War Torn
He floated in the syrupy caress of the tank, pipes and tubes sunk into the ragged meat of his limbs and body. The nutrients that made up the liquid healing him as best as they were able. A concoction of chemicals and compounds known to only a few in the whole system.
It was not enough...
He was dying.
He did not fear death, but instead welcomed it. He knew that death was very rarely the end, and he would soon be at His side.
The memories came thick and fast. They blurred into one long stream, the most recent, the strongest. At least he would have time to relive that which had been given to him.
The planet was unremarkable. Just another rock circling a dying sun amongst thousands of others. It had a name that was unpronounceable in the languages of Terra. The powers that be had quantified it with a series of numbers...a designation. They came to this world of mud and rocks...this unremarkable chunk drifting through space and made war on its surface.
They entered the system unopposed. Imperial forces descending on wings of fire and propellant gases. Thousands upon thousands of men and metal machines designed for one purpose...to make war.
The troops...human troops...landed just ahead of the elites; those that had been made to be the best in all aspects of warfare. They were faster...stronger...better.
Astartes.
They were the chosen protectors of the galaxy and the billions of lives populating it.
Captain Cyrus Mare of the Ultramarines 12th company looked around him at the sea of blue standing around him. The best of the Emperors troops, the pinacle of human development. He should not feel anything but pride was a hard thing to forget.
'All groups report.'
The order was clipped and to the point, the captain always said things once and they were usually short. He never needed to say things more than that one time. Acknowledgement icons flashed in his retinal display indicating that all groups were in their proper positions.
'Advance...pattern epsilon.'
The unit to his left swung out in staggered formation and slipped quietly into the strewn rocks, the group to his right mirroring them perfectly The four others with him slowly turned up the boost on the packs they wore preparing for the order they knew was about to come. More icons flashed as the advance teams found targets, they flashed up as red signals on his display. He locked onto one in particular and gripped the hilt of his chain sword in a tight grasp, finger just off the activation stud.
'Engage...for the Emperor!'
Five jump packs flared and lifted his squad skywards. He flew over the tops of his brothers, the men under his commend seeing the flashes of outgoing fire from their weapons. His trajectory hit the peak of its arc and he started to fall back to the earth below. Ten meters from the ground he hit the stud on his weapon, the engine roaring to life in his hands, the adamantium teeth a blur of razor sharp destruction.
Five meters from the ground he spotted his target. Angling his decent a fraction he thrust the chain sword forwards and cut the power to his pack. Free-falling now he wound his arm back in a swing and, when he judged the moment to be right, he swung his shoulder. The blade screamed through the air and caught the orc to the side of the heavy jaw, the metal teeth of the chain sword grinding into the hard skin, bone and muscle there. He put every ounce of strength into the swing and the head flew free as the body started to spasm.
The heavy ceramite of his boots thudded into the ground cracking the rocks underneath. He stood up straight and leveled his gore-streaked sword at the nearest green-skin. Cyrus smiled behind the blue grill of his helm. This was what it felt like to be alive.
The rest of the squad landed around him, their boots throwing up plumes of ash and crushed rocks in their wake. Wherever they landed dead orcs fell at their feet, limbs hacked from bodies, heads rolling free of spouting trunks. Green, faintly glowing blood started to pool around the dead xenos. From his left and right he heard the sharp boom of bolt guns as the rest of the command caught up to them. Mass reactive explosive ammunition thudded into skin that would stop normal shots and las rounds. Bodies fell left and right around him as he waded forwards, boots coated with gore and flesh of fallen enemies, every sweep of his sword a killing stroke, every dead orc a start.
He looked across the battlefield and saw a sight that boiled his blood in rage.
A monster among monsters was pounding through the enemy, its size and strength even more than the others around it. It was a mad amalgamation of orc and machine; pistons and flesh, steel and bones.
It easily towered over the marines under his command, the trophy rack across its shoulders making it seem wider still. Helmets of defeated marines swung from chains and fleshless skulls sat on spikes smeared with dried blood. What looked like parts of tank armour covered his chest and arms making it even more imposing. One arm had been replaced by a huge three-fingered metalic claw that snapped open and shut in expectation of the slaughter to come. The other carried a crude, but no-less effective sawn-off gun of massive calibre.
Boss.
Several of his commandlevelled their weapons at it and opened fire, not needing the command to fire, the shells just skipping off the armour, exploding harmlessly in the air or amongst the monsters scattered around it. It opened its malformed, fanged mouth and roared at the small things that would dare to fire at it.
