measure, wielding his Company with ability comparable to that with which he wielded his blade. Every parry, every thrust, every blow was punctuated with words that brought his force closer to victory, gaining ground with each step.

 

“Squad Matthias, take that position!”

“Brother Epaphras, provide covering fire!”

“The eyes of the God Emperor are on us, Brothers. Stand firm and honour him with the enemies spilled blood!”

 

This was what it meant to be Captain of an Astartes Battle Company. Not simply the deadliest warrior, but also a master of strategy, and an orator able to fire his followers to greater and greater acts of valour and devotion. With no false modesty, Erastus knew that these were qualities that the great God Emperor had seen fit to bless him with, and he was determined that he would use them to the fullest in the service of his Lord.

 

Without warning, the Orks fighting against Erastus and the Marines around him seemed to quieten and pull back for a moment, looking behind them as though waiting for something. Erastus frowned and checked his tactical displays. Something was approaching his position, something big. Centuries of experience made the Captain use the momentary respite to draw in a deep breath, slowing the beating of his twin hearts, and tighten his grip on his heavy sword.

 

Suddenly, Erastus saw the thing that had so unmanned Lieutenant Hayes. With only a minimum of squabbling, the Orks parted to reveal a creature that even by the standards of an eight foot tall Astartes could only be described as a monster. The Ork was a giant, clad in mega armour that raised its height to more than three metres and broadened its girth to more than twice Erastus’ own. Where its skin was visible under rusted metal, it was a green so dark as to be almost black, and covered in countless ugly scars of varying length, thickness and depth. It was armed with a crude, multi-barrelled ranged weapon and a wicked looking power claw, along with its own natural weapons; curved teeth longer than a man’s forearm that jutted from its heavy jaw. The beast stomped forwards, smoke belching from its armour with every step.

In all his years of service to the Holy Throne, including no less than six campaigns against the Orks of Charandon, Erastus was unsure if he had ever faced a larger or more brutal opponent. If this were not Warlord Gorfang himself, it must be one of his most senior lieutenants.

Finally, the Warboss stopped, peering at Erastus with its beady red eyes, and roared in a voice so deep and guttural that it was barely intelligible.

 

“Skargut gonna cut yuz up good, marine-boyz. Sal-oosa belongs to da Waagh!!!”

 

Erastus stared coldly at the hulking Ork leader and replied;

 

“Selusa and the rest of this world belong to the God Emperor of Mankind, beast. Your presence here, your very existence, is an affront to His great holiness. In His sight and to His honour and glory, I vow that you will fall by my blade this day.”

 

The creature named Skargut snarled angrily and rushed forwards with surprising speed, raising his gun to unleash a torrent of solid slugs at Erastus. The Astartes Captain dodged the hail of fire with an agility that would have been hard for an unenhanced human eye to follow, even as he drew his ancient plasma pistol. The light of a miniature sun flared blindingly for a moment as his return shot crossed the rapidly closing distance between the two combatants. The glowing ball of plasma clipped the Ork leader’s shoulder, melting through his weapon’s ammo feed and turning the gun into nothing more than a crude club. Skargut growled and slowed his approach, casting aside his shoota in favour of his own long talons. He edged forwards more cautiously, eyeing Erastus’ smoking pistol, but the commander of the Emperor’s Blade 4th Company was a man of honour. He holstered the weapon and took a two handed grip on his long sword. He had vowed that the Xenos creature would die by his blade, and he intended to fulfil his word. With a grin of with savage joy as he realized Erastus’ intent, the Ork snapped his power claw open and closed menacingly, then charged.

 

Skargut towered over Erastus, bringing his claw in a mighty arc from high above his head down towards the Captain. Using every ounce of skill he possessed, Erastus parried the monstrous weapon away and lashed out against the body of the Ork Warboss. His blade rebounded from the massively thick plate with a loud clang.

