Numbers of War

Chapter One

I

To be born on Volantis meant only one thing, and that was to accept life as a number, a single number that was recorded in a data file buried so deep that no one knew it was there. On a planet of more than one-hundred and ninety billion, that is all anyone ever was, just a number. The only way to become more was to rise to control of one of the many merchant households that control the planets economy, or to become the Lord Governor, which in all reality meant being a puppet of the most dominate merchant house at the time.

Death was a constant and a person could die in an alleyway at any time just by taking a wrong turn and getting lost and no one would know for years. To survive living in the lowest levels of a Hive world meant learning to kill without remorse. Where at the highest levels of the city the planets curvature is noticeable, killing was only conducted in the form of massive business deals and money exchanges. Most of the kids who grow up on Volantis join one of the merchant militias or gangs. The probability of dying increased but paid well enough to afford a small hab-unit in one of the lower level spires of the Hive, a life considerably better than trying to live off the streets.

Among the many exports of the merchant houses to other planets in other systems weeks of travel away, Volantis as a planet is known for one export only, soldiers. Soldiers whose urban combat abilities is rivaled by no other in the entire Imperium. In an empire of a million words, to stand out from the rest is an accomplishment like no other. They may not be the super soldiers of the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, the Imperium's finest soldiers, but by far the men who join the ranks of the Volantis Imperial Guard tithe are still second to none.

An average year sees a draft of around five-hundred thousand and a volunteer influx of nearly one and a half million kids looking for either a way off the planet to escape their poor life or those just wanting to serve in the Imperial Guard. An organization of billions of soldiers who are at the front lines in the defense of the Imperium, who fight wars on countless battlefields across the galaxy, they are the hammer that smashes away the foes of the Imperium of Man.

The months of training in urban combat that a recruit goes through is what sets Volantis regiments apart. They are one of the few planets who train their soldier's specifically in urban combat situations and are the best among those. Aside from their training, the uniforms of Volantis regiments have instilled fear in their enemies even before the fighting has started. All matte black combat fatigues, full faced rebreather masks with eye ports that glowed red and black steel helmets with the Imperial Aquila, the double headed eagle the symbol of the Imperium, prominent on the front. Each set of helmets, rebreathers, and combat fatigues are manufactured in their million each year, entire sections of the hive cities are dedicated to their production; factories and manufacturing plants so large that it takes hours to cross from one side to the other. The constant clang and hiss of the metal presses cause many of the workers to lose their hearing, but without those men and women, the soldiers would have nothing. It is a sacrifice they make so that many more may live in relative safety.

A full regiment marching in their founding parade is an intimidating sight, fifty thousand faceless soldiers marching in unison alongside their Chimera armored personnel carriers. Every year Volantis deploys nearly forty regiments. The parades last for hours and are kilometers long; the power that is wielded is breathtaking and for someone to have seen a larger portion of the Imperium knows that Volantis is only a fraction of a percent of the power that the Imperium of Man holds. Among one of those thousands of faceless soldiers was Master Sergeant Augustus McKenzie.

II

It was the first clear night, the first time there wasn't any clouds of smoke in the sky, there had been in several months over the city of Mallovium. It made him wonder whether or not it was a sign of some type. He found the small silver icon that hung from his neck on a chain and gripped it in his hand, feeling the tips of the wings press into his palm. Hoping that the clear night was not a sign. There was some comfort in seeing the night sky, a comfort that he didn't understand until he first left Volantis where there was no night sky, just the rusty orange glow the smog gave off. Still he knew that tonight would be just like the past week, just this time they would be able to see without the use of glow flares.

He heard footsteps behind him, but he put them out of his mind. He knew who it was; and continued to look up at the sky through the giant hole that had consumed the roof of the building he was in.

The footsteps were getting louder and he realized that he would soon have to talk to Corporal Denniston. It wasn't that he didn't like Denniston; just that he always had a positive look on everything. Sometimes he admired Denniston for his always positive outlook, and most of the time he tolerated it. But tonight he just was not in the mood to engage in a conversation with him.

"Well, what do you think of that Sergeant McKenzie?" Said Denniston, his voice a little raspier and drier than it normally was.

"Think of what Denniston? The sky?"

"Yes sergeant. Seems like forever since we last saw the stars over this city."

"It is nice to see it again, but the light the moons give off could be a problem. I'm sure that you have other tasks to be doing Denniston, what did you want?"

"Nothing important Sir Just wanted to offer you a cup of caffeine. Second squad found what appeared to be a tea house or something a couple of nights ago and found some bags of Vimaslikian brew."

"Never could afford it back home. Hopefully, it is a good as I've heard. Thanks."

"Not a problem Sir." Denniston saluted and hurried off to complete whatever other task he had been assigned to do by the chief medic.

McKenzie took a sip of the caffeine. It was hot and a little too bitter for his tastes but it would do. It was infinitely better than the standard issue Imperial Guard caffeine brew that he had forced himself to drink on every other deployment. However, he savored it, though it wasn't to his liking, it was likely the last cup that he would ever have.

