Death From Above IIRivers of Bloodby Lee ParnellPart One - Rivers Of Tears and Blood.The monoliths spun in the cold void of space, shrouded in darkness as the distant sun provided little light out in the limits of the small system. If anybody had been around they may have just been able to see the alien runes engraved on the black material and possibly they could have seen the occasional crackle of blue light across the diamond shaped surface. This crackling suddenly built up and linked the four monoliths together, the space enclosed within suddenly disappearing to be replaced by an indescribable whirlwind of warp energy from which six ships emerged. As the last one left the random chaos of the warp the blue lightning and the turmoil within disappeared. But no one saw this, the ships left too quickly to see the sight as they headed towards the inner system.
Tyrel was annoyed at himself at his lack of progress. Before he had boarded the troop ship he had been able to do 8 minute miles. Now, two weeks later, he had barely managed to shave a couple of seconds off his best time. Certainly the Adeptus Mechanicus did not design ships corridors to double as an athletic stadium but he thought he could have done better. He tried to increase his pace for the last mile but was forced to cut it again as his legs ached and it was with a faint sense of relief that he managed to make it back to his quarters at all. His Sergeant, Baxter, was waiting at the door and the NCO came to attention, saluting smartly. “Morning Major. How was your morning run, Sir?” “Terrible Baxter. I feel bloody awful.” “Understandable sir. The air pressure has been decreased for some reason or another.” Tyrel sighed and took the towel from Baxter’s hands. He had to give the sergeant credit. He certainly seemed to know what Tyrel needed at any given moment. “Explains it,” Tyrel replied with a sigh, “felt like I was running up a mountain. What are you here for Sergeant.” Baxter presented him with a manila envelope sealed with the Emperors Crest. “The Colonel has called a meeting of all Battalion Officers. I guess you will be briefed on the current situation planetside. You have two hours to get your self together and your uniform is cleaned and pressed, courtesy of Trooper Corral.” Tyrel nodded “What did he do?” “He skipped morning prayers, claimed he was tired after exercises last night. So I figured I’d put his refreshment from his lay-in to good use.” “Very good Baxter. Have all Platoon leaders ready to be briefed as soon as the meeting finishes and tell them to be ready for an immediate combat drop. Even if were not ordered to do it, it’ll be a good drill.” “Yes Sir!” Baxter saluted and then marched away. Tyrel closed the door and got into the shower.
Tyrel took his seat in the briefing room and talked with D’ Company’s leader, Major Fernadanas while he waited for the Colonel to arrive. The door swung open and Colonel Paterson walked up to the raised dais. The men in the room raised from their benches and saluted. “At ease men.” The Colonels voice boomed through the room and the collection of Majors and Captains sat back down on the benches. “I’m glad to say that our journey through the warp has not been delayed by any time disruptions and we are still synchronised with the galaxy.” This was important. Many a battle fleet had arrived at their target only to find a decade had passed and the planet overrun with the Emperors enemies. “However, the situation is still grave.” He turned to the wall behind him where a holo-image had appeared showing the target. Agri-Planet Maoration. “The Ork forces have landed on the small continent known locally as Peratta. They have managed to take control of 85% of the settlements despite harsh resistance by PDF troops and local militia.” The holo-image zoomed in on a small continent. It was connected to the larger South continent by four bridges, the northern most of which was really two separate bridges connecting Peratta to a small island and then the South continent. The map was then overlaid by a red mask which showed which parts the Orks controlled. It was clear that they were driving for the bridges. “As you can see we control all crossings to the main continent but the Orks have a lot of momentum behind them. We have two roles in this campaign. First, E and G Company will make a fast deployment to these two cities.” He pointed to two blue dots on the southern continent near the two southern most crossings. “They are in need of reinforcement and the 46th Rifles needs time to prepare to drop.” He grinned. “After all, they’re not Paras.” The men laughed. “Our second mission is to reinforce the northern bridge. As you can see the Orks are getting too close and conventional guard units can’t get there fast enough. As such, A company will move to secure the bridge right away with B and F company alternating 24 hour combat readiness to move should it be necessary.” The Colonel looked straight at Tyrel. “Major, there is nothing else that you need to know so I suggest that you get your troops ready to go. We are already dispatching a Pathfinder unit to survey the area. As soon as they send the all clear, you jump. Got it.” “Yes Sir.” “Right. You will be issued with code book and radio frequencies before you jump. In the meantime get your men ready. Dismissed.” Tyrel got up and saluted before leaving the room. He realised that he was breathing a little too fast and smiled at the realisation that he was feeling anxious at his first combat drop. Well it was only natural but he had faith in his men and his Emperor so what was he worrying about? Orks was the answer.
Part Two - CovertThree shapes moved through the cool night air. Unseen and unheard they moved at speed through the thin air 20,000ft above the coastal plains below. Any school boy would have recognised the shapes so often read about in patriotic stories, recognised the sleek lines of two Thunderbolt fighters ready to pounce on any air defences present, recognised the large lumbering shape of the ‘Samson’ troop transport. But there were no school boys around at 20,000 feet and so no-one saw the two box like shapes plummet to the ground from the rear of the transport,and no one saw the 12 men who followed them. The Samson, lightened of its load suddenly hit its reheats and headed back into the relative safety of space. The two fighters turned towards their secondary targets. No pilot likes bringing the Emperors sacred ordnance back to base.
Troop Transport ‘Sacred duty’ Tyrel stood on one of the many balconies overlooking the loading bay, straining to see his company. It was a difficult task not only because of the size of the bay, but also because of the fact that other companies were preparing to drop. E and G company were already boarding their Samson transports ready to deploy to the cities in the south. Tyrel could also see elements of the 3rd Imperial Tank Regiment being loaded into the large ship to surface transports. The tanks would be landed on the south continent, away from any enemy air defences, and would then race to reach Tyrel’s position. As such the 3rd ITR would be getting a head start. But still Tyrel could not see his own men. Giving up he caught the lift to the deck and found one of the deck hands to point him in the right direction. Running to his company he was glad to see that they were almost loaded, overseen by LT Renee and Sergeant Baxter. “Leftenant, is everything ready?” Tyrel said after returning the salutes. “Yes Sir. We’ve got all the equipment loaded plus the two Hippogryths and your Harbinger.” “The men?” “Waiting to board sir. There was no point having them all scrunched up in the transports.” Tyrel nodded. “Okay. I’m going into the Harbinger to keep track of the situation on the ground. I want the men ready to move within 10 minutes warning." Both men saluted Tyrel and the went to check on the men. Tyrel got into the cavernous body of the Samson and walked to the Harbinger.
North River Crossing. Sergeant Mulligan raised the night scope to his eyes and scanned the bridge. He could see no sign of activity on it and even the town seemed quiet. He turned to look at the five men in his squad and then indicated to them to fan out and proceed with the plan when he heard the sound of a diesel engine approaching. Two ramshackle Ork vehicles moved along the bridge before stopping. A number of Orks got off and started moving into the town, the others moved to capture the bridges. Mulligan grabbed the radio. “Fox to Control.” “Go ahead Fox.” “Hostile units have entered the town. Tactics and equipment seems to be consistent with Ork commando units.” There was a pause before the Control unit back on ‘Sacred duty’ replied. “Roger that Fox. Can you eliminate resistance.” “Wait one.” Mulligan switched to the frequency controlling his scouting party. “Harbingers 1 and 2 are you in a position to move up to the bridge.” The two APCs had been left on the outskirts away from curious eyes but close enough to extract the troops or provide supportive fire. “Affirmative.” “Team 2, are you in position.” The second pathfinder unit was off to his left so as to hit the bridge in a two prong attack.” He heard two clicks over the receiver. A yes. “Sniper Team, are you in position.” The Sniper unit had broken into one of the Town’s temples which overlooked the bridge. Again he heard two clicks. “Control. Affirmative on elimination potential. Do we have clearance to attack.” “Negative. Wait until further orders. The Emperor Be With You.” “Amen. Out.” Mulligan sighed. Every second he sat on the ass meant that the Orks could set up a half decent defence. Still it would only be a matter of time now until the main force arrived.
