Well, after so long I am back in the Warhammer section of fanfiction. This time taking on the Imperial Guard, something I have been tossing around for a while. This story will be based off of the sector created by Fantasy Flight Games, though there is one part where I have to disagree with them, but that will be later in the story. Without further hold ups, let the story begin.
The aquamarine blue lightning squall began again outside of the Valkyrie windows. The flashes illuminated the inside of the transport as the detachment sat in near silence. Each one was strapped into their seats while they trusted their pilot's skill to get them to their destination safely. Six of them wore a deep forest green carapace suit with their helmets handing by their side, while a seventh was garbed in deep crimson robes obscuring his armor. The sound of a lighter clicking open and shut was the only sound distraction from the crack of lightening and the roar of the engines.
The whine coming from outside their compartment began to change tone and as if commanded by an unknown force, the six attached their helmets and locked the environmental seals on the breathers attached to their helmets. The planet they were descending upon was far from toxic, it was done out of much needed habit rather than need.
The one with the red robe began speaking in the Martian Dialect to the large occupant near the exit ramp. The Chimera Troop Transport was covered with seals and parchments displaying three centuries of service with honor. A thin man who looked like a rail began to crawl up the external ladder and entered in the panicle hatch of the transport. Seconds later the growl of the harsh motor roaring to life filled the chamber, each of the soldiers dampening the noise with the deadear pieces attached in their helmets as they began their final descent.
One with painted obsidian raven wings on the side of her helmet looked out the view port to the ramshackle fortress they were approaching. 'Fort Dasios' was little more than a collection of ramshackle tents inside the ruins of a once proud town of stone works. Makeshift barricades draped in symbols of the Aquila erected a week prior as the Imperial forward base of operations was the only distinction of this being a military base.
"Lieutenant Ridell, we are approaching the landing site. Disembankment in thirty seconds, Valkyries two and three are delayed due to the storm. ETA four minutes after us." The sound of the pilot entered into the command vox inside Ridell's helmet.
"Affirmative." Switching to her squad channel, Ridell barked her orders. "We disembark in thirty seconds. Rest of the platoon will later than expected, though I doubt the Major in charge of this regiment would be so keen as to let us wait for them. I want all weapons primed and at combat rest when we land. Though we are distant from any sign of combat, the Janissaries must know we are prepared for what they have planned for us."
A chorus of ayes followed by the sounds of hotshot lasguns priming for action along with the click of Bendek's grenade launcher chambering a frag round replied her demands. The aircraft shook as they landing gear extended out and they landed ungracefully in to the muddy grass.
The hatch opened and the first two soldiers filed out with weapons at a half raised position. One bearing the symbols of a medic made the gesture that all was clear and the Chimera was the next, followed by Ridell and the other three soldiers.
The Janissaries were there waiting for them, or at least the poor bastards who were assigned to guard duty in this hellish weather. Their blue greatcoats tossed around in the wind, pelting droplets of rain soaked them from head to toe. Their faces were hidden behind silver death masks of a minor Imperial saint, leaving their faces unreadable as her own squad's. "This is the 37ths Janissaries' landing platform, by orders of Major Gram only regimental and support craft will land. By what right do you do so?"
Ridell gestured to the grinning skull on her shoulders, and instantly the patrolman snapped to a salute. Ridell returned the salute sharply before reaching down to her belt to produce a long silver tube. "By the command of the 333rd Cadian Shock Trooper Grenadier Regiment- First Kasrkin Platoon. Colonel Malak sends his regards to the Major along with the regret of being only to spare a platoon. Fighting against the greenskins on the neighboring Hanno has been troublesome enough."
"Orks, traitors, heretics… there is never a dull moment when you are around is there, Lieutenant?" Her medic Christian Dunn inquired with a cheeky smile she could sense under his helmet. The way the question was broached brought a chuckle that almost escaped her lips before she squashed it. One of the guards ran back to camp to clarify the orders while the other one watched the small command squad.
