A/N: Well, here it is, the opening phase of the Battle for AR-275.
I must apoligise for the wait for those who have been urging me to update this, but I must stress that I generally write on a schedule-less basis; "when it is completed" is, unfortunately, the only solace I can provide right now. I am usually reworking old material that I had created before and this usually includes changes to the original plot and further research on 40K canon (usually going back to 2nd or 3rd Edition knowledge, if I have to), as well as providing new scenes to expand on the narrative.
Well, with that out of the way, let's get this deployment underway, shall we? Any feedback that could be applied would be much appreciated. Thank you and enjoy.
Bridge
"Blade of Righteousness"
Date - 15th March, 2183
Time – 1645 hrs (Coordinated Universal)
It had been two hours since Diomedus had met with the other senior officers of the fleet and regiments. In the meantime, the ships that had been selected to be dispatched to the human colony had been moving into position, while several Techpriests from the "Omnissiah Virtrix" had been transferred to one of the other two transports of the fleet, "Cradle of Cadia". They had been busy converting the transport's cogitator banks of the primary and secondary Navigator stations to create the machinery necessary to transmit and maintain the planned psychic beacon; the psykers that were to form the beacon's choir had also been transferred and briefed.
Moving away from his observation of the battleship's servitors, the Admiral began to pace back towards the ship's command throne as he glanced at a dataslate. According to the Techpriests' reports, initial testing had shown that the improvised beacon could indeed work – to a limited range of several sectors. However, in a vexed transmission shortly before the first test, they had voiced their objections to the breaking down of valuable machinery in order to cobble together a device that, according to their dogma, would greatly anger the machine-spirits of both the cogitator banks and the transport. Who or what convinced them to follow through with this project, however, eluded Diomedus.
On one hand, the Admiral would have agreed with them – much of the technology that the Imperium functioned on were practically relics - devices, ships and weapons from an older era and for which many of the technical blueprints and readouts were lost to time, destroyed in the various conflicts that have broken out in the Imperium's history, or were jealously guarded by the Cult Mechanicus themselves. With this in mind, the Imperium could not afford to lose any of the more powerful weaponry they still had functioning, particularly if either these were giving humanity the edge they needed or that which cannot be reproduced easily.
However, at the same time, Diomedus found himself chaffing under the Mechanicus' apparent lack of fortitude towards improvisation. The fact of the matter was simple: with no idea where they were, no link to the Astronomican back on Holy Terra and with no assurances of the presence of any assistance, this beacon was urgently needed. Without it, as one of his subordinates had pointed out, the fleet would be going absolutely nowhere and their striking capability would be rendered null and void.
I'm sure the Guardsmen we have accompanying us might actually get some enjoyment out from the upcoming battle, Diomedus reflected as he neared the captain's throne. After all we have been through so far, the last thing we need is to have a mass riot breaking out.
"Lord-Admiral?" Xavier glanced up, a cluster of data-slates held in front of him by the throne's servo-arms. As the Admiral approached, one of the mechanical arms whirred and handed a data-slate to Diomedus; it was a top-down view of the galaxy, with the time-stamp indicating that this had been transmitted less then an hour ago from the ship identified as the "Normandy".
"This had been transmitted by the commander of the alien ship." Xavier began anxiously. "We've tried to corroborate with him, per your instructions, in order to gain the coordinates for this colony of theirs, but..."
Xavier paused briefly as Diomedus took the dataslate and the mechanical arm retracted. Glancing at the slate, Diomedus' face soon turned to a worried frown as he glanced at the map's contents.
The fleet's original destination, Cadia, was nowhere to be marked on the map and the Eye of Terror was non-existent. With his mental alarm bells ringing, Diomedus glanced over at the actuality sphere for a comparison and he scrolled the dataslate to what would have constituted Ultima Segmentum – the space occupied by the Ultramarines Chapter, including Macragge and Calth was also not marked on the slate. Segmentum Pacificus – no sign of any of the worlds claimed by Lord Solar Macharius or the contested Sabbat Worlds. And the less said about what was "missing" from what would have constituted Segmentums Tempestus and Obscurus, the better.
No Astronomican, a here-to unknown sector of space populated by beings we have never encountered before and nearly nothing about these maps match!