‘Sacred Duty’ Tyrel was getting his men boarded after hearing the transmission over the Harbingers radio. He figured that they would be called upon to move out soon. “Major.” Tyrel turned to see the driver of the Harbinger popping his head out of the hatch. “Yes Corporal.” “Message for you from control.” “What’s it say? Tyrel figured the Corporal would have read it, despite classification and threat of death. The Corporal looked sheepish and then finally said in a low voice. “We have the go ahead.” “Good. Tell the pilots to prepare for launch.” “Yes Sir.” Tyrel turned away and approached Baxter. “Sergeant are all men accounted for?” “Yes Sir.” “Okay strap in and tell all platoon leaders to prepare for launch.” Baxter saluted and headed into the Samson to use the Harbinger’s radio. Tyrel took one last look at the launch bay and silently wondered if he’d see it again before heading into the gaping maw of the Samson.
Part Three - First Strike.North River Crossing Pathfinder Squad One Mulligan was worried. Ten minutes after he had contacted base half of the Orks had disappeared into the town itself. The sniper team had been able to see some Orks round up the few inhabitants who had not yet fled into the main continent and had taken them to one of the warehouses in the industrial sector before returning to the bridge. Even allowing for the fact that a few Orks would remain as guard at the warehouse there seemed to be a shortfall. The two Harbingers watching the only road out had reported no activity except for two trucks which had had humans at the driving wheel. The only conclusion Mulligan could come up with was that they were laying in wait in one of the houses along the road. This would not have been a large problem had it not been for the fact that the main assault force was only ten minutes from the drop point and the Pathfinders were about to initiate the attack.
Mulligan's team would storm the bridge, supported by the Sniper team and one of the Harbingers which had moved forward to an abandoned transport depot. The second team had moved into a position to storm the warehouse containing the civilians. They would have the second Harbinger to provide support should the Orks have displayed some cunning and set up an ambush in the buildings round the warehouse. Mulligan activated his intercom. "All Units. Stand by, stand by."
Sniper Team Trooper Fitz heard the stand by and counted to ten, slowly lining his sights up on the biggest, darkest Ork in his field of fire. One, two, three...
Pathfinder Team Two Sergeant Waxim pulled the pin off a stun grenade and positioned himself next to the door to the warehouse and waited as trooper Goldie picked the electronic lock.
Grovnik's Kommando's Grovnik sighed and let off another fart. He was bored and even his usual favourite pastime of farting to a tune just wasn't bringing a smile. The mission had been two easy, the puny humies hadn't even put up a fight. Why couldn't he face some proper enemies. Why, if he had his way he would...
Sniper Team Eight, nine, ten. Fitz squeezed the trigger of his Accuracy Imperium Sniper rifle sending the .50 calibre armour piercing round on its way.
Grovnik's Kommando's Grovnik's head exploded and was replaced by a green mist. The other Kommandos on the bridge dropped to the floor, trying to see where the shot had come from in the dark night. It was a mistake.
Pathfinder Team Two Sergeant Waxim kicked the door in and rolled the Stun grenade into the large room. There was a bright flash and sounds of gun fire as the Orks fired their guns in shock. It was a miracle that none of the fire hit the pathfinders but the Orks weren't as lucky as two fell from their own fire. The remaining five joined them shortly as the Pathfinders sent controlled bursts in their direction.
Pathfinder Team One Mulligan flicked the safety off his Auxiliary Grenade Launcher and fired the one-shot, frag grenade in a ballistic arc into the middle of the Orks. The other members of the squad followed suit and four Orks were ripped apart by the supersonic shrapnel. However the remaining greenskins seemed incensed at this and got up and charged towards the squad, firing their primitive guns towards the squad. One of Mulligan's men, the one carrying the squads Jimp-E was hit in the arm and went down screaming.
Sniper Team Fitz saw all this and was trying to work out which target to hit when his spotter, Trooper Davis pointed out the Ork truck. Fitz smiled and aimed at what looked like a fuel tank...
Pathfinder Team One Mulligan was just beginning to take a bead on the advancing Orks when there was a crack like thunder and a fiery wave of heat as the heavy bullet from the sniper rifle crashed into the poorly built fuel tank of the truck. Two of the Orks were bathed in burning petroleum and promptly jumped into the turbulent waters below. The remaining four stopped, trying to figure out what to do.
Harbinger B. Cursing the slipped gear, Corporal Hurr raced to make up time. He should have been in position to lend covering fire for Team One but the gearbox was causing trouble again. Now the engine roared in protest as Hurr pushed it for every last rev and it flew over the brow of the hill despite the weight of the tank. Just then he heard the tinny voice of his gunner over the intercom. "Four Orks up ahead." "Then By The Emperor shoot them!" Hurr snapped. He could see practically nothing out of the periscopes so he took his gunner's word as he heard a long burst of fire from above him.
Pathfinder Team One Mulligan was just about to draw his trusty sword when the lead Orks chest exploded in a shower of green blood yet another victim of Fitz' Sniper Rifle. The other three Orks were hit by the blast from the Harbinger's Jimp-E. Mulligan breathed out and grabbed the headset of his radio. "All teams report." "Harbinger Bravo. Copy." "Sniper team. Copy." "Team Two. Copy." "Roger replies. Stand by." Mulligan put the headset down and turned towards the trooper who had been hit. The wound was superficial but it had caused him to drop the squads Jimp-E, putting the team in danger. The young man was practically in tears not so much from the wound but from the fact that he had failed his squad and his Emperor. Mulligan patted the man on the back and reminded him that he had dropped three Orks before being hit. It comforted the man some and so Mulligan climbed to the top of his foxhole. The bridge was lit by an eerie glow from the burning trukk and a cloud of smoke billowed into the air, a clear signal for any greenskins in the area. The sergeant sighed and shook his head. He could deal with that later. He picked the radio up and a small grey/black cylinder. "Fox to Osprey. Do you read." "Osprey. Roger." "Target area is clear. Beacon activated at 1215 kHz. Do you copy." "Roger we have you on scope. Get a brew on, we'll be dropping by for tea." Mulligan laughed out loud, glad at the release from the tension and switched the transmitter back on. "Willco. Do you take Sugar?"
Part Four - PreparationsOsprey Flight Tyrel stood near the rear hatch trying to make out the detail of the ground below as the Samson shot across the night sky. He could see lights from the settlements that laid scattered across the landscape but it was all he could see in the cold, dark night. He felt a tap on his back and turned to see Baxter tapping the side of his helmet. Tyler gave a thumbs up and connected his commset into the planes intercom. "Sorry to disturb you sir, but we're just about to start dropping the vehicles. I wanted to make sure you were out of the way." He paused and grinned. "Wouldn't do to lose the Commander in a drop accident, eh?" "Thanks for the concern sergeant." Tyler said whilst stepping away from the hatch. He could see the Harbinger being pushed forward on its pallet, the rollers on the floor making the job easier until it went over the side of the ramp. It was followed by a reinforced rubber fuel bladder and then the two crew members themselves. Taking a quick look out of the hatch he could see similar dark shapes emerging from the bloated hulls of the Samsons before disappearing into the gloom. The companies only heavy support, until the tank regiment reached them, was now earthbound. "Sir we have two minutes to go before we hit our drop point." "Roger that. Form the men up and make sure the leftenants check each man. I don't want so much as a twisted ankle on this drop or by the Emperor I'll finish the wounded man off." Baxter grinned and whistled into his intercom. Without a word the men formed up into four sticks. One for each of the parachute hatches and two for the large central ramp. The men checked each others, static lines and parachute harnesses until each man's eyes fell upon the go light. In the minute it took to turn green, a minute that seemed like an hour, seemed like a day, each mans thoughts was different. From experience Tyrel knew that some prayed, some double checked equipment and some joked to cover up and/or release pre-drop anxiety. Then the light turned to green. The sticks shuffled forwards relatively quickly, each man saying something that they personally deemed appropriate: "Geronimo" (The last word of the litany of parachuting) "For The Emperor." "Ooooohhhh Shhhiiii…" Soon Tyrel and Baxter were the only men left on the plane. Then they too were gone.
