Death From AboveFormationby Lee ParnellPart One - Waiting For The Bugles CryTo: Field Marshall Dally Bronx As requested here is the earliest known record of the Lavarick Paratroops. If you need further information then please contact me. After initial success the Assault on the planet Imus II had come to a halt when it reached the industrial city of Le Hermas. Its armoured walls stopped artillery and tank barrages. The defence lasers had cost the Imperium two of its finest Destroyers as they attempted to commence orbital barrage. Its machine gun pits staved even the charges of Ogryns and Assault Marines and the force field over it meant that bombers had to use retarded bombs at low altitude to hit (the force field stopped fast moving objects) exposing themselves to heavy air defences at little gain due to the fortified buildings. It was proving impossible to solve and everything short of Exterminatus had been tried. Or at least everything in The Book had been tried. 4th Artillary Battery Sergeant Gerath sat in the shade of his Basilisk, cooking breakfast on the self proppeled guns portable cooker. It didn't look very appetising, being some king of porridge and Gerath knew that no matter how much sweetener he put in it would never taste good, but food was food and so he ate as much as possible during the brief respite between barrages. His brew was just boiling when he heard the radio growl to life. It was followed by a shout from the front of the vehicle. "Sarge, I've got flash traffic from HQ." The Vehicle's Heavy Bolter gunner and communications specialist, Private Scrall shouted from his station within the hull. Gerath climbed onto the top of the Basilisk and walked to the gunners hatch. He noted that the driver, Private Ferdas was lying on the hull and making the most of the sun. The towel alongside Scrall's hatch indicated that the gunner had been doing the same. "What you got Private." Gerath asked, peering down into the hull. Scrall looked up and replied. "Just waiting for it to decode Sarge, shouldn't take long." Gerath could hear the radio humming and then the printer burst into life quickly dispensing the new orders. He scanned over them quickly and then turned to the crew. "Okay; Scrall, send back an affirmative to HQ; Ferdas, make as if your doing something useful instead of sitting on yer arse. If the commissar catches you just lying about then you'll be in the doghouse." He turned to the loader, Private Willhem. "Willhelm, prep sixteen smoke rounds, we'll be laying down a smoke screen." Wilhelm nodded and disappeared into the ammo bay. Alone on the hull Gerath looked out along the line of artillery pieces. Other crews were preparing for the barrage, which only reinforced his suspicion. Some poor bastard was just about to be sent into the fray. Gerath muttered a prayer to the Emperor, glad that it wouldn't be him.
Trench 34N Corporal Benedict of the 21st Lavarick Rifles peered over the trench at the grey, scarred walls in the distance. The mornings mist combined with the steam from still smoking craters to obscure the bottom of the walls but the battlements were still clearly visible. He stepped down and turned to his squad. It was time to give the expected pep talk. "Okay lads, remember to stay behind the tanks as we advance, their our best cover. If the tank is hit then we'll have to use the craters as best as possible as we advance and hope the smoke screen holds up till we reach the walls. When we reach the wal we'll try to breach it using the demo charges we've been given." He paused and looked at the faces of his men noting that they had an air of grim determination about them, though tempered with the knowledge that no one had yet to reach the walls let alone breach them. "Well, you've got ten minutes till this kicks off, check your weapons and your comrades, have a piss or pray to the Emperor just be ready for the bugle." The men dispersed a little but remained within a meter or two of him. He walked to the Leman Russ that they would be using as cover smiling at the slogan on the side 'Shoot Me! I'm Cover'. "You guys ready?" He cried over the roar of the diesel engine but got no response so he lifted the cover on the rear of the tank and used the intercom, repeating what he had just said. "Yeah, but you'd better keep up with us. I don't wanna be in the enemy's sights longer than necessary. Smoke screen or no smoke screen." The commander said obviously agitated at being relegated to being a moving screen for the infantry. "Amen to that." He put the phone back behind the cover and then called his men over. They huddled behind the tank, the morning heat combining with the exhaust of the engine to make every man sweat under their armour and DPMs. "Comms check." Benedict said over the helmet's comm-link, the last thing he needed was to lose touch with the heavy weapons team. Everybody checked in. Looking down the trench he saw men either huddled behind tanks or standing on ladders, all waiting for the bugles cry and the raising of the regimental colours. He heard a whistling followed by a number of dull thuds and saw puffs of white, dense smoke obscure the walls as the artillery smoke screen arrived. Benedict glanced back down the trench and saw the colours flying in the air. The advance was played over their comm links and as one the 21st Lavarick Rifles charged for the wall. Corporal Benedict muttered a prayer, hoping that the Emperor would protect him if all else failed…
Part Two - The Workface Of WarBenedict moved as quickly as the churned mud would allow, using the Leman Russ as a moving shield should there be any return fire. On that count the surprise of attacking during the day and the use of an artillery smoke screen seemed to be working as return fire was scattered and inaccurate. Benedict's comm link buzzed in his ear indicating that the tank commander wanted to speak to him on the intercom and he noted that the tank was coming to a stop. He rushed up to the rear of the tank and indicated to his men to spread out. They did so, scurrying into old craters and keeping an eye out for incoming fire. Benedict picked up the receiver and pressed the activation rune. "Why have we stopped? I thought the orders were to advance to the wall?" The tank's commander replied, a hint of anxiety in his voice. "Change of orders. The HQ just told all tanks to stop and provide covering fire. We can see them on the thermal scanners…" Benedict interrupted, realisation suddenly hitting them. "By The Emperor! What if they have…? INCOMING!" He just caught the white vapour trail out of the corner of his eye and tried to fling himself to the floor. The fact that his right side suddenly went numb and he went sideways rather than straight down indicating that he had been caught in the blast. He landed in a heap in the cover of a crater and remained still. He could no longer hear anything and the battle seemed all the more surreal for it. He could see the crew of the Leman Russ trying to get out, one of them was on fire; he could see other tanks burning, all apparently lured in by the obviously, faked inaccuracy of the earlier fire; he could see men being cut down by autocannon fire. The advance had turned to a massacre in the space of a