 

The two warriors began to circle, ready to strike at any opening; but the sound of their first clash seemed to undo the spell of immobility that had been cast over the Orks around them and the horde charged forwards with a deep, rumbling battle cry. Erastus’ brethren, however, had used the moment’s respite wisely; each Marine carefully selecting an enemy to target. As one, they fired into the Orks, killing dozens of the green skinned aliens with their opening salvo.

 

Erastus traded blows with Skargut, matching its strength and ferocity with skill and courage. Thus far, he had avoided the worst of his opponent’s blows, suffering only a handful of shallow scratches in the ceramite of his artificer armour. The Ork, however, bled from several deep gashes in its forearm, thigh and heavy brow. Such wounds, though insignificant in themselves, would distract and, given enough time, gradually weaken the beast.

 

For the first time since his Company had entered Selusa, the Astartes commander felt confident that time was something he had. Skargut seemed too focussed on trying to catch and kill his enemy to notice; but Erastus, even as he fought, vigilantly watched the battle that raged around them. The Space Marines of the Emperor’s Blade were sweeping the Xenos before them and in a matter of moments Erastus’ squads would link up with those under Sergeant Demas, breaking the back of the horde and retaking the North Gate. The Orks still outnumbered the 4th Company more than three to one, but such odds favoured the sons of the God Emperor.

 

The monstrous Warboss lashed out again with his power claw and Erastus ducked, the very tips of the rusty blades passing scant inches over his head. In return, the Captain aimed a blow from his long sword low against Skarguts knee. As the ancient weapon passed through the thick mega armour, some vital piece of the crude technology that powered it was struck, venting a stream of compressed gas from the joint into the air. The giant Ork sank to one knee, his armour no longer able to support its own massive weight.

 

Erastus smiled coldly and Skargut snarled furiously, both well aware of the advantage the Captain had just gained. The Warboss swung its great arms in wide arcs, trying to keep his enemy back. Erastus stepped back out of range, lifting his sword high, ready to deliver a killing strike.

 

Suddenly, Skargut growled and pressed a large button on the side of his power claw. Sparks flew and a compartment on the back of the claw sprung open, revealing a shoddily constructed launcher loaded with two mismatched missiles that appeared to be built from looted Imperial distress flares packed with high explosives. He pointed the weapon at Erastus, barking out a cruel laugh, and the Captain braced himself for the impact. At this range, the flares would hit like a pair of krak missiles.

 

With a gleeful roar, Skargut fired. Erastus did his best to duck but could not avoid the projectiles entirely. One of the missiles passed over his head, rocketing up into the air where it exploded far above the battlefield with a lurid green flare. The other struck Erastus squarely and the blast hurled him backwards, the protective field of his Iron Halo flaring wildly and his armour systems protesting with flashing red displays across his internal monitors. He struck the ground hard and rolled painfully to his knees. Wincing, he checking his armour and looked around him. Somehow, the blessed devices within the Halo had saved him from the worst of the blast, but Skargut had taken the opportunity to plug the rent in his armour and limp forward towards him, raising his power claw once more.

 

Full of hate and anger, Erastus boosted the power to his armours servos and stood, bringing his blade up to meet the claw. The force of the clash shook his arms but he remained firm, bringing the sword around in a glistening arc that struck Skargut full on the shoulder. The beast roared in pain as blood spurted from the massive wound and jumped back, his arm hanging limply at his side. Skargut snarled at the now barely attached and useless limb, then at Erastus and raised his power claw. Erastus charged, his skill making the sword of the Master of the 4th seem to float almost effortlessly through the air, knocking the deadly claw aside and slicing through Skargut already weakened knee. He struck again and again, determined to give the monster no chance to rise again.