North Bridge Mulligan looked up into the sky and even using the night scope he could barely see the grey/dark green 'chutes. As soon as men touched the ground they jettisoned parachutes and those with special or heavy weapons set them up. Lieutenants, Sergeants and Corporals all started to issue orders. "Charlie. Move those Jimp-E's to cover the foot bridge. Take that Heavy Bolter with you." "Wilhelm. Get those ammo boxes to the missile troops in squad four and five. They're no bloody use to you." "Bodwin! You 'orrible lil' man. Move your ass. The Emperor can move faster than you can!" Mulligan watched the organised chaos below him with a faint sense of amusement. He heard a sound on the gravel behind him and turned to see the wounded pathfinder escorting three men. "Sarge. The Majors here to see you." Mulligan turned around and poured some of the freshly made brew into a battered metal mug. He had never met Tyrell before but most men would recognise him on sight due to his similarity in appearance with the statue in the park. All right boss. Brew's ready." Mulligan said presenting the major with the full mug. The commissar accompanying Tyrel grimaced at the lack of respect for authority but it was one of those things that distinguished the Pathfinders. "Ta Sarge." Tyrel took a swig and smiled. "Another wonder of the adeptus mechanicus. All the nutrients required to keep a man in tip-top condition but yet with absolutely no taste. Who says miracles never happen." "Yeah boss. The foods not too bad either." Mulligan replied with a smile. He looked across the river front. "May I make a suggestion?" "Certainly Sergeant." "I'd suggest you put a missile launcher or autocannon with the weapon teams watching the foot bridges. I know Intel said the Orks have no dreads but we all know what intel can be like." "I follow Sergeant." Tyrel turned to Baxter. "Sergeant pull two of the missile teams from the centre and put them on the flanks. Maybe exchange them for Jimp-Es. Tyrel turned back to the Pathfinder as Baxter disappeared into the melee. "Anything else Sergeant?" Mulligan nodded and pulled a small black box from his webbing. "As per orders sir. We got the last of the demolition charges fixed just before you arrived." The Commissar bristled. "Major! I must protest at your blazon disregard for orders. You were told to.." He was interrupted by Tyler. "..stop the bridges from falling into Ork hands. Yes I know and I don't think this contravenes that order." "None the less your lack of faith in the Emperor is, worrying." "Faith is good. Explosives are better." Tyrel turned away and headed towards his Harbinger.
Overlooking Foot Bridge 1 Troopers Wheeler and Hendriks wheeled the Heavy Bolter along the road towards the house. Sergeant Aeers was already at the door. The house overlooked the footbridge thus it would make a good defensive position. Sergeant Aeers knocked on the door and waited for it to open. A lady, in her mid-fifties, answered. "'scuse me Ma'am. Sorry to intrude like this but I'm afraid we must commandeer your house in the name of the glorious Emperor." The Sergeant didn't wait for a reply merely gently pushing her aside before leading his troops up. The lady sighed at the muddy wheel and foot prints on her freshly cleaned carpet and at the noise coming from the attic. She could just make out muffled voices. "Okay, lower is down right there. That’s I" CRASH! "Arrrrgggh. My foot. My bloody foot you idiot. You know how 'eavy that thing is.?" "Well they call 'em 'eavy bolters so I guess it must be fairly 'eavy." The Lady shook her head. The Preacher had said that those who helped the Warriors of Mankind would be rewarded in the afterlife. She hoped she got a new carpet. SMASH! "Parker! Why didn't you just open the window." "Jus' releasing my pent up aggression." "I'll give you pent up aggression." The lady added a new window to her wish list and got the kettle out of the cupboard. A brew would cheer her up. There was a knock on the door and she went to answer. "Hi luv, we've been told to report here and set up with the others." He spotted the Kettle. "Making a brew? Marvellous. LADS!" He shouted. "ANYODY WANT A BREW." The lady put the kettle away and put a large pan of water on the stove. She wondered if having the aliens take over might not be so bad.
Sniper Position 1 Fitz wasn't sure but it seemed right to him. Even max mag on the "Emperor's Eyes" didn't reveal anything any clearer. Well, he decided, I'd better report it in. "Fitz to control." "Yes Fitz." "Possible dust cloud on the horizon. We expecting a change in the weather?" "Negative. Stand by."
Harbinger Command Vehicle Baxter put the radio down and turned to his sleeping Commander. 'Time to tell him the bad news' he thought.
Part Five - All Along The River FrontTyler stood atop the green / grey hull of the Harbinger and peered through the binoculars. Even at max focus all he could see was black spots, trailing clouds of dust and fumes into the air. He had no idea how Fitz and Davis managed to identify them but they did and that was all that was important. "Okay." Fitz's voice came over the company radio. "I make out nine fast moving, small targets, probably bikes. I also make out six, open topped, buggy style vehicles. Wait a minute." There was a pause as Fitz strained to make out a detail. "Scratch that. I make out four buggies and two half tracks. The half tracks appear to be carrying fuel tanks. Over." "Roger that Fitz. Davis do you concur." "Yes Sir." "Okay. Stand by." Tyler turned to face Baxter. "A light strike force?" Baxter asked. It was more a way of finding out the Major's opinion rather than any lack of knowledge on Baxter's part. "No. More likely a scout party sent to reinforce the commandos. I'm a bit worried about those half tracks." "Yeah. Unlike Orks to think of logistics you reckon they're those close support things intel said about?" "Scorchers? Yes. In which case they are a clear threat. Patch me through to the central weapons team." Baxter dialled a number into the radio and passed the hand set to Tyrel. "Sergeant Collowod here." "Sergeant. Were expecting company soon. I want you to take out the two half tracks which will be coming into range soon. Don't fire until I say, understood." "Sah." Tyrel turned to Baxter again. Okay. Now I want all other units." He waited until Baxter gave a nod. "Soldiers Of The Imperium, fellow Paras. An enemy scout force is heading towards us. I want you to show these green-skinned aliens what the men of Lavarick are made of. When I give the signal all heavy weapons are to fire at the approaching buggies and bikes. Men with Lasguns and Special Weapons are to hold their fire. All units report compliance." The units quickly reported in and Tyrel put the hand set to the side before heading into the cramped interior of the harbinger. In the poorly lit space a lone figure sat stooped over a radio mounted on the bulkhead. “Corporal. Are you detecting any transmissions from the approaching enemy.” The man turned to face the Major and nodded. “Yes Sir. Very weak. Might be a poor set-up or it could be atmospheric.” “Jammable.” “Sir! I’m offended. That crappy little signal would easily be jammed by the latest in Imperial technology.” He slapped the side of the rig in enthusiasm and the power light flickered from green to red. Laughing nervously the corporal slapped the rig again muttering a prayer under his breath. It soothed the machine’s spirits and the light went back to green. “How long will it take?” “Its set up now Sir. I’m just waiting for the signal.” “Okay Corporal.” Tyler stepped out back into the morning light and picked his binoculars up. The dust cloud was definitely getting closer.
Overlooking Footbridge 1 Sergeant Aeers knocked on the bedroom door which was opened by the lady. “Ma’am.” Aeers started but was quickly interrupted. “If one more person calls me ma’am I’m going to throttle them. I do have a name you know!” The lady calmed down and continued. “Its Lucca Shepards.” Lucca looked to see if there was any effect. The sergeant looked a bit troubled, he was not used to having civvies shouting at him, but decided to continue. “Okay. Ms Shepards. I’m afraid we will be having a spot of bother in a minute. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask that you go down the basement...” The door slammed in his face and the Sergeant wondered what he said to produce such a response. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the Orks were going to be a pleasant diversion compared to dealing with this women. The door flung open and it took the sergeant a couple seconds to realise that his mouth was agape. Lucca stood in the doorway dressed in, what he had been briefed to recognise, local PDF militia combat dress, with corporal stripes to boot. “What’s the matter sergeant? Don’t you let females into the PDF on your planet?” Lucca pushed him aside and started unlocking a metal cabinet. The Sergeant shook his head. He had a nasty idea what might be in the locker and prayed that he was wrong. Gozza’s W’eels ‘o’ Steel. Gozza grinned in content. This was the life. Wind in your face, comfy bucket seat on your ass and plenty of squig beer to drink. It’d be even better if there was stuff to blow up but the boss had promised that they’d find some humie civvies in the town that they were welcome to torture and so he didn’t feel too bad about that. However, what was getting to him was the fact that it was taking too long to get there. “Oi! Spanner Git! Is this as fast as you go!?” The Driver looked around with an annoyed look on his face. “I put some more red paint on!” Git replied. Must be the bosses fat ass that’s slowing us down, he muttered to himself.