"Indeed, but the Severen Dominate poises the most threat in the Spinward Front. Orks simply crush all in their way and make it clear what their stance is on the civilian population. Chaos twists everything to an obvious degree I can tell what to put a lasguns discharge in. These traitors who defect make it hard to tell between ally and enemy." She replied as the rain hit her helmet like the patter of a sheet metal roof.
"Agreed. You always have preferred a more direct fight against a known enemy." Their heavy weapons expert Mattel said as he hefted his heavy flamer closer to his face so his lho stick could get a proper light. He took a deep inhale of the narcotic smoke before coughing.
"What did I say about smoking in my presence, Private Mattel?" Ridell asked with an inquiry tone in her voice. The trooper grumbled a few words under his breath and opened his lho tin for the other members to take a smoke while offering the pilot light as an impromptu lighter given that his normal one would probably extinguish in the wind.
The first sentry came running back with the orders in his hands. He gave a quick salute before handing the orders back to Ridell who had just taken her first drag from the stick. "Ma'am, Major Gram has authorized you clearance to the base as well as the rest of your platoon. You are to find your lodgings in the eastern wing of the base. Once you are settled in he expects to see you at the command center with all haste."
Ridell clicked her feet together, made the sign of the Aquila on her chest with a slight appreciative nod before she ordered her squad to follow her from behind. Before them was a sprawling, ramshackle collection of tents and vehicles, all sunk slightly into the muddy grass. The outpost sentries clutched their lasguns tightly, briefly looking over the Cadians and then staring back out into the open plains of Virbius intently. All around them, guardsmen were cleaning their weapons and inspecting their vehicles, though a few pause for a moment to give the newcomers a distrustful glance. In the distance, a confessor was evenly chanting a catechism, praying to the Emperor for an ignoble and horrific death to the enemies of Mankind.
"Lovely place. I guess this is what the Death Korps of Krieg considers vacation." The buzzed voice of their Eingseer Thrax chimed in. For all of his knowledge of the machines and the spirits that move them, Thrax had a very mediocre concept on deadpanned humor. He was however, just deadpan.
"Don't be silly. The Kriegers would add some ornamentation to liven the place up. A few lynched traitors would be…" The joke died on Christian's lips as he turned a corner to see three corpses strung up around the neck by iron links of chain. Dressed in the red and white livery of an ancient Terran culture, the executed men bore the placards bearing the word 'secessionist' around their feet. Even a passing glance told that these men died slowly. Blood covered their faces and the ground beneath them, their wrists and ankles showed signs of struggle. No broken necks for a clean death, this was little more than strangulation by the will of gravity. "Poor bastards."
"We can't show them mercy. They turned their backs to the Imperium and the immortal God Emperor. Only he can show mercy in the next life." The driver of the Chimera, Specialist Tylor, chimed in as he parked the armored troop carrier next to the tents they would be calling home. A drab color with buttoned windows that provided little more than shelter against the rainstorms and wind. It was by no means comfortable, but it was practical.
Untethering the opening, Ridell entered into the fiberboard planked floor and spied the cot furthest away from the opening. She placed down her knapsack and the other members did likewise with Thrax taking the cot closest to the door. Despite Mattel's prodding and sly comments, the techpriest still did need to sleep rather than plugging himself into an electrical outlet though his sensors still worked and if there was some unknown intruder he could react first.
Christian and Mattel took the middle two bunks while the remaining two Storm Troopers took the bunks near the rear of the large tent. In the center there was a promethium fueled stove, providing a surprising amount of heat all factors considered. Bendek sealed the tent flap behind them and removed his own helmet as the other Cadians did similarly. The clicks of environmental seals giving way filled the tent as the rumble of thunder rolled out side. The rain began to pick up in ferocity, the plastic and canvas hybrid began to press inward as the pressure from the tempest tested it. "Figures, the onetime rain comes to this desolate part of the planet, we are caught in the center of it."
"Quit your complaining, Private. Compared to some of the other worlds we have fought on, this looks like a simple enough deployment." Christian's dark hazel eyes met the olive green ones of Bendek both of them removing the backpack batteries for the hotshot lasguns. "At least the wildlife isn't trying to kill us for once."