A bead of sweat poured down Diomedus' forehead as a number of horrifying and contradicting conclusions began to emerge. Did these aliens and this offshoot of humanity merely designate known planets and sectors within the Imperium by other names? Or, absurd and almost impossible as it sounded, where they no longer within known space as all of the evidence up to now seemed to indicate?
He had heard rumours about the effects that the Empyrean had on vessels during Warp travel – much like an ocean or stream, the Warp had currents, eddies and tides that vessels had to navigate and overcome before transitioning to real-space. At worst, the Warp was unstable, prone to trapping, altering or destroying vessels within its grip. There have even been accounts of fleets being dispatched to various war-fronts, only to arrive years or decades too late or thrown violently off course by many sectors of space.
Was this what happened to them when they began their journey? Had the anomaly they encountered somehow thrown the fleet out both their native space and time? Was this even possible, even with what little is publicly understood about the ever-changing nature of the Warp?
"What do we do, Admiral?" Xavier asked, his eyes betraying worry as he looked his commanding officer in the eye.
I cannot withhold this information from the other senior personnel, the Admiral brooded, glancing between the actuality sphere and the data-slate in worry. I could be marked for treason and, in all likelihood, I'll be shot as a traitor. But with tensions already rising within the senior commanders of the two regiments, releasing this information might eventually result in more infighting. Not to mention the pandemonium and violence that would inevitably result if the 11,000 or more Guardsmen we are transporting panic.
Yes, it would be both treason and, by omission, disinformation. And yet ...
Emperor, forgive me for what I am about to do. The Admiral folded his arms and bowed his head, stating to Xavier, "We proceed on course, Captain. Initiate Code Magneta procedure."
Nodding, Xavier replied solemnly, "Yes, Lord Admiral." He rotated his throne, facing back towards the bow of the ship as, unknown to him, Diomedus walked towards the exit hatch from the bridge. "Helmsmen, correct heading to station keeping zero-five-one and power Warp engines in preparation for jump. Sound Magneta alert."
"Bearer of His Name"
"Code Magenta procedure in progress. All personnel, stand by for Warp jump. Code Magenta…"
Altern's boots clunked against the deck plating as he picked his way past scrambling Navy crewmen and the few Guardsmen who had been authorised outside of their billets. The recent revelation of the stratagium briefing renewed him with hope and, dare he say it, elation for the upcoming battle. A chance for him and his comrades to fight again, face-to face with one of the myriad of foes the Imperium had faced.
Orks. A warlike, barbaric species, devoted only to conflict and conquest. A species rightly revolted by the Imperium, a race incapable of aspiring above conflict … a species to be utterly purged.
It was not the foe I had been expecting to fight, Altern thought as he made the final turn in the hallway before heading towards an elevator. But a Storm-Trooper has to expect the unexpected.
Before the drab, steel-grey elevator doors, the sergeant noted General Jungter and a commissar in deep discussion with each other. Both men turned as the veteran approached.
"Sergeant Altern." Jungter acknowledged, while the scarred commissar merely nodded.
"General Jungter, Lord Commissar." Altern replied in kind, then noted the data-slate clutched in Jungter's hand. None of the three men said a word to each other for a few seconds.
"It almost seems as if you have been waiting for me, sirs." Altern commented awkwardly, shuffling his balance between both boots. "What is this about?"
"You, Sergeant." the Commissar Lord added with brevity. Altern's brow furrowed, clearly not understanding what the political officer meant.
"With most of your company dead and with too few personnel left in order to reconstitute a new Storm Trooper company, both myself and Lord Commissar Horst from the 497th have decided to assign the remaining troopers under Commissariat command." the Lord Commissar explained, taking the data-slate from Jungter's bionic hand.
Ah, this must be Regiment Commissar Kliest! Altern thought, now recognising the name of his new retainer.
"With the upcoming mission being your first combat operation since we have arrived within this sector, I have requested your unit to be directly involved; your men and a second Storm-Trooper squad will be operating alongside personnel from the xenos ship you were captured on."
Despite the revulsion that crept up Altern's spine, the sergeant shook the feeling of dread off and drew himself straight as he questioned, "What are my orders, General Jungter?"