Sniper Position One “Fitz to command. Targets in range. I’ve got a bead on what appears to be a command vehicle.” Actually Fitz had no doubt. The bright red paintwork (the other vehicles were, admittedly, also red or at least the flecks of paint left were red), aerials and the bigger gun all gave it way. “Roger that. Stand by.”
Command Harbinger “Sir. They’re nearly within the minimum range for the Millans. I don’t think we can afford to wait much more longer.” Baxter wasn’t worried. He just felt it was his duty to tell his Commander the facts. “I know. But they should start bunching up any minute...now.” He grabbed the radio. “ALL UNITS! FOR THE EMPEROR! FIRE!”
Central Weapons Team. Trooper Kyle centred the targeting grid of his Milan on the lead half track and then pulled the trigger. The missile shot out of the fiber glass tube with a woosh, the starter motor burning only long enough to clear the tube so as to avoid toasting the weapons team in the enclosed room, the command wire unfurled as it left and the spotting flare ignited. As expected the missile had dropped a little and so using the joystick Kyle first compensated for the drop and then the movement of the vehicle grinning as the missile approached its target. The missile, designed to punch through armour, penetrated through the thin armour of the fuel trailer behind the Scorcher and ironically it was not the large HE warhead that killed the truck (it failed to detonate in time) but the hot spotting flare setting the flammable petroleum alight in a pyrotechnic display of flying flesh and metal. A second missile crashed into the now defunct truck and a third hit it’s companion, sending that vehicle’s crew back to Gork and Mork, along with an unfortunate biker.
Sniper Position One Davis, who had taken over the role of shooter while Fitz “rested” placed the sight over the big Orks chest and squeezed the trigger, muttering the snipers prayer of accuracy.
Gozza’s Weels ‘o’ Steel. Gozza saw the streams of smoke hurtle over his head towards his precious scorchers. He also saw the flashes of light all along the river as the Heavy Bolters, Jimp-E and Autocannons all opened up on the advancing Orks, cutting down the bikers and Buggies in a hail of lead and shrapnel. What he failed to see was the .50 calibre round that disintegrated his chest in a little green explosion. The recoil lifted him from his seat and sent him tumbling into the tarmac of the road, breaking a few bones. He struggled to his feet and started laughing at the big hole in his chest. Wait till the lads see this, he thought before Davis’ second shot took away the idea along with the rest of his head.
Command Harbinger Tyler surveyed the massacre on the plain in front of him. There had been no competition the minute the Orks had started bunching to cross the bridge. They had no where to go and no way to escape the firepower of a well disciplined fighting force. However, Tyler knew that this would be the first wave and the Orks would have to know of the Imperium’s presence. If the Orks attacked in numbers he could only hope that the Tanks arrived from their drop point to help him. But in the meantime Tyrel concerned himself with his spiritual well being and went to join his men in prayer.
Part Six - Delay!The country lane was quiet and peaceful. Wildlife went on with the constant struggle of nature, flowers bloomed in the summer heat and here and there farmers tended to crops, ready for the autumns harvest. Slowly a sound could be heard, like the growl of some angry bear and the animals quickly scattered into the safety of the hedgerows. They had no comprehension of what the sound could be or what was causing the rumbling in the ground but yet instinct told them that it was probably dangerous to find out. Two Chimeras shot down the road, scouting it out for booby traps or ambushes and as they passed the noise diminished, but not fully, for the rest of the column was behind it. One, two, three, four Leman Russ MBTs ripped the sound of the countryside apart with the deep throaty roar of powerful, diesel engines. They were followed by two Basilisks, a Hydra Point Air Defence System and a Stalwart ARV. Then, finally, two more Chimeras took the tail. They passed and relative silence descended on the lane. Wildlife went on with the constant struggle of nature, flowers bloomed in the summer heat and here and there farmers tended to crops, ready for the autumns harvest…
North Bridge Tyrel walked along the river bank, deep in thought. An hour ago he had received word that orbital sensors had detected a large number of Orks suddenly move from their base in the wasteland. They had not been seen since. It didn't automatically mean that they were heading towards his position but none the less it was enough to make him think about calling in reinforcements. However that was easier said than done. The airborne forces were unavailable, atmospheric conditions being unsuitable for a drop, and the much awaited space marines of the Dark Angels had, for some reason, changed course at the last moment. Basically it meant that Tyrel was completely dependent on the tank column making its way towards his position.
Outskirts of Tompliki Town Captain Jacobs' day had suddenly become very bad very fast. Progress from the drop point had been quicker than expected, the fact that the country lanes were designed to take the large, heavy harvesters having been overlooked by the route planners, until they had reached the town. The townsfolk, fearing that they would soon be overwhelmed by Orks, had come out to see their liberators. Flags were being waved, hymns sung and people were generally making a nuisance of themselves. Worse, the shear volume of people was blocking the road meaning the tanks had to move slowly for fear of crushing the people they had come to save. The Commissar was starting to get on Jacobs' nerve by his constant suggestions about shooting a few civilians to make the others clear out of the way. "After all," he had commented, "what are a few people compared to the fate of a planet." What indeed? But Jacobs' knew that his strong Imperial Cult upbringing would mean he would feel guilty about if for the rest of his life. Orks were one thing, the Emperors own another matter entirely. Suddenly the column's radio network burst into life. "Left…nt Br…s. We …….. under at…..k. Enemy tro… ……located…..br…KABOO….." The radio message abruptly ended and Jacobs realised that instead of following orders and waiting for the rest of the column, the lieutenant commanding the two Chimeras on point had headed towards the first bridge five miles down the road. The fool. Jacobs grabbed the pintle mounted Storm Bolter and pointed it into the air, aiming it away from where the bullets could potentially wound someone when they started to fall back to earth. It had the desired effect and the crowd ran for cover, confused at the sudden turn in events. Jacobs own troops caught on quickly and started to lock down hatches and prime weapons.
