Carpe Posterum: Chapter1

Orbital space was filled burning wreckage and dying men, defence stations and system defence boats exploding in sequence as they futilely tried to hold back the invaders. They fought with bravery and determination, they fought with everything they had but it was to no avail, the odds against them were impossible.

Ploughing through their ranks were the towering behemoths of Imperial warships, their weapon batteries and lances tearing through the paltry resistance with ease. Each and every one of them was an ancient and mighty giant of the void but none amongst them could match the titanic leviathan at their head, the legendary shape that was an Astartes Battlebarge.

Stacked weapon batteries along her flanks blazed away and her engines shone like captured stars as she swept forwards. Emblazoned on her armoured hide was the icon of the Storm Heralds and the ship's name: the Thunderlord.

She was a rampaging force of destruction, wading into the rebel defences and obliterating everything as she blasted open a corridor for the following Imperial fleet. A rebel defence monitor sallied forth in an attempt to break through the Thunderlord's shields, the battlebarge soaked up the barrage without taking a scratch and with a single volley swatted the offender like a bug.

Far below the green world was turning yet its serene visage was marred by rising forests of mushroom clouds and spreading clouds of a nuclear winter. These had been caused by the Battlebarge's Bombardment Canons raining down magma bombs across an entire continent.

Following hard on the tail of the opening bombardment were wave upon wave of drop pods, fighters and gunships. Stormhawk interceptor and Stormtalon attack craft flew ahead of Thunderhawks and Stormravens, they streamed from the Thunderlord's launch bays in an unstoppable tide bringing the Space Marines to war. The gunships dodged and weaved around the flaming debris and burnt out wrecks cluttering low orbit to become shooting stars as they hit the atmosphere and began decelerating.

Aboard one particular Thunderhawk twenty seven Space Marines were strapped into their restraint cages, jostling and bouncing with force enough to shatter mortal bones but this barely registering on their enhanced physiques. They were focussed and honed, ready for war and thirsty for action.

Amongst the din and howling of re-entry Sergeant Toran was looking around at the gathered squads, all of whom were from Ninth Company, he took their measure and evaluated each in turn. Alongside his own squad there was Sergeant Mikilas' squad who were armed with four heavy bolters and Sergeant Xanthur's squad who bore four missile launchers. They were all relaxed and joking as if on a pleasant jaunt not dropping straight into combat.

He turned and looked at his own Squad checking their readiness, brothers Furion, Jediah, Halis Paur and Daite were busy checking and rechecking their multi-meltas. Daite's augmetic arms were moving smoothly as pistons as his metal hands worked the fuel lines.

Besides them Novak was polishing his rapier, completely disregarding all weapon safety protocols as the shining steel shimmered the in the ruddy light from the inferno outside. Persion seemed to be sleeping in his jostling cage as the antenna of his enhanced vox array snapped back and forth like a whip yet Toran knew that he was completely aware of all that transpired around him.

Finally Toran turned to the last cage and looked at his newest recruit, brother Bylan standing apprehensively in his cage, looking uncomfortable in his newly issued mark VII plate. This was his first deployment as a full initiate and it showed in his repeated glances and restless fidgetting. Toran struggled to remember how it had felt to be so green but then his road to ascension had not been so fraught as Bylan's.

Brother Bylan had once been rejected from the scouts, not for any failings on his part but because of tragic genetic incompatibilities in his respiratory tract. He had been doomed to life as a serf until he had intervened to save Toran's life; the deed (and a pair of augmetic lungs) had seen him readmitted to the scouts.

Many of the Masters had opposed such an act and Toran had been forced to personally plead for Bylan to be given a chance. The Sergeant had done nothing else to bias the youth's chances and the Marine had ascended entirely on merit. Unfortunately from Toran's point of view the experience had left Bylan with a bad case of Hero worship.

The Sergeant yelled over the rattling of the fuselage, "Brother, have you completed all your checks?"

Bylan replied with the groaning wheeze of mechanical lungs and the harshness of a voice synthesiser, "+Yes master, I stand prepared+"

Toran sighed, "Bylan, I have told you I am your Sergeant now, you do not have to call me Master anymore."

"+It seems disrespectful+" replied Bylan.

"Well you are one of us now" said Toran, "Act like it."

From further down the racks Novak called out, "If he is an equal then let us have a wager, my second favourite combat blade against your virgin bolt pistol says I kill more rebels than you do!"

