Just Another For His Glorious Name

The date is 999 M41 (999th year, 41st millennium.) and just about 4 months ago, the Battle of Terminus had Begun. The Cadian's had won the decisive victory for the war and after that, the Heretics were being pushed off of the Planet. We were part of the Cadian 98th, and were ready to take on the Xeno's and Heretics that beset Cadia.

"Hey, Matt! Wake up! The Commissar is calling for a meeting!

I groaned, turning over in an attempt to drown out the voice attempting to wake me from my slumber.

"C'mon, Man. Get up, before the Commissar gets impatient."

Ah yes, the Commissar. Yarrick, I believe his name was. Not really a pleasant man, but not the worst that I've had the pleasure to meet. Well, at least as ok of a man a Commissar could get. Last thing I need is him yelling at how I had "Failed the Emperor By not being ready and able to fight in his glorious name."

I groan again, but sigh as I get up. "Alright, alright. I'm up." I get off the bed, and stretch as I say "Give me a moment; I still need to get suited."

As Anton & I head out, he points at the crowd gathered in front of one the many Leman Russ battle tanks.

"Look, we arrived just in time to hear the Commissar brief the men."

"Ah, Sergeant Mathews." The Commissar's drawl did not help in my opinion of him. "How nice of you to join us." The Commissar seemed to smile in a way that only a Commissar could, noticing my arriving.

"Now that the Sergeant has arrived, we can properly begin." He started "Now, Command has given our Company orders to move and support the push into the heart of Terminus." He finished "that is all. Any questions?" no one answered. "Good. Oh, and you should know, for the duration of the assault, High command has graced with the presence of a Lord Commissar." The moment I heard that, I stopped in my tracks. I could hear men whisper in surprise to that. I wonder. 'Oh frak. If they sent us a Lord Commissar, then Command must be getting desperate.'

The Commissar yelled, breaking the whispers. "Hey! No dawdling! Get into your tanks and get ready to move!"

"Sergeant!" My driver, Michael, ran over whilst looking somewhat pale. "Matt!"

"What?" I ask. Worriedly, I looked around. "And be careful, Damnit. I don't want you executed for misuse of proper rank."

"The rest of the crew is worried." Micheal stated, seemingly ignoring what I had said.

"About what?" I got a little worried. nothing really shakes my crew, so I wondered what could worry them.

"The Lord Commissar, Sir. What should we do?"

I got the feeling that it was more that it was Michael that was worried than the crew. Most of us have seen our fair number of battles, and have had the luck to be 'graced' to fight alongside a Lord Commissar. Although, Michael was still a young man. And although he could drive & Serve the Emperor faithfully, he had not actually been in a battle where such a decorated & high ranking leader was sent to 'Grace us with his presence'.

"Well, as long as you follow orders and stay faithful to the Emperor. You'll do fine." I said. "Just, don't run. Commissars hate that, and it usually wouldn't end well for ones health."

Mikhail seemed to look somewhat relieved, but still a little pale.

"Alright, sir." Michael said. He turned to leave, but stopped. He turned to me and said "Oh, and sir? Thank you."

I smiled at that. "Anytime." I always had something of a need to watch over the boy. And I wasn't the only one either. The whole crew felt the same way. And it wasn't just Michael either. We all were protective of each other, and watched each other's backs. Sort of like a big family.

'You know,' I realized 'Since we drive a Stormblade, the Lord Commissar may want to "Requisition" the tank as a Command Vehicle.

Shaking off that horrifying thought, I started to order my crew. "Men! Let us get Xenobane up and ready for action."

"Boris!" I yelled "Make sure that the tanks Holy Machine spirit is ready for battle."

"Of course, Sire."

"Everyone else, make sure your station is clear and ready for combat!" I yelled. "And if you need something from Boris, be it help with your station, or a blessing from the Omnissia, just ask."

I smiled as I looked at my crew prepare for battle. I was quite proud of them, seeing as they were some of the best men a sergeant could ask for. They trusted me, and in turn, I trusted them. We piloted the Emperor's greatest, an Almighty Stormblade, which had been named 'Xenobane' for its- sorry, our, history with battling Xenos.. With me and my crew piloting her, we could take on whatever the Heretic, Mutant and Xenos could come up with.

Of the crew, there was me, Mathew Anatovka. I was the commander of 'Xenobane'; none could save themselves from the wrath of my tank and her crew.

Anton was my gunner. By Terra, the Man was an amazing shot, and anything that crossed his sights did not usually last long.

Michael was my driver. The boy always had an aptitude for driving. And it seemed that joining the Imperial Guard only focused that. He was the reason we could get on target and annihilate our foes. Despite all the firepower the Storm blade had; it couldn't move its turret. This meant that in order to fire at a different target, the whole tank had to move. Fortunately, Michael rose to the challenge, and so far, we haven't had a problem.

Boris was our Techpriest. He maintained all of the tank's functions and kept its machine spirits battle lust calm until it would be needed on the field of battle. He usually blessed our ammunition daily with holy oil straight from Mars.

We kept him in the tank during battle to maintain the Plasma generator that powered Xenobane's massive main cannon. Being more of a use than to just repair the tank and calm the Machine Spirit seemed to really help our relationship with the Techpriest. He was actually quite outgoing, in his own sort of way.

Then, there is our Remote Gunner Jason. Jason controlled the secondary armaments of the Tank. He had somehow managed to (According to Boris.) get Xenobane's Machine Spirit to have something of a crush on him. Yeah. That's right. He had somehow managed to get the machine spirit of a 310 ton, 6 meter tall Tank to have a crush on him. Fortunately for him, Boris and I are the only ones who know.

Last but not least, there is my Vox Communicator, Nikolay. Man was great with the Vox, and since Xenobane held a large amount of (complicated) communication devices, he often worked alongside Boris.

"C'mon lad's!" I yelled to the crew. "We need her ready, preferably before the Commissar does his final rounds!"

"Men! Gather around." The Commissar called. "The Lord Commissar shall be arriving soon, and I want this unit to look presentable!"

"Yes Sir!" the other tank men yelled.

Moving quickly, the tanks moved into a double line formation with 20 Leman Russ' facing each other with their cannons raised. At the end of the line there were 2 Baneblades in the same formation as the Leman Russ tanks, but the cannons were facing forward as normal. At the very end of the line, there was us. Xenobane stood there, in all her magnificent glory, with me looking out the top hatch.

Then, the Heaven's seemed to part as a ship came down under the clouds, slowing to land. It landed at the end of the two lines, and slowly opened its hatch.