Bridge 1 Sergeant Erwood crouched behind the hull of the Chimera. Edging his head around the side he could see the lead Chimera, smoke billowing from the hatches which the crew had used to escape only to be cut down by an unseen foe. Damn that prick of an El-Tee. Erwood took a little satisfaction from the fact the idiot had paid the price but it disappeared when he saw the six others who had been forced to chip in. What the hell had done the damage to the Chimera. It couldn't be an Anti-Tank missile, otherwise Erwood would be as dead as the others. Maybe grenades dropped from the bridge's girders though he could see no one up amongst the steel work to drop them. That left mines. He picked the handset up for the Chimera's external radio and selected the Column's frequency. "Point to HQ." "HQ, proceed." "HQ. Do not proceed down the road. I repeat, do not proceed down the road. Possible threat of mines in the area." "Roger. Status check." "Lead Chimera and all seven men within is out of action. Chimera Two is operational and myself and my squad are all okay." "Copy. How do you want to proceed?" " I'll lead a squad to check the bridge out. Suggest you dismount attached infantry and check road for mines." "Copy. Emperor Be With You, Out." "Amen." Erwood said to himself. Suddenly the squad intercom came to life. He had to strain to hear but he recognised it as one of the men from the lead chimera. "Sergeant…" "Collins? Report." "I'm hit sarge." He replied, trying to keep quiet less the sniper fire again. "Snipers…In the bridge. Careful…" "Easy soldier we're coming to get you." "No. Bridge is." There was the sound of retching. "Bridge is, is wired." Damn. Erwood strained to see Collins and could make out his prone form facing the Sergeant. "Where's the bombs." "Can't see. Wait one." "No. Don't…" KRAK! Collins spasmed as his head exploded into a cloud of red and grey. "…move." He turned to his squad and could see that Vurtz was gripping his Lasgun so tight he was in danger of cracking the plastic casing. Collins had been his best friend. "Okay men." Erwood said. "Here's what were gonna do. We'll get the Chimera to spray the steel work of the bridge with fire, keep the Orks heads down, We'll run to the lead Chimera and then move from there. Got it." Nine men nodded in compliance. "Good. Let's move!" The Chimera's Multi-laser burst into life sending a hail of laser bolts into the bridges structure. Erwood moved in a half crouch, half run towards the concrete base of the bridge. The men formed up on him whilst he edged to the entrance, removing the pin from a smoke grenade as he did so. He quickly glanced round the side, no one there. He chucked the grenade a few meters in front of the wrecked APC and the waited for the smoke to start billowing out. Satisfied he ran towards the still smoking hull and dived next to the rear hatch, a shot ringing out behind him. The heat from the still smouldering interior, was oppressive but it seemed the safest place. No one had been shot within a meter of the APCs door. Now, he thought, to try to find that sniper. He looked at the bodies. Providing the men had exited according to the Codex, in a typical starburst manner, then that would make the sniper about… He put one foot on the hatch and lifted himself up, firing his Lasgun one handed up towards a shape in the girders. He was rewarded with a howl as the Ork was hit by the blasts. Glimpsing towards the smoke screen he could see it dissipating, a visual reminder that he was running out of time. The men ran across to the wreck. One, two, three, four, five, another quick glimpse, six, seven, only Vurtz and Reegan left. Then he saw that the cloud of green smoke was completely transparent, with his last two men in the open. There was the sound of firing and just as Vurtz was reaching cover a bullet hit his helmets helm, bouncing into his face and ripping his neck open. He was dead before he touched the ground. Reegan was luckier, the bullets hitting him in the legs, sending him spinning into the wall. He grasped a smoke grenade and let it off, hiding him from any more fire. Erwood grabbed the extinguisher carried by one of his men and fired it into the Chimera. The last remains of the fire disappeared in the steam. "Muller, Wern. Set the Jimp-E up in there. See if that Storm Bolter is still working." "Sarge. Its awfully hot in there." "It'll be a lot fucking hotter out here! Move it!" The men disappeared into the hull. "Right. Three men down that way, your section two. Two with me. Move by sections. Go." Section two ran to the cover of one of the girders. An Ork let out a burst of fire but was quickly shot by the Jimp-E. Erwood moved his section up. There was another burst of fire and one of his men went down without even a word. "By The Emperor! Keep their heads down with that Jimp-E! Section Two. Go!" The second section ran again, covered by the first and weapon sections covering fire. Unseen over Erwood's position one of the Ork Kommandos prepared a stikk bomb. It dropped and bounced towards second section. Kyle, a trooper in the squad, saw it and sacrificed himself to save the two sections. There was no time for reflection, just duty. Erwood checked his squad. He had gone 20 metres and only had three men left. The maths alone was not good. He ran to the next girder, followed by Trooper Clay, the last man in the section. Ork Kommando Cor'lim realised that the mission was as good as over. They had killed plenty of humies and had had a thoroughly good time doing it but now he had to fufil his mission. He wasn't worried. Orks never die, they just get spat into new bodies. Erwood was thrown to his feet by the explosion and he laid there, fearing he was dead. But he could hear the tortured metal give a groan and realised what had happened. "Clay." "Yes Sarge." "RUN!!" The two men sprinted as fast as humanly possible as the bridge gave way behind them, rapidly catching them up. Both men jumped, hoping to land on the remaining part of the bridge. Erwood did but Clay disappeared. Running back he saw the man dangling from one of the reinforcement pylons. Erwood lay down and helped him up. "Sergeant Erwood report. We just saw an explosion from your position." Erwood picked up his helmet and repositioned the mike. "Sir. We've got a bit of a problem." Part Seven - BlitzkriegNorth Bridge Baxter put the decryption pad on the bench and leaned back into the fold down seat. Things had gone from bad to worst. Not only had the relief column been delayed by the sabotage of Bridge One but there was now no hope of re-supply. A wing of Ork fighter aircraft had pounced the inbound Samson Tranports bringing crates of supplies and shot down two. The third had been forced to turn back to limp into the main spaceport. However, moral was still high, the men still jubilant from their first attack and further roused by Tyrel's speeches at morning and evening prayers. The Sergeant Major wondered if he should tell the men the situation. On one hand it may decrease morale, on the other the men would hate to be kept in the dark. Certainly such practices were entirely feasible in a conventional, mostly conscript, army but the paras were all volunteers bound by a sense of honour and duty and who trusted their superiors with their lives. It seemed only fair to pay them back. Either way, Baxter mused, it was not his decision to make. It would have to be left to Major Tyrel and all Baxter could, and indeed would, do was report the current circumstances. He was just standing up when the radio spluttered into life. "Control to North Bridge. Stand by for FLASH traffic." Baxter sighed and sat himself down, grabbing the one time pad from the bench.
Ork Armoured Column Badaaz grinned maniacally as the Bonecrusha tank hit yet another poor native animal. There was something just so… exhilarating about squashing defenceless creatures under several tons of steel. Of course weaving all over the place to hit them did slow progress down but the lads in the convoy wouldn't mind. Not when you were the biggest, baddest Ork, with the biggest baddest tank in the convoy. The lads had been told to investigate why the speedas had not reported in. Baadaz was silently hoping that the town had put some resistance up. It was always fun to let off a couple rounds of da battlekannon and Baadaz wanted to see what happened to an humie when they were hit by one of the shells. Maybe he would find out.
North Bridge Sergeant Aaers enjoyed a well-deserved brew and was glad that Ms, no scratch that, Corporal Shepherds (formally of the local militia), was capable of making a good cuppa. As he had feared the locker had contained webbing, Lasgun and ammunition just as intel had reported all members of the militia (full time or otherwise) kept ready. What intel had failed to mention that members of both sexes were required to serve their three year term. Shepherds was right now chatting with the fellow troopers (whom she was technically senior to) and trying to learn as much as possible. The weapons team equipped with the Garl Custav Missile Launcher was training her in its use. To her credit, Shepherds was a quick learner and not the least put off by the fact that she was old enough to be the Troopers mother. In turn the men were not intimidated by her rank in the same way they might have been around Aaer. As far as the Sergeant was concerned so long as she stayed out of the way and kept the tea coming she was more than welcome to chat with the men. There was a shout from outside and Aaers saw men run behind cover or dive into foxholes. Something was up. "Sarge. Message from HQ" Shepherds held a piece of paper in her hands. She looked very pale and Aaers suddenly thought that he might not like what was contained on the note. Taking the message off Shepherds he scanned through it, swearing a couple times. "Okay Lads." He shot a glance at Lucca, "and lasses, we have been given a ten minute warning. We have a number of Ork vehicles, including battle tanks heading our way." The soldiers' looks were calm and professional but Aaers knew that each and every one of them was probably starting to worry. Tanks had a habit of causing real trouble for a force with no friendly tanks to counter them. "As such we'll be concentrating on light vehicles, buggies and bikes, and infantry. Obviously the Missile crew are an exception. They've got the punch needed to take the Orks' tanks out. Now I want all of you to check your weapons. Anybody who lets the Emperor and me down WILL be in trouble. Dismissed."
All along the river nervous eyes gazed towards the approaching dust cloud, a mute reminder of the danger they faced. Men tried to joke nervously or busy themselves checking weapons but every time their eyes were drawn to the black cloud and the ominous roar of engines.
Command Harbinger Tyrel stood atop his Harbinger and peered through his binoculars. Unlike his men, his eyes were not drawn to the cloud or the noise but to the wrecks that lay scattered along the grassland in front of him. The men had attempted to hide them by putting camo netting over the twisted metal but still they stuck out like a heretic at an annual Ecclesiarchy meeting. Basically it meant that there would be no last minute surprise, no last minute shock for the enemy. As far as Tyrel was concerned either the Milans or the Hunter Killer Missiles took out the tanks or everyone was at the mercy of the Orks poor accuracy and unpredictable weapons. It wasn't really a mercy at all.
Ork Braincrusha Baadaz saw the glint of metal from the setting sun and then saw the smoky trails heading towards him. Surprisingly quickly for an Ork, even one with an adrenaline burst, he put two and two together and slammed the brakes bringing the tank to a bone shaking halt. This chucked a huge cloud of smoke and dust into the air around him and inadvertently saved his life as the missiles lost track and missed. He heard explosions around him but he was too pissed off to worry about that. With a malicious grin he lined the huge battlekannon with where he saw the missiles come from and returned fire.
