"A drop practically from orbit, into Durram, which is held completely by the enemy, with no intelligence about said enemy except that they are Orks. And we're supposed to establish an LZ, fight the enemy off and then wait for our own reinforcements to arrive, which could take days. You Storm Troopers are bloody mental."

"In the 4379th Storm Trooper Regiment, sir, you aren't considered a true veteran until you've done a proper Terminal-Velocity jump."

"Why is it called Terminal-Velocity, Sergeant?"

Because you're going in a direction. Down. And its usually terminal, sir."

"Oh, I congratulate whoever invented that moniker Sergeant, it's very sanguine."

"Thank you sir, you'd best double check those straps, I'm gonna get to my own pod now."

"Wait! Thank you Sergeant. You give 'em hell if I don't make it down, and tell your men that too. The Emperor protect you."

"Thank you sir, but you'll make it down, we all will, Emperor willing."

Klaus Korvydae tugged on the buckles which restrained him inside the drop-pod. He was in a complicated harness which he had let Sergeant Arta secure rather than trying it himself. The Sergeant took the pod next to Klaus and quickly and efficiently secured his own straps. Klaus marvelled at the Sergeant's efficiency and seeming bravery in the face of the danger looming on them. These Storm Troopers were good, but not as good as a Commissar.

Klaus had barely needed to think about their morale since he had joined them, the men were so dedicated to the Emperor they didn't let anything get them down. If they had any doubts about the operation they were about to attempt, which Klaus doubted, they didn't show them. They were damned good soldiers, though they were needlessly wasting their lives.

This operation was completely ridiculous, in Klaus' opinion. One company of Storm Troopers were going to drop to the surface in their drop-pods. Once down they were to distract the Orks long enough for an armoured column to engage the Orks' eastern flank and push them back, relieving the Troopers. Klaus didn't believe for a second that it would work, but it wasn't up to him, and an officer supposed to inspire his men wouldn't duck out a dangerous operation, so Klaus was about to attempt the most dangerous operation a soldier could perform.

"One minute to launch." Came a servitor's robotic voice over the pod's internal feed. Klaus shifted his body, so that he could check if his chainsword and bolt pistol were still secured in their holsters. He also made sure he could reach the quick-release switch by his left hand. If he landed in one piece, he could hit that button and the door would blow off and his straps would go slack. Then, hopefully, he could find some cover and wait for the Storm Troopers to clear out the enemy.

"Thirty seconds to launch." The servitor intoned, and the three inch steel cover slid onto the drop-pod. Klaus had a small viewport about a half a foot long and high, and all he could see was the corridor that the drop-pods were arrayed on each side of.

One hundred Storm Troopers were going to deep-strike in, and Klaus had guessed that probably about a quarter would die in the drop, and he doubted any of them would make it through the mission. He could imagine how the men in the drop would die, their pod would lose control, spin, flop, anything. Their braking thrusters wouldn't slow them down enough, or might even speed them up, and they would crash into the ground with a crack of disintegrating metal and a piercing scream. Klaus hadn't seen it first-hand, but the Schola taught its recruits of the horrors of war. That, and his experience on Corona had taught him how a dying man could sound. Klaus gave a nostalgic grimace, those were the days before he chose the Schola, he had never regretted it, but he did sometimes wonder how they were faring; the 356th Kartan Infantry.

He especially wondered how she was faring.

He put her out of his mind, she was either dead or still fighting somewhere, and that was seven years ago, he was a Commissar now, and he needed to focus on his company. He sent a quick prayer for everyone in the 356th to the Emperor, then took a deep breath.

"Ten seconds to drop." A human voice this time, a female rating. She would be the one who was about to pull the levers that released them. "Give 'em hell boys. Five seconds to drop."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"One. Drop."

Klaus felt the judder, and the quick slithering sound of the pod falling out of its cradle in the bottom of the cruiser. He suddenly felt weightless. The drop-pods were launched in orbit, and each one contained a mini minicomputer locked onto the right target.

Through the viewport he could no longer see the inside of the ship, just an inky blackness that he knew to be space. For less than a minute he was weightless, but slowly he began to feel the pull of gravity. In an ironic display of physics, he felt his body begin to strain at the straps where gravity was trying to pull him upwards as his pod hurtled down.

There was an altimeter next to the viewpoint, and it also showed the estimated time to landing. The countdown was reading a number much smaller than Klaus would have liked. He would reach the ground in around forty seconds. The braking thrusters would only activate for the last few thousand metres, so Klaus would probably reach terminal velocity before he started to slow.

The thought of the Storm Trooper moniker for the drop brought a wry smile to Klaus' lips, and he hoped they would survive the battle, even though the mathematician in him had worked out they wouldn't.

Klaus couldn't hear anything for a while longer, and then he heard – and felt – a rumbling beneath his feet. The pod began to shake violently, and Klaus' mind catapulted. This was the moment when most pods would spin out or flip, and if the Orks had any air defences, they would be firing them now. If his pod would hit, either the shell would crack and he would asphyxiate from the lack of oxygen in the air and the speed of the fall, or it would just topple him over and he would hit the ground.

Thinking about death, Klaus' whole body began to quiver and sweat beaded on his forehead. All he could see was blue out of the viewport, all he could hear was the rumble. All he could feel was the vibration of the pod as it was buffeted by the wind. The thought of impending doom from a source he could neither control nor know about frustrated Klaus. He prayed to the Emperor, thinking up as many litanies and blessings and callings he could remember from the Schola. Despite all his training about accepting death, he didn't want to die, and Klaus was a natural fighter, he would fight right to the end just for the slightest chance of escaping death.

Fortunately, his descent seemed to be fine, the altimeter was rapidly going down and the time to landing was about twenty seconds. Klaus fingered the quick-release button, and checked his pistol and chainsword again. In the last few seconds of the drop, when most of the danger was over, his nerves steadied, and his fighting spirit began to waken. He knew how to kill Orks, and when he landed, he would kill.

The counter moved to ten seconds, and Klaus tensed his body, then relaxed it again as a tensed body would just break under the strain from landing.

Klaus could still feel the rumbling beneath him, and suddenly it intensified, through the viewport he could see the ruins of a tall building of some kind.

Afterwards, Klaus couldn't really describe the moment of impact. All he really felt from his enclosed space was a big jolt that wrenched him up savagely. He banged his head on the top of the pod, and then everything went black.