Jungter referred to the data-slate. "You are to assist this commander, "Shepard", for the duration of operations on the planet we are travelling to. Give him the same deference you gave Captain Aureus and all will be well."
"General," Kliest interjected, " If our sergeant here is going to be involved in a combined operation with these outsiders, we could use this opportunity to gain a tactical advantage – find out their strengths and weaknesses, what makes them tick."
Jungter glared at Kliest as he muttered, "That's not our immediate priority, Commissar; stopping the Orks should be our main focus." His expression softened as he added, "You do have a point, though - the information we can gain about each other could allow us to gain invaluable intelligence regarding their capabilities. But right now, I'd prefer if we can avoid antagonising anyone … at least, for now."
Altern inquired, as if to remind the men that he was still present, "What of General Gerrad? Does he give his approval for this operation? Shouldn't he be informed?"
The general's vehement adherence to the Imperial Creed was well known amongst the fleet. Before the Illius IV operation, on General Gerrad's orders, both regiments were forced to watch as eight soldiers, a clique originating from both regiments, were flogged for desertion, the skin of their backs flayed to the muscle. The unfortunates were then ejected into space, a grisly warning to any who would think of flouting the Emperor's Law again.
Jungter's face changed to bear a mask of concern. "If possible, no. This temporary transfer is not for his eyes; if discovered, there is no knowing as how he will react. " He lowered his voice, cutting Kliest off from listening in. "I am not sure of this, but I fear Gerrad may become our undoing if we are not careful."
"We are loyal servants of the Emperor-" Altern refuted.
Jungter held a gauntlet up and interjected, "True, but rushing in guns blazing without any assessment of what we might be up against is foolish. I will not allow my men to be at the whim of an overly-pious general if we are being sent to our deaths."
Altern objected again. "Respectfully, sir, he is the senior commander of the force."
"Maybe, Sergeant, but right now, you, your men and my regiment are my responsibility. And I will not commit my regiment so openly and completely to any combat action until I am absolutely certain that there is a reasonable chance of success. We still have a Chaos invasion to stymie, after all."
As Jungter retreated and awaited the sergeant's reply, Altern took the data-slate and studied it. After a minute, he looked up, a new resolve in his eyes.
"When do I begin?"
Bridge
"Blade of Righteousness"
1655 hrs (Coordinated Universal)
By now, the bridge of the "Blade of Righteousness" was abuzz with activity as the bridge staff scurried about, attending to their assigned tasks. Outside, the huge, trireme-like hulls of the rest of the fleet adjusted their approach vectors in preparation for the upcoming Warp jump; the mite-like "Normandy", however, was hanging back away from the fleet. Why, Diomedus wasn't sure. Perhaps they have their own means of moving from sector to sector, he reasoned, but decided not to pursue this inquiry further.
Communications Officer Ensign Quermire, however, interrupted his train of thought as the junior staff officer approached the Admiral and snapped to attention. "Sir, the "Normandy" has signalled us. Message reads..." The Ensign squinted at the read-out on a data-slate's display screen as he read aloud, ""Normandy" has confirmed ready status and will be en route directly to AR-275. Will rendezvous in planetary orbit upon arrival." "
Diomedus nodded; everything was now in place. "Very well, Ensign. Carry on."
As the Ensign saluted and returned to his station, Diomedus returned to the raised platform of the command throne; Captain Xavier, data-slate in one servo-arm, glanced up at the Admiral.
"Admiral Diomedus." the aged captain acknowledged, the chest-mounted voice-emitter distorting his voice.
"What is the status of our ship?" Diomedus asked, placing his hands behind his back as he glared down at the captain. "Is she ready and capable for Warp travel?"
"All stations have been secured and what repairs we have been able to conduct have been completed. Some of our lance batteries are still non-operational, but we have been able to salvage a few from our transports; we'll just have to protect them better from now on in."
"And our main armament?"
"Unfortunately, some of our broadside guns are still out of action, Admiral. More repairs on those guns will be carried out en route, but if we go into action ..."
Diomedus held up a hand to stop the captain. "I understand, captain. Proceed when ready."
Xavier nodded. "Very well, sir." As Diomedus moved to flank the command throne, Xavier keyed a button on the arm-rest of his throne and transmitted, "This is Fleet Command to all attack vessels, report status."
