Alphastrike: The Armageddon Campaign

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Alphastrike; The Armageddon Campaign

 

Columns of steel and electric arcs filled the voids of missile trails and spacial flak as the Tears From Blue Eyes, astral fortress of the Alphastrike space marine chapter, thundered onwards through the barrage of hostile fire with each impact shredding the hull and jettisoning it into the Barge’s combat zone.

The Tears From Blue Eyes had only just drifted into a defensive orbit over the war-torn planet of Armageddon, bastion of the Imperial empire of Mankind, as the 3rd War for Armageddon entered the final phase with the hostiles attempting to retreat from the system. A cruiser of the Bad Moons ork clan had chosen the Tears to stage a last ditch attack and unleashed its full arsenal upon it. The crude missiles propulsion rockets and subsequent thick vapour trail illuminated the blackness of space, as the Tears turned broadside to bring its wall of flak cannons into range to intercept the advancing charge.

 

The command deck was alive with naval personnel desperately trying to keep on top of the vast amount of tactical data that was being fed into the grand topographical display in the center of the bridge where numerous officers stood around and barked orders to their subordinates. Amongst these men, one in particular towered above the rest, clad in the grey and orange livery of the young Alphastrike chapter. Master Toros Hernandez leaned heavily over the map table; his dark, weathered face radiated a dull red from the glow of the display, slightly covered by his thick, matted long black hair that stuck to its rugged contours caused by the humidity of the room.

 

‘Standby to fire Admiral’, Hernandez growled without looking up.

‘Aye, Master’, the Admiral acknowledged nervously, sweating profusely at the brow at the thought of failing the Emperor if he did not clear the barrage that leered ever closer.

‘Then turn your attention to ridding that monstrosity from the Emperors hallowed space when you are done. I will lead my full detachment of brothers down to the surface to aid the other chapters, you have command Admiral.’

 

The Admiral came to attention and saluted before sliding off into the gloom of the bridge and Hernandez turned to speak to his 2nd-in-charge, Captain Fernando Suarez of the 1st Company. Captain Suarez had retired to the shadows behind the tactical display waiting for the moment when he would be called upon to muster his company for battle.

‘Brother Suarez, it is time. Ready your company and have them sworn to battle. I shall join you in the launch bay and address the men. Go to it Captain’, Hernandez said calmly to his Brother-Captain as he walked on past and off the command deck with the Captain withdrawing to the armoury.

 

The Alphastrike chapter of the Space Marines was only recently created at the inception of the 26th Founding and as such only has one full company of fully trained marines, superhuman men fused with the genetic membrane of Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists, 1st Founding progenitor chapter. With the implantation of the Primarch’s geneseed, the Chapter’s warriors began to show signs of similarity towards their Supreme Commander, inheriting the signatory dark skin, which mixed with their heraldic Hispanic palette.

 

 

 

Deeply muffled rumbles echoed through the vast passageways and halls that snaked their way throughout the Tears From Blue Eyes’ structure as the great flak cannons flared into life and peppered the combat zone with metallic mist to draw the missile wall away or choke the propulsion mechanisms. Shell after shell spiraled out into the void, and detonated in a black and silver cloud that blocked out the dim sun that glared pathetically across the solar system. Occasionally however a missile cleared the mist and impacted violently with the hull of the barge, rocking the fortress with wild throws, and releasing ornate sections of the structure into space to which power surges rippled and danced across before discharging into the cold vacuum.

 

In the armoury, the many mechanical arms of the machine cult engineers and their army of servitors that accompanied them sealed massive humans into their equally as massive ceramite armour. Highly decorated banners were unfurled and icons where laden upon cloak and armour to such a degree that no marine was alike in appearance. Oaths and battle prayers were read out and bolters were armed and slung into position around the waist as one by one, each marine took up rank and file in their battle detachments.

Each marine stood in deathly silence as the heavy hangar doors parted and a silhouette of a great warrior formed amongst the haze of deck lighting, spacecraft signals and navigational lamps. The formidable icons of war, that of the stormbolter and the specially crafted scimitar, hung by its side and swayed gently as the ghostly shape emerged from the mists from the engines beyond and stood before its fellow marines. Perfectly poised and positioned, Master Hernandez spoke out with no reserve or hesitation to the men that he had known so well since the founding of the chapter decades ago.

‘Marines.. Men.. Brothers!’, he exclaimed, ‘this night we are called upon to aid the Emperor once again. But this is not just another battle on another battlefield. This is the core of the Imperium. This is the primary domain of man. This is Armageddon!’

He paused for a moment to let his words impact on the minds of his soldiers before him.

‘The war’s end is close at hand. The enemy knows this, we know this and the Emperor knows this. But the fight still continues below. I call upon you to join me, your Master, once again in battle, smiting our foes side by side, as equals with no rank or rate. We as a chapter are young, and this will be our first major campaign. We must proceed planet side to quell unrest in the heaviest of civil centres and crush any sense of rebellion or heretical uprising. Follow me my Brothers. Once more!’