Next to him Persion said without opening his eyes, "Hardly fair, you have decades more experience than he does."

"Ah" replied Novak "But to make it interesting I shall use only my rapier!"

"You only say that because you are such a terrible shot" laughed Persion, "I bet the Ork skull I claimed on Glaeba against that shiny sword of yours that bolter to bolter young Bylan can wipe the grin off your old face!"

"Old?!" gasped Novak

Persion chuckled at the indignation in his tone and said, "I hate to break it to you brother but you are no longer the youngest face in the squad."

Novak turned to his squad mates and said, "Daite care to wade in, any visions about who will claim the greatest tally."

Daite sounded vexed as he replied, "You know it doesn't work like that."

Persion quipped, "Good job too or you would own all our armour and we would be forced to go into battle naked!"

Bylan didn't seem to know how to cope with the banter of Marines he had worshipped from afar all his life and Toran leaned in and said, "Pay no mind to them, when combat hits you will see their brotherhood in action."

Any further conversation was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Ninth Captain Phalros dropping into the troop bay from the cockpit. His artificer armour was gleaming with gold embellishments and his helm was crowned with a transverse crest, on one arm he bore the bulk of a power fist and at his belt was glorious bolt pistol.

He straightened up and said, "My ears must be deceiving me, I thought I heard my pious space marines engaged in the vices of ribaldry and gambling."

Toran answered him, "Just a little competitive rivalry to whet the brother's appetite for battle sir."

Phalros chuckled and said, "Well that is acceptable; now give me your eyes."

Everybody in the Thunderhawk fixed their gaze upon him as he declared, "As you all know in 983.M41 the governor of Angle's Landing announced this world's secession from the Imperium and declared himself the new god of the populace. Governor Brendan the Mad has been declared a heretic most foul and the Storm Heralds have claimed the honour of spearheading the Imperial assault, as is our right we shall be the first to set foot on this heretic world."

He was interrupted by a sudden jolt from all around and a change in pitch as the gunship swept through the Stratopause into the thicker air below. The ruddy light outside the viewportals faded to a pale blue and the engines changed tone as they switched to atmospheric flight.

Phalros steadied himself then activated a Hololith which displayed a large urban zone centred around a massive Fortress which doubled as the Governor's Palace. The Captain declared, "The Thunderlord has already reduced all major population centres to ash save the capital city and its adjoining spaceport which are too well void shielded to bombard. Fourth Company has inserted via drop pod just outside the shield umbrella and will break open the defence perimeter then proceed to capture the spaceport. The squads from Seventh and Ninth Companies will act as a mobile reserve, supporting the Battle Company and allowing them to secure the landing zones."

He paused to let that sink in then continued, "Whilst the Imperial Guard lands their forces at the spaceport we drive hard for the Palace. Captain Jossat has boasted that Fourth Company will have the Governor's head in their hands before the Guardsmen can even fire their first shot."

The gathered Space Marines were far too disciplined to gripe and moan but their sudden stiffness was their own way of protesting that yet again a Battle Company would take all the glory while they sat on the side-lines. Phalros was aware of their thoughts and said, "Worry not, the advanced scouts report Brendan the Mad has spent the last two years building up his thug armies to an impressive size including turning all local industry to the production of arms and fighting vehicles. Doubtless our skills will be sorely needed and there will be plenty of glory to go around this time."

The squads brightened up and Toran raised his voice to ask, "Captain are there any indications of the presence of Chaos on the planet?"

Phalros replied, "None detected, all signs point to this being just a pitiful civil rebellion."

Novak chipped in, "Well this should prove easy then."

Brother Furion spoke up at that comment and declared, "Do not be reckless, the galaxy is littered with the graves of Astartes who though they were in for an easy victory."

Phalros nodded in agreement, "Listen to your wise brother, I expect each of you to uphold the honour of Ninth Company this day. Our mission is to support Fourth Company and help them achieve their objectives, remember we may be separate companies but we are one Chapter, one brotherhood."

He began the ceremonial litany of the Chapter's avowed creed, "We are mankind's contempt for the Xenos, the bane of Chaos and the heretic's lament. We are the thunder that rolls between the night and the dawn; we are the lightning that burns away the corrupt: we are the Emperor's Storm."

The assembled squads replied with the time honoured war cry of the Chapter, "We are His wrath!"