 

Finally, Erastus stood over the Ork Warboss, ready to administer the God Emperor’s divine judgement, when a sound impinged on his mind; a throaty, low growl that was growing in volume and intensity. The Astartes Captain, while still watching the Ork on its knees before him, checked his Strategium. With a sick feeling deep in his belly, Erastus realized that the noise was coming from a huge convoy of Ork vehicles moving back up the city highway towards the plaza. The hated Xenos must have noticed the green flare and turned the fastest of their troops around. Erastus estimated that in the line of ramshackle trucks, buggies and bikes there must be over five hundred enemy warriors approaching his position. Immediately, he knew that his force and his mission were in greater jeopardy that at any time before. The Astartes had lost perhaps twenty percent of their fighting strength as well as the element of surprise, and were now the ones about to be attacked on two fronts. Erastus was suddenly sure that without some miracle of divine intervention, he and his men were about to fall.

 

Skargut seemed to know it too, and he grinned widely up at Erastus. Before the beast could speak, the Captain raised his sword high and swept it down with a cold fury burning in his twin hearts. The blade smashed through the Orks thick skull and continued down, cleaving Skarguts head in two and burying itself in his wide chest. Erastus would be eternally damned if he wasn’t going to take as many of the hated enemy with him as he possibly could.

 

With a swift jerk, he freed the blade and stalked back to rejoin his Command squad, even as Skarguts gargantuan body collapsed to the ground. As he approached, Sergeant Gaius looked up from the Ork whose skull he had just crushed with his power fist and nodded grimly. The 4th Company were well aware of their predicament. The Orks should have been further broken by the loss of their leader, but they were rallying, encouraged to fight harder by the sight of their quickly approaching comrades. Erastus nodded back to his Sergeant, equally grim.

 

With an unspoken word of agreement, Tertullian and Cephas began to sing over the Astartes comm. net. Erastus and Gaius joined them, followed by squad after squad, until every member of the Emperor’s Blade on Haggia III was singing the same dolorous refrain. It was a song of brotherhood and pride, of loss and sorrow, but above all else of the endless glory and inescapable eventual victory of the God Emperor of Mankind. It was the Death Hymn.

 

* * *

 

there we go, C+C would be very welcome and appreciated

 

cheers

 

Lysimachus

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  • 2 months later...

thanks for comments again Brothers, glad you are enjoying it! Well, it's taken a while but the last Chapter is finally complete! Unfortunately, it's got a bit longer than i was expecting again though, so I'm going to put the last little concluding bits as an epilogue (to be posted fairly shortly i hope! ;) )

 

anyway, here's Chapter 6, C+C are still very welcome!

 

 

Chapter 6

 

Positioned as he was, with a clear view down the Selusan highway, Lieutenant Hayes saw the Ork reinforcements several minutes before Captain Erastus. As an experienced Guard officer, it took him only a few moments longer than the Astartes commander to realize the damage those reinforcements would do to the Space Marine Company when they struck. Even the godlike warriors of the Astartes would not stand a chance against such a hammer blow, and then Selusa would almost surely fall.

 

Hayes frowned, desperately trying to think if there was any way to prevent the deaths of the Emperor’s finest soldiers. Suddenly, inspiration hit him. His earlier intention had been to sell the lives of himself and his men in an attempt to create a bottleneck for the Orks moving into the city; but perhaps he could stopper the bottle in the other direction!

Quickly he grabbed at the comm. link, nearly pulling trooper Reece over, and addressed the heavy weapons units he had placed on the first and second floors.

 

“All heavy squads, redeploy to the western side of the building, target the Ork column but wait for my signal to fire. You have less than three minutes, hurry! All platoons, ground floor, west side now! Prepare to repel an assault.”

 

Even as the men of the 83rd responded to Hayes’ orders, Lieutenant Abel of the 7th Platoon approached worriedly.

 

“What’s going on, Sir? You know we’ve not got enough ammo or bodies to hold those monsters back. We’re going to get killed.”

 

Hayes smiled gently at the younger officer.

 

“That’s what we do, Abel. We’re the Imperial Guard. The Astartes need time to finish those Orks out in the square and get set to welcome this new batch of xeno-scum. If they can, then they might live and this city might not be lost. That’s worth every one of our lives.”

 

He paused, noticing that Commissar Lucian was watching him.

 

“If you disagree, Commissar, you’d probably better shoot me.”