few seconds. Realising his duty Benedict forced himself up and half ran, half crouched to one of the craters containing his men. He tripped on something and saw that it was the upper half of one of the weapons team and he was suddenly gripped by the urge to throw up but quickly forced it down. He dived into the crater. "Everyone all right?" he shouted, before realising that it was probably the worst thing to say under the circumstances, however, he did get seven replies as each trooper reported in and he half smiled at the fact that his hearing had returned. "Where's young Marlos?" He asked the trooper he had landed next to. "Over there!" He pointed over at two men, one stooped over the other, as if checking the man who lied on the craters floor. Benedict moved over and saw that Marlos was as good as dead, a large tear in his skin exposing his guts. Marlos kept repeating the soldier's litany, praying to the Emperor for deliverance despite his wounds. Benedict looked at the trooper tending to Marlos and handed over his Las Pistol. The trooper knew what to do. Benedict was racing to the next group of his men when he heard the retreat piped over the comm link and as he dived into the crater, followed by a trail of explosions as an enemy gunner tried to draw a bead on him, began issuing orders. "Dan, take your section and lay down covering fire. My section, fall back to the next row of craters." Three men got up and ran back towards the trenches while Dan, the 2I/C of the squad laid down covering fire. "Section 2, fall back! Section 1, Covering fire!" Dan had obviously got hold of some smoke grenades as green smoke billowed out of the crater. Four men ran past to the next row of craters. "Coming through!" Dan shouted. And so it continued until finally the squad reached the trench. Once there Benedict carried out a head count and was glad to see everyone was back. Exhausted he collapsed against the wall of the trench and awaited further orders whilst remembering to pray to the Emperor for his survival, however temporary it may be.
Whilst Benedict gave thanks to the Protector of Mankind, a lone figure, in the Power Armour of the Iron Eagles chapter of the Adeptus Astares stood atop the hull of a Rhino and cast his gaze towards the battle scarred grey walls. He looked towards a similarly equipped Marine and nodded towards the walls. "Brother Lemarx. Do you know where we'll be next time we see those walls?" "No Brother Sergeant Hersan." "Brother. We'll be on the inside looking out."
Part Three - The PlanTroop Transport Ollanius Pius Lieutenant Patrick Mallan of the 21st Lavarick Rifles marched down one of the long corridors of the troopship hearing his footsteps echo as they hit the metal flooring in perfect marching timing. The timing was so exact as to offer no audio clue as to the presence of Sergeant Tyrel,, Mallan's platoon SNCO. The two of them had had little sleep, staying up all "night" (according to the ship's clock) yet both were immaculately turned out with faces clean shaven and uniforms (DPMs as the regiment was at war and the soldiers onboard could be called upon at any time) neatly pressed and cleaned. After all they were just about to have a meeting with Brigadier-General Karl Tompkins, hero of the suppression of Ryna Worlds Rebellion and commander of the 21st Rifles. Passing through one of countless bulkheads the two men arrived at the Generals Office, his aide buzzing them through and, as protocol required, Sergeant Tyrel opened the door for the senior officer. "“Leftenant Mallan and Sergeant Tyrel, B Platoon reporting. Sah!” Mallan said, after coming to attention and saluting. The general was already up and he returned the salute smartly. "At ease men. What can I do for you?" the general said, while indicating to them to take a seat. "Sir, the attack the Marines are about to mount. It's going to fail." Mallans words hung in the air for a few seconds and he wondered if he had gone above his station. "My Dear Boy, Commander Aswaern has over 300 years experience when it comes to planetary assaults. If I recall you have been commissioned for only," There was a pause as Tompkins displayed his legendary talent for knowing every detail of his troops, "Two years, I am correct aren’t I." "Yes Sir." It was actually two years eight months but Mallan was not going to pick faults. "But none the less myself and Sergeant Tyrel have conclusive evidence that the attack will fail." Tompkins walked to the window and looked out across the assembled ships of the fleet. He could see the Iron Eagles' Battle Barge entering a slightly lower orbit. The attack was due in 24 hour SIT. "Well, I don't have anything planned for the meantime." He pressed the intercom button. "Do you want some tea?" Both men replied yes and the Sergeant set up a small projector on the far side of the office while they waited. Once the aide had left and switched off the lights the presentation began. Mallan pressed a control on the projector's remote and on the wall behind him a diagram of the city and its force field appeared. It showed, over and over, a plane at low level dropping retarded bombs and a plane at high altitude dropping slick bombs. The top plane always missed and the lower plane blew up after dropping its bombs. "Sir, as I'm sure you know, the city of Le Hermas is surrounded by a field which stops high velocity objects by means unknown." The General nodded and Mallan thanked the Emperor that he didn't get annoyed at such common knowledge and so he continued. "Anyway, I managed to get hold of the green slime's (the nickname for Imperial Army Intelligence Corps or IAIC) estimates of what speed is required to penetrate the force field and also the rough estimates of the speed of the drop pods the marines used." "By rights," Tompkins interrupted, "I should hand you over to the inquisition. Both those Intel reports are marked highly classified." But he fell silent again and indicated to Mallan to continue. "Er yes Sir. But I assure you my intentions are for the good of the Empire." He stopped and remembered the old saying Commissar Bern had taught him. 'The path to damnation is paved with good intentions'. "Anyway, by my calculations, only 75% of the pods will hit the ground intact." "By the marines reckoning only 25% will bounce off" Tompkins interjected. "Yes. But I fear that the marines may have not taken into account the air defences. If a high speed, manoeuvring, aircraft like the Marauder can be hit then a mere drop pod will be easy meat." Tompkins was thoughtful for a couple of minutes and Mallan waited until he had his CO's attention again. But before he continued Tompkins stopped him. "What you say is correct son, I told that marine pretty much the same but he said that surprise will count for them. He also said that the Emperors faith would protect them." Tompkins paused and looked towards the planet below. "I hope it does because nothing else will." With the General's back to Mallan, the young lieutenant could not be sure, but he suspected, that Tompkins offered a prayer to the Emperor before turning to face him. "You come to me picking holes in the strategy. I presume you have something to fill it." "Yes sir, I'll let the sergeant fill you in on it."
