Hope Crushed.

[Akragth]

Nothing too amazing, just flexing the old writing muscles. Feedback is most welcome!
 

 

***

 

 
  He soared on wings of flame, falling from the sky as if an angel. An angel of silver, of death. His hammer fell before him, held in both arms, each as thick as logs. Its impact smashed the first idiot stupid enough to tackle the Marine, mashing him to a pulp. I felt my eyes squint as the Space Marine painted a dazzling show of colour with his mighty hammer as it impacted upon the enemy. He swung back and forth, left and right, slamming the enemies aside with ease. 

 

  One, two, thee enemies struck down, their twisted husks thrown aside beneath the power of the weapon and the strength of the wielder. He span, his weapon hitting yet another heretic, this one in the chest; destroying the thinly armoured man's ribs, squashing his internal organs. Well, I say man, but these were barely men any longer. They certainly didn't deserve to be called men anymore, they were traitors to their own kind, willingly obeying Chaos, under the leadership of the heretical Marines who had led this attack.

 

  More of the renegades flowed past my position, laying in the dirt among the bodies of my squad, seemingly oblivious to me as I struggled to move, still groggy from the explosion which had thrown me out of my trench. I fumbled through the mud, looking for my lasgun. It was wet, the mud, but not with rain, it hadn't rained here in months. It was wet with blood, with the blood of my squad mates...my friends.

 

  I found my lasgun wedged under Williams on my left, his lifeless corpse resting against a burning Chimera hull, and pulled it from beneath him. Its barrel had been cracked, the gun was useless.

 

  ''Guess this won't be doing me much good,'' I sighed, tossing the broken weapon to the blood damped dirt below. Luckily Tyron's gun had fared better, even if he hadn't. I stood, my fingers just reaching the strapping on the underside of the gun, pulling it toward me.

 

  I'd been spotted, one of the heretics had noticed me in my hunt for a gun, and was heading toward me. He raised both of his knives as I looked down the sights of my new found weapon. I squeezed the trigger, releasing a bolt of energy which stabbed through his left shoulder. He stumbled, his left hand dropping its knife, but he wasn't dead.

 

  Still he ran, waiving his remaining knife at me. I fired again. He doubled over forward, my shot hitting him in his naked torso. The heretical words tattooed across his chest had offered no protection from my shot, his filthy skin had been burned away leaving a hole in its place. He rolled in agony yelling foul insults at me. I fired again, this time through his neck. He didn't bleed, the heat of the lasgun saw to that, but he suffered. Oh he suffered, as the hole in his throat stole the breath from his lungs, and he deserved it. They all deserved it.

 

  I turned to my right, the roar of bolter fire drew my attention. I witnessed several of the cultists explode as the bolter slugs reached them, blasting chunks from them. The hammer-wielding Marine moved forward, two of his brethren firing their bolters to cover his advance, he buried the hammer's head in to a soldier's chest cavity. 

 

  For a moment I allowed myself to believe them untouchable; The Emperor's Space Marines, sent to rescue us from this hell. For a moment I let my mind tell me that these three men, dressed in their silver armour, a great black raven upon their left shoulder, would kill every one of the heretics who had befouled this world, a shining beacon of hope in the darkness of war.

 

  It was a moment of madness. There was no hope, not on this world.

 

  A traitor war machine lumbered past me, lurching forward on its thick armoured legs, its guns bellowing as they spewed forth round upon round. The Space Marines returned fire, their rounds harmlessly ricocheting from the deep silver armour of the machine. The machine's shots fared better, striking one of the Marines in his chest with enough power to knock the giant in to the trench behind him, half of his torso missing.

 

  Even still, the cultists moved ever closer to their targets, their numbers seemingly inexhaustible. They had the two remaining Marines surrounded, their swords and claws flailing at the armoured giants. I fired out, striking two of the fiends down with las-fire, hitting another one in his legs, but I couldn't fire fast enough to stem the tide. 

