"Ready!" Sounded the booming voice, and the platoon all shuffled forward and either crouched or laid down at the edge of the small embankment they had taken cover behind. Ahead of them was a long, funnel-shaped pass through steep cliffs, and coming up it was their enemy.
"Aim!" The officer's voice bellowed again, and as one the fifty plus men aimed their weapons at the approaching horde. Several kneeled down and aimed their heavier support weapons high, while a few on crew-served weapons flipped off the arming interlocks.
Their leader, Lieutenant Frederick Dalinar, stared with steely eyes as the foul cultists of Chaos stormed up the gap, their ravening nature causing them to loose all coherence as they simply ran forward to sate their bloodlust. They did not concern him, but rather, it was the squad of heretical Space Marines following in their wake. This is not going to be fun, Dalinar thought before he spoke again. "Lasguns only… FIRE!"
A wave of coherent light spat out from half a hundred guns, almost every one finding their mark three hundred meters away. Two score of the cultists fell from the onslaught, yet almost twice as many remained alive and running.
"Frag launchers, fire!" Dalinar shouted as he gestured to his bodyguard detachment to prepare for combat. Around him, several launchers blasted out their deadly munitions, and the lobbed projectiles fell upon the heretics and blossomed into deadly flowers of flame, dirt, and blood. Yet still did the enemy come, and Dalinar stood up, along with his bodyguards. "All lasguns and special weapons, fire at will!" He commanded, even as he took aim at the approaching cultists with his bolt pistol at an armored champion leading the charge.
Before he could even fire, however, the lasguns of his guardsmen lit off again, their rapid-fire beams doing well against the unarmored foes. The two armored heretic marines leading the charge, however, seemed to laugh off the attacks as they closed to below a hundred meters and began to fire their plasma pistols at the guardsmen, while around them their retinue fired off their own laspistols.
Dalinar ignored that consequence now, trusting his men to do their duty even as he took aim and fired at the first of the traitor marines. His pistol rocked his whole arm back as it unleashed its blessed wrath, firing one of the combination bullet/rocket projectiles that were the lifeblood of the Imperium's most effective general use weapons.
The bolt flew straight and true, and the heretic, half laughing, half screaming in feral glee, took the explosive projectile in the face. Consequently, his head exploded a split second later, forever wiping the grin off his face while his now-lifeless hulk collapsed to the ground.
Screaming to his right brought the lieutenant's attention around, and he saw the other armored marine leaping into the air, jumping the last few meters towards the third squad's position as laser fire merely melted the skin of his armor. The chainsword in his hand roared to life, and it seemed he would claim the soul of a young grenadier who barely had time to look up at the approaching mass.
Then, three blasts of searing, blue-white flame soared past Dalinar by mere decimeters, their righteous energy singing some of the less durable fibers on his uniform sleeves. The three plasma bolts quickly slammed into the armored marine in mid-air, and the heretic was soon converted into a slag of burning carbon and melted metal. The heap landed just to the right of the saved grenadier thanks to the impact effect of the particle weapons, and the young man blinked a few times before he remembered to crouch down again to avoid being picked off.
Dalinar turned back to face forward then, unconcerned with the plasma having passed so close to his body. "Good shooting men," he said, glancing back to his detachment of veteran bodyguards before checking the line of his platoon. His trained eye soon showed that almost the entire platoon had come through the charge intact, having slaughtered the approaching enemy with massed fire before they could even close to close combat. Well, almost, the lieutenant told himself as he saw a few of his men dispatching one or two cultists who had managed to reach the squad on the far left flank.
Just then he heard objects whizzing past his head, and Dalinar dropped into a crouch even as he realized that the armored Chaos Space Marines were slowly moving towards his platoon, firing their bolters as they marched. The screams of men dying to his left and right sounded, but they were few and Dalinar whispered a quiet prayer that their souls would find rest free of the Ruinous Powers' taint. "Heavy weapons teams, fire! Fire at will!" He commanded, even as he signaled for his own bodyguards to aim and fire as well.