He gunned the motor of his sword more to clear the blades than anything else and started to make his way towards the towering leader. The others in his squad started forwards with him and started to slowly spread out happy to let their leader take on the behemoth ahead of them. They kept up a blistering rate of fire keeping the lesser orcs off guard and concentrating on them.
Cyrus pushed his suit to its limits, the fibre bundled muscles of his armour pushing his augmented body faster and faster.
Thirty yards and he levelled the still revving sword at the monster ahead of him...
The brute saw him and hunched down.
Twenty yards...
Cyrus pulled his bolt pistol from his thigh and absently flicked the selector switch to full auto.
Ten yards...
The beast opened its massively muscled arms wide to welcome his charge, the large-bore weapon levelled at his chest.
They opened fire at the same time.
The shot from the orc weapon scattered across his armour scoring it in a dozen places. A lucky shot took him in the shoulder in the space between his armour and shoulder guard. He staggered but didn't fall. He leapt at the beast, igniting the pack once more for a short jump. As he came over the monster he swung his sword and went to bat the claws aside, at the same time discharging the bolt pistol in the things face. Shells spat from the muzzle in a stream too fast for the eye to follow.
The thing moved.
Its bulk belaying its speed it jinked to the left most of his shots glancing harmlessly off its cobbled-together armour. One lucky shot caught it in its still open, roaring mouth and detonated inside. Its jaw flew apart in a shower of splintered bone and metal teeth. Rather than slowing it down it seemed to do the opposite. Its eyes blazed and it brought its claw up in a lightening fast arc. It thudded into Cyrus' side and he felt rather than heard ribs snap within his armoured frame. The armour he wore pumped pain killers into his system, keeping him in the fight. He finished his jump and he found himself on his back rolling on the ground. He tasted blood in his mouth and saw warning icons on his display. He knew his systems had been breached but before he could find out how bad the sun disappeared as a huge clawed foot tried to stamp him into the dirt. He threw up his hands at the last moment and managed to get them across his chest. His armour screamed in protest, the joints and seals creaking alarmingly with the pressure. His vision started to go grey then black as his display shut down. He put all his remaining strength into moving the foot weighing down on his, combat stims boosting his bodies responses. Amazingly the crushing weight started to ease off.
He twisted his body to the side, as much as he could given the space, his body screaming in protest, and the claw was lifted once more. Doing the first thing that came to mind he wrapped his arms around the ankle joint and was lifted into the air. The boss looked at the ground where the human had been expecting to see nothing but a crushed and lifeless body. Orcs do not show fear or remorse or even shock. The look that passed fleetingly across its face would have been comical in any other circumstance.
Cyrus grabbed hold of a large piston in the leg he hung from and swung his entire body around. He grabbed a loose armour plate and hung for a second on the things chest. Getting a rough bearing he swung further up the things body and finally to where its head was. He clamped his legs around its broad shoulders and ripped his damaged helmet free throwing it behind him.
The orc boss realised that the human was on its shoulders and reached back with its claw to dislodge him. The razor-sharp instrument twisted at impossible angles and Cyrus felt one of the blades enter his back puncturing his battle plate with ease. He grunted in both suprise and pain but held on as best he could.
The orc flexed the metal of the talon and prissed the human from its back.
Cyrus landed hard, something inside breaking as his already damaged armour took the full force of the fall. Sharp rocks cut into his face and neck as he rolled from the position he had been thrown. He ignored the pain and spun back to face the huge monster bearing down on him, a grin breaking across his beaten, bloody face. He lifted the detonator in his hand so the orc could see it.
The creature looked down at the weak and battered figure and then felt as the charge that Cyrus left behind fell down the joint at its neck. Its eyes widened and it started to run towards the downed marine. It took a single step.
Cyrus smiled.
'Boom...your dead.'
He pressed the firing stud on the small cylinder he held.
The explosion was deafening this close and he felt his ears rupture from the pressure wave. He saw the huge orc disintegrate from the chest up, armour plates and bone shards flying everywhere, the body lifted its other foot then realised it was dead. The beast fell like a redwood, the body visibly shaking the ground as it landed squashing several smaller orcs and gretchin underneath it.
Cyrus dropped the detonator and rolled onto his back, the pain finally overcoming the blockers and inhibiting drugs that had flooded his system. He coughed up deep red blood from what he assumed was a crushed, torn lung and various other internal injuries. He felt broken ribs grind against each other and smelt the wet coppery tang of his blood as it pumped out through rents in his armour. He heard the sound of bolter fire close by but even that was growing quieter with every passing moment. He tried lifting his head but found he could not achieve even that small gesture. Blue, armoured warriors filled his vision as the rest of his squad surrounded him.
Everything went black.