 

  The machine fired again, cutting through the cultists without even a hint of sorrow, as it tracked the lone bolter Marine whilst he ran toward a trench, attempting to avoid the autocannon's murderous touch. He dived in to the trench even as the shells flew overhead and all around the dugout, kicking up chunks of dirt as they impacted, raining the moist earth back down over the Marine. The hammer Marine had seen enough of this mechanical beast, and he engaged his jump pack, slamming the head of his thunder hammer in to the iron coloured machination as he fell from the sky once again. The vicious bite of the hammer cracked the machine's right shoulder, silencing the gun, its firing mechanisms jamming and failing. The machine moved, swinging its clawed left arm at the Marine in retaliation. 

 

  He stepped backward, allowing its claw to fall before him and lashed out again, the hammer this time hitting the left arm. An electric discharge sparked as the two mighty weapons connected. The Marine lifted his hammer, ready to strike again, but the claw moved faster. It hit him across his chest, sending him to his back, crushing a cultist as he landed. The machine moved forward, its clawed left hand clenched in to a ball. It punched forward, striking the prone Marine in his chest, easily cracking through armour and bone alike. It picked him up, parading his broken corpse as its new trophy.

 

  The Marine in the trench was cut down as the cultists overwhelmed him, pulling him to the floor even as he blew scores of them away with his gun fire. One of them raised his bloodied helmet a few moments later, reveling in his kill. I pulled my trigger and fired at him in anger. One of my shots hit him in the face, burning his boastful satisfaction away as his life faded from him. That got their attention, though, all of them. I had only survived this far because the cultists hadn't been focusing on me. But their main distraction, the Space Marines, had been killed. I edged backward, trying to buy myself time.

 

  Sweat rolled down my face as I desperately fired. I killed several more of the cultists. I couldn't miss, not with so many to fire at. I felt a sharp pain in my neck and the floor moved out from beneath me. My lasgun fell from my hand and I felt my back pressed against the hot hull of the burning Chimera behind me.

 

  I looked down, my head held in place. Red eye lenses looked back at me, void of emotion, of humanity. The iron clad warrior had me by the throat, his thumb squeezing my windpipe. I struggled, flailing my every limb in to action against him, but nothing I could muster was enough to break the giant's grip on me. 

 

  My mind started to fade. Somewhere, deep inside, I was happy to find release from this world, from these unending wars.  The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, and I spat out at the silver helmet of the traitor, coating him in my sanguine fluid. One final act of defiance. He raised his bolt pistol, and pressed the barrel against my forehead. 

 

  I closed my eyes and prayed to The Emperor one last time.

[Initiate Ernsthammer]

Nice

[deathspectersgt7]

That was Good.

[Akragth]

Thanks guys.

 

Might get a second part posted up soon.

[Welcheren]

This is great. Good beginning, nice build-up and a well-rounded ending. 

[Akragth]

''On the right!''

 

''I see him. Cover me, brothers!'' Brother-Sergeant Jeban replied. 

 

To his right brother Eradius laid a barrage of bolter fire down, discouraging the mad cultists from trying to attack his squad leader. I obliged the order, leaning from behind the barricade we had taken refuge behind; the fire of my bolter smashing open the humans, slamming them with enough force to send them hurtling end-over-end.

 

The Brother-Sergeant had seen a traitor marine, has back turned toward us, his fullest attention set upon on a lowly Guardsman who he had pinned against the burning hull of a chimera.

 

We had been sent to this world, tasked with aiding its defence against the ruinous powers. Twisted men and fallen brethren, the most hated of all foes., had descended upon this world. For two months they had battered the defending Guardsman, each wave a hammer blow which weakened the defensive lines, and yet the Imperial Guard had held long enough for us to arrive.

 

I turned to my right, sinking my knife in to the gut of a cultist as he tried to leap in to our defensive trench and onto me. He never stood a chance against an astartes, it was almost pitiful. But the choice to attack me, to betray all that we stand for, that choice was his. He had picked wrong, and that was why he deserved no pity, no remorse. We would strike down every traitor and heretic, and we could cleanse this world with extreme prejudice.

