There are planes in this chapter. If you know a lot about aircraft then please excuse my lack of aeronautical knowledge. Hope you enjoy.
Update:
Ubermarine- Schultz is an extremely common German last name. Also don't know the book. Either way I aplogazie if there are any similarities.
Alpha Astartes- Sorry for any confusion, I have hopefully fixed it now.
After heading downstairs to a slightly awkward breakfast with the rest of the squad, Sev and Illineth helped pack up and half an hour later they were on their way. The snow had petered out during the night, but the wind blew with un-tamed fury and it bit viciously into any exposed surface. After walking for two minutes the squad had returned to the shelter of the inn and had made make shift scarves from the curtains. After wrapping the scarves around their necks, they returned to the driving snow with little vigour.
They were still above the tree line and as far as they could see, which was only a few metres, the mountain sloped downwards. The wind whipped up the light mountain snow and whipped it ferociously through the air and it swirled around the soldiers in small tornadoes. Their only sense of direction was the road, a compass and the Sergeant's map. Even under their helmets, great coats, toques and scarves they could still hear the wind howling in their ears and feel the cold seeping through their layers of clothing.
It was what seemed like an eternity, but was really only about an hour, when they passed the first tree. They came upon more and more and soon they were beneath the tree line. The wind still whistled through the pines but it no longer held the malice that it had higher up. Their spirits lightened up and soon the Sergeant motioned with his hand, and the squad broke off from the road and started trudging through the deep snow between the trees. It wasn't quite as bad as it had been going uphill but it was still exhausting. When the wind blew particularly hard against the tree tops the over laden limbs would shake, and snow would fall down on the drop troopers walking below.
It wasn't too long before they were stopped by a sentry, and within half an hour they had dropped off the supplies to a grateful tank crew. The guardsmen were greeted by a few of the soldiers from their platoon, but they were much more interested in resting than chatting. Sev and Illineth eagerly crawled into their dugout and, without bothering to take off any of their gear other than their helmets, fell asleep.
Illineth woke up late in the day. After taking a peek at the sky she guessed that it was probably midafternoon. The wind had died down and was only now a dull rustling as it ran through the fir trees. She slid back into the snow cave and resumed her place nestled against Sev. She absent mindedly stroked his back as she recalled the last couple days. Sev woke up and she heard him yawn through his mask. She flicked the lenses of his respirator playfully and he adjusted it in mock insult. She pressed back down against him and enjoyed the heat escaping from his trench coat.
Illineth sat up with suddenly. Something had changed and it took her a second to put her finger on it. The birds, which had been chirping since she had woken up, had suddenly gone silent. Sev hadn't noticed but he sat up as well at her presumable alarm. She had just started reaching for her lasgun when a whistle became audible. The whistle grew and grew and soon became a shriek. Sev started scrambling out of the dug out, pushing on his helmet, and Illineth followed behind.
The shrieks continued to rise in pitch until they were replaced with the crump of explosions, muffled by the snow. It wasn't a single detonation and soon the air was filled with the scream of rockets and the report of their impacts. Men scrambled up and down the trench and the sound of splitting wood and screaming filled the air. Sev hesitated for a second before dashing off down the trench. Illineth did her best to keep up, trying to keep her head down like Sev was doing. He was quite a bit taller and she lunged forwards and tackled him as a rocket, landing particularly close, sent splinters and shrapnel impacting into the wall of the trench where Sev had stood a split second before.
The pair rolled into the heavy bolter nest. Ryn was already there pressing himself up against the frozen sandbags while trying to peer over the edge towards the slope. The camo netting above them shuddered from shock waves and fragments from the explosives. Sev and Illineth took Ryn's lead and pressed themselves up against the walls of the machine gun nest. The scream of the rockets was soon accompanied by the whistle of mortars and artillery shells and not to far off the much louder noise of bombs could be heard. Sev could make out the shape of Ork bombers through the camo netting, flying in what looked like an attempt at a "V" formation.
At first the micro beads rang with desperate requests for orders and calls for a medic, but the only orders were to hang tight and stay low. The medics did what they could with the injured, bandaging legs and trying to remove shrapnel. The bombardment seemed to have failed to do any real damage other than shrapnel hits on men caught in the open during the first salvo. But not too far off Sev saw a mortar round land directly in a section of trench. An arm, which looked to be of Vostroyan origin, spun through the air as a man began screaming in pain. Fortunately it was difficult to hear over the constant thunder of explosions.
