Ancra Mortis Chapter 8
The planet Glaeba was swathed in thick clouds, made dirty by the soot and smoke of war. Here the Orks had come and the greenskin tide was engulfing the primary continent, millions of bestial Boyz rampaging as they will, but they were not unopposed. Great cities stood proud against the barbarian hordes, brave men of the PDF and Imperial Guard garrison standing on the mighty walls, determined to resist to the last breath. Every man knew they had a choice, fight for their lives or die running away and given even the smallest chance at life the men all chose to stand firm.
The Orks had come to take this world and they had slain millions of innocents already, but high above their heads the situation had changed. Sailing proudly into low orbit was a flotilla of Imperial ships; they were a collection of troop ships, mass conveyors and fuel tankers, dedicated to relieving this world. Packed into their holds were sixty thousand fighting men of the Imperial Guard along with tanks, artillery and aircraft, all ready to deploy. They had also brought prefabricated bases, hospitals, repair yards and barracks along with enough supplies to support the whole endeavour for at least three months.
Sixty thousand men seemed a small army to drive off an Ork invasion, but they were not alone, for at the very head of the formation sailed the mighty form of the Light of Terra. She was recovering her exhausted Thunderhawk compliments, but her main weapons were ready and her drop–pods loaded. On her bridge the crew hastened to prepare for the impending assault, racing to and fro as Enginseers blessed logic engines and surveyors with sacred incense, beseeching the Machine Spirits to calculate the essential drop vectors. After a few minutes a stone gargoyle perched on a logic engine began spewing reams of parchment from a carved mouth slot and the Enginseers gathered this up with chants of thankfulness.
The calculated results were presented to Chaplain Wrethan who snatched them up with an impatient glower before stamping over to the Command dais where Toran and Memnos were overseeing preparations. He marched straight up to Captain Toran and said, "The Machine Spirits foretell that the optimum drop zone is right outside the capital city, we are on course but there is a problem: the Orks have the entire city besieged."
Toran nodded and opened a vox link to the drop-pod bay saying, "Captain Erathor, we are preparing to commence the assault, I am transcribing surveyor scans to your armour logs now. Be advised that the landing area is contested by the enemy, you will be deploying into an active battle zone."
Erathor's voice came back over the vox with eager relish, "Exactly how we like it. Commence Codex assault doctrine; let them taste the wrath of the Storm Heralds."
Toran closed the link and called, "Novak, begin your preparations, I want a flawless deployment. Jediah begin targeting the Ork army with Bombardment cannons, take care brother, for the Orks are perilously close to the civilian populace, much will rest upon your accuracy. Furion alter our trajectory to take us directly over the area, least time course if you please."
As the crew hurried to obey Chaplain Wrethan stepped closer and said, "Would that we could be in the first wave of the assault, to meet the Divine Emperor's foes head-on with Crozius in hand."
Toran nodded, "I agree, there is nothing like true battle to fire the spirit, but someone has to stay and guard the Battlebarge. At least we can affect the course of the war from the bridge; I imagine my squads below deck are going stir crazy with nothing to do."
From his other side Memnos commented, "You do realise that you are about to kill more Orks with this ship's guns than a Battle Company could do if they fired their bolters non-stop for a week? Honestly, all this power at your command and all you want to do is run right at the foe with a sharpened bit of metal in your hands."
Wrethan glowered as he replied, "The Divine Emperor made us for the destruction of his foes and fulfilling that purpose is its own reward, but still there is no greater satisfaction than viscerally tearing an enemy apart with your own two hands."
Their doctrinal debate was interrupted as Persion called, "Tactical alert, we have a hostile contact rising up over the planetary terminus. Its small, barely even an escort… looks like an Ork runt struggling to climb out of the gravity well and its right in our way."
Jediah called from the gunnery pews, "Permission to swat it with a round from the Bombardment cannon?"
Toran shook his head, "No we will need the Magma-Bombs for the assault, besides it's hardly a threat on its own."
Wrethan stepped up and mindful of their earlier conversation said, "We should be cautious about letting an Ork vessel go uncontested; I would advise sending out some Thunderhawks to finish it off."
Toran grinned wickedly and said, "I had no intention of letting it live but I had something a little more… visceral in mind."
The Captain turned to the helm and called, "Furion, you see that ship in our path?"
Furion called uncertainly, "Aye."
Toran said, "I don't want to anymore."
Furion's face lit up as grasped the implication and he replied, "Understood Captain."
With flares of manoeuvring jets the great bow of the Battlebarge came about a few degrees before she surged forwards, riding a comet tail of plasma from her titanic engines. The colossal vessel bore down upon the tiny escort like a great oceanic predator bearing down on a tiny sprat. The Orks saw the enormous vessel bearing down upon them and tried to break away but they were caught in the gravity well and could not evade as a prow wider than their craft's entire length bore down upon them. The Light of Terra dove down like an avenging angel and no matter how the Xenos spun they could not escape their fate, then the Battlebarge rammed them at maximum acceleration.
