Malachi swept the sweat from his brow and prepared to strike down onto the surface of Siluria. He shifted in his Terminator armour and turned on his comms-link to the Imperial Guard general on the ground. "Yarrick, tell me the coordinates. I'm dropping in less than a minute." Malachi said into his comms unit. "We're moving the original landing zone; it's under heavy fire from Reaver Jetbikes." "Just tell me the coordinates Yarrick, this rock of sand and blood will be lost otherwise!" Malachi shouted down the comms unit. "Hold your horses. The coordinates are 46 East, 92 West, 85 North and 7 South. You'll drop down near their main commanders." Yarrick explained. "Thank you Yarrick, we shall see you on the battlefield. Just keep the Baneblade and Basilisk fire off of us." Malachi switched off his comms unit and prepared to deep strike with his Terminators. "Sound off brothers!" "Magnus, here!" Magnus brandished his huge autocannon. "Konstantinos, here!" He loaded a gas canister into his combi-flamer. "Artemis, here!" the glint of a freshly polished combi-melta showed from the shadows. "Gaius, here!" Belts of ammo were loaded into his combi-bolter. "Visari, here!" A double chainfist revved up. "We shall drop down onto the battlefield momentarily; keep your guard for the Mandrakes and the Wyches. Deep striking in 3, 2, 1… NOW!"