Just behind the platoon's front line, five pairs of men unlocked the last safeties and checked the ammo feeds for one last time before they fired. Two autocannons, a heavy bolter, a krak missile launcher and a fearsome lascannon unleashed their wave of deadly fire, and a cheer erupted from Dalinar's men as five of the deadly Chaos Marines exploded or were shorn apart by the deadly fire.
Unfortunately, that leaves three-quarters alive, the lieutenant mused grimly as the heretics fell back a bit. Dalinar wasn't so foolish as to think them forced back, however, so much as he knew that they were reconsolidating before they pushed again. And I know what that means.
Sure enough, the heretics did as Dalinar expected. Reforming up into a tight mass, they turned back and then started running towards the Imperial Guard position, screaming their bloodrage and firing their bolters with deadly effect.
"All men, fire at will!" Dalinar commanded, and his platoon promptly obeyed. Waves of coherent light pulses reached out from the guardsmens' lasguns, though they had their typical, poor effect on the heavily-armored foes. A few, however, managed to catch a weak point in the enemy's armor, and several of the fearsome soldiers collapsed as their internal organs exploded from being flash-boiled.
Grenades and plasma fire followed the first wave of light weapons fire, and they were followed by the heavy weapons crews opening up again. More Chaos Space Marines fell to the waves of destruction, yet just under half remained, their screams and bolter fire louder now as they raced forward, uncaring about their losses.
"Close combat teams, to the fore!" Dalinar called out, even as he stood and ran forward, his bolt pistol once again up and firing at an armored foe. The bolt missed this time, unfortunately, but the shot, plus his sudden charge towards him made the heretic slow in confusion. The moment was brief, however, and the traitor raised his weapon up and took aim at the lieutenant.
Once again, however, a wave of plasma fire soared past Dalinar, and his enemy was nearly vaporized by the searing bolts. The lieutenant, though, paid it little heed as he changed direction and headed to the flank of a chaos marine who was far too focused in on closing in to kill the guardsmen who were usually little effort to slay at close range.
Frederick's hands tightened on the grip of the weapon in his right arm, a fearsome power sword. He screamed in a rage of his own at that, and the enemy marine barely had time to register this and turn towards the sound before the vorpal weapon sliced though his armor with ease, neatly cleaving the heretic in twain.
Dalinar didn't even had time to think on his kill before a massive pain erupted in his side, and he went flying off to his right before coming to a landing on the ground just before his platoon's main line. The lieutenant lay there for a moment to get a hold of his pain, but the heretic who kicked him intended to give the man no such time, and the horned helm of the enemy appeared in Dalinar's vision just before the marine's tainted bolter did, it's aim clearly at the officer's head.
"Burn you heretic bastard!" A scream sounded from off to the side, and the enemy marine looked up just before a blazing stream of something that looked vaguely like flying lava slammed into the traitor marine's head and torso. Dalinar took that as his cue, and he rolled on the ground several times to clear himself of the melta gun's aftermath. He stood up as quick as he could then, fighting the pain in his side every second, but forcing himself into a crouch nonetheless.
"Are you okay sir?" A voice asked, and Dalinar turned to see three men approaching him, a sergeant and two guardsmen, one of whom holding a melta gun whose end still glowed slightly. The lieutenant merely nodded at the question, not trusting himself to filter the pain out of his voice just yet, and he looked up to check on his platoon.
At first glance, it looked bad. Bodies of guardsmen laid bleeding out all along the line, it seemed, and something burned off on the far left flank. As Dalinar studied the scene, however, he noted that, while some men had certainly died, the bulk of his platoon was still alive, and firing at the two heretics still standing and fighting. One of the traitor marines, however, was in a sorry, state, with his left arm cleaved off by a sergeant's chainsword, though the same sergeant's head was only then slipping off of the fist of the other hand which had caved the hapless guardsman's head in. The enemy wasn't getting away with it, however, and the remainder of that sergeant's squad was even then unloading lasgun volley after volley into the Chaos-befouled armor, wearing it down until finally they pierced the metal and scorched the flesh within.