There was only two hours to go before the Marines attack began and Tompkins sat alone in his office, looking out of the window. He couldn't fault the plan he had been told, except for the fact that it was suicide. The right people had been notified, the platoons commissar had been kept informed less suspicion fall on the lieutenant's actions and the equipment gathered. "Parachutes" He said aloud. "It's so simple it's stupid."
Part Four - Bitter LessonsBrother Sergeant Andreas felt the familiar flip of the stomach as the drop pod fell away from the pseudo-gravity of the Space Barge. He and nine other marines sat quietly waiting for the impact that would herald their arrival in the city below and the beginning of its purification. He looked out of the small portal on the wall and, even with his enhanced eyesight, barely managed to pick out the other pods as they all headed towards the planet. Returning his gaze to the inside of the pod he scanned the faces of his men, almost all seemed to be glad to be finally getting into battle. The only exception was the new boy, Brother Carte, recently promoted to full marine. He was checking his Bolter and laughing nervously and Andreas decided to speak to him, after all he had felt the same on his first mission. "Calm down young one. This mission is going to be nice and easy. You have to remember that all their weapons are facing outwards. By the time they even have the chance to bring them to bear they will all be dead anyway." The young marine nodded and relaxed a little. Andreas wondered if he believed the 'nice and easy' part as much as he did.
The drop pods shot through the atmosphere, leaving a thin streak of vapour behind as the water vapour in the air turned to steam, and hurtled towards the city. In the city, over a hundred missile systems were brought to bear as computer controlled scanners detected the large, hot targets.
The first thing Andreas knew of the lack of surprise was when one of the drop pods suddenly blossomed into an expanding ball of flames. Another quickly followed it and another and Andreas found himself preying that any missiles targeted at him would miss. They did, not that he knew it and the guns firing at the pod as it approached, merely bounced off its armoured hull but not without producing a harrowing phut, phut, phut noise within the pod. Andreas looked out of the portal again and saw that the were approaching the force field and Andreas saw one of his fellow pods hit it too fast, causing it to bounce into the path of the one behind it, crushing both to pieces. A third merely bounced off into the no-mans land but seemed to correct itself enough to give the passengers a chance of surviving. Andreas had no way of knowing how many pods were still in action and any such thoughts disappeared as the pod passed through the shield but not without suffering a severe amount of EMF damage from it. Then WHAM! The pod hit the ground, the shock absorbers working along side the inertia dampers to cause only a teeth-jarring deceleration. The marines barely had time to get up before the drop pod unfolded like a petal exposing them to small arms fire, which merely bounced off the plasteel power armour. The return fire silenced the small arms for good.
Iron Eagles Cruiser 'Emperor's Temper' Chapter Master Aswaern watched the holographic display with growing concern. Barely a quarter of the pods had reached the ground and the troops were too dispersed to provide mutual support. Worse still the Tech-priests were reporting that they could not get a transport beam to work, even on the teleporter homers the beam was still too dispersed. It meant that the 50 men on the ground were effectively cut off with no way out and no chance of reinforcement.
La Hermas Andreas cursed the teleporter homer as it once again showed no sign of a lock on and he rapidly came to the same conclusion as his commander. However, Andreas noted that one of the command centres controlling the enemy's city gates was around only a few blocks away. Capturing it would at least meet one of the mission objectives and he ordered the squad to advance. Darting from doorway to doorway, cover to cover, it seemed to Andreas as if the entire city was trying to kill them as every building seemed to contain a sniper though their weapons were ineffective on the armour of the Emperor's finest, the enemy had no such protection as the squad's flamer and frag grenades proved. As he ran down the street he saw a man bring a gun to bear and was awarded the Emperors Deliverance (via a few well placed Bolter shells) for his troubles. Further down a child ran at the squad with a brace of hand grenades attached to her. She was cut almost in half by the volume of fire that hit her.
The squad advanced around a street corner and came to a stop. Ahead a mob had gathered made up of men, women and children, all dressed in rags. Andreas could just make out towards the back of the mob a few taller figures covered in dark blue cloaks. Before the sergeant could think anymore of this the mob as one, charged the squad. There was no discipline or thought of self-protection, just a mass of untrained but fanatical people advancing towards the beleaguered marines. The squad opened fire, Bolter, Heavy Bolter and flamer taking down scores of the enemy but not breaking their resolve and as they got closer many marines began to throw frag grenades into the mob bringing down even more. Yet still they advanced until they were almost upon the marines. Andreas saw that the cloaked figures had disappeared, thinking them to have slunk off. Then he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and he barely had time to recognise the enemy, one he had fought many a time, before his head was removed from his body by one swift blow. The other marines soon followed.
