Ironthumpa was in a jovial mood. A mega nob's armour crumpled slightly and the nob spat out the bone it had been picking its teeth with as Ironthumpa gave him a friendly pat on the back as he passed. The battle had gone much better than he could have hoped for. He had expected the Imperials to be farther up the pass, and to bottle neck his forces in between the steep mountains. But they had been farther forward then he could have hoped for, and spread thin. Punching through the disciplined line hadn't been easy, but as soon as holes were formed the battle was won. The Imperials had completely collapsed and were now almost eliminated.
Around him were blasted and blackened Imperial bunkers. The roar of ignited promethium could be heard where particularly zealous burna boyz were finishing off the remaining pockets of holed up guardsmen. Not only had the battle been a military success, but it had also been a success for the Ironthumpa's ego. He had felt drained and run down lately. He had started to take the occasional rumours circling around of mutiny that came with being a warboss more and more seriously. But this battle had replenished him so to speak. He had been right in the thick of the action, and had personally killed the Lord General, whose head now rested on a spike coming out of Ironthumpa's power pack on his back. He felt tough again, and his troops had seen him fight. He had not only restored his troops faith, but also his own.
There was a banging off to the right as an ammunition dump was lit on fire. He felt a heat wave roll over him as the crackling died down. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, thinking back to the final battle. The Imperials were in full retreat but the headquarters, admittedly admirably, had not fallen back, choosing instead to fight to the last man from their rockcrete bunkers. Ironthumpa remembered the snapping and clanging as autocannon rounds hit his void shield, some making it through and ricocheting off his mega armour. He remembered the heat as las rounds passed by his un-armoured head and the thump of grenades.
He hadn't bothered giving any orders to chase after the fleeing Imperials. Presumably the horde would run rampant for a few days, killing any guardsmen they could get their hands on and looting. Ironthumpa knew that with the Imperial command structure destroyed, what few guardsmen remained could do no damage to his forces. Guerrilla warfare was a possibility, if an unlikely one, but even so Ironthumpa had no plans for sticking around. With the Imperial presence eliminated he could move on to his real objective, the one he came to this planet for.
He looked up at the mountain pass. Mist whirled around the peaks and far overhead he could see a squadron of Ork fighter craft flying off on a patrol. The Eldar had sent him on a wild goose chase, delaying his forces long enough for the Imperials to arrive. But he now knew where the objective was, and he was closing in for the kill. Within the month he would accomplish what no Ork had done before.
It had been three days since the massacre. The squad was exhausted, having marched almost non-stop with next to no sleep. Rations were almost gone and they were all dead on their feet. What was left of the platoon had grown in size, picking up remnants of another Roland squad, a squad of Vostryons and a lone sentinel that had been separated from its company. Due to the losses taken, this put them at a little under full platoon strength.
It was still early in the morning, the sun having just climbed above the mountains, when they came upon a valley. The area was heavily forested, stretching out for kilometres in a bowl. A small lake, covered in wind swept ice, sat in the middle of the valley. Along the edge of the lake they could see a hamlet, consisting of a few small buildings. There was a half hearted cheer from a couple of the Vostroyans, but no one else wanted to waste the energy.
It was a clear day and the birds chirped in the trees. A pair of elk ran across their path at one point, and the platoon stopped and stared as the animals disappeared off between the narrow mountain trees, into the gloom of the forest. They made it to the hamlet in a couple hours, going downhill the entire way. A man came out to greet them. He wore a heavy fur lined coat and wore a ushunka on his head. He had a bushy white moustache and spoke with a thick accent, similar to the Vostroyans. The man spoke with the Lieutenant for a minute, explaining the dire situation that the guardsmen were in.
Five minutes later and Sev's squad as well as the remainder of first squad were crowded around the fire in the largest of the four or five houses making up the hamlet. Most of the men were lying on the hard wood floor of the house, having already fallen asleep. Sev sat propped up against the wall, the couch having been taken by Tunsy and Holly. The black man was snoring loudly and Tunsy was awake, but far too exhausted to do anything about the noise. Sev and Illineth had dropped their gear and after wrapping his arm around her Illineth had almost immediately fallen asleep. Her head rested on his shoulder and she was breathing slowly. The wife of the man whose house they were in, came out of the kitchen bearing a tray piled with mismatched glasses filled with water. She passed them to the men that were still awake, and Sev thanked her when he got his. He was extremely thirsty, and quickly drank it.