 

To my far left the Brother-Sergeant had reached the Chaos Marine, his chainsword ensuring the swift destruction of the traitor's internal organs and ending his life in that same instant. The traitor fell, releasing his grip on the Guardsman who, by some miracle, had survived the Iron Warrior's grip.

 

Brother Skalchar lashed out with fire from his heavy bolter, covering the Brother-Sergeant's retreat back to us; his righteous bolts pounding the enemy as they advance, blowing great chunks of flesh away and rendering several of the heretics down to nothing but pulp and gore.

 

The human was weakened, and yet the Brother-Sergeant helped him to his feet, covering him with bolt pistol fire as the man ran toward our position, spurred on by a will to survive. His mind wanted to survive, that was easy to see, but his body failed him and he faltered, falling to the dirt. He was fortunate, then, that his saviour was still beside him. The brother-Sergeant dragged the man by his arm, toward us.

 

I fired again, a headshot finished one more cultists. Such a waste, to allow oneself to fall to such depraved depths was something I simply could never understand. What I knew, though, was that they had failed humanity, they had failed The Emperor. And yet, there was no end to their numbers. Nor to their madness.

 

Jeban threw the Guardsman in to the trench as fire from the cultists pinged off his armour, before he leaped in, slamming down beside me. More fire rained over and on to us. Fortunately their primitive weapons were doing little more than denting our armour. Our fire, though, well our holy bolters threw them aside, their bodies broken.

 

Scores of heretics were felled that day, as we stood strong in our trench against the unyielding, unending tide of madmen. We may have stayed for days to come, if not for what came next.

 

I could see its glow, the unholy light of its foul engines, long before I saw its body. It was large, at least twice a space marine's height, taller even than a revered dreadnought. A behemoth of metal, of anger and unholy magics; a demon bound in the form of a machine. It stopped there, on that hill, surrounded by men, heretics and traitors all of them. I even saw it step on several of them as it walked.

 

But now it was stood, a momentary silence as its foul gaze turned upon us, the sentience trapped with in joyous to see us within range of its mighty cannons. They cannons began to turn, near instantly moving from stationary to full rotation. It spay forth streams of fire, which danced along the ground, the dirt around us flew in to the air and rained back down around us.

 

''Take cover!''

 

The words were so obvious, yet in the heat of the moment one of my kin had felt need to speak them. You don't stand there and take the hit when the thing shooting at you is spewing shots that can tear you apart. The cultists had been learning the lesson today, the hard way of course, but we aren't cultists. We are Space Marines, and we knew better.

 

I knelt in the trench, looking to my Sergeant, one eye sat on the Guardsman who knelt to my side, half surprised he wasn't cowering or whimpering.

 

''Orders?'' I asked. It was clear we couldn't just wait here, or the humans would be on our position soon. If we stood to fight the machine would cut us down.  

 

''We must withdraw, brothers. We fall back to second squad,'' Jeban ordered. ''Brother-Sergeant Vernak, can you hear me?''

 

''Sergeant Jeban?'' a voice called back over the vox.

 

''We are withdrawing to your location. Would you care to be ready, we have a demon machine in pursuit,'' Jeban replied, scurrying along the trench, still ducked from the incoming fire.

 

''Very well, I will alert the Guard. Can't handle it alone, brother?'' the vox retorted.

 

''Not at all, we just want to give you something to do,'' Jeban said, ending the vox chatter.

 

''With me, brothers''

 

And we went with him, our heads safely kept away from the demon's fire. Behind us the cultists poured in to the trenches to give chase. Perhaps it was fortune, or perhaps it was The Emperor's will, that we should have brother Velron at the far end of our formation. The promethium of his flamer hissed with satisfaction as it scorched the men stupid enough to advance upon our position, leaving them as naught but blackened corpses in his wake.

 

Second squad were based in an Imperial Guard base, a bunker which was home to the 39^th regiment, a little away from where we were. The fight to keep this city secure had, fortunately, not reached the inner city and the area hadn't been tainted by the foul heretics. Not yet, at least.

 

The trenches we advanced along had been dug by the Imperial Guard as they prepared their defensive lines. They stretched from the bunker of the 39^th Regiment, out in to the 42^nd's defensive position outside of the city proper, and he made for a suitable pathway for us to travel between the two points.