For the better part of an hour the Imperials cowered in their trenches. Shrapnel hissed overhead and trees cracked and dropped noisily to the earth, often rolling down the steep slope a short ways. There was nothing to do but sit and wait. And that was exactly what they did. For the better part of an hour the guardsmen hid in their trenches, weathering the storm. At first Illineth expected the imperial aircraft to tear the ill disciplined Ork bombers overhead to shreds. But as the minutes passed, and wave after wave of bombers unloaded, no fighter interception was seen or heard of.
It wasn't too long before Tonna stuck her head in the fox hole.
"Report... regiment... Ork movement. Stay..." Illineth was able to pick up a little of what she said but not enough to understand the meaning. She looked to Sev and he nodded as acknowledgement towards the vox operator. She could see his eyes through his mask and they looked grim but determined. She guessed that the Orks would be on them soon.
Minutes later and the bombardment stopped. The silence rang loudly in Illineth's ears. Sev and Ryn wearily crawled over to the heavy bolter and after checking to make sure that there were no freezes or bit of shrapnel jamming it. The belt was fed in and the chamber was loaded. The apprehension was palpable in the air. Illineth heard the clink of gear as men fidgeted further down the trench. Then, barely audible at first but growing steadily, a sound could be heard. It was the roar of thousands of Orks.
Ironthumpa was in a good mood. He stomped through the snow, past the lines of idling vehicles. His plans for crushing the humans had gone perfectly, and after finishing them off in the mountains he could continue on to his main objective, what he had come here two months ago to do. His retinue of mekz, weird-boyz and nobz seemed unable to agree with him but at every turn he would prove his plan superior.
A snotling clung to one of the massive shoulders of the war bosses mega armour. It spat on a gretchin that was tuning the suspension on a war truck and the gretchin turned around in rage before cowering back when it saw who it was shaking its fist at. The snotling cackled and the war boss gave his little friend an absent minded pat on the head with one of his massive chain fists. The tiny creature had proved its merit by killing a would be assassin a while back, and had earned a place on the warbosses shoulder.
He climbed up the side of a battle wagon and clambered on top of the turret, metal groaning under his gargantuan mass. He looked back at his horde with satisfaction. At the front were the vehicles, platoons of tanks and battle wagons and swarms of bikes and war buggies. That was another thing his advisors had complained about. He had ordered the various Orks split into 'toons, as he liked to call them, based on type of vehicle and clan. His generals had scoffed, saying he was trying to be a humie but he had told them that if they didn't like it then they could fight him about it. The organization had worked. They had salvaged voxs from the humans they killed and now the armour was a relatively concise fighting force.
Behind the vehicles were the foot slogers. Thousands of Orks, armed and armoured with crude weapons. Ironthumpa wasn't able to maintain the same organization that he had with the armour but he still had his most trusted commanders maintain contact with him so he could make sure all his plans turned out as expected.
The artillery had been pounding away for the last few hours but at his command it fell silent. The last of the bombers were passing far overhead, back towards their air-fields. He had fought humans on other worlds and liked the idea of blasting away at the enemy before sending in the boyz. Ironthumpa held a soft spot in his spot for ordinance of all kinds, be it the rockets, the cannons or the bombs. The noise they made as they were sent towards their targets, the slight pause that built tension and then the explosion, just barely visible in the distance. Today they would lead the assault.
It was time to go. There wasn't much tactics in this battle. He would be sending everything he had against the human lines. Gone were the circling, pincer and flanking manoeuvres. Gone were the hit and runs and ambushes. Today he would be going back to his roots, an all-out assault. A wall of green.
Ironthumpa lifted one massive arm into the air. He was only a tiny spec to the Orks at the far end but the effect was the same. The entire horde went silent. The only sound was the wind whistling across the frozen plains. He slowly brought the fingers of his massive hand into a fist and held it in the air for another second. Then he punched his fist towards the distant mountains. As one every Ork, snotling and gretchin in the army roared at the top of their lungs "Waaaaagh!" And then they advanced.