There was a cry from the kitchen. The single remaining medic was patching up the wounded aviator on the kitchen table. Sev was amazed at the man's resilience. They hadn't been able to give him anything more than the most basic of medical treatment, due to the proximity of the Ork horde and the need for haste, and yet he had survived the three day trek.
It was warm in the house and it wasn't long before Sev felt his head dropping to the side. The last few days of hiking had been too exhausting to think about the battle, but now he was idle his thoughts slid back to the horrific fighting. Images of the Orks sprinting up the hill as fire tore into them, and of the axe burying itself in Tonna's back. He remembered Alfonzo slumped against the snow and wood wall of the trench, his lungs splattered behind him. Sev was happy when he was finally overtaken by a thankfully dream less-sleep.
Brother-Sergeant Constantine cocked his bolter, the massive receiver clattering back into position as a bolt round was locked into place. Next to him battle-brother Egidus was kneeling, running a gauntleted hand over his heavy bolter. An Artificer named Felicia, who Constantine had personally saved from a burning building on a world over run by chaos, fixed a purity seal on the heavy bolter and whispered a litany. The mechanical shutters of her replacement eyes clicked closed as she completed the prayer. He looked over the rest of the squad, satisfying himself that they were all ready. Their yellow armour held a dull matte red sheen in the dim candle light and the mist of incense snaked around their feet. The chapter icon of the Imperial Fists stood in bold white on their pauldrons. It was time to go.
Without a word the squad stood and entered their drop pod. Other than the whirring of the servos in their armour and the clanking of drop harnesses securing them in place they were silent. Constantine flattened his short, matted grey hair with a massive armoured hand before sliding his helmet on and locking it in place. There was a ticking noise as the helmets computer connected with his armour and then his HUD appeared. He checked over his systems quickly to make sure that everything was working to order. He could hear a serf muttering litanies and the swish of censers.
"What was it that those guardsmen said? Boots first?" Came a gravelly voice over the vox. Rogerus, the Apothecary that would be accompanying the squad, had what normal humans would call a sense of humour. A good, or bad depending on your view, bed side manner the men would joke. Constantine chuckled.
"That's right Rogerus, boot's first" the Sergeant said.
"Boots first." Echoed Felix, who had recently been promoted from an assault squad to his place in the tactical squad.
There was a sudden clank, and the drop pod shook as the hatches close up. They waited an apprehensive second and could pick up the whispering of the serf's robes as they cleared the launch area. Another minute of silence. There was a thump and then every member of the squad was forced into their seats by the G-force as the drop pod shot towards the planet below. Over the scream of the engines they could hear the roar of flames licking along the drop pods armoured sides as they tore through the atmosphere. Even secured under their harnesses and within their ceramite armour their teeth clattered together as the drop pod shook violently.
It only lasted a few seconds before the retro burners slammed into action. A second later and the drop pod hammered into the earth. The ramp had dropped and they were out of their harnesses in an instant. Before the dust had even settled the Imperial Fists were on the move, forming a circle around the drop pod. They knelt, staying low with bolters levelled, taking in their surroundings.
The impact of the drop pod had formed a small crater, and the trees had been blasted back. Some of the trees that hadn't been toppled bore singed branches. They were in a snowy forest, at the foot of a mountain. A mountain range stretched into the distance as far as their augmented eyes could see. The sergeant took in their surroundings and then panned his head back and forth, the blue eyes beneath the helmet scanning the landscape for land marks or signs of danger.
"Let's move" Constantine growled over the vox. As one the squad stood and started off through the trees. They moved in a perfect "V" formation. After an hour there was a click over the vox links and every Marine halted, dropping to a knee. Their mustard yellow armour stood out in the snow and keeping low wasn't so much to make themselves less visible as to make them smaller targets.
"Contacts, twenty, two missile launchers, one click" It sounded like it was Lucious, the veteran plasma gunner. He was on the right side.
"Roger, pick your targets, fire one volley and then move. On my mark" Constantine said. Sure enough he could see twenty red dots on his HUD where the veteran marine had pinged the enemy infantry. He levelled his bolter and raised the barrel slightly to compensate for the range.
"Fire"
Each bolter in the squad fire three precise shots. The reports of the firing weapons echoed around the valley and before the noise could even bounce back the Space Marines were moving. As Constantine sprinted he kept his eyes fixed on the Orks. He watched with a satisfied grimace as the rocket propelled shots impacted amongst the Orks. The xenos had been moving further down the valley, presumably towards the noise of the drop pod. The bolt rounds reached them before the sound of the weapons firing did, and there was puffs of snow and blood. A few of the red dots blinked out.