 

The black-coated political officer stared at Hayes for a moment longer from under his peaked cap, and then calmly drew one of the pair of bolt pistols he commonly carried. Expertly he checked the weapon and slammed in the last full clip from his belt. Hayes froze, but Lucian simply turned the pistol over and tossed it to the acting commander. Hayes caught it cleanly and frowned quizzically at the Commissar. Lucian shrugged and drew his other weapon, a short bladed power sword.

 

“You appeared to have misplaced your side arm, Lieutenant. For the record, I am in complete agreement with your decision.” He raised his voice so all the troopers around them could hear. “It is the duty and privilege of every soldier of the Imperial Guard to die for the Emperor, serving him with their last breath. If this is our time to do so, we shall die as men, proudly and without fear.”

 

Hayes nodded and turned his attention to the road where the speeding Ork vehicles were fast approaching in a massive cloud of dust.

 

“All right, men, make ready. Anti-armour units, on my word, take out as many of those transports as you can. With any luck, we can stall the whole column. Platoons, we’re gonna be outnumbered at least three to one so conserve your ammo. They’re gonna come straight for us but hold your fire until they’re close and then make every shot count. Then its blade work.”

 

Then we’re dead, Hayes thought, but it doesn’t matter if we can give the Astartes the time they need. He tensed as the first trucks drew level with the far end of the building his men held. The occupants of the shoddily constructed transports were now visible through the dust cloud, crammed onto the vehicles and gleefully whooping, hollering and firing their pistols in the air as they headed for the battle in the plaza.

 

“Anti-tank, fire at will.”

 

A split second later, a pair of Gravian pattern krak missiles shot from emplacements on the second floor, leaving trails of fire and smoke in the air behind them. By some fluke of good fortune, both missiles hit their racing targets squarely. The first truck exploded in a fireball, flipping over in the air and smashing down to crush those passengers unlucky enough not to have been thrown clear. The other truck hit slewed sideways, clipping a third, and both lost control, crashing into the building on the opposite side of the broad road. Several other Ork vehicles, travelling at high speed and too close behind their comrades, were unable to stop in time and no less than five more trucks added to the pile-up, effectively blocking the route to the plaza.

 

The Ork column quickly halted behind the burning tangle of wreckage and hundreds of hate filled red eyes looked with sudden interest at the building Hayes’ command occupied. One large Ork pulled itself from the debris, waving a crude axe above its head, and roared in anger. Immediately the other Orks responded with a deafening roar of their own and charged forwards towards the Imperial position.

 

The last of the Gravians missiles destroyed another two trucks and a flamer equipped half-track as they raced towards Hayes’ men, then fell silent. The other Imperial heavy weapon teams started to fire into the horde, deadly autocannon and heavy bolter shells raining down onto the enemy, but Hayes knew they had only enough ammo for a few minutes of continued fire. He nervously re-checked the pistol Lucian had given him and looked out at the horde of vile creatures wading slowly forward through the torrent of firepower. The first salvoes of Imperial weapons fire had done better than Hayes could have hoped, thinning the Orks numbers by perhaps a third. Unfortunately, he estimated that this still left more than four hundred brutal xenos savages for his one hundred and eighty seven tired men to face in hand to hand combat.

 

At that moment, the first of the Gravian heavy bolters ran dry.

 

* * *

 

It took Captain Erastus scant seconds from the instant that the first missiles streaked across the Selusan highway to realize what was happening. He paused momentarily to watch as the brave soldiers of the Gravian Imperial Guard enacted their desperate plan. He could see that the Guard would hold the Orks for a matter of minutes only, and that he must make their sacrifice worthwhile. Immediately, he roared orders to his Company.

 

“Now is not the time to sing of death and glory, Brothers! The Holy Emperor has used our comrades in the Imperial Guard to provide us an opportunity to turn the tide of battle once more! Now, prove yourselves thankful of his beneficence and their valiant sacrifice! Stand strong; let your faith sustain you, and fight until every filthy heathen xenos lies broken upon the field!”

