To Slaashyish: In my stories I don't like to leave any mysteries unexplained; everything happens for a reason.
Anyway, after a long wait, the next chapter. To my surprise, this is actually the longest chapter to date. Heh, and I though it was short.
The horde of Orks approached quickly; mounting an assortment of rough vehicles, all built such that the owners could be the first to get into the fray. As they charged, the passengers hurled insults, stones and sometimes even dung at any other nearby wartrukk that threatened to take the lead in this mad race. They advanced in a tide, like orks always did; but this time it was a tide of steel, thousands of tonnes pouring over the old and broken city ramparts that once marked the battle line, when the city was still whole. A tide of muscled green monsters was frightening, armed with vast and brutal looking cleavers and axes, but this time it was enhanced by the solid wall of vehicles; a man could hope to stand against a beast of flesh but one of metal would simply flatten the man, rolling over his corpse with the drivers barely aware that they had hit anything at all.
Tarchus watched them approach. Standing in the street by the former command post, he simply stood and watched. The men of the Imperial Guard crouched, hid, concealed themselves in defensive positions; behind barriers hastily erected from rubble and flakboards they held themselves, ready to unleash their own tide upon the Orks; a tide of lead and lasfire.
He flexed the fingers of his new power fist, revelling in the sensation of cracking energies running through the whole weapon. It spoke of such unstoppable power, and he knew from experience that not even the most powerful armour could halt its crushing grip. He enjoyed the stark contrast of the jet black against his yellow armour, bright were it not for weeks' worth of dirt and scratches marring its surface; not that that mattered much, Tarchus knew that such markings merely indicated battle experience. His new weapon filled him with a steely determination; nothing, not even the foulest of demons could break his resolution now, he would stand and fight these vile creatures to their end or his.
As the horde entered weapons range, he gave the order; "FIRE!"
At once the air around him was filled with the noise of weapons fire, ranging from the incessant rattle of lasguns to the rhythmic pounding of a nearby autocannon and the roaring blasts of holy boltguns as they fired bursts of explosive death towards the greenskins.
A wall of steel and flesh met a wall of fire and the carnage was impressive; many orks fell as rounds blasted through them, their open topped vehicles providing the passengers with little protection. The lightly armoured vehicles themselves also fared badly as heavy rounds punctured their skins and damaged the essential parts; a few exploded in fireballs as fuel and ammunition were ignited by the heat of lascannon blasts; many span off course, colliding with nearby vehicles and smashing them into piles of hot, twisted metal. And one, Tarchus saw, took a heavy hit directly to the front causing the back to leap into the air and the whole wartrukk to flip end over end, scattering its passengers across the barren wasteland.
Something prodded at Tarchus from the back of his mind, calling for his attention; that place had not always been so empty, it seemed to say. In fact, it had once been somewhere fairly special.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. Focus on the here and now; let the future sort itself out… concentrate on getting past the moment, the time to worry about the future will come later… These two phrases he had been told; though he did not remember who by, he knew that it was someone important and that he had lived by them. He knew he had to do that now, he couldn't let something in his subconscious control his conscious mind, his training told him that; so he pushed the thoughts away.
They fought back.
He became oblivious to the situation around him, everything was seen and heard but nothing was taken in. The shouts, the explosions, the rattle of gunfire, the yellow streaks that flew at him as the orks returned fire; nothing meant a thing to the sergeant as another battle was raged inside his own mind. He focused everything he could on trying to regain control, the thoughts that invaded his mind were strong and would not bend to his will easily, yet he could feel that they were his own.
The fight became locked as neither side would give way, but Tarchus still could not bring himself back to the moment. The sheer mental effort just to hold this invasion was costing him his energy and he knew that if he didn't regain control soon, even if he did regain control, he would be too exhausted to fight. The idea filled him with a steely resolve and he gathered all of his mental power for one last push.
BANG!
An explosion seemed to go off in his mind as something smashed into his forehead; pain receptors suddenly screamed out and filled his head with a cacophony of unbearable noise. The force of the impact had thrown his head back violently, and more pain from his neck joined the screams from his head; and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't shut the noise off, his mental strength was diminishing. His eyes briefly registered his helmet's flickering heads up display flashing alerts at him; just before he slid into darkness.
[*]
"Hello father." A young boy said; and although his voice was high, it spoke with the confidence of one much older.
