"Get back! Get back!"
Commander Jenkins skidded to a halt.
"Back!" He screeched, firing wildly into the mouth of an approaching Tyranid. He covered his face as the beast spat and fell onto the barren (though once lush) ground. Jenkins grunted and slammed his Boltgun into a second Tyranid. Will they ever stop? This question plagued him and the rest of his men. All around him, the thunder of blazing guns continued.
"Fall back!"
Finally the thousands of Tyranids seemed to slow, giving many of Jenkins men the chance to run back. Their armour was heavy and stiff, making it reasonably hard for them to flee. Yet they did it. They finally escaped the thunderous clattering of Tyranid scythes, the thick, smoggy air that coated the area, the hiss and spit of even the smallest beast – the horror. For now at least.
Finally they had pushed the hordes of horrible creatures back.
"Sir?"
Jenkins turned to face a smaller man, his gun splattered with the remains of a lowly Termagant. "What?" Replied Jenkins, clearly not in the mood for light convocation.
"We need to get out of here. We need to just accept that this planet is –"
The man flinched as Jenkins smashed his fist into wall. "No!" Jenkins cried, "I shall never give up! No matter what happens!"
Again, the man flinched and shook his head. Madness, this is just madness.
"Sir –"
"No!" Jenkins snapped before the man could speak.
"Just hear me out!" The man cried, bloody tears falling from his hard eyes. This voice trembled through his rage as he spoke again,
"For everyone 1 Tyranid we kill, they kill 5 of our men! Our tanks are hacked and scalded. We are all tired and broken. We need to get out of here!"
Jenkins took a deep breath, calming himself. He rose and wiped his dirty face, stained with blood, although he was deeply unsure whose blood it was. His own, or theirs?
Slowly, Jenkins began pacing around the small, tattered camp they had been able to forge. It was nothing special. Nothing grand - for they all knew it would be destroyed soon enough anyway. He glanced over at his men. Many were huddled over each other, hiding their faces. Others were sleeping, crying, writing, or simply looking over the horizon where they knew their death would up appear. Jenkins sighed and turned back to his comrade. "Perhaps you are right…"
The once proud Space Marines had been torn down, turned into weaklings. But there was nothing anyone could do. No-one in the group had enough inner strength to lift their heads and force a smile. No-one had the ability to hope anymore. No-one could find happy thoughts in their heads.
All of that had been replaced. Replaced by the distant screams of the Tyranids.
Most of the equipment they owned had been destroyed. There was no form of escape. It seemed these men had been left here – to die. The most depressing thing about all this had risen to the surface:
They couldn't even do the most dishonourable thing. Flee.
"Incoming!"
"Shit!"
The men pulled themselves up and loaded their battered weapons. The firing began as the first Tyranids appeared.
And so the screeching began.
That aching screech. It would penetrate the brain and crush any speck of energy the men had.
"Fire at will"
So they did.
The first victims to the fleet were dragged away by Gargoyles and dropped onto Jenkins surviving men.
But still they fought on. Now – they couldn't even turn back and run. There was no where else for them to run.
The ground shook and the constant waves of Tyranids parted.
"Shit"
A monstrous Carnifex snarled and spat its acidous spit as he stormed through the parting. It took up its scythe-like arm and slammed down.
Jenkins shivered as his body was crushed. Every bone in his body turned into mush. Every vein was punctured. Every part of him was destroyed.
It was over – for him at least.