 

The Battle Brethren of the 4th Company bellowed eagerly in response to their commanders’ words and charged forwards into the suddenly dismayed foe, revitalized. Erastus looked back to where the Gravian Guardsmen were making their stand against the Orks. Without immediate support they would surely be lost. He frowned, checking his tactical displays; then spoke quietly and urgently into his comm. link.

 

* * *

 

“Fall back to the first floor! Fall back!” Hayes yelled to the men around him. The Gravians had barely dispatched the first wave of Orks to assault their lines and another would hit in a matter of seconds. Wearily, the Guardsmen abandoned their positions and ran with whatever energy they had left for the stairwell at the centre of the building. Even as the first soldier reached the bottom of the staircase, several pairs of beady red eyes peered in through windows and doorways to see the retreating backs of their hated enemies. With howls of rage, the Orks burst into the building, intent on chasing down the cowardly humans.

 

Hayes saw immediately that his men would not escape to the secondary defence of the first floor before being caught by the charging xenos and with resignation he halted to order his men to turn and fight. Better to die with their wounds to the fore. Before he could do so, however, Commissar Lucian had already turned and, with an angry roar, counter-charged the incoming aliens. His short bladed power sword was a blur as he stabbed and sliced. A handful of men from Lister’s platoon followed him into battle, attacking the Orks with nothing but fixed bayonets.

The Orks headlong rush into the building was slowed for a moment, but only for a moment. Hayes bellowed for the rest of his men to hurry up the stairs, and then turned to look back. Through the chaos of combat, Hayes saw the black coated officer raise his arm in a brief salute, then point urgently at the stairwell. Then he and the men who had followed him disappeared from view.

Hayes watched for a moment, offering a silent prayer that the brave Imperial troops died quickly, then turned and ran as quickly as he could for the stairs. He leapt up them two at a time, sure that the Orks were right behind him.

 

As he left the stairwell on the first floor, he was greeted by the final remnants of the proud Gravian 83rd Regiment. Grimly he nodded at his fellow soldiers.

“Anyone got any shots left?” he asked softly. A dozen or so Guardsmen raised their hands or muttered affirmatively.

“Good. Firing line here.” Hayes pointed in a line ten feet from the stairwell and drew Lucian’s bolt pistol. “Let’s give ‘em hell until we run dry. Everyone else, get ready to charge whatever makes it up those stairs.”

 

There was a rumble on the stairs below as the Orks raced up towards the humans above. The first few greenskins to reach the first floor died quickly but one after another the final few Imperial lasguns clicked empty, as did Hayes’ pistol.

 

A single, rather scrawny Ork nervously peered up around the stairs as the firing stopped. It looked around for a moment, then grinned and waved eagerly. Immediately from behind it, a wave of warriors let out a savage war cry and rushed up the stairs. Bursts of largely inaccurate shoota fire forced Hayes and his men back from the stairwell and the Orks moved up onto the first floor. As they massed to charge, Hayes looked at the hundred or so men that remained and sighed. This was finally, irrefutably, it. He pulled out his plain, standard issue combat knife and nodded proudly to Trooper Reece, who had somehow survived the assault and ended up beside him once more.

 

“Die well, lad.”

 

Reece made to reply, his young face frightened but determined, but his voice was drowned out completely as a thunderous crash shook the entire building and the majority of the first floor western wall suddenly simply crumpled inwards. Hayes ducked at the blast, then turned to look as several colossal figures with huge jump packs appeared silhouetted in the light entering through the gaping hole.

As the dust billowed through the building and settled, Hayes suddenly realized who had entered the fray. Desultory fire from the Orks pistols pinged harmlessly off their massive blue armoured frames. In response, the Emperor’s Blade Assault Marines fired their bolt weapons into the xenos ranks and charged, even as more Astartes landed at the edge of the floor. One carried a flamer that he used to hose the Orks with cleansing fire.