A series of replies crackled back over the intra-ship vox channel.
"Battleship "Emperor's Wrath" reporting ready for Warp jump."
""General Crassus" reports ready."
"Escort Squadron Crimson One-Seven, frigates "Intruder" and "Vigilant" standing by."
""Bearer of His Name", all personnel and cargo secured for travel."
"This is the "Cradle of Cadia". The psychic beacon has been activated and Gellar Fields have been raised. God-Emperor, protect us all."
Satisfied that all of the force elements under his command were sufficiently prepared, Xaviar transmitted, "This is Captain Xaviar of the "Blade of Righteousness" to all attack element commands: stand by for Warp jump on my signal." He glanced at a chronometer and counted down. "Three. Two. One. Mark."
On his mark, the familiar tear of the Immaterium tore into existence like a sudden maelstrom and the Imperial vessels, grabbed by tendrils of Warp ether, were yanked inside, bound for the unknown.
C.I.C.
SSV "Normandy"
A considerable distance away from the fleet, but still close enough to visually witness the Imperial ships' departure (not that this would have been any difficult, due to their sheer size), Commander Shepard looked impassively out of the forward view port and watched the violet maw of the Warp pull the massive vessels in, then vanish in an eye-blink.
He heard the pilot's seat creak slightly as Joker turned to him, asking, "What now, Commander?"
Shepard's eye-lids were beginning to feel heavy – he hadn't slept well for the past three days. Running a hand through his blond hair before turning back to his pilot, Shepard ordered wearily, "Commence relay jump to the Attican Traverse, then proceed to AR-275 at best speed and heading."
The clearly fatigued commander began to move away from the cockpit, clomping down the hallway of the Normandy's 'neck'. Suppressing a yawn as he passed through the CIC, he stated to the Navigator, "X.O., you have the command deck."
The veteran second-in-command nodded to the Commander. "Aye, sir. I'll have the Normandy's VI wake you if you are needed."
Shepard nodded in thanks as he reached one of the doors leading down to the lower deck. "Much appreciated. Carry on." Walking through the open hatchway, Shepard walked down the steps and crossed towards the CO's quarters on the crew deck. He was out like a light minutes later.
16th March, 2183
0637 hrs (Coordinated Universal time)
Strategium
"Blade of Righteousness"
In orbit above Systems Alliance Colony AR-275
Attican Traverse
The 3-D topography map blazed before the scrutinising eyes that were examining it; both generals, Sergeant Altern, Admiral Diomedus and a holographic projection of Commander Shepard (who was listening in on the briefing from the comm. room of his ship) were standing around the map as the other Imperial command staff aboard the battleship went about their tasks. Displayed was a sensor-auger feed from the humans' military, the so-called "Systems Alliance", with geographical data on the arid planet that this fleet now has locked in its cross-hairs. The rambling voice of Diomedus cast itself against the soft background noises of whirring cogitator banks, hushed commands to personnel and the chanting of the attending Tech-priests monitoring the ship that already pervading this room.
"… With the data from the scans we have received of the planet, as well as the information forwarded by Commander Shepherd, we can conclude that heavy regiment operations within this colony will be impossible. The mountain ranges and cliff-faces that border it to the North and West are too steep to scale, while the planet-wide deserts and the colony's layout severely restricts heavy vehicular movement."
"And there goes our best strength against the Orks." Jungter mused, his arms crossed in a gesture of disappointment. Though the Guard boasted limitless numbers, a regiment's infantry, isolated and using its own resources, is almost useless operating on its own unless reinforcements could arrive.
And for all we know, there are no such reserves. the Sterrnberg general reflected bitterly. We are on our own.
Gerrad spoke next, glancing at his subordinate general as he suggested, "What about lighter vehicles? Could Sentinels and perhaps Chimeras and Hellhounds be sufficient armour support?"
Working the map's data-feed and examining the terrain more closely for about a half-minute, Jungter nodded and concluded, "It is possible."
Shepard added, "The Alliance 527th had a mechanised section of M35 IFVs – it can be assumed that light vehicles could handle the terrain with little problem."
He cursed to himself, So would our our own M35 if it wasn't a complete write-off from throwing it through a mini-mass relay.
Altern questioned, "Then what is our plan of battle, General?"