The Emperor's Temper The holoviewer showed only twenty-four men left apparently dug in but no where near any of the vital strategic targets. Commander Aswaern could not understand it. Even allowing for the losses experienced during the drop the poorly trained and equipped 'revolutionaries' could not have overwhelmed the Imperium's finest warriors. He collapsed back into his chair on the bridge and massaged his brow. He then looked at the figure below him. Tompkins was twiddling his moustache as he seemed to do a lot and Aswaern was pleased to see that there was no trace of smugness. "You were right." "I wish I was not my Lord." Tompkins replied. He was genuinely sad that the attack had failed "But surely you must at least allow my men to try." Aswaern was silent then he looked at the General through narrowed eyes. "50 Space Marines could not capture the gates and now you persist in your view that a mere 40 humans," the last word came out dripping in sarcasm, "can do better." "Maybe, maybe not. But what else do you have to lose." Aswaern did not answer immediately he seemed to mull his reply over before standing up and walking towards the vast portal of the bridge. "Very well. Tell your men they have my permission to carry out the attack." Tompkins saluted and then headed back to the shuttle bay speaking into his communicator as he did so. "Is this the Duty Officer?" "Yes Sir." "Tell Mallan he has permission to proceed." "Yes Sir."
Tompkins spent the trip back to the transport ship pondering whether he had sent 40 men to their deaths or to unmeasurable glory. Maybe it was both…
Part Five - Who Is Geronimo?The flight deck was one of the largest areas of the Troop ship and it stretched as far as the eye could see, the roof hidden in the darkness. It was a centre of activity as Marauder and Thunderbolts were prepped and armed ready for the coming sorties. However in one corner of this vast space there was a greater than normal concentration of people. B platoon was going to war. Mallan had had a small podium erected on top of one of the hastily converted marauders so as to address the troops. The squads were in perfect formation waiting to board but the Lieutenant thought it wise to go over the plan again. "Once the green light is given you will disperse from the planes quickly and sharply, remembering to say the prayer of jumping as you go out. Hopefully we will all land in the same area. Alpha section on one side, Bravo on the other. We will then try to capture the gate's control rooms and allow the cavalry to get in." The men had heard and practised it all before but none the less they remained alert and focused. As Mallan finished Commissar Bern gave his usual rousing speech about how the Emperor would be with them and so on. Mallan did not hear it, he was making last minute checks with the pilots of the four Marauders. He had almost finished when Sergeant Tyrel came to tell him that the men were boarding the planes. The mission had started.
Marauder "Heroic Flight Lead" Mallan swore that he had never felt so ill and it was obvious that most of the others felt the same way if the constant sound of retching was anything to go by. He turned towards Sergeant Tyrel and Commissar Berns. Both men seemed to have no ill effects from the bumpy ride. Tyrel had grown up as a worker on one of the para-glider ranches back on Lavarick where the noble class spent their time flying on the thermals of the plains. It was here that Tyrel discovered a book describing the original military applications, apparently discarded by the Imperium. However, there was no explanation for Berns immunity. "It is simple Leftenant," Berns said with a rare grin, "I have more faith in the Emperor than in what my eyes and ears tell me, hence I do not suffer from motion sickness." Now he gets a bloody sense of humour." Mallan muttered into the sick bag. He leaned back as the plane settled down and saw the Navigator / Loadmaster approach him from within the darkened hull of the plane. "We're Ten minutes out Leftenant. The weather's still too crap. You sure you don't want to turn back." "No. The enemy probably think no one will be mad enough to land in this." The Loadmaster merely nodded and clambered back into the cockpit, glad to get away from the nauseating smell. Mallan turned to Sergeant Tyrel but saw that he was already sorting the men into their respective sticks. Two lines of men now stood next to the rapidly constructed parachute doors with static lines fixed and ready. The Jimp-E gunners were checking that their heavy machine guns were securely strapped along their body. Tyrel had briefed them that they may spin otherwise. Mallan heard various prayers being said as the amber light came on showing two minutes to go. All of a sudden the plane lurched up as the bombs dropped off and the lights turned to green. The men shuffled out and disappeared into the gloom and soon it came to just Tyrel and Mallan. "After you Sir." Tyrel said "Damned protocol." Mallan replied and then he stepped out the side. Tyrel saw the Lieutenant disappear and could make out a tiny cry before he jumped too. "Geronimo!" Tyrel would have almost renounced the Emperor to find out what Geronimo meant. Instead he jumped out and waited for his parachute to deploy. He counted to ten and realised it had not deployed. With no time to panic he muttered the prayer to the Emperor he had been taught as a boy and pulled the red toggle. He was rewarded by a solid THUNK as the chute streamed out and assumed a parabolic shape. "You okay Sergeant? I just saw you overtake me." Mallan asked over the comm link. "No problems Sir," he replied in a deadpan voice that completely hid the adrenaline rush he had just experienced, "Just checking the emergency chute was working." He could have sworn he heard a laugh in reply but it may have been the wind.
Heroic Flight Three Pilot Officer Referk looked out of the cockpit and noticed that one of the bombs being carried had not dropped. It would be highly embarrassing to carry one back and so he decided to wait until he was clear of the troops before jettisoning the entire pylon along with the bomb. Flicking the jettison switch to manual he tapped it once and then hit the reheat to send him to escape velocity.