 

It was unfortunate that the 42^nd had been lost, their position overrun by traitor marines and their twisted machines. That was why we were pulling back when we found saw the traitor with his hands around the Guardsman's neck.

 

''That was our last line of defence before the city itself,'' Enzan muttered to my left.

 

''Indeed it was, brother, but not the last line of defence that the city has,'' the Sergeant replied. ''For whilst we are here, we shall be that last line of defence.''

 

We reached the end of the trenches, passing by numerous Guard firing positions. The barrels of too many guns stared at me for me to even hope to count them. Stationary guns, Guardsmen lasguns, even the odd bolter or two of officers.

 

''Well, I see you brought one of ours back.''

 

The general stared at Jeban, half of his skull was a metal plate and his face was too ravaged to truly tell which emotion he was trying to portray, but his voice suggested surprise. Sarcasm, perhaps. This man seemed surprised by everything we had done since arriving, as though he thought our prowess, our capability, as nothing but hearsay and nonsense. And yet, somehow, Jeban kept his cool around the petulant man, even as he blatantly disrespected us.

 

''Guardsman, where is your unit?'' the General asked, looking to the lone survivor we had found.

 

''Dead, sir. We lost the Chimera, I don't much know what happened after that.''

 

''Very well. Report to the command post so reassignment,'' the General said, as Jeban turned away from him.

 

''We must move to second squad,'' Jeban said. ''General, there are many enemy on our tail, and a demon machine with them. Ready your guns lest they catch you unawares.''

 

''I am never caught unaware, Space Marine,'' the old man retorted. At least he looked old to me, hard to tell with men.

 

''And yet here we are, half your world lost to Chaos,'' Jeban retorted without even looking back at the General, whose half face turned to anger.

 

''Lead on brother Gadaus,'' the Sergeant said, looking at me.

[deathspectersgt7]

A Good read,But never piss off a meatsack General he will turn.

[Akragth]

A Good read,But never piss off a meatsack General he will turn.

 

Thanks for the feedback.

 

Lol. He was already an ass before they ever arrived ;)

[Welcheren]

Good read. I enjoy the rising tension between the defenders; it does not bode well for their stand against their attackers.

 

Really like the zeal of your Guardsman and how his physical weakness + mental/spiritual strength is coupled with the superhuman Astartes. Each reinforce the other.

 

Some grammar errors. 

 

The only other thing I would suggest is to watch out for repeating words in the same sentence; see:

willed on by a will to survive

burning corpses, singed corpses

Second squad were based out (on or in?) an Imperial Guard base

(obviously these are rough paraphrases, not quotes).

[Akragth]

Good read. I enjoy the rising tension between the defenders; it does not bode well for their stand against their attackers.

 

Really like the zeal of your Guardsman and how his physical weakness + mental/spiritual strength is coupled with the superhuman Astartes. Each reinforce the other.

 

Some grammar errors. 

 

The only other thing I would suggest is to watch out for repeating words in the same sentence; see:

willed on by a will to survive

burning corpses, singed corpses

Second squad were based out (on or in?) an Imperial Guard base

(obviously these are rough paraphrases, not quotes).

 

Thanks, I appreciate the feedback, I fixed the points you highlighted (I hope!)

 

I'm terrible for mistakes like the ones you outlined when I rough draft. Thankfully between myself and my other half we usually unmess my work up. Lol.

 

I guess it'll teach me to not post something I wrote at 1am, without editing it first xD

[Welcheren]

Doesn't make it less fun to read. Excited to see where it goes.

[Akragth]

 

''Get down!''

 

The explosion struck close, closer than I would of liked-that was for sure. The rockcrete structure swayed under the might of the blast from the missile, loosened chunks of the grey stone were flung far and wide.

 

''They're getting closer, Brother,'' I said.

 

''That they are,'' Eradius answered, looking out of the bunker.