The other marine, meanwhile, was faring little better, as the smoke from the left flank was coming from him as a flamer-carrying guardsman hounded the armored traitor by bathing him constantly in fire. The flamethrower man's fellows were using their own lasguns to add to the effect, and soon enough, that traitor too fell before the onslaught.
And then, the field suddenly became silent. Dalinar looked around, scanning his men before turning to peer down the gap they defended, seeing if anything else would come at them. The pass was empty, however, and Dalinar finally allowed himself to breath a quiet sigh of relief. Then he stood up and nodded to the four men near him. "Thank you for your help, men," he said, giving them a faint smirk before his stern officer's visage returning. "Now back in line, and see to the wounded."
"Yes sir," the sergeant replied, and he and his men turned and headed back to the line. Dalinar, meanwhile, walked over to where his bodyguards stood by the slagged remains of two Chaos Marines. Or rather, the two men who were left, as only one plasma gunner and the platoon's medic remained alive, their own charge following the lieutenant's drawing enemy attention beyond that which was visited upon other squads.
Damnit, Frederick thought as he slowly approached master sergeant Mathers, his remaining plasma gunner. Graven and Tarnal gone… May He bless their afterlife, the lieutenant thought as he came to a stop next to the corporal, and then turned to face forward, towards the gap. The sergeant mirrored him, and they both stood there for several moments, their weapons held at the ready, yet no enemy in sight. Behind them, Dalinar could hear corporal Franklin – his final bodyguard and specially-trained medic – organizing the few men who had some degree of training and/or aptitude in the area tend to the wounded.
After another few moments of the disheartening sounds of struggle behind them, Mathers finally spoke up. "You took quite a kick there, sir," he observed without looking at his lieutenant. "Maybe you should have Franklin look at you?"
"Later," Dalinar said, gritting his teeth some as the pain in his side pulsed briefly. "I'll live for now, others might not have that chance," he added, and then glanced over to his left. "Some never did."
"Aye," Mathers replied, and he glanced over as well. "Second squad's gonna need a new leader," he observed, taking note of the unit whose sergeant had taken a metal fist to the face.
"If that corporal Frarks is still alive, he gets a field promotion effective immediately," Dalinar said without hesitation. "If he's not, you take the squad until we get relieved."
"Yes sir," Mathers said, and he peered forward into the pass for a moment before he turned to face the lieutenant. "By your leave, sir, I'll go check up on them."
Dalinar nodded. "Take care of it," he said, and barely glanced at the senior noncom as the latter left to check on second squad. The gap in the cliffs kept his attention for some time then, as he watched for any movement from the sparsely vegetated mountain pass. Part of him wanted to desperately go back and help take care of his men, either medically or morally. However, he knew that the best thing his men needed at the moment was a symbol to rally behind, and an officer standing in indefatigable vigilance would let the men concentrate on their tasks more easily, knowing that someone was in control of the situation, that they could turn their backs and help their fellow man while their leader kept watch. Or some crap like that, Frederick darkly mused, remembering the officer training he received. At the very least, it'll help calm the fear and let them concentrate without worrying… For now…
A sharp whistling came from above then, startling Dalinar and the other guardsmen into looking up. Barely had they done so when a large, teardrop-shaped object dropped out of the sky to slam into the ground a hundred or so meters beyond their front line. Retrorockets that had burned to slow the object during its descent kicked up a large cloud of dust, and the view of the object was obscured.
Not that Dalinar feared it, since he now recognized the shape and landing profile of a Space Marine drop pod. "At ease, men," he called out to the platoon over his shoulder, and the lieutenant holstered his bolt pistol and sheathed the large power sword on his back to show them that there was no threat.