"Leap frog maneuver, close with the enemy"
Half of the squad halted, snapping off shots. The other five continued sprinting before stopping and firing off their own series of shots. The big copper casings dropped into the snow and melted downwards out of sight. By the time the second group had stopped firing the first had passed them and taken up positions. They continued down the slope, quickly closing with the stunned Orks who still were not sure of what was hitting them.
"Knives out, finish the Emperors work" The grizzled Sergeant grunted.
While Egidus, Lucious, Rogerus and two others gave suppressing fire, the other five men closed the distance with the aliens, ceramite boots crunching through the snow. Constantine's chainsword flew from its place on his belt as he sprinted. With a flick of his fore finger and a quick litany to its simple machine spirit the ancient chainsword roared to life, sharp teeth whirring into action.
He closed the final ten metres with the closest stunned Ork. Before it knew what was happening a chainsword had rammed through its torso, chunks of meat flicking off the teeth as it exited the other side. With his offhand Constantine raised his bolter, blasting two shots into an Ork that was bearing down, crude axe raised and mouth open in a defiant roar. The Orks chest blew outwards as the mass reactive shells detonated. The Space Marine Sergeant ripped out the chainsword, mouth set in a determined line, ready to take on the next enemy, but there were none left. Felix was finishing off the last gurgling Ork, stabbing his combat knife down through the monsters throat.
"Good work brothers, we must continue on before more of the xenos are drawn to the area." The squad did a quick weapons check before continuing up the valley, towards their objective. By midday they had crested the closest ridge and were looking down onto the hamlet and lake that Sev and his comrades had seen the previous day. They started off down the hill but before they had gone far they were alerted to a crackling noise a little further ahead, in an open glade.
The squad halted and every weapon lowered as they panned out, forming a line along the edge of the glade. There was a moment of silence, where the only sound was the birds chirping in the trees and the mountain breeze rustling the snow laden branches of the fir trees. Then a shimmering became visible, directly in the centre of the glade, and the Space Marines noses twitched at the smell of o-zone.
"Squad, lower weapons." Constantine murmured. The Imperial Fists dropped the barrels of their weapons so that they were no threat to whoever, or whatever, was in the centre of the clearing. A figure took shape, seemingly appearing out of thin air. It had red and white armour, and blades extruded from its arms. Weapons, which looked almost like another pair of arms, were attached to its shoulders and they moved and twitched as if they had a mind of their own.
"Sergeant Constantine, I assume?" The Eldar warp spider spoke.
"Azerifel. Know that what happens here, I have no choice in." Constantine hissed, between gritted teeth. The Eldar tutted.
"Even if your opinions of my species did matter, your lack of mannerism would only leave me indifferent any ways. I know you... humans find the most basic of formalities difficult, but couldn't they have sent someone with a little more tact?"
"Well, your only other option is me, and I doubt you'll find my procedures any more amiable." The Apothecary chirped in.
"Silence, Rogerus. We must spare the pleasantries Azerifel. There is little time."
"Indeed, I'm glad we see eye to... eye." The exarch said, taking a step forward and staring up at the almost three metre tall super human. "The Orks will have reached their objective soon enough. We have called up every reserve we have, but it will not be enough. And failure to stop the Orks will prove as disastrous for humans as it will for Eldar."
"I am well aware of the consequences xenos; you have no need to lecture me. We have already wasted too much time. The first order of business should be to muster what few Imperial forces remain."
"Agreed, I must rendezvous with my kin, but we will talk again by tomorrow evening. Make haste, human. And good luck."
The Brother Sergeant considered showing up the Eldar with the courtesy of a good bye but the xenos warped out of sight before he got the chance. He shook his helmeted head and with a motion of his hand the squad set off towards the hamlet. The sun was starting to drop behind the mountains, framing them in gold, and the trees cast long shadows across the snow covered forest floor.
Sev checked over his ammunition. He had used up four power packs, and only had two full ones left. There was a small generator behind one of the houses and the men of the platoon had been taking turns since arriving charging their magazines. The heavy bolter had been left behind in the trenches and Ryn had scavenged a lasgun on the first day. The only special weapons they still had was Marn's melta gun, first squad's flamer, and one of the command squads plasma guns. The Sentinel had been re-fuelled with promethium that the villagers had given them but it only had a little over half a drum of autocannon ammunition.