Gerrad pointed to what appeared to be a large spaceport based within the colony as he continued, "If our two regiments can combine our infantry and hold this location, we can have a formidable infantry force to drive the Orks. As for our armour, we can improvise with our Sentinel squadrons." He turned to Gerrad, expecting his assessment.
Jungter nodded. "Agreed; the 497th Infantry Regiment and 85th Mechanised can deploy two infantry companies and a heavy weapons company within the spaceport to form the anvil against the Orks, denying them ships and parts for off-world access." He gestured to a holographic representation of a sizable Ork encampment several kilometres away to the South-East of the colony. "Meanwhile, we will use what Sentinels we can to scythe through their rear, cutting them off from their advance and annihilate the Ork's main base of operations on this planet. A mechanised infantry section from the 85th will provide support."
Shepard came closer to the actuality sphere, his features cast in the glow as he examined the map. He frowned and gestured to what appeared to be a military facility on the far side of the mountain range. "It appears that a major splinter of the Ork advance is veering towards here." He looked up, turning to Gerrad as he probed, "What do Orks generally obtain during raids? What resources do they aim to obtain?"
"They retrieve only what equipment they need to wage war." Gerrad replied immediately. "It could be said that the Orks know nothing else but war."
Shepard examined the layout of the military base closely. Like the colony itself, the surface of the base bore the typical hallmarks of pre-fabricated housing, with many of the surface buildings designed to be easily erected and taken apart by settlers until (or, rather, unless) permanent buildings, such as the colony's water collection tanks, could be built. What drew his attention, however, was where the scan was hazy at where the base extended underneath the surface, the scans having been unable to penetrate the crust of the planet. Underground would be where the majority of the facility was located.
Shepard's eyes widened, however, when he noted what appeared to be a series of large silo doors. There would only be one reason why such doors would be there and it might have explained what the Orks were after.
"You said that the Orks are after weapons, General Gerrad?" Shepard addressed the Gorgian general coldly. "I think they have found them." The Commander gestured to the silo doors, explaining, "That military base is housing thirty Javelin missiles, designed to be fired from the surface of the planet to eliminate any surface attacks."
That bit of news got Jungter's attention, who glanced over at Shepard. "What are those missiles' capabilities Commander Shepard?"
"A single Javelin would have enough explosive power to gut a major city; you can easily gauge how deadly a volley of them would be." He turned to the assembly. "I will take a unit from the Normandy and secure the base. If those weapons have been found, then the Orks must not be allowed to claim them."
Altern nodded. "With your approval, sirs, I recommend we attach two Storm-Trooper squads to provide additional security in case the Orks reach that facility first." He consulted a data-roster, the list of remaining Storm-Troopers left among the force. "I would like to volunteer my squad and I would also recommend Sergeant Verrik. He and his unit fought the Ork before; he was part of the final assault on Warboss Ztar-krashers stronghold on Charon IV during the attempted Imperial Guard reclamation effort there."
Shepard glared at Altern as he stated bluntly, "Too many men would arouse suspicion of these Orks. I'd be better off if my team went in alone."
Altern shook his head. "And if the Orks have managed to reach the military base first, you'll be slaughtered on the spot! Our men might be able to give you that extra strength in numbers."
Pacing briefly for a few seconds, Shepard eventually replied, "Fine, Sergeant. We'll do it your way. I'll assemble a team for the drop, but I'll need transportation down to the surface."
"That can be arranged, Commander." the Admiral replied. "I'll arrange for an Arvus to transport you and your team over to the "Bearer of His Name". The drop will commence from there once once our infiltration team has prepared."
Nodding, Shepard punched a button off-camera and his projection fizzled and winked out.
"If there are no other questions," Gerrad concluded, with the meeting seeming to be over. "General Jungter, deploy what men you see fit to the surface; I'll do the same. Admiral Diomedus, I want whatever Valkyries and troop transports you can spare fuelled and readied within the hour."
Before the Admiral could reply, Gerrad had spun on his heel and marched out of the strategium. Jungter, noting the Generals absence, shrugged and commented, "I guess this meeting's adjourned, then."
Diomedus nodded. "Very well, Lieutenant General. You're dismissed." As Jungter began to leave, Diomedus added, "And … good luck."