The xenos were quickly driven back down the stairs and one of the Marines, a fierce warrior who Hayes had just watched kill no less than seven Orks in half as many minutes, strode over to him. The giant grinned, gesturing eagerly with a vicious looking power axe.

 

“By the Holy Emperor’s Light, there can be no greater joy than putting these vile heathen aliens to the sword!”

 

Hayes merely stared, dumbfounded, at the saviour of his men. The warrior had an odd air that was somehow both jovially blood hungry and yet still deeply pious. Drawing in a shaky breath, he found his voice.

 

“What is happening?”

 

“See for yourself, Lieutenant,” replied the vast Marine more softly, gently ushering Hayes towards the opening in the western wall. The Guard officer looked curiously out through the ruined brickwork to see that one of the Astartes vehicles, a tank mounting a monstrous cannon of some kind in its frontal armour, had used its dozer blade to shunt aside the burning wreckage of the Ork trucks and open fire on their former occupants. Several squads and another tank Hayes thought he recognized as a ‘Predator’ had also moved up in support, and together the Astartes were hammering the Orks with heavy fire. Even as he watched, it seemed that the xenos had had enough, breaking away to retreat back up the highway into the heart of the city.

 

“Didn’t seem right, leaving you to face them alone after you bought us the time we needed. Veteran Sergeant Demas of the Emperor’s Blade 4th Company, by the way,” the assault leader introduced himself. “Brother-Captain Erastus sends his greetings and his thanks. He’ll want to speak to you himself shortly, once we’ve finished off the last of these xenos scum out in the square.”

 

“Can we assist in any way?” Hayes asked quickly, suddenly remembering that the battle for Selusa was still raging.

 

Demas shook his head.

 

“The Captain says you and your men have fought bravely and well, but that neither this day nor this battle is over yet. Your strength and bravery will yet be needed by the God Emperor. Rest for a time, eat and pray, while there is an opportunity. Brother-Sergeant Linus and his squad will watch the road. The Captain will come to you within the next hour.”

 

Hayes nodded tiredly and the Sergeant looked around him at his squad mates.

 

“Come Brothers, there are yet more filthy Orks for us to kill! Let us go spill their blood to the glory of our Lord!”

 

Followed by his brethren, Demas strode to the edge of the floor and leapt out into the air, igniting the thrusters of his powerful jump pack and disappearing with a roar in the direction of the ongoing battle for the plaza.

 

The Gravian Lieutenant watched as the warriors left, and then looked down onto the street below. The other Astartes who had intervened to save them once again were also returning to the plaza, with the exception of one squad who took up positions around the base of the building to watch for any more approaching Orks. He turned back to his men.

 

“Well, you heard him, get some rest. Anyone got any rations in their packs, share them out. Those who can sleep in all this, get some sleep.”

 

The Guardsmen moved to obey and Hayes found a place to sit down, doing his best to make himself comfortable on the floor with his back against a wall. He closed his eyes and frowned thoughtfully, wishing he could take his own advice. He’d never been able to follow the example of some veterans who when not on duty seemed able to catch a nap even in the most uncomfortable and terrifying situations.

 

Within a matter of seconds, the exhausted Lieutenant was asleep.

 

* * *

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  • 2 weeks later...

thanks again guys, here's the very final part, C+C would be very welcome, anything at all including spelling, grammar, etc would be great as i'd really like to present this story for inclusion in the fiction section of the Librarium and i need all the help i can get!

 

Hope you enjoy reading!

 

cheers

 

Lysimachus

 

***

 

Epilogue

 

Hayes awoke immediately at the sound of footfalls approaching his position. He looked up with a frown to see Trooper Reece standing nervously over him.

 

“Captain Erastus would like to speak to you now, sir.”