The boy stood in a garden, one which had been beautifully arranged with long rows of hedges running alongside carefully lain flagstone paths. The grass was green and lush and the bushes were healthy and covered in many large red berries, shining in the midday sun which hung high almost directly over the spot where the boy stood.
"I'm sorry I haven't been to see you in a while, it's been a little hectic recently." The boy continued; despite the outward confidence the voice still seemed a little unsure, he was still a child after all.
The only answer to the boy's comment was the slight rustle of leaves as the tree's branches moved in an unfelt breeze. The trees were tall with long, thin branches which were coated with many broad leaves; and multicoloured blossom hung from the thinner branches, creating a colourful spectacle which wowed many visitors. Some of the trees formed a square shape around where the boy stood, a clear area in the centre of it all where several of the paths met and a large marble plinth stood before the boy.
It was only this that the boy had eyes for, as he knew the trees and grass and bushes well enough for them to have lost their wonder. The marble plinth was much taller than him, it was taller even than any fully grown man; and upon it was a great bronze statue of a single figure, a man in a military uniform who stood proudly on top of the corpse of a fearsome looking alien creature with large, pointed teeth and scythe-like talons; the man held a Lasgun in one hand and a hand grenade in the other and gazed up to the sky as though in prayer. The marble plinth below him held a plaque, which read:
"The 4th, 5th, and 6th Macedonian Rifles Regiments. This is dedicated to all those soldiers who lost their lives in the loyal defence of the Imperium."
"I've been thinking about it for a while now and I've decided." The boy said; his comments aimed at the statue. "I want to follow in your footsteps. I want to join whilst I have the chance." The boy's voice wavered a little as he said it, and he paused; seemingly waiting for a response.
He was a young boy, no older than nine;but he seemed more mature than someone his age should be. He was not particularly tall or strongly built, but mentally he was like a bunker; strong in a way that only a difficult childhood could bring. The difficulties had not made him look rough or crude, he had fair blonde hair and bright blue eyes which held an intelligent, if cold, glint.
"It's not that the PDF isn't good enough!" The boy cried out, as though someone had just presented and objection to his idea. "It's just that I want to go out and see other places; all the other planets in the Imperium that people keep telling me about. I want to see them and whilst the Praetorians are here I've got the chance, one of the officers said he'd take me with them-"
The boy stopped his pleas quite suddenly, and fell silent. He glanced to one side, around the plinth. Not far in the distance were the city ramparts; constructed from a mixture of earth and plasteel, with flakboards on the top to protect anyone patrolling the battlements. They had been built in a hurry; prepared for a battle which would never happen, the Praetorians had seen to that. When they had paraded through the city to receive honours from the Governor they had looked magnificent; marching in clean red uniforms with shining and well-maintained weapons. It was then that the boy, along with many other young men had decided that the Imperial Guard was the right choice to make, and nothing would dissuade them.
"I'll do whatever I need to for the Imperium father, just like you did. So… goodbye." The boy then held the first two fingers of his right hand together, kissed them, and pressed them against a single name upon the list of the dead. The name of 'Colonel Venium Tarchus'.
[*]
He had brought them so much courage; that single Space Marine who had barked orders at them and forced them to keep fighting even though they knew that they had already lost. That giant man in his dirty yellow armour, wielding a weapon which most normal men would have difficulty even lifting; his own indomitable faith and courage had kept the guardsmen standing and fighting where even a commissar would have difficulty keeping order.
And he had fallen.
They had all seen it happen, even though it took no time at all. A single, large round from one of the ork's heavy machine guns had impacted with the front of the sergeant's helmet, causing sparks to fly as the two metals rubbed against each other. And then the Space Marine had simply crumpled, his body collapsing to the floor; the armour clanging against the rocks and debris.
He had given them such hope and courage. The way he had stood there, completely unmoving as the horde of orks had charged towards them; he had seemed completely fearless, and although they all knew that they were going to die, he had given them the courage to stand and fight. But now he was gone and the orks were still there.
Their courage broke.
[*]
"Too easy." The smooth, calm voice spoke; this time with a hint of dismissal; before once again erupting into a loud and sinister laugh which echoed off the cold metal walls of the darkened room.
I know it has been fairly slow so far; but things should start to kick-off in the next chapter (I hope so anyway, depends how long it ends up being).