The bomb dropped through the night sky and hit one of the city's armouries. May be it was fate, Bern would have said it was the Emperors will, but the bomb hit the exact right place to penetrate and it crashed through a few floors before coming to a rest. And there it lay, waiting.
Mallan adjusted his course a little then relaxed like Tyrel had said and saw the ground race up to meet him. The landing was surprisingly smooth and he quickly jettisoned, the now useless parachute and harness. The rest of his men had already taken up defensive positions and as soon as Tyrel had touched down he carried out a head check. He came up four short and both Tyrel and the SNCO of the second plane agreed that they had been no stragglers. Tyrel could only think that they had either been blown off course and out of comms range or had suffered a parachute failure. Mallan shook his head and beckoned the comms officer over. "Have you got in touch with base or the second section yet?" Mallan asked with a hint of anxiety just starting to creep into his voice. "No sir. I think the fields stopping the signal to base but I can't understand why Bravo section won't answer." "Damn. Where the devil are they?"
Sergeant Baxter was asking the same as he got his own section together. He was sure they had landed on the right building but he could not raise Mallan on the radio to check. He decided that, as everything looked all right, he should proceed with his mission.
Armoury Two The guard rushed into the ammo store and fell over the smoking bomb. He looked at it, mouth agape and the last thing he thought was that he was sure something went click.
Mallan turned towards the explosion and came to the conclusion that Bravo section had been blown off course and was now involved in a firefight. He had no choice but to proceed without them and hope that capturing only one control room would suffice. He beckoned to one of the troops who was poised over a hatch which was known to lead inside, shotgun in hand ready to blow the lock. Mallan thought to himself that the explosions as the ammo cooked off from the armoury would at least hide the noise of the shotgun. Then the handle on the hatch began to turn…
Part Six - Into The AbyssThe hatch opened and a head appeared for the few milliseconds it took for the shotgun-wielding trooper to put the breaching slug through the cultist's head. The heavy slug passed through the lead man and hit the one behind in the chest. The two dead men hit the third and sent him tumbling down. The second shot made sure he would not get up. Mallan looked at the trooper and gave him a pat on the back. "Good shot old chap. That'll save on the ammo." The trooper smiled and covered the hatch as two men went down. "Clear to proceed sir. All three Tango's are dead." Mallan nodded and then led his men down
Bravo Section Sergeant Baxter was now fairly worried. The building he should be in was labelled as 2NE. The sign he was reading was labelled as 1SW. It seemed that they had been blown off course but they could still capture the gatehouse albeit a different one than intended. The comms officer indicated that Baxter should come over. "Sarge. I've got the El-Tee on the radio. The other battery was out of charge, the EMF of the field must have shook..." He didn't have time to finish as Baxter grabbed the handset. "Preacher, to Bishop." "Bishop here," the voice was unidentifiable, the static causing it to warble, "where have you been." "We're off course and are in the building on the other side of the city." "Say again." "We're in 1SW!"
Alpha Section "Damn!" Mallan paused to consider the situation. He came to a decision. "Bravo, proceed as normal." He handed the handset back to his operator and then proceeded down the corridor to a Y-junction. Tyrel took half the section and proceeded down the left-hand branch whilst Mallan headed to the right. The brightly lit corridors would both lead to the control room but the first priority would be to remove any immediate resistance from the area. The section headed on and came to a room. Mallan could hear talking and it sounded like a barracks room. He motioned for the flamer trooper to come to the front of the column and indicated using soldiers sign language what he wanted doing. The trooper nodded and moved outside the door. Mallan scanned the wall and roof and found the wire he was looking for. He disconnected it and then nodded at the trooper. The trooper, a young Corporal called Curly on account of his hair, kicked down the door and fired a long burst into the room. Eleven men dived for cover that didn't exist and died a fiery death. Any fire risk was extinguished as the sprinklers came on. There was no risk of alarm. Mallan held the connection wires in his hand.
Eventually, after going down five floors and clearing three dormitories and communication relays the two elements of alpha section arrived at the entrances to the control room. So far no friendly casualties had been sustained, as the enemy had not been expecting them. As soon as Mallan captured the Control Room, this would change very rapidly. Mallan checked the comm network to make sure that Tyrel was in place before pulling a small cylinder out. He checked that all his men had their flash visors down before rolling it in. There was a flash and a bang and as one the two sub-sections raced into the room. In it men rubbed at their eyes or held their bleeding ears. Mallan shot two men using a single shot for each. They were easy targets and not deserving of any more ammo. He looked around the room and saw that 20 men lay dead. It was going a lot easier than he had initially planned and that worried him a little. "Right men. Lets get moving. I want one Jimp-E covering each entrance backed up by a special weapon trooper. Harris!" A lone trooper carrying a large satchel stood to attention. He had in one hand a dark green box that was in curved shape. He was in the process of setting them up in front of the Jimp-E gunners. "Yes Sir!" "Harris, wire this room. Just in case." "Yes Sir." Harris put down the last of the boxes and then set about rigging the room to explode on command. It was Mallan's idea. If the enemy looked to be about to overrun the command centre then they would open the doors, shut off power and blow the room. Mallan turned to Tyrel. "Sergeant. Take five men and take out those relays. The last thing we want is to have our orders countermanded. " Mallan referred to the control relays to the gate. Essentially it allowed one command room to override the other if the necessary and so it was vital to disable them before any such action was taken. Mallan breathed out and continued. "And finally… Will someone get a brew on. I'm parched." The men laughed and Mallan smiled, glad that he had bled some of the tension off. He sat down, lasgun at hand and waited. It would only be a matter of time before the proverbial waste hit the primitive air conditioning system.