This was titanic overkill, the Orks stood absolutely no chance and were utterly helpless as the Adamantium ramming spikes snagged the rear of their ship and tore right through. The Ork escort was ripped apart by the force of the impact, spilling debris down either side of the Battlebarge's flanks and spilling fuel over her mighty prow like an aquatic ship cresting a wave in a spray of salt-water.
On the bridge the crew were shaken and jarred by the impact but quickly recovered and Toran turned to his companions saying, "Satisfying enough for you?"
Wrethan's face was filled with relish as he said, "Yes indeed, perhaps naval warfare need not be so indifferent after all."
Toran turned back to the bridge and called, "Time to drop co-ordinates?"
Furion checked his readouts and called, "Eleven minutes."
As the time crawled by Toran saw the bridge crew making preparations, performing routines that had been honed to perfection by ten thousand years of practice. Space Marines excelled at all forms of warfare but planetary assault was a role they had made all their own and no other force in the galaxy came close to matching their perfection. When they were barely a minute away from the correct position Toran turned to Wrethan and said, "Chaplain, would you address the crew?"
Wrethan stepped forwards and spoke boldly, "Soldiers of the Divine Emperor, today we bring His illumination upon the Xeno scourge once more. Today we show the alien that there will be no end to the penance he decrees and that there is no place in the galaxy that they can hide from His retribution. We are the instrument of that judgement, we are the tools of His retribution, sent to bring swift death to the enemies of Man: We are the Emperor's Storm!"
The whole bridge took up the traditional war cry and as one shouted with pride, "We are His wrath!"
Then a red light flashed in the Hololith and Toran cried, "Commence planetary assault!" Instantly the crew leapt into action, bringing time honoured sequences into effect, first the mighty Bombardment cannons swung about to face the planet far below and began firing Magma-bombs in a carefully timed barrage. Each shell was a city-killer, designed to obliterate whole urban environments but dispatched against an army out in the open they could be just as devastating. Between the kinetic energy of an object falling from orbit and the staggering potency of the warhead itself, the devastation would be total and absolute. Only a Starship class Void shield could offer protection from such power, which the Orks categorically did not have.
Before the firing sequence had even finished small ports along the Battle-barge's underside opened and began ejecting an equally deadly cargo, drop pods filled with one hundred Space Marines. The tiny pods were shot out like bullets from a stubber and dove hard for the atmosphere, turning into fiery comets as they began the terrible process of re-entry. Their timing had been calculated to the second, perfectly planned to arrive the moment the orbital barrage ceased.
The Space Marines would emerge from their pods before the dust had even settled, to find a broken and shattered foe. The enemy would be dazed and confused by the orbital bombardment, easy prey for the Emperor's Finest. This was a tactic the Astartes had honed to perfection and it was their most iconic strategy, falling from the heavens with dread power in their hands, not for nothing were they known far and wide as the Angels of Death.
Toran watched the pods diving into war and wished himself among them; he wanted to be beside Captain Erathor as he set foot upon the ground, but he had his duties and regretfully called, "Status of drop?"
Novak replied from the ordnance pulpit, "All pods successfully deployed, the first wave is away."
"Excellent," Toran declared, "You may begin launching the second wave."
From the great prow of the Battle-barge streamed long lines of smaller craft, Stormhawk interceptors, Stormtalon ground attack craft and Thunderhawks bearing Dreadnoughts, Land Speeders, Land Raiders and Predators. These raced to be the first into the atmosphere, chasing the drop-pods in order to ensure the Astartes on the ground would have aerial and armoured support within minutes of their deployment.
Close behind them came Thunderhawk transporters laden with supplies and munitions. They travelled slower, for they were more vulnerable in a combat zone, but their role was no less vital. Drop assaults consumed ammunition at a furious rate and the supplies being brought down would be essential should the battle last more than a few minutes. Though oft unsung, the humble actions of the Chapter's logistical support staff had meant the difference between victory and defeat in countless wars.
Toran watched this all happening from the bridge then ordered, "Deploy the third wave." Now a trio of much larger craft squeezed their way out of the landing bay, these were dedicated Space Marine Landing craft and they bore prefabricated buildings inside re-entry proof containers in their hydraulic claws. Between them the three landers carried everything a Company would need for an extended operation, including medical facilities, fully stocked armouries, barracks, plasma generators, garages and a small mobile chapel. A completely operational forward base of operations, that would be set up upon the bones of the foe within one hour of the first Space Marine setting foot on the planet.
On the bridge Novak called, "Drop-sequence complete."
Wrethan checked a chronometer and said, "Fifteen minutes: a perfect Codex deployment, the Emperor has smiled upon us."
Toran declared, "We are not done yet, Furion power up the engines and get us out of the way so the Troop Transports can commence their deployment. Plot a course back into high orbit; we have unfinished business with the Orks."