 

Hayes was not sure he had ever moved faster, even in combat. He rose to his feet, hurriedly brushing down his dirty, dusty uniform. With a nod for Reece to follow, he walked quickly down the stairs and out of the building into the daylight of the wide plaza. Blinking, he looked around him in amazement. Everywhere were the signs of recently fought battle and piled high were the bodies of the hated Orks. Numerous Astartes squads were busily carrying out various tasks around the square, but Hayes’ eyes were drawn to where Captain Erastus stood with his medical officer at the ramp of one of the great Thunderhawk Gunships. The Lieutenant walked over and stood quietly waiting for the massive Astartes leader to finish.

 

Erastus turned almost immediately and waved for Hayes to join him. With a respectful nod, the giant held his arm out to take Hayes’ own in a warriors clasp. Dwarfed in Erastus’ grip, Hayes was suddenly aware again of just how big the Marine commander was.

 

“Bravely fought, Lieutenant. The actions of the Gravian 83rd today will be remembered always in the annals of the Emperor’s Blade. We of the 4th Company owe you a debt of gratitude and, God Emperor willing, we shall see that debt paid.”

 

Hayes could barely speak at the honour that this, a member an ancient brotherhood of the greatest of the Emperor’s warriors, was heaping upon his men. He tried to find words to express that without the Astartes he and all his command would have died several times over, finally spluttering out his own inadequate thanks for their timely and repeated interventions.

 

Erastus shook his head at the praise.

 

“We have done northing more than we should have done. The Astartes are the servants and protectors of Humanity. It is the honour and duty of every Battle Brother of the Emperor’s Blade to serve the Imperium of Man, and to fight and die for the glory of He who sits on Holy Terra.”

 

Erastus face seemed to darken slightly as he watched an unmoving Astartes warrior being carried with dignity by several of his brethren onto the drop ship. Hayes swallowed uncomfortably as he watched them pass. The death of a Space Marine seemed almost impossible to believe, the death of a legend, a god.

 

“Have you lost many?” he asked quietly. Erastus looked up and smiled grimly.

 

“Nine Brothers gave their lives this day, and more have been grievously injured. However, those that fell died with honour and, thanks to the blessed skills of our Brother-Apothecary, the seed of those lost will return to the Chapter and the others will soon fight again. How have your own troops fared?”

 

Hayes shrugged thoughtfully. “They’re tired, and hungry and dirty. We’ve lost a lot of good men. The 83rd barely exists any more, save for us survivors. One hundred and twenty-six brave Guardsmen all told. But we’re still alive, and we’ll keep on fighting these bloody Orks until we’re not.”

 

Captain Erastus barked out a cold yet appreciative laugh.

 

“I’m glad to hear you say that Lieutenant, because I need your help. I need you and your men to hold the Gate and prevent any more of these vile xenos from entering this city.”

 

Hayes suddenly remembered what Colonel Martinez had told him several hours earlier. He frowned.

 

“But Sir, why do you need us? Your forces are far better equipped to defend the Gate. In any case, we have no ammunition left at all. We can’t keep the Orks out with bayonets.”

 

“There are still a great many Orks within these walls, Lieutenant, and a far greater number outside them”. The Captain seemed to look away at something only he could see. “The bridges across the Isis are being held, barely. If the enemy can cross in any force, then the Imperial Command Centre will be threatened and Colonel Martinez and his officers will be distracted from co-ordinating the defence atop the city walls. Retaking the Gate and ending the flow of Orks into the city was merely our first objective. There is far more work for us to do this day.”

 

Abruptly, Erastus turned and motioned to someone behind Hayes. “However, the problem of ammunition I can provide some solution to.”

 

Hayes spun around to see another Marine, a specialist clad in deep red armour emblazoned with the cog badge of the Adeptus Mechanicus, supervising the unloading of one of the other Thunderhawks. Several servitors were adding to growing pile of heavy crates, all stamped with the mark of the Departmento Munitorium. He quickly checked the various boxes, finding both frag and krak missiles, shells for heavy bolters and autocannons, as well as clip after wonderful clip of basic, size 3 lasgun ammunition. He grinned disbelievingly.

 

“How did you…?”