Part Seven - Corridors of FireTrooper Collack looked around the gate mechanism. The gears, hydraulics and electronics looked old, maybe even qualifying as ancient. The gates were lost in the gloom of the maintenance tunnel and there was barely enough light to see his comrades, three of them were standing guard while the prone figure of Sergeant Tyrel rigged up the explosives to the control relay. Collack felt uneasy. He couldn't help feel that they were being watched, despite the fact that the Seargent had scanned the tunnel before entering, his suspicions were further confirmed by the sound of rustling chains. "Hey Marcus." He said in a low voice. "You hear something?" Marcus, the squads special weapon trooper nodded and tapped his helmet. Collack knew this to mean that they were to switch to their Emperor Eyes, the nickname of the NVG. He did so and waited for the green image to focus before switching the infrared torch attached to the barrel of his lasgun on. The four troopers then looked up towards the, now illuminated, workings of the gate. Collack and the other guardsmen, now joined by Sergeant Tyrel who had finished fitting the melta-bomb ran their lights over the chains but could not see something. Then Collack saw something out the corner of his eye. Marcus heard the scream and the sound of a lasgun firing and spun to see a purple object hit Collack in a spray of red. Tyrel also flew back hitting, the ground heavily and not moving afterwards. The creature a purple, four armed monster with rows of purple muscles moving under its dark exo-skeleton then pounced on trooper Pariss and right into Marcus' sights. He squeezed the trigger and held it tight firing bolt after bolt of plasma into the creature until the gun ran out of ammunition and even then he did not let go of the trigger, the sheer terror of the scene overwhelming him. It was only when Smith shook him back to reality that he caught his breath and released the trigger. The two guardsmen then ran over to the unmoving figure of Tyrel. There appeared to be no damage to him, there was a rip down his flak jacket but it appeared the creature was just out of range to penetrate flesh. "I think he knocked himself out when he fell." Marcus stated. "Since when did you become a corpsmen, Rookie." Smith growled. "There's nothing in there to knock out." Tyrel stirred and tried to talk. "Easy Sarge. Are the charges set?" Tyrel nodded in response to Smith's question. "Right. Let's get out of here." Smith said, taking charge of the poor excuse for a squad. Tyrel murmured something. He picked the Sergeant up and placed him over his shoulder. "What did he say?" "Something about somebody called Jean." "Didn't know the Sergeant had a girl. Hell I've seen squats more amorous than him." Smith said with a grin. Marcus only looked puzzled. "What's a Squat?"
Mallan was just finishing his brew when he heard the sound. A weird ching-ching-ching sound like bone hitting metal. Apparently the Jimp-E gunners had heard it to as he heard them cock the guns in preparation. Then everything went to hell. Men ran out into the corridor where cut down by the armour piercing rounds from the machine guns and Las guns and fell in heaps at the intersections. Some appeared to be Mutants with an extra arm or claw or a weird. Alien tint to the skin. Then they appeared. Both Mallan and Commissar Bern had seen them before and they knew then that the chances of anybody in the command centre getting out alive had just disappeared. Genestealers were present on Imus II. The machine guns cut through them and took down scores of the deadly aliens yet still they came closer. They got into range of the special weapons and flame and plasma weapons took down more. And all was quiet. "Well that was easy." Curly said lowering his flamer and turning away from the heat and stench of the burning aliens. Something black and charred leaped from the burning pyre and slammed into the unsuspecting trooper. The meltagun of one of the troopers fired hitting the entangled alien and once it came to a rest it didn't move again. There was absolutely no chance of Curly moving again. Not without a head at any rate. Everyone stirred at the alien and mallan had to shout twice. "Davis! Grab Curly's Flamer and take his place. Everybody else reload. We may not have much time." The men went about changing magazines quickly and Mallan decided it was about time to send the signal. He strolled up to a window and loaded a Krak grenade into the Auxillary Grenade Launcher strapped to his Lasgun. The grenade shattered the reinforced glass and a hole was left large enough to fire another grenade out. The second grenade left a trail of green smoke.
Observation Post 54 "This is Station 54 to base." "Go ahead 54." "We have the signal." In orbit around the planet Commander Aswaern smiled and sent the order. Attack would commence in 12 hours.
Bravo Section Baxter looked around the wrecked command centre. It had cost the lives of four good men to take it and he was glad that all the circuitry was operating correctly. He didn't want to come so far only to have a fuse blow on him. He looked across the plain and could make out the trenches and tanks of the Imperial line. He wondered how the commanders would react to the signal considering it was in the wrong place but he was damned sure it was worth the lives of his men to send it.
'Emperor's Temper' Tompkins walked back to his shuttle for the second time in two days. The marine commander had just told him that they would NOT be acting on the second signal and all attempts to convince him that the squad had been separated went on deaf ears. He lifted his communicator and began talking to the duty officer aboard the Ollanius Pius. "Colonel. Have we got a regiment on the south-western side of the city?" "Yes Sir. We have the 21st Rifles and the 33rd Armoured Regiment." Tompkins Commissar was looking at him with a suspicious face. "Don't worry," Tompkins assured him, "There are 40 brave men in their whom have risked their neck so the Emperor can be triumphant. The last thing I want to do is waste that kind of bravery." The Commissar was not entirely satisfied but he kept his hand away from his bolt pistol and that was a start. "Colonel get me in touch with the artillery commander." The Commissar finally spoke. "Don't you think that Lord Aswaern might be," he paused to consider what the appropriate word might be, "annoyed?" "Yes." Tompkins replied with an almost crazy grin. "I rather think he might."