Ironthumpa hopped down off the turret of the battle wagon, dropping the ten metres to the ground with a thump. He took off at a quick stride. He hadn't fought with the horde for a while now and he would enjoy the combat today.
Sev winced as a particularly harsh blast of wind bit into what little skin was exposed on his neck. The snow drifted across the slope. It was an ideal defensive position. Despite a few trees that had collapsed in the bombardment there was little cover, and any Orks moving up would be going slowly due to the incline and the deep snow. But Sev was still scared shitless. He tapped on one of the large heavy bolter rounds in his palm nervously, making a small clinking sound of frozen glove tip against copper.
The roar of the Orks was getting louder but they still weren't visible. There was a sound from behind and Sev almost jumped out of his skin. He turned his head and was relieved to see that it was only Tonna. She lugged her vox caster behind her and propped it against the wall before setting to work extending the antenna and plugging in channels.
"I hope you guys don't mind me sticking in here with you. Sarge' wants me to be able to call in support, and you have the best view from in here" Tonna said without looking up from her wOrk.
"Sure" Said Ryn. "Speaking of support, where's our air cover. I couldn't see any fighters up there intercepting those bombers."
"It's only by chance that I over heard this while setting frequencies but apparently the fly boys have taken a real hammering. We've lost air superiority, that's for sure." replied Tonna. She finished whatever she was doing with the vox and stuck her head out of the bolter nest to let the sergeant know that she was ready.
"Well shit." Said Ryn. Everyone knew that Ork aircraft were an insult to aviation, and if they had air superiority then they could have only done it with incredible numbers. Incredible numbers of aircraft required incredible amounts of fuel. These Orks had the resources to fuel their horde and the logistical capabilities to maintain it.
Sev hadn't really been listening to the conversation, being too busy keeping a vigil on the slope for any sign of the approaching Orks. He looked over at Illineth and saw that she was staring intently up at the sky. He followed her gaze to see a lone imperial fighter far above, desperately battling against multiple Ork craft. He pitied the unfortunate pilot, but had a feeling that the battle on the ground would not be much better.
Hans Schultz coughed. He felt blood spatter on the inside of his oxygen mask and groaned. This was bad, very bad. He hesitantly looked down and quickly snapped his head back up. His side was a red mess where a stubber round had punctured the cockpit and tore through him. If the Ork craft that had fired the bullet been a little more to starboard, the bullet would have passed straight through his organs.
He glanced to his right and left, looking at the wings of the thunderbolt. The plane was in a similar condition to the pilot. The starboard elevator was flapping slightly, and he could make out the Imperial trench lines far below through the cannon holes in his port wing. There was three spider webbed holes in the canopy and each bullet had narrowly missed his head. His compass had been smashed, and what he could see of the dial through the broken glass swung lazily around the motion of the heavy fighter. Something critical had been destroyed, probably a fuse, and nothing electronic was wOrking. His fuel indicator was hovering above empty and he guessed that he had about fifteen minutes of flight left. The auto cannon rounds were almost gone, and the lascannon charge wasn't much better.
There was the clattering of stubbers behind Schultz and he caught his own reflection in the mirror as an Ork fighter roared past in a clumsy attempt at strafing the injured Imperial bird. He pushed his goggles up his brow and pushed loose strands of blonde hair back under his leather flying helmet. He took his oxygen mask off to spit blood before pulling it back on. Hans glanced at the mirror again. His blue eyes were blood shot from exhaustion and adrenaline. He pushed his goggles back down.
An Ork aircraft came up behind him, barrel rolling onto his tail. It opened up with cannons and machine guns, but Schultz wasn't there anymore. He hammered the control yoke and pushed on the pedal. The thunderbolt rolled before Schultz pulled back. The plane flipped and he flattened out, right behind the confused Ork. Opening up with cannons he adjusted the nose slightly. Tracers tore into the enemy fighter, and Hans let out a satisfied growl as chunks of metal and canvas flew off. The thunderbolt, being much faster, quickly overtook the Ork craft. Schultz pulled the nose up and flew over the dismayed Ork. The enemy pilot pulled on his joystick but the plane didn't respond. Hans let out a primal laugh as the Ork fought with his controls. His elevators were gone, and the plane dipped into a dive from which the Ork couldn't escape. The Imperial pilot had no time to revel in his handiwork as more Orks converged on him.
