Ultramarines – Chapter 1 Tricks of the Trade
"You have been tested and found worthy of becoming one of the Emperor's finest - the space Marines."
The scout remembered fondly his initiation into the Space Marines. He had undergone the intense physical and mental training and modifications that had made him an Ultramarine; one of the Emperor's finest warriors. The space marines were super-human warriors; genetically modified to be stronger, faster and smarter than normal humans. Varren was one such man. He had recently been inducted into the Ultramarines chapter a scant five years ago from the very planet they had been sent to investigate now.
Tarsis Omega was a depressing planet. The world was a hive city, hab units and massive forges dotted the landscape like metal blemishes on a hard, rocky skin. It was not a pretty world, but it was never meant to be. The scouts had been spread into four groups of five and deployed to areas of debated Ork activity with the use of Thunderhawk gunships. It was standard deployment for the Ultramarines but they were assisted by the local planetary defense forces. 25 imperial guard troopers were dispatched in Chimera transports, but the vehicles were left behind as Varren's force moved into the forest.
A few hours passed and two of the scout squads had reported no sightings and returned to the strike cruiser that orbited the planet. Varren's squad and one other stayed behind to investigate further into the reports. Varren's sergeant, Benjamin, received a signal over the short range vox-net.
"Sergeant Benjamin!" A gruff voice announced over the channel, "Orks! Hundreds of them! We need reinforcements!"
It was Sergeant Roccane; his squad had suddenly and quickly been attacked by a huge group of Orks and Benjamin replied, telling him to hold tight and that he'd be there soon. The Imperial Guard had started to run in the direction of the other group when a blood curdling roar echoed from the woods directly ahead of them. Benjamin knew at that moment that they would not reach their brothers in time to help. A green tide of Orks burst through the underbrush and immediately set to cutting the Imperial Guard to ribbons. Some managed to retaliate with bayonets and lasgun shots, but it was too late.
Most of the group was decimated in seconds, even as the Ultramarines opened fire into the greenskins. The holy bolter shells that the scouts carried packed a bigger punch than the lasguns of the guard but even so the numbers of the Orks were overwhelming. Even if they survived, the scouts would run out of ammo before all the damned xenos were dead.
Still; they fought bravely and the commissar commissioned to the garrison of troops had managed to wrangle some semblance of order. The guard retreated into the woods as did the scouts and they moved just outside of the Orks range of fire. Benjamin knew that wouldn't last however, and so he had his scouts and the Commissar set up defensive firing lines. Even if they were to die they would do so fulfilling the Emperor's wishes. The scouts were set behind a large tree trunk that had fallen and the guard was in disciplined firing lines next to them. They could hear the guttural grunts and growls of the Orks as they maneuvered through the woods.
The first few Orks broke through the brush just to be mowed down by concentrated lasgun fire and precise shots from the three scouts with bolters. The cracks of the bolters were a dead giveaway for the greenskins and the nob that leaded the group snarled.
"Come on you gits! Get in dere and start krumpin!" The nob shouted in its disgusting dialect. He had been designated Killtoof' by the guard that had summoned for the Ultramarine's aid; he was supposedly one of the strongest in the mobs that have been spotted.
The Orks obeyed out of fear of the nob and ran for the defended position, several dozen of the foul creatures being mowed down without ever reaching the survivors. Only 15 guard and the 5 scouts still stood but they took a grim toll from the greenskins; easily killing more than three times their number, but they kept coming. An endless green tide and they hadn't received any news from the other group. Benjamin tried to contact them while still keeping precise aim on the xenos as only a space marine could. His bolt pistol didn't have nearly as much stopping power as a full size bolter but it could drop an ork from a decent range with a shot to the face. And Benjamin was an expert sniper.
Varren could hear guardsmen dying from stray Ork shots that managed to hit something. The din of the battle was horrible – loud cracks from the bolters and even louder noises from the Orks' looted guns. The creatures loved the sound of loud gunfire and the noise they were making now seemed to invigorate them even more. They were getting closer and in close combat an Ork was stronger than any normal human; they would be slaughtered.
"Sergeant! We need to move!" Varren shouted over the sound of guns.
"We stay brother!" Benjamin shouted in reply and continued to fire into the ork's ranks.
The imperial troops didn't even need to aim anymore – they were so many orks that any shot fired would hit something as long as you didn't aim at the clouds. It was a veritable killing field and the orks' corpses were beginning to form makeshift cover for their still living brethren. They advanced relentlessly and more orks were emerging from the woods and they quickly reached the defender's position. The guards rushed forward to assault the greenskins but they underestimated their strength. Most of the guard were slaughtered in just a few seconds, the orks' greater physical strength and crude hand weapons chopping the guardsmen to ribbons.
Benjamin watched the melee unfold and realized that the orks would destroy them if they stayed. A dozen guardsmen were not worth the life of a Space Marine and with that knowledge he ordered a tactical retreat. The scouts moved into the woods at a steady pace, remaining as quiet and unassuming as possible, and tried to slip into the shadows.
The greenskins soon finished butchering the guardsmen and started to loot their corpses, as well as those of the fallen orks, for anything that could be valuable. The ork nob killtoof' moved through the mob and grinned at the bloodshed. Fifteen dead guard and their commissar slain and gutted. The stench was wondrously horrible; blood gunpowder and bile from voided bowels. Battle was always Killtoof's favorite pastime. A smaller ork waddled up to him and spoke in a guttural series of grunts; the report was not good news.
"Fifteen dead guard Killtoof' but none of dem blue boyz." The ork said.
"Bah! Find 'em! I want dose boyz' heads on me bosspole by dinner!" killtoof' shouted.
Varren followed Benjamin closely and kept a close eye on the shadows. Space Marine scouts specialize in moving without being detected despite their size and had successfully managed to avoid being drawn into the furious melee. They found a small clearing and set up a sniping position; bolters were not the best sniping weapon but luckily they could still fire from a decent range. Benjamin ordered one of the scouts, Rocair, to call the Tribute to Light.
On the bridge of the strike cruiser a message was received by techmarine Martello.
"Captain, News from the scouts." Martello stated.
A figure clad in brilliant blue armor was seated in the command chair with his eyes closed. His hair was cropped close to his skull and was a deep brown. The holy artificer armor that the man wore was adorned with prayer tags and heraldry from his many battles; his right shoulder pad had a golden skull bearing a wreath – the honors from a crusade long ago. The left held a red field of fire with the ultramarines chapter symbol layered in a heavy silver plate, with a single golden tear drop in the middle. This somber man was Captain Curator. His real name was only known in the chapter records and the title curator had been given to him after his first battle. He was the lone survivor of a failed strike into the heart of a chaos marine stronghold. His squad had destroyed the chaos taint but all his brothers had died in the flight from the traitors. He opened his eyes, the left split by a large scar running from his forehead to his cheek.
"Play the message…" He said, his voice gravelly and heavy with the weight of centuries of battle.