Jungter nodded to Diomedus in thanks. "The Emperor protects, Admiral."
Hanger
"Bearer of His Name"
The return trip to the transport was short and quick. Sergeant Altern barely managed to register the passage of time that had passed since he had went aboard the Admiral's flagship nearly a half hour ago; he was still amazed that they had been able to jump into the Warp so successfully to begin with. As he disembarked from the Arvus Lighter, he glanced around the transport's primary hanger as he made his way towards the elevator.
Among the various aircraft that were being readied within the carnivorous space were a number of modified Valkyries – from Altern's brief visual assessment of these camouflaged aircraft, they all bore reinforced hatch and canopy frames, modified and sealed turbofan engines (no doubt adapted for a space-to-surface drop – next to impossible to be carried out unmodified) and twin tanks mounted underneath each craft's wing roots – oxygen tanks for pressurising the aircraft, perhaps?
"Sergeant!"
Halted in his tracks, he turned back towards the centre of the hanger as a familiar armoured figure approached. Altern felt a grin tug at his face as Corporal Gallentus greeted him by taking hold of his forearm – what would have passed as a handshake for the NCO. The sergeant reciprocated the gesture, relieved to see her again.
"Good to see you back aboard, sir." the brunette second in command added warmly. "With most of the company dead, we were worried that you had been killed."
"You weren't informed of the situation?" Altern queried, puzzled by this lack of confirmation by his superiors.
Gallentus shrugged, releasing her superior. "Operational vox silence. With everything that was going on, we went into lock-down until we were certain it was safe to resume standard operating procedure."
Altern nodded as, with his 2IC following, he headed to the trio of infantry that were standing by the ramp of one of the Valkyries. Performing a quick headcount, his spirits plummeted; only four of the initial ten man squad had survived whatever catastrophe had befallen the fleet. The sombre faces of Trooper Varius, squad vox-specialist and Cadian-born, Trooper Isolde (a Mordian veteran, judging from the Iron Eagle pinned to her lapel and her bionic right arm) and Trooper Dieter (a gruff, yet pious Kriegan) greeted Altern once he arrived – they were already fully kitted and ready for the upcoming assault, but not in the right frame of mind after learning of their fellows' demise.
Horson, Darius, Malerna and Enock are dead, then. Altern reflected mournfully. He couldn't imagine the horrible fate that, by the divine grace of the God-Emperor or through sheer luck, he managed to narrowly avoid out there in the darkness of the void; it didn't lessen the pain of their loss, though.
He was shaken out of his thoughts as a klaxon began to sound within the hanger. Through the void shield and the retracting hanger doors, the sergeant could see a second Arvus enter the hanger, slowing down as much as possible before drifting down onto the deck with a clanking of metal. As the engines began to wind down, the canopy opened and the pilot stepped out, muttering a string of curses in Low Gothic.
Striding towards the Arvus until he was facing its starboard flank, Altern could see why – there were a series of gashes running along the starboard wing. He wasn't sure if the Arvus had multi-vector wings, but it seemed that, even if they were retracted, they didn't help.
"Bit of a tight fit, Lieutenant?" the Sergeant overheard one of the crew chiefs guffaw to the pilot as repair crews began to examine the craft.
"Frack you!" came the retort as the pilot stormed off, clearly in no joking mood.
From the same direction that the pilot was striding, a clique of about ten storm-troopers, clad in the distinctive armour and uniform of the 97th, marched towards Altern and his squad. Unlike Altern's depleted unit, this squad were bearing the newly-issued, semi-automatic hotshot lasguns and two of the troopers were equipped with a flame-thrower and a melta for anti-tank attacks.
"Sergeant Verrik?" Altern inquired to the leader of the group as these new troopers approached Altern's squad.
The auburn-haired Verrik nodded. "Aye." Glancing past the Sergeant to the passengers disembarking from the Arvus, he added with barely disguised contempt, "And I'm guessing those are the "others" we have been assigned to work with?"
Altern shrugged as he muttered back, "I don't like it either, Sergeant, but we have our orders."
Verrik and his group brushed past Altern as the sergeant replied, "Remind me to lodge a protest, then."