"How could I forget that accursed jungle planet Belisarius Primus? I sweat enough to fill a lake, lost three men to eyerot, trees so thick I couldn't squeeze through them, and lost two sets of boots to the damned mud. I think our guide was having the time of his life as we spent so much time searching for that ork base." Ridell said as she shook her obsidian black hair as it came free from the helmet. "Still, the local warboss was eliminated and we progressed onto new battlefields."
Mattel cracked a humorless smile and warmed his hands by the stove. "Agreed, now we are summoned to this backwater world from perhaps the most important warzone in the sector. Lieutenant, do we have anything in the way of information about this planet?"
"Only what I caught in the briefing. This world is to be the Imperium's forward base for the push further into the Dominate's held territory. As for the world itself, there are bike mounted barbarian tribes which seem to be the decedents of the old kilometer high cities that now lay in ruin. If/when we conquer this world and the populace are back into the Imperial fold, several regiments will be tithed to add some much needed manpower to this war."
"Biker barbarians? That is certainly a sight to be seen how the Omnissiah blesses such machinery to work far from the volcanic foundries of mars." Thrax interjected. The rest of the squad mumbled some forms of agreement. They removed most of their gear, save their armor, sidearm and close quarter weapon. Many Imperial Guard commanders would have chastised the Kasrkin for being careless with their weapons, but the soldiers were no fools. If they needed to move from the tent, they would be ready and they would be well within reach if they needed to draw them in a moment's notice.
For the next hour, the squad either cleaned their weaponry or directed the incoming platoon to their future homes for the foreseeable future. The rain came and gone within the hour with ankle deep puddles, but the lighting storms of the planet would persist with a certainty. As war was humanity's damnation, purpose, and salvation, so too was the storms for Virbius.
As Ridell finished seeing that the last soldier under her command was moved to the tent they would occupy, a runner came from the command structure near the center of the base came for her. Apparently the Major was getting frustrated with her not reporting in immediately after they were shown their quarters. Rolling her eyes once the runner had departed with her word that she and her squad would be there immediately, she began to shout a series of obscenities and threats to her squad to get ready for a briefing. They were particularly aimed Bendek who was already trying to cheat the Janissaries out of their pay in a tarot game.
Once they were back in their full armor and weapons at their sides, they sloshed through the muddy puddles as they worked their way to the command center. The Janissaries appeared to be making themselves ready for another offensive against the Dominate. Many were cleaning their weapons and vehicles for whatever was to be expected. Abhumans were also preparing their gear, from the massive ogryn restoring their brutal weapons to the diminutive ratlings who were busy zeroing in their long range rifles.
The command structure was a sandstone structure that had a cobbled look like the rest of the camp but the automatic door and added security of three guards stationed around the building set it apart. Pressing the activation rune on the door, the squad was met with a blast of hot air followed by the stale loh stick smoke. They entered into a command center with piles upon piles of paperwork, tactical readouts, half-finished mugs of recaff and an ashtray full of smoke butts.
At the center is a huge, bald man sitting behind a small desk, his face knotted in concentration, pouring over paperwork as an auto quill furiously scratches away beside him. His uniform is blue and crumpled, instantly it gave the impression that he had slept in it. He stands and regards the new arrivals with a steely-eyed glare.
Ridell snapped to attention and the squad followed suit. "Lieutenant Ridell Sturnn of the 333rd Cadian Grenadier regiment."
The Major returned their salute with a snap. "You may be seated," he bellowed, "I am Major Garm of the 37th Maccabian Janissaries, and for the duration of this mission I'll be your commanding officer." Colonel Garn retrieves a pointer from the desk, and turns to face the large map on his wall. "The Battle for Virbius has not been going well." Before them laid a table-large map dozens of small, black Xs. "The Severan Dominate forces on this planet have been waging a particularly brutal guerrilla campaign against us, but we think we may have found the man responsible. Imperial intelligence believes that they have located General Harvax Scarus somewhere in this mountain range."