Alpha Section Commissar Bern's face was not exactly the best thing to wake to but neither was the news he had. "Lieutenant, listen." The chink-chink-chink noise had returned…
Part Eight - Last StandMallan surprised himself at the speed at which he fully woke up. He saw his men had also heard and was pleased to see that at some point during his nap Tyrel had got back. The first stealers came down the left and were mowed down easily as they tried to scramble over the corps of the previous attack. However a greater intelligence was managing this attack and the left was merely a feint to allow a number of hybrids with grenades to close up on the right. They were poorly thrown but landed just in front of the Jimp-E gunner killing him and the special weapons trooper instantly. Then the stealers charged. Mallan thought fast, maybe faster than a man was meant to think, but he saw that if that Jimp-E remained silent then everybody was dead. He dived forwards, towards the charging stealers and the silent machine gun and he prayed to the Emperor that the gun was cocked and the safety was off. He would later swear that the safety clicked off while he was in mid-flight, that he saw a flicker of light and thought that it was as if the Emperor had said "I have diverted the fate of the universe to flick that safety. Fail me not." And he landed, grabbed the gun and pulled the trigger. The bullets hit home but the first stealer was too close, too fast and Mallan had only one choice. He put the barrel into the beasts guts and flipped himself over, using the stealers momentum to send it through the already weakened window. The momentum also sent him into a crouched position and he continued firing, barely noticing that two stealers had got through in the time it took him to carry out the manoeuvre. Commissar Bern was well aware of the stealer's presence, it was coming right towards him. He grabbed his power sword from its scabbard and swung it in a great arch. He timed it just right, the sword passed through the creatures head and one of its claws. But he hadn't counted on the creature's nerves and as a result when the creature instinctively used the last of its energy to lash out he was rewarded with a broken arm and a lacerated stomach. He crashed into the badly poised Mallan and both men went down The second stealer headed towards the remaining guardsmen. It leaped and killed two with a stroke before having its head removed with a well-placed plasma shot. The second wave raced down the corridor and the men though all was lost. If it hadn't been for Harris' quick thinking it might well have been. As it was, Harris remembered the bombs he had laid earlier and quickly grabbed the detonator from his webbing. There was a series of bangs and hundreds of balls of steel sliced into the onrushing horde. The front four died instantly. The remaining two were killed by plasma gunfire. Harris smiled to himself and started setting some more of his bombs up.
Artillery Command Section Colonel Graftton was enjoying a well-deserved brew when the message came through. Ripping it off the radio's printer he scanned through the message before pausing and reading through again. He then grabbed the authorisation code book and double-checked the code at the top. With that he turned to the radio operator. "Sergeant, send this to all Basilisk and Griffin elements." The sergeant read the message (against regulations, but then it was often said that the Emperor ran the universe and the NCO's ran the army) and then turned to his commander. "Didn't realise we had an attack scheduled." "Someone seems to think so."
Trench 34N Benedict was rudely woken up by the Platoons SNCO and told to assemble his men. He got no reason for this but then Benedict hadn't expected any to be given. As he raced down the trench, gathering his men together, he noticed something. Everyone, from the lowest non-com to the Colonel himself, whom Benedict passed on the way down the trench, seemed to have caught a hasty disease. It was called hope. It was also highly contagious.
Bravo Section Baxter looked at his men and knew there was nothing he could say and that was probably for the best. There was no hope now. The radio had been ripped apart in the last attack so there was no chance to ask for help. The section had been reduced to four men capable of fighting armed with two lasguns, a Jimp-E with only 200 rounds left and a plasma gun, which may be able to get a quick burst out before it ran out of ammo. There was only one thing to do. Getting up slowly, he feared his leg may have been broken in the last assault, he hobbled over to the control console and set about opening the gates and turning off the generators which would power the targeting systems for the wall mounted weapons. This would give the enemy only about 20 minutes of battery power, maybe enough but, as Baxter reflected, not that it mattered to him. He heard the, now familiar, chinking noise, surprised that it was not drowned out by the roar of the drive engines to the gate, and he lifted the cover off the detonator. The stealers burst into the room and as one, the men fired. The Jimp-E took down three stealers before it jammed. Baxter's last view of the gunner was of him trying to use the machine gun as a club before three of the beasts leapt onto him. Baxter saw a movement out of his eye and turned towards it. The Stealer leapt and if it did not have a one-track mind it may have been surprised that it's pray had a smile on its face. Baxter's gesture was also probably lost on it, but that was mainly for anatomical reasons. It failed to Baxter's other hand close on the detonator
Alpha Section Mallan helped dress the Commissars wounds but knew that unless the man received medical attention within the next few hours then the gesture would be meaningless. However, Mallan was starting to think that any hopes of that becoming an immediate worry were very slight. The commissar looked at Mallan. "You know your duty Leftenant." The commissar nodded towards the detonator. Mallan nodded. "Yes, but while I still have men and ammo we fight to the last." The Commissar let out a chuckle. "The Emperor expects nothing less." Mallan turned away and looked out of the window. He could not see anything, the smoke screen was proving to be effective but he knew that a company of Marines was racing towards the gates. He hoped that they would get to him in time but part of him doubted it. He looked at his men. Tyrel was still knocked out. Smith, the remaining Corporal, was busily stripping the two Jimp-E's trying to salvage one out of the wreckage. Marcus was watching the doors waiting for the inevitable tidal wave of blue, four armed demons. Harris was prepping some more of his homemade bombs. Troopers Watkins and Charling stood next to Marcus, also waiting. Mallan sighed and turned to the console and started to open the doors.