Both NCOs approached the passengers of the Arvus, who had now disembarked, and Altern could almost feel the other storm-troopers tense up as a black and grey-armoured Commander Shepard and five of the members of his crew approached. He was about to interject before anyone did something stupid, but the Commander held up a gauntlet to the fifteen Imperials, signalling them to wait. A small, glove-shaped hologram winked to life on Shepard's left arm and tapped several of the device's keys. It winked out several moments later and the Commander cleared his throat.
"There, we should be able to understand each other from now on in." Shepard added. Altern noted the shock that dawned on Verrik and others; they could not believe that a human and his xeno followers had knowledge of Low Gothic, let alone how to speak it!
Before any questions could be raised or introductions made, a siren began to sound and Altern heard two of the Valkyries begin to power up.
"It's time, Sergeant." Verrik added as he slipped on his helmet. "My men will embark on Delta 62. Your squad and the "others" are assigned Alpha 37. We're launching once you are all aboard."
Nodding, Altern beckoned to Shepard and the others to follow him as the eleven men and women charged towards their assigned Valkyrie. Over the clatter of boots hammering against the boarding ramp, he could still hear Verrik barking out orders to his men as the roar of turbofan engines began to fill the air.
Fifteen minutes later….
Valkyrie Alpha-37
0741 hrs (Coordinated Universal)
En route to LZ Alpha 01
Alliance Colony AR-275
The frigid air of the planet's higher atmosphere howled as two Valkyries roared above the surface like steel-bodied hawks, lancing through the driving sand being whipped up from the ground by a passing sandstorm. Strapped in the interior of Alpha-37 were Altern, his squad and the crew that Shepard selected to assist him in this mission. No one said a word as the hull of the gunship shook from the wind outside.
The introductions had been brief. The team comprised, as far as the storm-troopers had been able to understand, Garrus Vakarian, one of the Commander's best marksman and a former security officer, Urdnot Wrex, a reptilian-like xenos designated as a "krogan" and, from his brief account, a military leader amongst his kind, Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, Shepard's right hand woman and a Marine (though clearly not like the formidable Adeptus Astartes that Altern had seen striding the battlefield) and Tali'Zorah, a member of a species the Sergeant couldn't pronounce and an excellent engineer. Altern also warily spied the azure-toned form of Liara alongside them and he averted his eyes, not wishing to converse with her.
A minute passed in silence before the port and starboard hatches slid back, sending sand whipping into the faces of the gunship's door-gunners as they quickly donned eye protection, spat out sand from their mouths and swung out the heavy bolters. The second Valkyrie, Delta-62, swooped by the aircraft's flank, 62's port hatch hatch slid back to reveal the second squad readying for landing. Through the hatch, Shepard could see them arming themselves and donning respirator masks as Sergeant Verrik, spying the Commander, sent off a quick salute as A-37 roared past.
"45 seconds to LZ. Looks like heavy sandstorm activity; adjusting for cross-winds." the pilot's voice crackled on the vox.
No fracking kidding! Altern cursed to himself as the aircraft continued to rattle.
With almost mechanical methodicalness, Altern's squad began loading their weapons. Corporal Gallentus brandished and primed her plasma gun, the weapon's volatile power cells hissing and whining as they began to power up.
"30 seconds." the PA voxed.
As respirators were being donned, Trooper Dieter removed an Aquila that hung from his neck, clutched it in an armoured gauntlet and began to pray aloud, "To be unclean…"
Recognising the Catechism of Hatred, the rest of the squad responded, intoning, "That is the mark of the xenos." This drew confused glares from the Normandy crew, who did not expect a display of bigotry.
Ignoring them, Altern continued, "To be impure…"
"That is the mark of the xenos."
"To be abhorred…"
"That is the mark of the xenos."
"To be reviled…."
"That is the mark of the xenos."
"10 seconds." the pilot reported. The Valkyrie suddenly changed its pitch, thrusters screaming as the transport began its drop to the ground.
The storm-troopers' prayer took on a more angered tone, the men steeling themselves for the battle ahead, and their voices rose as Altern shouted over the din of the wind and engines.
"To be hunted!"
"That is the fate of the xenos!"
"To be purged!"
"That is the fate of the xenos!"