 

We had taken a defensive position on the third level of the rockcrete structure, a floor to ourselves to lay our fire down from. The General had been quite...insistent that we take the top floor. There was a feeling among us that he simply wanted us as far from him as possible.

 

Our brothers from the second squad had moved on to the opposite flank of the defensive perimeter. Between the second, and our own squad, our effective field of fire covered the entirety of the ground to the front of the Imperial Guard's defences.

 

The enemy had arrived at our gates an hour ago now. Our orders were to hold the line, and between the Imperial Guard, and the assembled brothers at this location, we had managed to do so. But the enemy were relentless, they were unyielding and their number seemed endless. 

 

For every one we cut down, another was ready and eager to take his place. It was a slaughter-field out there, and yet still they came. Brother Skalchar, standing to my left, his heavy bolter trained on the enemy and roaring as it fired; he must have killed hundreds in the last hour. I wondered what my own tally may have been, had I kept score.

 

''Hold the lines!'' Jeban ordered of us.

 

I moved back to the opening in the bunker, looking down at the carnage below. I rested my bolter back on to the rockcrete wall, and opened fire again, seeking priority targets among the numerous traitors, and heretics, despoiling the ground before me.

 

One of them had fired a frag missile at us, luckily the projectile had caught the bunker and not opening we were standing beside. I could see him now, his iron coloured armour shining as he knelt, the missile launcher lowered whilst he loaded the next shot.

 

I took aim, firing three quick bursts of fire at him. The first was intercepted by an unfortunate cultist, his shoulders blow apart from each other, his head vaporised. The second fell short, chipping the stone floor away from his feet. The third, though, the third volley hit the traitor Marine. He fell backwards, his chest plate broken open. He wasn't dead, but he wouldn't be firing that missile launcher any time soon, either.

 

In the trenches below, the Imperial Guard were struggling. They might have held their own against cultists alone, but once the traitor Marines had entered the fray they were quickly outmatched and out-gunned. Power armour may survive a shot or two from a bolter, especially at this sort of range, but flak armour wouldn't. At close range the Imperial Guard armour simply disintegrated as the bolts struck it, and took the man wearing the armour with it.

 

The fragmented remnants of the 42nd were doing what they could to hold the line, but had quickly succumbed to the heretic's assault. The 39th were faring little better, they'd lost at least a third of their number already.

 

Fortunately the 5th Loriar Armoured Regiment had provided a half dozen Leman Russ Battle Tanks, which had been forwarded to the defence of our position, with another sixteen promised within the next hour. The fire they laid down had seemingly discouraged the traitor daemon machine from charging our position, forcing it to engage at long range. 

 

Traitor tanks had rolled forward, but the Imperial Guard Tarantula Sentry Guns had made short work of them with their lascannons. And so we stayed, locked at a stalemate, holding the line. Our Guardsmen took heavy losses, their cultists too equally as many. Tanks and stationary guns, on both sides, lay bent and twisted, their metal husks bent and melted beyond recognition.

 

But still they came.

 

''There,'' Brother-Sergeant Jeban pointed, ''traitor Marines seek to flank us.''

 

Five Chaos Astartes were moving down our right flank, their guns silent. They were trying to avoid drawing attention to themselves and, in the confusion of war, it was working. They reached an Imperial Guard trench, entering it, laying a huge volley of fire down upon them. Where twenty guardsmen had stood mere moments ago, there was naught but gore and ruined limbs left.

 

I fired at them. My first few shots dug more in to the dirt of the trench than the traitors themselves. Brother Skalchar left rip with the heavy bolter, puncturing one Chaos Marine through his leg, ravaging his knee.

 

I fired again, a clear hit through the helmet of one Marine sent him to his back, his insulting existence ended. They returned shots upon us, one struck brother Raval through his left shoulder. A painful blow, but nothing he couldn't handle.

 

We continued to fire with out bolters at them, brothers Raval, Azus, Farius, Robar, Ostius, Eradius and I. Skalchar kept them suppressed with his heavy bolter, but his attention was soon drawn away to a large formation of cultists changing the Imperial Guard position to our left. Another traitor Marine fell to out wrath. It was hard to tell which brother hit the kill-shot, I think we all shot at him as soon as he stuck his head out far enough.