Command Harbinger Tyrel lay on the ground wondering what had happened. One minute he had been getting down into the relatively armoured hull of the Harbinger, the next he was chewing rubble. He rolled onto his back, noting that he was still capable of moving albeit painfully and felt arms wrap round him, dragging him behind a low wall. As he was dragged to safety he saw smoke billowing out from the Command Vehicle, its HK missile still in its pod but unable to fire. He also saw what had been the central weapons team position, now just a hole in the side of the building. "Orks?" Baxter seemed to instantly understand. "We hit one tank. But the other is still coming. Just stay down, Sir." Tyrel thought about this and then his eyes focused on something. Like Hell he would…
Part Eight -Out of the Fire…Tyrel stood up, fighting the sudden nausea and the intense pain in his ribs. Such things were immaterial when his men's lives were at risk. Drunkenly stumbling into the open road, rounds zipped around him as he moved single-minded towards the smoking Command Harbinger, his eyes narrowing on the Hunter-Killer missile.
Pathfinder Squad One Mulligan was pinned down. The metal monster that was the Ork tank had, unlike the second tank, survived the initial fire from the anti-tank squads and was now moving onto the bridge, any return fire squashed by the barrage from its fearsome battlecannon. The only hope was to hit it with Krak grenades. One of the pathfinders emerged from cover, attempting to fire a Krak round from his auxiliary grenade launcher. For his pains he was chopped clean in half by the hail of lead.
Overlooking Footbridge 1 Aaers was dazed but still capable of fighting. The missile crew was not so lucky. The loader had simply disintegrated when the heavy battlecannon shell hit him and the actual gunner was curled up on the floor gripping his stomach so that his intestines would not fall out. It was a small miracle but everybody else had avoided any shrapnel and was merely dazed by the concussion from the explosive detonation. The Jimp-E crews had immediately set back up and were holding the Orks back from crossing the footbridge. The Heavy Bolter soon joined the fray and the Orks finally fell back.
Tyrel lay on top of the warm hull of the wrecked harbinger, fighting back the pain and struggling for breath after crawling to the Hunter-Killer missile. He felt his strength leaving him and for a moment he felt like giving up. But then he heard the sounds of the wounded and dying and he hauled himself up. He remembered the drill from officer school. Unlock the drive motor, turn missile to face target, drop front hatch, open manual override hatch, turn key to manual, say a prayer to the Emperor and press the big red button. The missile hurled itself out of the tube, the expanding gas throwing Tyrel to the ground. He got up, hoping that the missile's spirit smelt the target and was dismayed to see it veering towards the, already wrecked, second tank. "By The Emperor!" He exclaimed, "You want the other one!" The missile seemed to hear this and it began to turn to face the other tank. Tyrel held his breath until he saw the missile slam into the tank, sending its turret screaming into the air on a pillar of flame.
Ork Bonecrusha Baadaz hit the ground hard. He had been watching the destruction from his turret when he had been lifted from his feet and he was shocked by the destruction of his beloved tank. The he felt the anger well up in him and he charged towards the humies. 'No One messed up Baadaz's Battle Wagun and got away with it.' The Orks getting off the buggies and trukks saw this and started racing after him, pleased that they were finally getting a chance to get some action.
Pathfinder Squad One Mulligan and Baxter both rose at the same time and fired their frag grenades into the approaching wave of green, four or five greenskins falling to spinning shrapnel and a further three to a long burst from the Jimp-E. But still they came, led by the biggest Ork the men had ever seen. Even the AP Mines could not drop it, even though they took down even more Orks. The big green monster slammed into the Commissar sending the man into the ground. The Commissar rolled over, activating his power sword as he did so, raising it to ward off the follow up blow from the Ork nob. The Ork had raw strength for him but the Commissar was quicker, smarter and better protected due to his conversion field. The Commissar rolled out from underneath the brute and stood back up. The Ork ran at him, swinging the large axe through the air. It bit into the commissar's side but was prevented from killing him by the commissar's counter-parry. The Commissar saw his chance and discharged his Plasma pistol into the Orks face. Both combatants fell. Baxter rammed one Ork with the butt of his rifle, sending it crashing to ground, easily dispatched with a quick shot of his lasgun. Another tried to rush him but was decapitated by a swift sweep of his power sword. The rest of the, now merged, command and pathfinder squad tried to fight off blows and fall back to clear the way for weapons fire. Baxter could see, now he was on top of the riverbank, that the rearmost aliens were being ripped apart by fire from the Hippogryph Heavy Mortars. Tyrel must have called a fire… Tyrel! Where the hell was he. Baxter saw him by the harbinger, lying in a pool of blood, clutching the radio's handset in his hands. Baxter cut another Ork down and ran towards his Commander. A hail of Jimp-E fire 'persuaded' the Orks not to follow and, with the death of their nob, they finally broke off the attack. Baxter grabbed the battered body of the Major and rolled him over. Blood ran from a cut across his chest, but it was not life threatening. Baxter laid him against the side of the wreck and took stock of the situation. The main bridge was blocked by a wrecked tank, which would restrict the enemy's movement but also his own fire arcs. The Company had lost a lot of its heavy support assets, especially in the anti-armour role, and had probably used a lot of ammo fending off the last attack. The radio burst into life and Baxter grabbed the Handset. "Alpha Company come in." "Alpha here, over." Baxter replied. "Alpha be warned. We have detected a large, slow moving, force heading in your direction. They are about 30 minutes from your position. Over." "Roger that. Do we have any air support? Over." "Air support is inbound and will be there in three quarters. Over." Shit! "Roger. What about the armour?" "Bridge is being set up as we speak. They will be with you in an hour." "Roger, out." Baxter slammed the headset down. They were well and truly up Shit Creek without so much as a canoe let alone a bloody paddle. Tyler grabbed Baxter's leg. "Help..me..up. We..have got to…blow the…bridges." He gasped for air. "No way we…can survive.. another attack." "What about the Commissar?" Baxter said, helping Tyrel to his feet. "To Hell with him." Tyrel gasped again, a wave of pain hitting hem. "uggh. Mission is more important." Baxter heard the click of a safety catch being released and turned very slowly. Stood before him was the commissar. His cap was gone, his black greatcoat torn. His left hand hung uselessly at the side but the right hand was unwavering, pointing the plasma pistol at Tyrel. There was a mad look in his one good eye. "I believe I was mentioned." Baxter sighed. "Out of the fire…"
Part Nine - ...Into The FireTyrel looked straight into Commissar Agryl's eyes. There was no trace of reason or humanity behind his eyes, just the glimmer of a madmen. Agryl's fight with the Ork Nob had driven him over the edge. "Commissar. In case you did not know but we are in danger of being overrun." Baxter's voice was its normal deadpan self but Tyrel could feel the Sergeant Major's palms go sweaty, if the situation wasn't so dire Tyrel may have laughed that his Aide was actually slightly worried. "TRAITOR! COWARD! Do you forget our mission? We must not let the bridges fall!" "If…We don't then we all die…and the Orks will still get the bridges." Tyrel spluttered, he could feel his body slowly coming back to life but he had no chance of drawing his gun. Baxter was similarly handicapped by supporting his leader from falling. "Never. Once again you show a lack of faith. Under authority of the Imperial Commission Article 69, I here-by find you guilty of gross disregard for orders.." "By The Emperor! My Orders were to use any means possible…" Tyrel said angrily "Cowardice in the face of Duty…" "Commissar, listen to me…" Baxter said, trying one last pitch at reason. "...and a most severe lack of faith, bordering on the Heretical. The punishment is death." Tyrel closed his eyes. 'So this is how it ends,' Tyrel thought, 'shot by a madman on a backwater planet'. But the shot never came. Tyrel felt more than heard the crack of the round passing his ear and when he opened his eyes the commissar was on the ground, blood spouting from the large ragged exit wound in his chest. Tyrel toggled his comms unit. “Fitz? You just shoot?” “Yes sir.” Tyrel shook his head, more to keep the blood flowing than at disbelief. “I’ll repeat the question Fitz. Did You Shoot?” There was a pause and then Davis, the spotter came online. “Sir. There was no fire from this position. All weapons are safe and unloaded.” “Roger.” Tyrel would have to have a word with Fitz but he couldn’t really fault the sniper. He wondered if Fitz could also see the look in the Commissars eyes, even through his ‘scope. “Okay, Baxter I want...” But he could not finish his sentence. The world went black and the last thing he saw was the ground rushing up to meet him.
