As usual, I claim no ownership to any Games-Workshop stuff. Enjoy! N. Kage
Back on the planet…
Breathing deeply, Erasmus inspected his assembled squad. They had been training together for three days, with Erasmus getting to know each of his Marines and how to develop tactics for their special weapons, Gunner Olas carried a plasma-gun and Gunner Morenas carried a flamer. They were a well-trained unit, and had accepted their new Sergeant with no rancor. They had just finished morning firing rites and were about to rejoin the rest of the Company fighting to reclaim the city. Erasmus could find nothing wrong with the squad, their weapons clean and their spirits high.
They were assembling with several other squads and support tanks for a big push into the rebel lines and Chaplain Kylan was about to begin his pre-battle sermon. Hurriedly, several tech-marines and their attendant servitors were raising the Machine Spirits of the tanks with their fiery chants and smacking the controls with their sacred spanners. Then, everyone fell silent. Kylan strode to the fore of the assembled Marines and raised his Crozius, shouting, "KNEEL!"
With a crash, the seventy power armor knees hit the rockcrete road. Everyone was in silent prayer for a minute. Erasmus was privately praying for guidance from the Emperor to fulfill his new assignment with the same kind of courage and discipline that he had when he was behind the rebel lines.
"With the bolter, purge the Unclean." began Kylan, his booming voice echoing across the Marine lines.
"We will purge!" came the reply from the thirty-five Space Marines assembled.
"With the flamer, burn the heretic." Continued Kylan, Erasmus had only fought along side the Chaplain twice before, and never as a full Battle-Brother.
"We will burn!" came the cry, Erasmus's voice among them.
"We the plasma-gun, kill the traitor." Kylan stated. Erasmus could feel his spirit soaring with righteous sense of duty.
"We will kill!" shouted the Space Marines; their deep voices making the ground shake.
"With the melta-gun, annihilate the daemon." Again came Kylan, who was screwing fresh hydrogen-flasks into his plasma-pistol.
"We will annihilate!" again replied the Marines, who were finishing their own pre-battle checks.
"With the las-cannon, destroy the foul." Kylan prayed again, raising his Crozius to the sky again.
"We will destroy!" the Marines replied the Marines, the tanks were idling now, their drivers heads sticking out above the hatches.
"With the chain-sword, rend the pysker." Kylan finished.
"We will rend!" shouted the Marines, pounding their fists to their chests.
"Attention, Marines. You all know your objectives, so it would be pointless for me to tell you those again. However, I expect you all to fight with courage and honor, as any Space Marine should. I will, as always, be at the fore of the fighting with you. So, begin your attacks."
With that, Erasmus broke into a run, his squad following behind him. His objective was to take the very same building he had been in when he had killed the last sniper. On his left flank was Sergeant Noras, the glow of his plasma-pistol casting strange glows on the hard-bitten Sergeants face. On his right flank were Sergeant Topes and his Veteran Squad, the gold on their shoulder guards glinting in the pre-dawn light. Next to Topes was Honored-Brother Morees, his las-cannons were silent now, but would soon be glowing.
At first, the assault was unnoticed, the rebels eating breakfast or still asleep. But, the rumble of the armor alerted the sentries. Erasmus spotted a rebel's head sticking out over a barricade and he fired several shots at him, the bolts going through the barricade and hurling his body a dozen meters. The incoming fire had intensified, a las-bolt scoring off his chest-plate and burning a furrow in the fresh paint. Next to Erasmus, Gunner Olas fired his plasma-gun, the plasma-cells whining as they recharged. Down range, a half meter section of the barricade disappeared, the four rebels behind it were vaporized, their bodies reduced to a fine ash which scattered into the wind. Dozens of las-bolts were shrieking towards the Marines now, two Brothers going down, but one, Brother Feygor, stood back up, his armor wheezing from a ruptured power-line. Erasmus fired again, blowing two rebels apart, their bodies shredded by a half dozen bolts.