The Major took his pointer and swatted the map with a resounding crack. "In the morning, the 37th will be launching a major offensive against the General and his forces. Meanwhile, your orders are to find the General and capture or kill him. You will be well behind enemy lines and are required to maintain vox silence for the duration of your mission. Yours will be the third squad we have sent after the General, and you are expected to set off at dawn. Any questions?"
"Major, do not take offense to this, but if two of your own squads could not find the general, what makes you place faith in strangers?" Ridell asked after a considerable amount of time trying to phrase the question correctly in her head.
The Major growled, but it was not done in an insulted tone. "You are Kasrkin, some of the best the Imperium has to offer for the fight. When the common soldier fails, you stand and fight even when there is no chance of victory. I do not doubt the competence of my own men, but there are situations to which they are best suited. These lost squads weigh heavily on my men and if I were to assign another one, we would lose valuable manpower needed for this offensive."
"We are expendable in his eyes is what he wants to say." Mattel said over the com link in their helmets. Thrax gave a mechanical laugh, though it sounded more like a cough. Speaking to the Major, Mattel changed to a different train of thought. "It will take a month, perhaps even more to find the General in the mountain range, perhaps even longer to find one base on what appears to be a continent wide mountain range. Where would we be supposed to start our search?"
"From what we have gathered it must be in a nearby mountain, either that or the traitors must have a forward outpost. Find and eliminate patrols or their rumored convoy to gain the needed intelligence to find that exact location. As in the way of rations I will be sure to give your squad a month's worth. If there are no other questions, you objectives and their priority are as follows."
"Primary Mission: locate and capture or kill Dominate Commander Harvax Scarus. Secondary Mission: disrupt Dominate supply lines and destroy any Dominate forces encountered. Tertiary Mission: locate the most recent missing squad. General Orders: maintain vox silence while behind enemy lines." The Major clearly liked the sound of his own voice and the squad only truly focused on the important exposition and filtered out talks of how damned the traitors were.
They heard the speech before many times, after all they were not Storm Troopers just for their collections of Ork teeth, amsac caps and gelt.
Once the briefing was finished, Ridell was given a list of what the major though they would need for the trip. The squad reattached their helmets, sealed the environmental locks and headed back outside. The offensive preparations were kicked into high gear as soldiers were going back and forth from various positions. Many did not pay them any heed, those that did looked away with disgust. "Look at them. They think we are beneath them, not worthy to scrub the grime from the soles of their boots."
"Indeed." Ridell replied to Christian over the secure vox line between their squad. "The Janissaries are a type of regiment that hail from a particularly pious world. To them we are outsiders who do not share their fervor and bring unwanted company." She jerked a thumb to Thrax, who muttered a curse in binary as he crossed his augmented arms. "Regardless, we have our orders. I will head for quartermaster and work the red tape to get this equipment. The rest of you grab food, rest, or information. Anything to give us a better idea on this wild grox chase would be a blessing sent by the Emperor."
The squad parted to their separate ways, though Ridell did not immediately head to the requisition 'office' which was a tarp-covered area sandwiched in between two support vehicles. She walked to a sparsely populated area of the camp and looked over her shoulder to make sure none were looking. She reached into an ammunition pouch and pulled free a vial full of a red liquid that slurred around as she primed it.
It was obscura, and all of the training in the Imperium of Man could not train her for the horrors she had witnessed. Not even being the niece to one of Cadia's most famous generals could prepare her. Dead rising from their graves, infants eaten like snacks to hungry orks, and other things that would cause lesser individuals to develop a taste for the business end of their laspistol. The obscura, of course, did not make the universe a better place. However, it did take the edge off the pain.
She stabbed the tube into her left arm and felt the narcotic eat into her bloodstream. She pulled out the canister and tossed it to the ground before stomping on it to destroy all of the evidence. The penalty for use of this drug was grave, but addicts will be addicts.
She rolled down her sleeve and made her way to the quartermaster as the dream like stages of the drug began to set in. She made a mental note to find some more soon, she was down to her last three doses.