And with that last remark, a great cry rose up from the silent army and the marines fell out and into the hangar to board the Thunderhawk landing craft squadron whose engines roared into being with a thunderous wail that shook the surrounding bulkheads. The hangar was alive with the heavy scent of oils and fuels, combined with the blur of lights swirling around the twisting mass of man and machine as the flight deck crews prepared the spacecraft for launch. A thudding beat resounded throughout the hangar as the Alphastrike marines marched rhythmically on to the landing craft, with the hatches slamming shut behind the last to board.

 

 

 

 

High above the skies of Hive Tempestus, several long trails of fire line the stratosphere in formation as the grey thunderhawks rocked violently with the high winds that greeted them on their decent from the Tears From Blue Eyes. Far in the metropolis below, the last remnants of the Ork invasion continued their savage slaughter on the failing Imperial defences. Guardsmen of hundreds of battalions lay dead or injured in the dark, crumbling streets; screams of civilians being torn apart at the hands of the green tide pierced the long and cold night.

Elsewhere, crude shanty fortresses where being constructed as the Orks began to get a foothold within the city. Walls built with fallen masonry, shattered metal and human corpses rose up high in the wide decaying streets. Pyres made from the remaining bodies provided the invader’s landing craft with a precarious runway for which to land on.

As the fighting progressed and the streets narrowed to putrid alleyways and building entrances, the defenders found their simple lasgun weaponry useless as the Orks closed in and forced the Guardsmen to unsheathe their swords, or to use anything that could be used to pierce or cut the tough hide of the Ork.

 

Nearby, the deafening thud of autocannons and heavy bolters resounded between buildings as the Castillian 24th guardsmen held the last remaining Imperial landing zone of the region. With the road cut off between the city and the landing zone, the evacuation attempt was now in vain and the mission now was to hold off the advancing horde in the hope that it would be long enough for reinforcements to arrive. Word had began to spread down through the ranks of a wave of Astartes thunderhawks inbound for the region, a rumour, true or not had inspired a huge sense of morale over the desperate men. Through the thick mixture of dark cloud and charred smoke, faint lines of fire where reported to have been seen over the hive. This news filtered its way up to the command bunker where Inquisitor Duke Dillinger leered over the Castillian colonel, instilling the rotund, middle-aged man with the fear of the Emperor’s wrath should he fail in holding the space port. Dillinger snatched the communiqué from the scribe that had appeared at his side from the shadows and had began making for the exit before he had even began to read the body of text it contained. As Duke strided out on to the landing zone, the faint wails of Imperial engines where distinctly recognisable over the drumming of the defences that boomed nearby. As the thunderhawks punched through the low cloud, their side bolter sponsons opened up upon the mass of greenskinned aggressors that swelled in the cratered field below, cutting through skin in a bloody wave like a scythe through thick grass.

 

A huge cheer arose from the Guardsmen as Inquisitor Dillinger pushed back his long, black overcoat to reveal a concealed auto-shotgun that hung from his waist.

‘The Emperor has answered your call men, and has sent his finest warriors to your aid’ he said coldly, cocking the weapon as he brought it up on aim. ‘But if you think you can rest, you are sadly mistaken. Now is the time to take the fight to the enemy. Or at least you will die trying’

His overcoat billowed wildly as the thunderhawks passed directly overhead, kicking up a storm of dust and debris. Unloading several shells into the face and guts of some greenskins, Dillinger swung around and made away for the dropship that had just touched down.

 

The large shadow of the Astartes engulfed Dillinger as Master Hernandez strode down the forward disembarkation ramp of the Thunderhawk.

‘Captain Hernandez?’ Dillinger exclaimed nervously.

‘Captain? I haven’t held that rank in over fifty years, Inquisitor.’

‘Weren’t you Captain Hernandez of the Deathwatch, Lord?’

‘I was. But now you may address me as Master’, Hernandez boomed, looming over the thin framed Inquisitor, ‘Master of the Alphastrike Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes’

‘Never heard of that chapter before, Master’, Dillinger said quietly, trying not to let the giant hear all of what he had said.

‘26th Founding. I presume the Ordo Xenos do not keep up with such current politics?’

‘The Ordo Xenos tend to keep their gaze outward of the Imperium, My Lord. But it is not entirely blind to all that moves within.’

‘Then maybe you can explain to me how this planet has come under attack. A planet deep within the Imperium at that. Or was your gaze set outward of the Imperium at the time?’

‘Well…’, Dillinger started before being cut short by the armoured hulk.

‘I’m sure we can debate about the agendas of the Ordo all day, Inquisitor. But if you’ll excuse me, we have some Orks to kill. And you have some Guardsmen to encourage in the way that only your kind knows best. We will speak again.’ Master Hernandez said with tones of threatening sarcasm as he pushed the stunned Inquisitor aside making way for the crude defences that feebly separated Imperial forces from that of the swarming greenskin tide.

 

The splintering sound of thick Ork skulls being smashed apart echoed in the night as bolter shells ripped through the onslaught of hostiles. Limp bones crushed into the frozen soil under the heavy feet of the mark 7 marine armour as the Alphastrike advanced from the Castillian trench lines slowly and methodically, mowing the Ork frontlines down in a great harvest of death. The remaining Castillian infantry followed nearby, executing any surviving greenskins they found amongst the carpet of twisted corpses that lay torn in the wake of the impenetrable wall of grey and orange superhumans that stalked the battlefield amidst the smoke and fire from the burning Imperial vehicles that were lost during the initial attack.