The airman had been patched up, and was able to get about by himself. He chatted with the Rolanders but didn't get along very well with the Vostroyans. He was quite arrogant, but nice enough. Sev and a few other men enjoyed listening to his stories of dog fighting Tau in deep space and ambushing Eldar pirates. Sev noticed Illineth flinch at this but luckily none of the men noticed. She had done an impressive job of faking not being able to hear, and whenever they got a chance Sev was teaching her more low gothic. She was able to hold a conversation now, and he was extremely happy with how she was coming along.
Nothing more had happened between them since the abandoned inn. Sev hadn't really bothered trying. Not only were they almost constantly in close proximity to the other men, but they had both been exhausted. He had been content with her sleeping in his arms.
Sev had just finished stripping his lasgun and was just about done re-assembling it when there was a shout from outside. He quickly locked the dust cover in place and ran to the window, looking outside. He nearly tipped over when he saw what was coming down the road. Eleven Space Marines, clad in yellow power armour and with purity seals waving in the breeze, were walking down the middle of the mountain road. Sev ran to the door, pushing against the other guardsmen to get a better look at the massive Astartes. They stopped in front of the house and every man dropped to one knee, heads lowered. The Space Marine in front, identifiable as the leader due to his red helmet and chainsword, swept his head back and forth, taking in the hamlet. He reached a hand up and took off his helmet.
Sev was amazed. He had been expecting some sort of magnificent demi-god like figure. He had been expecting long blonde hair and a pristine face. This man was the exact opposite. He had short hair that was matted to his head. His face had a couple scars, the most prominent running from his forehead, across his eye and down his cheek. He had steely grey eyes that two metal implants protruded from the left side of his forehead.
"Who is in command here?" He didn't speak loudly but his voice held strength. The Lieutenant, who had just returned from checking over the sentinel, stepped forwards hesitantly.
"I-I am my lord." He said quietly. He shuffled his feet and adjusted his crusher cap on his head.
"What was that? I didn't quite catch it, you seem to be muttering." The Space Marine Sergeant boomed loudly. Sev swore that he was trying to suppress a smile. The Lieutenant looked the massive super human in the eye.
"I am my lord." He said, more clearly this time. He snapped his heals together and threw a salute. "Platoon, attention!" He ordered. Every guardsman stood to attention, heels together and guns crossed over chests. The Sergeant looked very serious for a second before breaking into a chuckle.
"I thank you for the formality. Lieutenant I presume, where is your commanding officer?"
"I am the commanding officer sir." At this the Space Marine looked confused.
"We came to this location because my auspex said that the Imperial first IC for the region was here."
"That means that I am the first IC sir." Sev almost toppled over at the gravity of the realization. Their regiment had been decimated. They were all that remained and the twenty five year old aristocratic born Lieutenant, who the men called baby faced Williams when he wasn't around, was in command of the Roland 7th Regiment. The Space Marine Sergeant was visibly surprised, perhaps even shaken.
"Well then, we have a lot of work to do Lieutenant. We have been ordered to re-group the Imperial forces and organize the destruction of the Ork horde. We have no reserves and for the indefinite future no reinforcements. That, at least for the time being, makes you Lord General of the Imperial guard forces." The lieutenant opened and closed his mouth a couple times. He was un-able to say anything.
"We will have to work on that. No good standing about, gawking like some sort of fish in front of the men. Now, let's get down to business. We have a lot of work to do, and I have a lot to explain. Tell your men to pack up; we will leave within the hour." The men groaned almost as a single entity. They were still exhausted and had been expecting a rest before any decisions were to be made.
"My lord, the men are exhausted, we have been on the march for the past three days." The Lieutenant stammered, terrified of the super human before him. The Space Marine looked puzzled for a second, as if he forgotten the meaning of tired, and was racking his brain for the definition.
"Alright then, we will leave tomorrow. That will give us more time. I didn't catch your name Lieutenant."
"Williams, sir."
"Alright Williams, come. We have much work to do."
Sev stumbled back indoors. He was stunned by this turn of events. The negatives were obvious. The loss had been worse than any-one expected if the command structure was so ravaged that the Lieutenant was in command. He couldn't decide whether the arrival of Space Marines was a good thing or a bad thing. Fighting along side the Astartes would not only be an incredible honour, but would also help with survival chances. On the other hand, if the Astartes were here, then there mission had probably just got a lot more important, and a lot more dangerous.