Part Nine - Thank the Emperor, Praise the Dead and Count the Cost.The gates made a wailing sound as ancient gears meshed together and at exactly the same time Mallan heard the sound of stealers claws hitting the metal of the corridors and the men braced themselves ready for action. Mallan looked out of the window and saw a sight that lifted his soul. Iron Eagle AFV burst through the smoke screen and headed towards the now open gate. He could see men run across the battle scarred fields of fire, fearing not the random fire of the Heavy Bolter rounds as they bounced off the marines sacred armour. Land Raiders and Predators returned accurate Laser fire and took out the vulnerable machine gun and missile nest. Mallan saw a Land Raider burning, the victim of a missile hit but it seemed to be the only one. Mallan realised that the city was going to fall and smiled, thanking the Emperor. Then the stealers came.
21st Rifles Benedict rushed from behind the smoking chimera, obviously not all the missile and lascannon posts had lost power, and dived for cover behind a large refuse container. He could see Dan try to find the source of the fire pinning the squad but there was no luck. Thankfully the squad had been followed by a Hell Hound CSV and fire licked the surrounding buildings. Two human torches ran out of a building and Benedict granted the targets the mercy of death.
Tactical Squad Four, 5th Company, Iron Eagles Hersan led his combat squad down the streets of the city, advancing towards the command centre where Mallan's squad was holed up. A stealer leapt out of the shadows and Hersan lashed out with a powered fist, squashing the aliens head before it could do any damage. It appeared to be a hybrid but Hersan had neither the time nor the expertise to be sure. He looked up at the grey walls of the command centre and could hear sporadic fire. He realised he had no time to lose. He turned to a fellow marine and indicated to him to blow the door.
Alpha Section Smith opened fire first. Cutting down four stealers in a long burst of fire. Another three fell to Harris' Anti-Personnel bombs. But it was not enough. There was no way that six men could cover two corridors and so the stealers burst into the room. Smith continued firing and more of the aliens fell but two pounced on him and the machine gun was silenced for good. The building shook as an explosion from the lower floors was set off. The marines were in.
Marcus sent bolt after bolt of unbelievably hot plasma into the horde but the cooling system could not keep up and the gun vented the superheated steam, scalding Marcus' hand causing him to drop his gun. He was put out of his misery as the stealers set upon the young man. Mallan was horrified. He had led these brave men so far and now, with deliverance within their grasp, they were being slaughtered. He was dimly aware that the sound of bolt fire was getting louder but he was drawn back to the scenes around him. Harris had grabbed Marcus' Plasma gun and was in a fire frenzy, any concern that he may suffer an injury similar to his friend not present within him. The stealers feinted to the left and an unseen alien knocked Harris to the ground. He disappeared under a mound of blue bodies. Mallan saw that the stealers suddenly became confused and he heard the sound of Bolter fire really close now. He suspected that the aliens had had to divert some of their number to form a rearguard but any further thoughts were stopped as he was lifted off his feet. He slammed into the floor, his right hand side aflame with pain and he was aware that ribs were broken and his skin felt wet and slick. The world slowed down and he saw the marine burst round the corner only to be hit by a skulking stealer. He saw the stealer that had hit him, bearing down on him for the kill and he saw its head blossom into a mist of purple and red vapour. As blackness surrounded him he looked towards Bern and Tyrell. Tyrell clasped a smoking Bolter and Mallan's last thought was that Tyrell had woken just in time.
Troop Transport Ollanius Pius Mallan woke as the chemicals rushed through his system. He stirred and tried to recognise those around him. He saw Tompkins and the Marine commander, a corpsmen and the familiar face of Commissar Bern. "Easy Leftenant," Tompkins said in a friendly voice, "your alive." "Yes Sir. I think every nerve in my body is telling me that." The marine grinned at that and then offered his congratulations before leaving. Tompkins pulled something out of his tunic. It was a medal, the Golden Eagle, the highest commendation possible. Mallan grasped for words. "The Commander," Tompkins stated, "said that you should be awarded the highest commendation available and that all members, dead or alive, be awarded the Silver Star." Tompkins paused before continuing. "You also have a new assignment, Colonel Mallan." He smiled as Mallan tried to sit bolt upright. "You are to return to Lavarick and help me raise the first regiment of Imperial Paratroopers, under authorisation of the High Lords of Terra." The general looked at the, now overwhelmed, man and decided to leave it at that. He nodded at the Commissar and left. Mallan turned to Bern "Now what?" The Commissar paused to consider the question. "Now, Colonel, we thank the Emperor, praise the dead and count the cost of the battle against the gains of victory." "What were the costs?" "35 men dead out of the original 40. That and the fact that you, me and Tyrel will not be seeing any further action in this campaign." "The gains?" The commissar was silent for about a minute thinking this one over. He then smiled and replied. "Do not ask awkward questions. Even Colonels are not immune to investigation by the inquisition. Besides you have the chance to make history. No, to build on the history you have now written." Mallan nodded and laid still. He had no idea how he and Tyrel would form a complete doctrine on airborne warfare but 35 heroes demanded that it be done. With this thought Mallan allowed the sedatives to course through his body and send him back to sleep. Field Marshall Bronx put down the report. He now knew the history of the regiment under his command but he still could not find any clear answers to his problems. He looked at the maps and the reports arrayed on his desk and sighed. All he knew was that 500 years ago, 40 men had been sent on what was basically a suicide mission. Now he was being called upon to send four times that number on basically the same kind of mission. He also knew that if anyone could do it then the 4th Lavarick Parachute Regiment was the right one for the job. The End…
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