He put the cup down on a desk and looked out the window, or where a window used to be. The courtyard that expanded in front of him was littered with bodies, both Volantians and enemy, and the occasional destroyed tank still spat out dark smoke. McKenzie picked up the cup and took another sip. It wasn't as hot anymore but still very bitter.

"How did this happen?" muttered McKenzie under his breath, as he continued to look out the window. He put down the cup and placed his rebreather mask back on. The recycled air had the familiar sent of being machine scrubbed clean, but after twenty years of service in the Volantis 975th Mechanized Regiment, it was a smell that he was used to. The vision ports on the mask had both a magnification ability as well as a night vision setting. Zooming in on a building on the opposite side of the courtyard he could see enemy movement through the red haze of the night vision.

Five weeks ago they had almost captured the city, and now they could barely hang on to a few blocks around the Governors palace. It took them three months to clear and secure the outskirts and refinery districts of the city. Three months of hard fighting and the deaths of so many good soldiers. All that changed with a single bullet.

An enemy assassin had managed to slip through the Imperial lines and find his way to the central headquarters. Form there all he had to do was wait. Wait for the commanding general to walk into his sights, and one bullet was all he needed to change the course of the war.

McKenzie knew that the chain of command was fractured even before the assassination. There had been fights among the top commanders as to who was going to succeed the commanding general after his tour was finished. With the death of the general, the chain of command fell apart. No one knew who was in charge and nearly all of the orders sent out from command one day where counter acted the next. It was total chaos, and that is exactly what the enemy wanted.

By the time the news of the general's assassination reached McKenzie and the remnants of his platoon, it was too late. The enemy had already began their counter offensive and with no command to issue orders, the Imperial lines began to collapse and the gains that took three months where gone in a matter of days.

Within those few days the losses that the Imperial forces suffered was catastrophic. Out of the original fifty soldiers in McKenzie's platoon only twenty-six remained, counting himself. The losses in other units were similar. The surprise at which the enemy assault occurred caught many units off guard and by the time they were able to form an effective defense many had lost a quarter or more of their men.

The days following in the initial assault saw blocks of the city fall to enemy forces. In four days they had pushed Imperial forces within ten blocks of the governor's palace. Now they Imperial forces where only four blocks out and holding on with the nails on their fingers.

III

"INCOMING!" McKenzie heard a trooper on the floor above him yell. He wasn't sure who it was but it did not matter to him. There were several low thumps off in the distance and he knew that they were enemy mortars.

Instinctively McKenzie grabbed his lascarbine off the desk and ejected the current clip and slammed home a fresh one. He had no time to check if the previous one was fully charged or not, he would rather know he had a fresh clip then find himself out of ammunition when the enemy charge came.

He threw himself against the wall under the window and hunched down so that he could not see out it, he knew what was coming. A few seconds later the first mortar shells exploded only meters in front of his building in the courtyard. The enemy had underestimated the distance needed, they would not make the same mistake again, and the next barrage would hit his building.

"KEEP YOUR HEADS DOWN AND FIND A WALL!" bellowed McKenzie to the troopers that were on the same floor. There were more thumps, the next barrage was incoming. The mortar shells impacted on the roof of the building and exploded creating more holes. He didn't know how many barrages the enemy would fire at their building but he was certain that they would charge the building regardless.

More thumps and more explosions, each lighting the courtyard with a blinding white light for only a fraction of a second. McKenzie hugged the wall as the mortar shells impacted around him, both in the courtyard and the roof. One shell fell through the hole in the roof and detonated on the floor above him. He heard the screams for a medic and hoped that Corporal Denniston would get there in time. The more soldiers that he had the easier it would be to defend the building.

Then it came, the one sound that McKenzie dreaded even more than the thumps of the mortar tubes. It was a whistle followed shortly after by a roar of dozens of enemy soldiers.

"GET READY! HERE THEY COME AGAIN!" Yelled McKenzie.

Activating the night vision on his vision visor he could see the enemy troops storming across the courtyard towards his building. They all looked the same through the red haze of the night vision. Their tattered and torn uniforms from dozens of different Guard regiments and Planetary Defense Forces from across the Imperium were covered in blood both fresh and dried for years. The soldiers resembled nothing of who they used to be, some were so scarred and mutilated that calling them human was a stretch. He knew that most of the mutilation was intentional and self-inflicted but McKenzie didn't care. What truly bothered him was the symbol that each of the enemy soldiers wore either in blood on their uniform or carved into the skin. The eight pointed star of Chaos, humanities most hated enemy in the galaxy.

Alive or dead they were the enemy and for him faces or what was left of them didn't matter. He came from a planet where growing up he was only a number even his own regiment the 975th all wore rebreather masks most of the time, the only distinctive markings where on the uniforms, mainly rank insignias or nick-names scratched on to helmets. McKenzie felt no remorse for killing his foe, it was his sworn duty to eradicate Chaos where it was found and to him they were just numbers that is all anyone was to him, just a number.