Squad Erasmus was the first to reach the rebel barricades, and Brother Morenas's flamer sending gouts of purifying flame into the rebels. Erasmus had his chainsword out, the teeth singing in the cold morning air. As he vaulted over the barricades, he brought it down into a rebel, his body brutally bisected, the organs at first neatly cut in half, then slipping out into a steaming pile of offal. The fighting was close and brutal, with most of the squad slashing about them with knives, or clubbing the enemy down with bolter stocks. Except for, of course, Brother Morenas, who burned holes in the rebels lines with his flamer. Several of the rebels turned and ran, burning like torches, only to cut down by the bolters of Squad Noras. A giant of a man stood in front of Erasmus, a power fist crudely grafted onto one of his arms. The fist came down, but Erasmus danced back, the fist vaporizing a two foot section of the rockcrete road. Screaming, "Death Comes for You!" Erasmus stabbed his chainsword into the mans stomach. The blade went straight through the mans spine, the teeth chewing a massive rend in him, but he did not fall. The rebel back-handed Erasmus in the face, the power fist crushing part of his helmet and breaking his jaw. Erasmus reeled, his chainsword forgotten in the rebel's stomach. A dozen warning runes were flashing on his display, but his body pumped hormones and pain-killers into his system and counter-acted the pain that would have crippled a normal man. The rebel calmly pulled the chainsword out of his stomach and dropped it to the ground. He had a massive two-foot hole in his stomach and Erasmus could see out the other side. Erasmus dodged another ponderous swing, but the fist vaporized the head of another Space Marine who was already engaged. Cursing, Erasmus drew his bolter and pumped a dozen shells into the rebel's torso, blowing him apart. The rebel's legs and shattered torso stood for a moment then fell to the ground. Shaking his head, Erasmus picked up his chainsword and thrust it into the air. With the lines broken, they could move onto the objective. A white-armor Apothecary was instantly there, punching the reductor through the Marines chest and withdrawing the precious gene-seed there. The Apothecary turned to Erasmus and said, "Brother, do you require aide?" Erasmus shook his head.
Turning back to his squad, now down to eight battered Marines, he said slowly, his broken jaw aching, "Move on to the objective, Brothers." The Marines cheered, and Erasmus joined them as they moved up with the other squads. The squad was loosely grouped, covering every possible angle of attack. His jaw as healing rapidly, but the crushed part of his helmet was causing to set wrong and Erasmus wrenched it off and hooked the battered thing to his belt. Suddenly, the sounds of the raging battle hit him. Gun-fire, screams, battle-cries, explosions, the sweetest music in the entire universe. The shattered house loomed on the horizon, even more battered by the Space Marine attack. Groups of rebels stood in their way, but swift, disciplined bolter fire cut them down, or gouts of flame burned them to ash.
The house, which Erasmus had so easily entered not a week ago, was now a strong-point, with dozens of rebels defending the windows and doors, and several auto-cannons and heavy bolters at various points. His squad dived into cover just as the defenders opened fire, sending plumes of dirt erupting and cutting down two members of Squad Topes. It almost looked like the attacked would halt there, pinned down under fire. Erasmus and his squad were sheltered behind a shattered wall, which was rapidly disintegrating under the intense fire. Brother Olas had his plasma gun propped up in a hole in the wall, and was sending blasts of purifying plasma into the rebel position. Then, Honored-Brother Morees stamped into view, his las-cannons smoking from repeated firings. The flamer mounted in his other arm fired, and the flame lit up the building, sending a dozen or more of the rebels to a flaming grave. Two auto-cannons sent chains of flame stitching across the Dreadnoughts front armor, but the ancient adamantine armor held firm.
Erasmus rose to his feet, brandishing his chainsword and shouted, "Do you want to live forever!" His squad rose, screaming, "Death Comes For you!" and joined Erasmus as he ran toward the building. Erasmus crashed through a wall and into a frantic gun-crew, who were screaming incoherently at him. He swung his chainsword in a huge arc, cutting both the rebels in half, their dark blood splattering over him. Storming through into a hallway, Gunner Morenas sent gouts of flame into the hastily redeploying rebels. Four ran out a door and into the bolters of the now advancing Squad Topes. Erasmus stormed into the hallway, followed by his squad. He kicked in a door and cut down a heavy bolter crew, their blood and guts pooling around their now silent gun. Squad Noras was now moving up, the heavy bolter had pinned them down behind a sewer pipe.