Baxter grabbed Tyrel as he fell and quickly put him into a position where he wasn’t liable to choke on his tongue or vomit. A lesser man might have panicked at all that faced him but Baxter was made of sterner stuff, the same as the rest of the Paras. “Leftenant Reds. I need you at the Command Vehicle pronto. We have an emergency” Reds replied and left his platoon. Reds was the 2I/C of the Company taking over if, like now, Tyrel was incapacitated. He could do no more in terms of fighting a battle until Reds arrived so he turned his attention to Tyrel. By the looks of things he was suffering from shock and the first thing to do was get some fluids in. Baxter grabbed an IV from the hastily salvaged medi-kit and put it into Tyrel. Next he searched the body for the remote control to the bombs on the bridge figuring Reds would need it. Reds arrived and headed towards Baxter. “How is he?” Reds said nodding towards Tyrel. “Bad. But we’ll be joining him soon unless we act quickly.” Reds nodded at this. “Okay. Get the bridges cleared. That I’ll mean we’ll be in a shooting battle and we’ll have the advantage.” He paused. “What's up Sergeant?” “Look through the binoculars, towards the centre of the dust cloud.” Reds did as he was told and his mouth went dry. “Some kind of Walker. Large main armament, looks like some ‘smaller’ weapons on the close combat weapon. Hell. It isn’t a Gargent but that cannon won’t waste time flattening us.” “No Sir. But it is slowing them down.” He stopped, listening to the Company radio. “Okay bridge is cleared. Your clear for detonation.” Reds flipped the cover and turned the authorisation key before pressing the button. The two foot bridges rumbled and seemed to collapse in on themselves as metal and concrete ripped apart, disappearing into the tortured waters below. But the main bridge stood, not so much as a vibration being emitted from the thermocharges placed on the struts. Baxter quickly saw the fault. When the Orks tank had been hit on the bridge the master command wires must have been severed, it would take about half an hour to reconnect them, half an hour they did not have. "By The Emperor! Okay. Baxter. Get all the weapons teams we have to cover the main bridge and the put two rifle squads to cover the remains of the footbridge. I doubt anything can cross the river but the Orks would probably try." "Yes Sir." Baxter ran back to the radio to get things in gear. Reds picked up his own radio and dialled in the Hippogryphs. "Sergeant Michaels." "Sir." "I want you men to start preparing the Morters to hit an advancing line of Infantry, expect to commence firing in ten minutes. Over." "Roger that Command. Out."
Reds sighed and leaned against the wall trying to get his breath. It was no secret that he had been after promotion and his own company command but know he had it, it didn't seem so appealing. An old saying came to mind. "If you pray for rain, be prepared for the mud." All in all, Tyrel really had chosen a lousy time to get shot. His eyes turned to the main bridge, standing defiantly across the river. Reds knew that the naval pilots could drop it with a few HE bombs but it would mean that his men would nave to hold the Orks off for just over ten minutes. It was not a good prospect.
All along the river front squads prepared for a new offensive. Squads were broken up and reformed, covering holes left by casualties and weapons crews tried to salvage parts and ammo, cannibalising wrecks so as to get as many working pieces as possible. Men gritted their teeth and prayed to the Emperor. Others cracked a nervous joke, receiving nervous laughter and a reprimand from the squad leader. No one looked at the clouds on the horizon.
Noble Flight Lieutenant Gertds pushed the throttles to the max letting the Marauder pass the sound barrier as it rocketed through the lower atmosphere. Scram-jets whining in protest at the punishment being dealt to them as the pilot tried to get every last ounce of speed out of them less someone die because he arrived late. The Two jets following him kept perfect formation as they kept an eye out for Ork CAPS. Gertds was worried about the attack radar. It was malfunctioning but so long as they were hitting enemy infantry that would not be a problem. If they were required to hit anything else then all bets were off…
Part Ten - The Green WaveLieutenant Reds sat behind the sandbags, gripping his Lasgun tightly. The Orks were almost in Milan range and the missiles would be targeted towards the Ork’s walker. Reds was playing the hunch that that was where the Ork warboss would be. hey had a tendency of getting the flashiest ride they could and the fact that it was the biggest thing around (short of a Gargant and thank the Emperor one of them was not around) would be sure to be attractive to a power hungry Ork. Baxter, ran over to Reds’ position and dived behind the barricade. No one wanted to be in the open. “Sir. I have a suggestion.” “Go ahead Sergeant.” “Sir. The armoured column that’s moving towards here has got Basilisks, Yes?” “Yes Sarge. I think we’re going to need those Earth Shakers to penetrate that armour. Have you got a...” He stopped, realisation hitting him harder than any bullet. “Baxter. Radio, Now.” Baxter grinned, glad that the El-Tee was learning fast. It was a NCO's job to ‘suggest’ courses of action but the good Officers, like Reds, could be merely sparked. “This is Lt Reds, acting commander of A Company, to Captain Jacobs.” “Jacobs here.” “Sir, is it possible to get your Basilisks to set up for an artillery mission.” “Right now? Hell yes. My crews can be shooting in five minutes. Just give us the co-ordinates and we’ll do the rest.” “Thanks Sir. Do you have an ETA for the rest of the Column?” “We’ll be with you in 25 minutes son. Out.” Reds turned to Baxter, handing the radio back to the Sergeant Major. "Sergeant. Upload all the target points we've used for the Hippogryphs, it'll save us having to use two sets then." "Yes Sir."
The first wave hit five minutes later. The Ork advance was led by the members of the Kult Of Speed, all of which were eager to get revenge for the earlier massacre. A hail of rockets and Battlecannon fire hurtled towards the Imperial Guard position, most of it missing or failing to explode but still causing casualties as the majority found its target. The return fire, concentrated around the main bridge was more accurate, with guided missiles and large calibre rounds ripping apart both buggy and tank. But the damage was done. More men had died and more valuable weapons wrecked, shifting the scales in the Orks favour. But the battle was far from over.
Command Position Reds looked at the still unconscious figure of Tyrel and wondered if the Major was getting the better deal. He listened to the squads report in and grimaced at the number of men killed. The Ork tanks had, like before, managed to rip a hole in the Imperial line as six of the companies remaining twenty weapons teams had been taken out of action though, and this was a mixed blessing, the Milan missiles had suffered no more losses. They were needed to take out the Stompa. He raised his head above the wall of the trench. The plain ahead seemed to be almost entirely green and not from the grass. It was almost time. "All batteries report." "Deliverance Battery. Locked down and clear to go." "Pegasus Battery. Ready to fire." Reds waited a few seconds just to be safe and then spoke into the hand set. "Batteries commence pre-determined fire plans. All Missile Teams, take out that Stompa!" The first rounds to hit were the heavy mortars of the Hippogryphs of 'Pegasus' Battery. The airburst fragmentation shells taking scores of greenskins down. Then the larger HE shells of the Basilisks of 'Deliverance' battery took down more, including two tanks. Finally the Milan AT missiles, along with the HK missiles from the last two Harbingers reached out for the Stompa. Gouts of flames appeared in its hull but still it came, albeit slower. Its large cannon fired and one of the Harbingers ceased to exist, the shrapnel from the exploding wreck ripping apart two unfortunate troopers in a second. Then the Orks were on them, attempting to cross the bridge. Heavy Bolter and Jimp-E fire swept the concrete structure cutting up those Orks which could not seek the cover of the wrecks on the Bridge. But still it was not enough and a small band of Orks managed to cross after using the smaller grots as an improvised shield. The green monsters charged the nearest squad and bitter close combat erupted. Bayonet fended off axe, tough hide was ripped by tempered steel and soft flesh bitten by rusty metal. But this was beyond Reds concern. He had to make sure that no more got through. He called in another round of artillery fire, this time on top of the bridge and was horrified as some of it missed and fell harmlessly into the river. At least the fish would not be bothering them.