 

Another frag missile came in on our position, striking the bunker wall below us, its detonation was not enough to injure, but enough to throw us back for a moment. That was all the time the traitor needed. I stood, raising my bolter as I spied the Iron Warrior standing in the trench. As I fired, I realised why he had stood with such confidence.

 

I spotted small cylinder stuck to the outer edge of the bunker, and immediately dived backward.

 

''Metal bomb!'' I yelled. 

 

White light illuminated the area for a mere moment, as the super heated detonation took hold of the rockcrete. I turned back, to see what damage it had wrought. Brother Ostius lay among the devastation, his body had been ravaged, even power armour cannot resist a weapon of such brutality.

 

''Ostius has fallen, brothers,'' I solemnly reported.

 

Beyond him the rockcrete of the bunker had been destroyed, cut down to nothing but slag. A gaping hole sat where we had been stood just moments before.

 

''Our position is breached,'' the Brother-Sergeant reported, ''this bunker is compromised.''

 

I moved forward, kneeling at the newly formed edge of the bunker. I wasn't finished with the traitors, not yet. Not now that they had killed one of our own. He stood again, the same one, another bomb in hand. This time he wasn't going to be so lucky.

 

I fired, unloading round after round, striking him in his torso, in his face, his shoulders. He juddered from side to side as each shot landed, seemingly pinned in mid-air by the power of the blasts. As the final shot hit, he fell, disappearing in to the trench. The sole remaining Iron Warrior shoot to return fire, but brother Skalchar's heavy bolter denied him the chance to fire back.

 

''The traitors lay dead, Brother-Sergeant,'' Skalchar reported.

 

''The Emperor protects,'' I said, looking to my fallen brethren, laying his partially melted bolter across what little remained of his chest.

 

To my right I caught sight of a Leman Russ exploding, its hull giving way beneath the unrelenting fire of the traitor's demon machine. That was two of the six battle tanks gone, now, with a third currently being overrun by cultists. I fired outward, my shots laid down from above the tanks position, slapping the cultists aside as they stood on the hull of the tank. They had managed to break the engine cover and jam a grenade in to the motor, though, my shots had come too late. The rear end of the tank blew itself apart, setting its internals alight. The crew abandoned the wrecked vehicle, and ran for their lives back toward our position. 

 

A squad of traitor Raptors descended in to the remaining tanks, I fired at them, but they moved so fast that my shots arrived too late. One used his power maul to bash the hatch of the tank open as it landed, and dropped a frag grenade inside. Another fired his plasma pistol in to the engine area, disabling the vehicle, whilst his comrade dropped a frag grenade down the barrel of the battle cannon. The final tank was finished when a melta bomb, stuck to the side of the turret, detonated and tore its armoured hide asunder.

 

''The tank column is destroyed,'' I reported, still firing at the Raptors in the hope of cutting them down.

 

I struck one Raptor as he leapt away, hitting him in his jump pack. It coughed and spluttered for a moment, before blowing apart and sending him crashing back to the earth below. He landed across the hall of one of the tanks, his back sat at an impossible angle.

 

''The 39th are reporting heavy casualties,'' Jeban reported across his vox, sending the transmission to the strike cruiser Immortal Wrath as she sat in orbit high above us. ''This position will fall, the most we can do is delay the inevitable.''

 

It appeared that I had annoyed the Raptors, as they soon landed in the breach that the melta bomb had caused, their chainswords revving as they leapt in to us. One jumped at me, I managed to avoid the oncoming teeth of his weapon, taking only slight damage across the shoulder. I grabbed his wrist, managing to throw him back slightly and create distance. 

I raised my bolter and fired, unloading the entire magazine in to him as he got closer, and closer. He fell to his chest, landing mere inches away from my feet, his chainsword still revving for a few moments before his dead fingers relaxed.

 

I turned to see Brother-Sergeant Jeban sink his own chainsword in to one of the Raptor's midriffs, cutting him down much as he had intended to cut us down. Just beyond him I could see Velron exchanging blow and parry with a Raptor, his flamer unwieldy this close to his own allies.