 

“When we left the fleet behind I requisitioned certain supplies for the defence. Then, I was monitoring your conversation with the Colonel. In fact, I must apologize to you Lieutenant. If I had known in advance the role you and your men were going to play in taking the Gate, I would have ensured you were re-armed sooner.”

 

Hayes shook his head vigorously, even as he continued to rifle through the Munitorium boxes.

 

“No apology needed, Sir. And this lot makes us more than even; in fact, we are squarely in your debt again. We will hold that Gate and may the Emperor have mercy on any Ork scum that try to take it from us, because we will not. Trooper Reece!” Hayes yelled suddenly at his comms man, who was waiting quietly a few paces away. “Go get the platoons mobilizing, now! Tell Lister and Miriam to assign a couple of squads to come and collect up these crates, and to get everyone else over to the Gate and dug in. Use whatever cover that’s there as best they can but make sure the heavy weapon crews have good fields of fire. Go!”

 

Reece turned and ran back towards the Gravian position as fast as he could, and Hayes turned back to Captain Erastus. They watched together as the Guard units filed quickly out and across the plaza to relieve the Space Marine squads who stood guard at the Gate. As the Guardsmen began to prepare their defences, the Astartes warriors boarded their Rhino transport and moved to join the column of vehicles about to head back up the highway into the city. In a matter of moments the Astartes Captain and Guard Lieutenant stood alone together in the open square. Erastus nodded to Hayes and spoke quietly.

 

“The fleet will break through the Orks in orbit and begin landing our reinforcements within the next two hours but I believe that the fires around that heathen monstrosity outside will burn themselves out in less than one. However, I am completely confident that you and your men will be more than able to keep the Orks out until Colonel Martinez can assign fresh troops to relieve you and engineers to begin repairing the Gate”.

 

“The Emperor protects, Sir.” Hayes responded simply.

 

Erastus smiled.

 

“Indeed he does, Lieutenant. As He ever has and as He ever will. Farewell, brother, and remember, the God Emperor looks down on the sons of Gravius with favour and pride this day. May he guide your blades.”

 

With these words, the mighty commander turned and walked quickly to his own transport. He turned back for a moment, raising one hand in a brief salute, and then boarded his vehicle. As Hayes stood, unmoving and unable to speak, the great machine came to life with a throaty roar and the convoy of Astartes tanks moved out up the highway, going to face the enemies of Humanity once more.

 

Lieutenant Hayes watched as they disappeared, thinking of the bravery, determination and skill he had witnessed that day. The Astartes were undoubtedly gods among men, warrior titans almost incomprehensible to mortals such as himself; and yet at the same time they had proved themselves as nothing more than humble, devoted subjects of the Emperor and his Imperium, willing and ready to give their lives and their deaths in his service without a moment’s hesitation.

 

Hayes looked down at the ground, frowning thoughtfully. The Marines were the perfect exemplars for any man privileged to serve as a soldier in the armies of the Imperium and he was resolved to follow that example. He looked up, something in his eyes and the set of his shoulders showing his newfound determination, and walked calmly to where his brave men prepared to fight for their God and their people once more.

 

* * *

 

...and thats it! Its taken a while but i'm quite proud of it on the whole. Hope everyone who's read it has enjoyed it. thanks for taking the time to look!

 

Lysimachus

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Very lovely piece of fiction. Accurately portrays all of the foes in question and allows the 83rd to have development beyond 'Guardsmen regiment fight, guardsmen regiment die' stuff that goes through most fiction. Lovely read, and I would love to see an extension to this conflict. Also

 

'Us orksez ar triky'

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Thanks very much guys, I'm really glad you've all enjoyed it!

 

As to writing another piece, I have got something in mind for my other DIY Chapter, the Stormbringers; they're really not very nice so it will be a much darker tale, thinking about using Dark Eldar as the enemy too! The Chapter IA is in the Librarium, but I wrote it several years ago and I think it needs a few revisions before I can start putting the story together.

 

Anyway, as soon as I have something, you'll be the first to know!

 

thanks again

 

Lysimachus

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