Of course, the full squad of eight marines and their sergeant storming out of the pod and dust, their bolters and heavy weapons held up and readied looked quite fearsome. Yet, Dalinar simply gave himself a mental shrug and he slowly walked forward towards them, holding his hands out at his sides. As he drew close and the dust settled, Frederick could easily make out to which chapter the marines belonged to just by looking at their armor color; the illustrious Ultramarines.
Their sergeant glanced around the pass briefly, absorbing what he saw before turning his attention to the man approaching him. Dalinar stopped a good meter and a half away before he brought up his right hand and casually waved it at the armored marines. "Hey there," he said, casually.
"Hello," the sergeant said, his unhelmeted head easily revealing his surprise at both the situation and Dalinar's behavior. "A scout unit said they saw a detachment of heretics coming up this pass, and we were to engage them," he said before pausing to glance around again.
"We took care of them," Frederick replied, again with nonchalance. "Though if you want to kill traitors, you can head down the pass, I'm sure there's more where out kills came from."
The sergeant narrowed his eyes at that. "Are you ordering us?" He asked quietly, yet his voice was rimmed with a hint of malice.
"Not at all, sergeant," Frederick replied friendlily, faintly smiling as he spoke. "Hell, if you want to, y'all can stay here and we can all have a nice friendly game of poker. I'd love to see if I could win that suit of armor off of you. I bet I'd look real snazzy in it."
A moment of pregnant silence fell across the area then as the two leaders faced each other. Then, the sergeant finally grunted and then turned, giving a hand signal to his fellow marines. "Perhaps another time," he answered the lieutenant neutrally, his voice neither angry nor amused. "We have many heretics to kill. Do us a favor and hold this pass without being killed," he added, and then the squad of armored marines turned and began to march off in the direction the heretics had come from, moving in efficient silence that was only punctuated with the faint whining of armor servos, and one faint muttering that Dalinar could barely hear: "Bloody Atlanteans."
Frederick smirked at that, and then turned and headed back to the center front of his platoon, where his two bodyguards now stood, apparently having finished their tasks. "Report," the lieutenant ordered as he came near.
"We lost ten men from across the platoon, and it looks like at least one more will leave us as his wounds are severe," corporal Franklin spoke first. "Another eight are wounded, with three of them being too severe to allow them back into combat, and the other five I would prefer not see fighting either, if at all possible."
"I'd prefer seeing none back in combat, if possible," Dalinar countered evenly. "But even so, we must do our duty."
"Yes sir," Franklin replied subserviently, and Dalinar turned to look at Mathers, who spoke up next. "Corporal Frarks was still alive, and he is now acting sergeant Frarks in charge of second squad. We're scrounging the power packs and rations from the deceased and I have three of the heavy weapons crews acting as body detail, moving them off to the side."
"Make them a burial detail, as well," Dalinar said, reaching up to rub his side. "Those Ultramarines will hold the heretics at bay for more than enough time to give our comrades a respectful final rest. Actually, belay that," Frederick added as a new thought entered his head. "Draw a man from each squad and have them share the burying duty. I don't want anyone to think they're being punished."
"Yes sir," Mathers replied. "Anything else, sir?"
"Yes," Dalinar said after a moment of thought, and he looked up and down the line. "Make sure you let the men know how proud I am that they held so well against a force that rightly should have killed us all. They should all be proud, in fact." They'll need that pride to shield them from the horrors to come, he added mentally, knowing that the Chaos invasion of Takara III was only just beginning. "There is no finer platoon in the regiment."
Mathers smirked briefly, but he nodded. "Yes sir. I'll be off then, if you will?"
"Go on," Dalinar answered, turning around to face down the gap again briefly. "The sooner you're done, the sooner we'll be ready for another wave."
"You think another one will come?" Corporal Franklin asked, somewhat surprised. "The Ultramarines are here now, aren't they?"
"When battling Chaos, expect anything and everything," Frederick replied. "Atlantis has learned that the hard way.
"For now, though, just keep to your duties, and leave me to worry about the enemy," the lieutenant added, and then sighed briefly. "We have a long way to go before victory is ours."
