Disclaimer: I own nothing of Warhammer 40000's amazing franchise except for several superb Black Library novels. Perfect for burgeoning readers of the forces aligned to Man.
Difficult Times
The absolute stillness of an abandoned battlefield is a testament to the brutal finality of war. Wrecked vehicles lay scattered around, and strewn bodies lie underfoot. Soot tinges the atmosphere a soul-sucking slate gray, the ever present symptom of intense combat. Something catches my eye as I pause in my task. A small holo-picture, peeking out of the scorched fatigues of Jun Lohin, a last gift to him from a childhood friend before he left Hryta during our Founding. Sadness assails my frame as I remember how he had turned screaming about the heretical Chaos APCs poised to overrun our location.
With the Basilisks dug in for bombardment, there was no way we could have escaped. So we lowered our cannons against the advancing armor, and blasted away with Earthshaker rounds. Kryl's Basilisk had scored a lucky hit directly on one of the tainted Chimeras before several heavy laser blasts turned his position into burning hunks of metal and steaming chunks. Swallowing back a rising gorge at the ever unpleasant sight of a drinking comrade and someone who had saved my life on numerous occasions go to join the Emperor, I had screamed at Jun to load the next to last round.
What happened next was hard to not remember. He had slid in the 132mm shell, and just as he locked it in a violent concussion of air hit me, throwing me of the artillery piece onto the hard dirt below. My last sight of him was on that stuck in my mind, of my squaddie and mate draped over our gun barrel, light vanishing from behind those mischievous eyes.
Impacting the dusty ground below with a bone-jarring thud, my instinct once more saved my useless skin. Rolling underneath our vehicle and going completely still, my ears picked up the decimation of our unit. Shrieks from discharging las-weapons filled the air and every several seconds a massive boom told of the Emperor's wrath being delivered in the form a high explosive shell. However, the air soon filled with noise of many throaty engines and the insane babbling of cultists. Damning the coward within me that had kept me alive so many times, I heard the sounds of a violent melee erupt nearby. Punctuated by constant rumbles of explosions, the fight carried on for what seemed hours before the area fell silent save for cultist chanting.
What had shocked me was the fact that these acolytes, who always relished in opportunities to desecrate fallen bodies, left. With a multitude of engines revving, the Chaos force had sped off towards the civilian town we were positioned a good ways before. Absent battle, a somber stillness fell over the battlefield. Once more my inner coward had saved my body, but damned my soul. Crawling from my hiding place, I surveyed the battlefield. Our understaffed platoon had been wiped out, along with two of the standard eight artillery pieces.
Numb with self-loathing and shock, a static filled vox transmission cut through my reverie. A panic filled PDF trooper was screaming out for artillery support at the refueling depot where Chaos armor was assaulting their tenuous position. With a single minded determination at being given a task to take away the disgust, I had scrambled with a manic glee to comply.
Which brings me back from my daydreaming. Shaking my head, I slam the last round into place. All six remaining Basilisks are now aimed directly towards a refueling depot directly at the heart of this town. Each are loaded and the last voxcast my comms had received had been the same trooper screaming at how the Chaos lovers were starting some arcane ritual until with a disquieting whine the transmission had cut out. Without a shadow of a doubt, the PDF were long dead now, for in the city center a queasy glow could be seen.
This will not atone for my sins. Cowardice is my vice and will be till my death. As these dark thoughts roll through my head I pick up the heavy rope once more, having already entwined the cable in each firing lever. However, I swore an oath to the Emperor when I joined to deliver His wrath to the many foes lurking to hinder the Imperium.
Setting of in a dead run one last thought comes to mind before I reach the limit of this rope. The Emperor avenges His own. Before any more can run through my cowardly mind, the sky shatters with screaming roars.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Even as cultists prostrated themselves before a makeshift shrine perched atop a blasphemous Chimera, six distant black specks rose in the sky. Dark appendages of unspeakable abominations warping into reality itself reached out to snatch up quivering cultists, unaware of several objects reaching their zenith in the ash filled sky. Entering onto a planet for the first time in millennia an ancient Enemy of Man surveys his new realm, oblivious to a steel rain poised to end its flight.
With a final incoming scream six 38kg High Explosive Earthshaker rounds impact directly within the depot. Vast promethium tanks, a crucial objective to continue the Chaos rampage across the planet, ignited in the face of the firestorm raging from shell detonations. Blazing sheets of liquid flash through the cultists, incinerating their heretic bodies and dispelling the Daemon with a pain filled screech. Banks of blindingly bright flame roar to the heavens as if celebrating the destruction of another foe, brightening the dull skies to the color of fresh spilt blood.
Once again, opponents of the Imperium of Man had forgotten one of the simple truths of the galaxy. The Emperor will always avenge His own.
I simply had to write a one-shot once I had the chance to climb all over a decommissioned 105mm Howitzer. The sense of might present in the vehicle, despite its mothballed status was awe-inspiring. Warhammer 40k of course was the logical setting to explore this fascination.
My thanks to all who suffered through this oneshot and have reached this point. Any and all readers are welcome to review, rant, or even flame. Once again TheMysticalFett out.