On the floor above the repeating boom of the platoons remaining heavy bolter began, throwing massive fist-sized explosive shells into the courtyard. McKenzie saw several enemy soldiers get hit and watched as the shells detonated inside them, showering those near him in his intestines and other internal organs that where now in small chunks. Still they pushed on towards the building McKenzie and his platoon were in.

As the enemy charge came closer the distinctive snap-crack of lasgun fire began. The troopers on the upper levels had opened fire on the advancing soldiers. They had held this one building for the past week and McKenzie had lost count of the number of times the enemy tried to break through here. The courtyard was too open to cross without taking staggering casualties, still the enemy tried. The buildings on the flanks of the courtyard were too dangerous to advance through, either way McKenzie knew that the enemy soldiers would die trying.

He began to open fire with his lascarbine and saw three of his shots hit their targets. The enemy had also opened fire on the building and las-shots were impacting the masonry in sporadic bursts. They seemed to not even be aiming their shots because most went wide or did not even hit the building. Still, a few shots hit their mark and one of McKenzie's soldiers was hit in the head and died instantly, pieces of skull and brain splattering out on the floor below him.

McKenzie fired off more shots which cause two enemy soldiers to dive for cover behind a burned out Chimera hull. The enemy charge was faltering and most of them were dead, the few that remained were finding cover were ever they could. Shots were still being exchanged but neither side was able to hit anything.

There was a whoosh of air and then flame as a trooper on the ground floor fired his flamer into a group of enemy soldiers who had managed to close the distance from the Chimera to the building. They were engulfed in the flames and were incinerated instantly. Their screams of agony filled the courtyard and then died along with the soldiers.

The enemy assault had failed and the remaining soldiers in the courtyard faced death no matter what they chose. If the retreated back to their side of the courtyard they would be shot by their own commanders for retreating and if they charged McKenzie's position they would be cut down. Those that remained chose the latter and ran towards the Imperial building not even firing their weapons. The boom of the heavy bolter started up again and the enemy soldiers were cut down after only taking a few steps. With that, the charge was over and the courtyard descended into darkness and silence once again

IV

There was a low rumbling in the distance but McKenzie paid no attention to it. Dawn was breaking over the courtyard, the light filling every nook and cranny. He took off his rebreather mask and took in a gulp of the air. It had the taste of masonry and rotting and burnt flesh but it didn't bother McKenzie enough to put the mask back one, it was a smell that he had come to expect where ever he went.

The nights fighting left dozens of the enemy dead and McKenzie had lost three of his own and found that ten more were wounded. He was content with the figures but hoping that when the enemy attacked again they would be able to hold the line. The rumbling was growing louder and McKenzie began to wonder what it was.

"Anyone have a visual contact with whatever is causing that noise?" McKenzie inquired into his micro-comm.

"Negative contact" replied a trooper

"Negative Sir" said Denniston

"Possible visual contact with enemy armor" A voice said over the comm-piece. It was the platoons' only remaining sniper who was on the roof.

"Where are they heading?" Ask McKenzie.

"Moving to the west Sir, but I've lost contact with them." Replied the sniper.

"Keep your eyes open for them; we'll be in trouble if they flank us." McKenzie said.

"Will do Sir, I'll let you know if I spot then again." The sniper said.

A few hours pasted since the initial sightings of the enemy tanks. The rumbling of the tanks grew and died several times which meant that there must be more than one tank with a few blocks of their position. McKenzie had not heard the thump of mortars or the blow of a whistle so the enemy must still be preparing for the assault. However, what bother McKenzie was that he had no idea of where the assault would happen. Would it be a general assault across the whole of the Imperial lines or was it going to be focused in one section of the line? He would hold this building regardless of where an attack came.

Without any warning the building on the opposite side of the courtyard that was acting as the enemy's strong hold exploded and collapsed showering the entire courtyard with rock and debris. A giant cloud of dust rose into the air and the troopers around McKenzie all grabbed for their guns. Through the cloud of dust he could hear the roar of heavy engines and the creak of metal tank treads moving.

McKenzie could begin to see the tanks emerging through the cloud followed be enemy infantry close behind. The tanks were Hunters, low to the ground; the soldiers following behind were barely concealed. They lacked a turret and the main cannon was fixed to the front hull. What they lacked in visibility they made up in stealth. There were three tanks and at least fifty enemy soldiers advancing towards the building. The tanks opened fire and all three shots hit the building. Two exploded on the top floor and one a few meters to the left of McKenzie on the second floor.

Another boom from the tanks as three more shells flew at the crumbling building. One impacted right below McKenzie and threw him back into the building. Darkness began to fill his eyes and he knew that he was hit but couldn't move. More explosions and gunfire echoed around him, but the darkness still held its grip. The noise was fading away from McKenzie but gunfire and the screams of soldiers filled his ears but were muffled. The last thing that he heard was the scream of falling metal and a ground shaking impact. Then there was nothing but silence and darkness once again.