He then led his squad up the same stairs he had taken not a week before and onto the next floor. The rebels were prepared for them this time, and a dozen or more were firing their las-guns into the charging Marines. Behind Erasmus, Gunner Olas was firing his shrieking plasma-gun into the rebels, the plasma-coils glowing red hot. The armor on his hands and arms was blackened and burned. A lucky las-bolt struck the plasma-coils and the gun blew up, the shockwave flattening the rebels and vaporizing the front part of Olas's body. Furious at having lost so many of his squad, Erasmus dived at the reeling rebels, hacking about him with his sword. Blood splattered everywhere, forming a fine sheen over everything with two meters. None of the rebels survived his attack. Standing over the shattered bodies of the rebels, Erasmus wiped their foul blood off his face before it clotted.
"Press on!" shouted Erasmus, his broken jaw forgotten. Shouldering through a wall, Erasmus came upon a group of rebel officers, standing over a chart-desk. Grinning, Erasmus drew his bolter in an instant and opened fire. The officers stood not a chance. The bolts easily penetrated their flak armor and detonated deep in their bodies, leaving them twisted and shattered. Shouldering back through the wall, Erasmus watched as the rest of his squad cleared the rest of the floor, mowing down the rebels in hails of gunfire, or clubbing them down with bolter stocks. "Rally up!' again shouted Erasmus, 'one floor left!" Swiftly, the battered squad stormed up the last flight of stairs, Brother Morenas at the fore, his flamer sending gouts of purifying promethium ahead of them. One the top floor was horror. Two Traitor Marines, their once sacred power armor now twisted and warped with the touch of Chaos. Their bolters roared and Brother Kylos fell, his head blown apart. Screaming, "For the Emperor," Erasmus hurled himself at them, his chainsword disemboweling one, and his sword glancing off the others armor. Cackling, the one that survived punched Erasmus in his unarmored face, breaking his jaw again. Reeling, Erasmus was pulled out of the way by one of his Brothers, then; Morenas immolated the last one, continuing to fire his flamer long after the Traitor had died. Erasmus had to shove Morenas to get him to stop firing. Morenas shrugged.
The rest of the floor was empty, so Erasmus radioed to Kylan that Objective Primus had been taken. The other objectives had been taken, the water plant one kilometer away, and the old Arbite HQ had been reclaimed. "Sergeant Erasmus,' spoke Kylan, 'you must hold your objective while the Imperial Guard move up behind us. Orbital survey indicates a large enemy force is moving to counter-attack. Sergeants Topes and Noras are also aiding you. That is all."
Behind him, Topes and Noras had already assembled to discuss their tactics. "Topes, since your squad has melta-guns, you shall have the third floor." Spoke Noras. Topes nodded. The anti-tank melta-guns would be best at the top floor, where they could fire down. "I shall take the second floor." Said Erasmus, his remaining flamer would be best served there. "That leaves me to take the first floor." Again spoke Noras. His squad had a number of plasma-guns and carried grenades. "Don't forget about Honored-Brother Morees,' chimed in Erasmus, 'he can be deployed on one of the flanks for support." The other Sergeants nodded. Knowing their duty, the Sergeants broke and began to ready themselves for the counter-attack.
Squad Erasmus piled the rebel bodies behind windows and in front of any large shell holes, and carried the heavy bolters to the third floor, where Topes directed his Marines to set them up in a cross fire. On the first floor, Morenas was doing the same, except setting up his plasma-guns in hard points. Outside, Honored-Brother Morees was waiting motionless on the right flank, his las-cannons pointed towards the rebel lines. Within minutes the apartment building was formidably defended. Just as they finished, the attack began.