 

The Raptor kicked Velron in the chest, sending him crashing backward, and advanced after him with his plasma pistol raised. The pistol's shots struck Velron across the chest and arms, burning through his armour and causing several wounds. And yet, despite it all, he still stood. The Raptor lunged again, but this time Velron was no match, he had been slowed by the trauma the plasma had already inflicted. The Raptor managed to sink his chainsword between Velron's helmet and torso, the teeth roaring as the ground away at the flesh.

 

Velron fell to his knees, and his head landed behind him. The Raptor died mere seconds later, under a barrage of fire from several of the squad. The final Raptor died under fire from a squad of newly arrived guardsmen behind us, but not before he had cut at least half of them down

.

''My Lords,'' one of the guardsmen said, holding his limp arm; it appeared to be broken at first glance. ''We have orders to evacuate this position. We're to fall back to the space dock, and hold there. A defensive position is already being set up, with both air and armoured support readily available.''

 

I could see Jeban's teeth gritting, even through his helmet I just knew. The General hadn't bothered to radio the Marines, instead letting them fight even as he withdrew his men from under them. ''Very well, Guardsman. We will make our way there with all haste,'' the Brother-Sergeant said. ''We must move, brothers!''

 

We followed him down the steps of the bunker, past the mountain of Imperial Guard dead, and out in to the streets behind. The Guardsmen were already withdrawing and several explosive devices were being set up, an attempt to delay our enemy's advance no doubt. 

 

A formation of Valkyrie flew overhead, laying down fire to cover our withdrawal; a not unwelcome sight. But it wouldn't delay them for long. Soon they would be travelling this very road, chasing after us with everything they had. I sprinted as fast as my legs would take me, passing Guardsman after Guardsman, even as they ran at their fastest pace.

 

The space dock was only ten minutes away by foot, for a space marine at least, and the traitors may well have armoured transports at hand; which would be able to get there in far less time.

 

We had little time to ready ourselves, every single second would count, if we were to avoid being caught unprepared. The enemy would soon be back upon us, and the fight would soon start afresh.

[deathspectersgt7]

[Chiv]

Awesome stuff!

[Eternal Warrior]

Better and better.

[Welcheren]

Going well. Looking forward to more.

[Sanguine_Knight]

YES!! I had only previously read the first installment. Glad to see you continued

[Akragth]

My apologies for the slow response. Been writing a novel (nothing to do with 40k) so been distracted with that.

 

Anyway.

 

----

 

''The Emperor protects, brothers. Steel yourselves!''

 

The brother-sergeant's words always did inspire us. His solid, incorruptible faith and his martial prowess had been inspirational to me since before I was even assigned to his squad.

 

''They're here!'' one of the guardsmen called out.

 

''Fire artillery,'' the Imperial general ordered.

 

I looked down my bolter. They weren't in range yet, but there were well within eyesight. The basilisks opened fire behind me, roaring as they spat forth their shells. Their bombardment hit a few moments later, blasting chunks out of the ground, and taking scores of the enemy with them. 

 

And, yet, still the enemy came. They were without number. Well, not literally, but they had more than enough men that it seemed they were.

 

We were to stand our ground on the outskirts of the space dock. Second squad had taken position opposite us, with the guardsmen between. Fortunately there were several large, rockcrete structures for us to use in our stand. The guard tanks, the ones which had survived that is, were position behind the guardsmen, and the artillery were position behind them.

 

A sortie of Valkyrie flew overhead, the third I'd seen in this same minute. They deployed their payload, destroying a couple of enemy vehicles.

 

Still they came.

 

On the right flank a maulerfiend opened fire, its guns chewed through the Valkyrie with ultimate ease. The aircraft fell apart before it hit the though, where it threw out a huge fireball.

 

''Take those daemon machines down!'' the general ordered to his tanks over the vox channel. 

 

The tanks fired their cannons. Some of the shots fell short, or went wide, but a couple found their mark and struck one of the fiends in its chest. It tipped over, sideways, its internals destroyed.