Tyrel lay there, random thoughts travelling through his head trying to make themselves heard. Scenes from his past appeared and then faded and then he saw it. It was a blinding light and his head was filled with white noise. He strained to hear it, a chorus of voices all saying the same thing. "Sacrifice….faith….sacrifice….faith…" His eyes burst open and he sat bolt upright. He could see his men fending off the attack and he could see the bridge still standing. But what to do? He saw the radio by Reds and he crawled over to it before realising that his legs were working again. Grabbing the headset he switched it to the naval frequency. "Inbound flight, inbound flight this is Para A. Respond." "Noble flight responding." "Noble Lead. I have a target." "Authenticate. Number is niner." The pilot had expected the ground controller to know the flights name so he was suspicious about being called 'inbound flight'. Tyrel suddenly realised he had forgot what the authentication code was. Subtract from 10 that was it. "One. Over." "Roger proceed." "Target is bridge at ref. 013 564." "Negative on target. Attack radar is non-operative and visibility is non-existence. We can hit on a reference but it'll be risky." Tyrel's mind raced, what could he do? He didn't want to risk his men unnecessarily but… Sacrifice…faith. Sacrifice his men? Sacrifice himself? How?
Part Eleven - Sacrifice...Faith...Lucca fought to stand up, her lungs feeling like lead after being near asphyxiated by the concussion from the explosion. The Stompa had returned fire after the second wave of missiles had hit it, with no more effect than the first, and had crushed the neighbouring building. The falling rubble had crushed the remainder of the Missile crew and the others were still concussed. Lucca looked out of the window and was shocked at what she saw. The Paras were fighting a losing battle trying to stop the Orks from crossing the bridge. As one alien fell another four took its place and so, slowly but surely, the Orks were getting further across the bridge. As the other members of the squad set their weapons back up Lucca suddenly felt helpless. There was nothing she could do to aid the defence of her home, all she had was a lasgun and that could only cut down one ork at a time and it certainly could not hurt the Stompa. She stopped, analysing what she had just thought and quickly began searching the rubble. There! The Missile Launcher was still intact and what’s more it was loaded. She picked it up and released the safety, glad that it was the simple Custav type missile launcher rather than the complex Millan. Sighting towards the towering Stompa she snatched at the trigger and let the missile rise, instead of heading towards the armoured body it raced towards the head.
‘Waaargh Boss’, Ork Stompa. Derk Da Great sat atop his throne and laughed as the remaining humie vehicle blew up in a fantastic pyrotechnic display. This was too easy. The humies had come with no real gunz and were easily crushed by Da Waaargh Boss, validating the fact that he had not spent the teef on a gargant. The earlier fires had scorched the paintwork and knocked some of the drive gubbinz off line but he was letting the mechs deal with that, just so long as he could still shoot he was happy.
The missile raced through the air. Its smaller multi-purpose Krak shell realistically had no chance of penetrating the thick armour of the Stompa’s head but then it was veering off slightly (some might say because of crosswinds, the faithful would say because of The Emperor’s, blessed is his name, divine will) and heading towards the open ‘eyes’.
‘Waaargh Boss’ Derk was still laughing at the burning figures running from the wrecked APC when the missile raced through the chicken wire screen and buried itself in the wall behind him. He turned to look at it and laughed at the stupid humans duff weapons. I mean, he thought, what use is a missile which...
Pathfinder Squad One Mulligan was firing his last frag round in his AGL when the Stompa’s head exploded in a large pillar of flames and smoke. Supersonic shreds of armour ripped into the mob around its feet, cutting down a number of the greenskins and leaving more wounded. But the greatest effect was not to the Orks, the artillery barrage was proving to be more devastating than the casualties caused by the explosion, but to the Paras. As the Orks blasphemous icon collapsed to the ground the hearts of the men swelled and a cheer erupted. The situation was no better, they were still out numbered and out gunned, but such things matter little compared to the destruction of something which seems so invincible to the typical trooper. Mulligan saw his chance and raised from the trench. With the Orks in confusion and moral suddenly up he led his men back to the first line of trenches they had just vacated, closer to the enemy and an active, if futile display of defiance.
Command Position Tyrel knew that he had not moved much since he had parachuted down and he was sure that he had hit the marker dead on. So, in theory, round here should be...Yes. He quickly checked the object and was glad to see that it had ten minutes charge left. Now for part two of his plan. “Noble flight, this is Company A.” “Noble flight here, over.” “Noble flight. Can you drop on a radio beacon?” “Roger, just give us the frequency and we’ll hit it.” “Copy. Frequency is one, two, one, five kilohertz.” “Roger. We are six minutes out and we need the beacon to be stationary for two minutes at least.” Tyrel didn’t hear this. He was running for the bridge.
Baxter was snapping a shot off at the approaching horde when he saw the figure rush past him. He could have sworn it was the Major but he was incapacitated. Wasn’t he?
Tyrel ran as fast as he could. His injuries were forgotten, duty compelling him to get the bridge down. He could see, now that he had crested the hill leading down to the bridge, that the Imperial lines would not last much longer. The shear number of Orks made any hope of holding out seem unrealistic in the extreme, even with the new found vigour of his own troops. He ran past the wrecked command harbinger, his faithful mount until the end and even then it had dealt the death blow to the Ork battlewaggon. He ran past a squad of paratroops firing their lasguns into the green tide, pausing only to cheer him on as he raced towards the bridge. He ran passed the burning Harbinger AR/AT, angered at the smoking bodies arranged around it. He ran past the remains of the towns temple, desecrated by the Ork’s fire. Finally he ran past the pathfinders position. “Sergeant! Covering fire! Now!” Mulligan got over his surprise and gave a thumbs up. A hail of fire rained down on the Orks nearest the bridge, keeping them back as Tyrel ran towards the centre span, the most vulnerable part of the bridge. He ran from wreck to wreck, dodging fire, getting closer every time to his target until... KRAK! He felt himself be pushed onto the steel walls, his legs no longer working, his thoughts rapidly dulling. He closed his eyes and waited.
Noble flight. Lieutenant Gertds noticed that the target was now stationary and watched as the bombardier quickly plotted the relevant path for the flight to fly. “Pilot. Take Course 270 degrees, speed Mach 0.95, ROD (Rate Of Descent) 0 metres per second." “Pilot copies.” Gerts corrected the planes heading and watched as the Time To Target (TOT) counted down. “Bomb bays open, safeties off. Clear to drop.” Gertds flicked the flight radio on. “Noble flight. Clear to drop on my mark.” “Copy.” “Copy.” “Weapons gone.” Gertds shouted, pulling the nose of the plane up and hitting the reheats. The plane was a lot more graceful with the weight gone. “Two! Weapons gone!” “Three! Weapons gone!
North Bridge Tyrel heard the sonic boom and realised that the bombs would arrive any second now. The Orks fired at the unseen enemy either not knowing or not caring that the aircraft were far away from their own sounds.
Command Section Reds saw the bridge’s centre span rise into the air, throwing wrecks and bodies like toys as the HE bombs erupted with the Emperors might. He wondered if Tyrel was awake to see it and then wondered if it meant that they had won. Any further thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Diesel engines. The armoured column had arrived. The lead Leman Russ pulled up to Reds’ positioned and a lone figure popped out wearing the black boiler suits and berets of the 33rd Tank regiment. “Major Tyrel?” “No, Leftenant Reds. You are Captain Jacobs?” “Yes.” The man turned to the frothing madness that was the collapsing bridge. “Am I too late for the party?” “‘fraid so old chap. But you’re welcome to grab a mop and help tidy up.” The figure laughed and disappeared into the deaths of the tank, leading his column to the riverfront intent on convincing the Orks that it would be a good idea to leave. The party was over. Reds smiled and mopped his brow before shedding his helmet altogether, replacing it with his maroon beret. Baxter walked up, ashen faced. “What’s up sage. Where’s Tyrel.” Baxter’s look told him all he needed to know.
Tyrel grasped onto the beacon, gasping for air as he was swept along by the currents. He was still holding on when he went under for the final time, knowing that he had broken his promise to his grandfather.
EpilogueThe war was to last two years. The Orks fighting every step of the way , making sure that every metre was gained at the cost of a human life. The Paratroops of Company A were to be called into action on several occasions, snatching strategic targets, disabling radar stations and command centres. Baxter survived until the end and was awarded the Silver Sword for bravery in battle. Reds was promoted after the last engagement of the war and placed as Company Leader. Tyrel was posthumously awarded the Golden Star for 'sacrifice for the Imperium's greater good'. The body was never found... The End...
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