The Valkyrie's landing gear crunched against the surface and the rear ramp clanged down. Altern stood by the hatch, preparing to send his men off of the Valkyrie. In one hand, his power sword was unsheathed and crackling with energy and in the other, he carried his hell-pistol, which he punched in the air as he bellowed, "To be cleansed!"
His squad stood up from their seats as one as they roared, "That is the fate of all xenos!"
"Move! Move! Move!" Altern yelled, urging everyone out of the gunship and waving them forward.
As the sandstorm howled past the rear exit, both squads hammered down the ramp, the storm-troopers forming a defensive cordon as they disembarked, their eyes vigilant through the whirling sand for enemies. Shepard's unit charged out after them, some of them instinctively shielding their visored eyes from the blasting sand granules. Further away, Altern saw Verrik's Valkyrie landing alongside their transport and the second squad rushing out to form up with the first.
As both Valkyries lifted off, with no immediate threat in sight and both storm-trooper units reporting the all clear, all three units slowly began to advance through the airborne dust and grit, ready for whatever lurked down below.
Captured Military Base
A few kilometres away
Shepard's objective – the Alliance military base that lay on the outskirts of the colony – was a charnel house. Bodies of Alliance Marines, part of the garrison that had been taken by surprise by a sudden assault from an unknown enemy, were strewn throughout the underground hallways and bulkheads, through which Orks and their smaller Grettchin offshoots prowled on patrol, squabbled over "shiney bitz" (the arms and armour of the dead), resulting in the odd riot or two breaking out in the immediate vicinity or, as a few of them have been tasked, set about the dangerous payload that sat within the underground silos.
For this tribe of greenskins, this was their way of war – nay, their way of life. The Ork mind seemed to become intoxicated when plunged into the maelstrom of violence – it was what weeded out the weak among their number, what their deity Gork (or Mork) compelled his fellow Orks to strive for and gave their society purpose and function. Now, with this outpost of humanity that they were, at present, tackling, the possibilities for themselves and the misfortunes due to be imparted on any who got in their way now seemed boundless.
It was into this chaos that a messenger, one of the more junior boyz of the clan, now charged into. He barged past other Orks and trod Gretchin underfoot, ignoring everything and everyone around him except for one Ork in mind.
"Boss! Boss! Eh, Boss!" the boy called out as he burst into what once was the base's primary command and control center. Standing near one of the observation ports, looking down at the salvage effort on the Javelin missiles below, was a huge, stocky Ork. He bore a combination of crudely-beaten metal plating and cannibalised armour taken from the dead, which he had only just now finished adorning himself with. In one hand, he lazily held a two-handed axe, its haft nearly as thick as his forearm and, within the reflection from the glass, the Ork's brow was furrowed in what would have passed as frustration – more accurately expressed as, in human terms, "You better have a good reason for this, or I'm going to cave in your skull."
The burly Zkull-Krusha rounded on the younger Ork, nostrils flaring. "Wot in Zog's name are ya doin' 'ere?!"
The other Ork cringed, not willing to be on the receiving end of his superior's ire. He stammered, "Erm, eh boss, Zappa's boyz are killin' any humie dey see, but sum of da Gretchinz come runnin', sayin' dat some flyin' fings are comin'!"
The Nob bristled in restrained anger; it seemed that more humans were on the way to take their city back. "Den wot's you standin' around for, ya grot?! Shut yar yap and get da boyz ready! Whilz ya at it, tell de ovver boyz in dat humie city to hurry up and clear da rest ov da humies out!"
As the runt of an Ork hurried away to rally his comrades, Zkull-Krusha bellowed at the top of his voice in his guttural language to any Ork within earshot, "Lizen up, ya sodz! I'z want ev'ry boy who can krack sum skullz to get ready! We'ez got odda humies commin' and I don't wanna be stuck on dis zoggin rok any longer! So, git dose rokkits out fast and git dem to da oddas at da humie city!. Den, we'ez only got one fing ta do … "
The Nob inhaled deeply before letting out with an ear-shattering yell, "WAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
The resounding noise of Ork throats straining in the midst of their guttural war-cry resounded throughout the underground as, high above them, Valkyries, Sky Talons and heavy troop transports descended towards the surface, carrying with them the men and munitions of the Imperium.
The Imperial Guard were going to war ...