 

But still they came.

 

For each fiend destroyed, another came in to view to take its place. For every cultist killed, two more advanced on us. The traitors were trying to soften us up, before they bothered to assault us themselves. But we are Space Marines, we do not falter, we do not fall so easily.

 

''Now!'' the general called out. On the left flank three of the tower buildings crumbled, exploded from within by the skillful guardsman demolitionists. They tumbled, dropping tonnes of rockcrete down on to the streets, and crushing the traitors beneath it. Large plumes of dust rose where the buildings had fallen.

 

''That'll slow them,'' brother-sergeant Jeban muttered under his breath. I looked to my side, my brothers were all ready. We'd lost brother Ostius in our last skirmish with the enemy, a loss felt by all of us. But we are space marines, we would mourn him, and honour his loss, by bringing vengeance down upon our foes. The heretics wanted to route us, to destroy us. They would be denied. We would show them our mettle, we would stand against anything they could muster, and they would come to realise that they cannot defeat us.

 

A pair of enemy aircraft cut through the dust clouds on the left, knocking out a few more of the Valkyrie. The guard Hydras gave them a suitable reward for their kills, as they punched holes in to the hulls of the craft, smashing the vital internal mechanisms, and the pilots themselves, with equal anger. The enemy aircraft fell from the sky, smashing back to the earth in a fiery ball of death.

 

But still they came.

 

They funneled in to the streets below, just as the guard general had said they would. The tarantula guns came to life, spraying the enemy with their heavy bolter fire. Shell after shell impacted down in to the enemy horde. Limbs were torn asunder, men thrown like they were nothing. Blood began to soak the street below. I found a small amount of joy in watched their attack pressed back.

 

Still they came.

 

The traitor's daemon machines seemed to take a particular disliking to the tarantula guns, and they engaged them with their cannons. A heretical predator tank rolled in to view, uts autocannon trained upon the guard's infantry. It fired, blowing a chunk in to the defenders. The guard's own tanks fired in retaliation. Some of their shells pelted the enemy tank, but I couldn't tell whether it survived or not.

 

Below the heretic humans had taken a foothold, despite the guard's return fire, they were using the cover fire from the fiends to advance forward. I shifted my bolter aim, hovering it over one such heretic; a man, desperately trying to reach our position so he could appease his new masters. A man like that deserves only one reward, death, and I was in the mood to deliver that unto him. 

 

I roared and fired a small burst. The bolts flew clear and true, carving through the air, before blowing him to pulp. The man to his side was also hit by one of my rounds, his leg blown clean off by the impact. The heretics had fallen in great numbers, great enough that they were using the corpses of their own dead as a make-shift wall. I fired again, and again, and again. They fell, they all fell to my wrath. But there were so many, I wondered if we were even making a dent in their forces.

 

Brother Azus fell backward beside me, and it brought my attention from the cultists and back to my brothers. I moved to him, but he waved me away.

 

''Just a flesh wound,'' he said. 

 

''Aye, from a bolter,'' I said, examining it. I offered him my hand and pulled him back to his feet. Looking back out, I could see our fallen brethren down starting to move on our position. I snarled beneath my helm. Damn traitors.

 

Hatred overtook me. I fired at them until my magazine clicked dry. I don't know how many I killed, it's hard to tell in thick fighting like that, but several of their number fell. One of them had brought a lascannon, and he sliced a hole in to one of the guard tanks. 

 

The traitors were taking refuse behind their cultist meat shields. In the background couple of tanks rolled in to view, emerging from behind the smoke of the burning enemy vehicles.

 

''Vindicators!'' the brother-sergeant yelled. ''All guard tanks, focus fire on those artillery guns!''

 

His orders were too late. The vindicators let rip, chucking their massive shells toward second squad's fortification. They impacted on the outside of the rockcrete structure with massive explosions and potent ferocity. The structure gave way, caving and collapsing at several points, with large chucks of it thrown in all directions.

 

''Second squad! Second squad, come in!'' Jeban frantically said.

 

 

There was no response to the vox. We all knew they were gone...