Schultz grinned. He was going to die up here, in the clear blue sky. He knew this for a fact. It was a shame, he thought, but an unavoidable shame. He knew it would happen one day. He had been flying for almost eight years now. Schultz was an ace, top of his squadron. He had enjoyed a glorious career and was the top pilot in the sector, with over three hundred kills. Each had been meticulously depicted on the side of his cockpit with a painted white bullet. Today, however, would be the end of his career. His entire squadron was dead. He had watched as, one by one, the men under him had been shot down, sent spiraling to their deaths. He was going to be the last to go, and he wasn't going without a Scheiß- good fight. Hans Schultz would make the emperor proud.
Schultz whispered a litany. It echoed back into his ears through his oxygen mask. Two Ork fighters flew past, pouring bullets towards him. The imperial aircraft shuddered as a cannon round impacted the airframe. The ace dove after the enemy. The Orks were flying side by side. The three aircraft passed into a cloud. There was a flash of lascannon fire, and one of the Ork planes tumbled out of the cloud, its port side wing torn off and whipping through the air twenty metres away.
Hans rolled onto the other Orks tail. He tapped on his rudder, bringing the plane slightly to starboard. Opening up with autocannons, he hit the other pedal, stitching a line of cannon rounds from wingtip to wingtip of the enemy's plane. The Ork was suddenly obscured from view as its canopy was coated with red and Schultz banked off. Another ork came at him and another went tumbling out of the sky, smoke billowing behind it, leaving a black trail through the sky. A minute passed, and two more Orks were shot down. Hans howled maniacally with laughter. His last sortie would be his best, but alas, the thunderbolt would never see the fresh white bullets painted on its side.
He was passing through a cloud now. The air condensed on his canopy and water ran in streams along the glass. Above him he saw the silhouette of an enemy aircraft. Schultz pulled up, lowering his flaps and reducing his speed slightly so he could come up behind it. The cloud was thicker than he thought, and the silhouette grew as the alto metre rose. By the time Schultz drew up behind the enemy his speed had dropped dramatically. He had no speed advantage over the slow moving fighter bomber.
He climbed the last few metres and levelled out, right behind the enemy. He gazed through the crosshairs and lined up his shot. To his dismay he was staring down a tail gunner. The Ork was hunched over his rear facing stubber. It wore a sheep skin flying hat and leather goggles that were a size or two too small. But he hadn't seen Schultz coming and his reaction was too slow. Schultz snarled as he depressed the triggers of the autocannons and lascannons simultaneously. There were two bangs and then a clattering. A gentle hiss was his only response from the lascannons. The final two autocanons rounds flew towards the twin engined fighter bombers, one missing, the other slamming into the engine. The Ork tail gunner grinned and Schultz knew that his moment had come.
Bang Bang Bang! Schultz didn't even try to evade. Bang Bang Bang! There was a horrible cracking sound and then a pop. Schultz couldn't see. The plane was dipping and diving. He knew exactly what was happening; he had seen it so many times before. He had lost control of his plane. Schultz felt no regret or remorse. He had served the emperor well, and he felt that he had been a faithful servant. Hans would be at the Emperors side today.
He looked up at his killer. The single cannon round had punctured the aircrafts engine. As he watched the engine burst into flames and the propeller sputtered out. The plane tipped lazily and banked off into a spin. Schultz pulled off his goggles and tossed them to the side. Three hundred and fifty six he smirked to himself as the G-force forced him from consciousness.
The Orks were coming, much faster than Sev would have liked. They loped up the hill, their big feet stomping up the snowy slope. There was the familiar feeling of bolter rounds sliding across his hands and he watched as the rounds tear into the advancing Orks. Their leather and scrap metal armour did little against the mass reactive rounds. There was almost no need to aim. It was as if there was a solid wall of green coming towards them. Splinters and snow and blood flew through the air as the shells impacted.
Las rounds flew through the air, more than Sev could have imagined. Every guardsman was firing on full auto. It was if half of the air was filled with the red lines, stitching the air between the imperial trench's and the Orks closing in. Many of the las shots failed to even penetrate the Orks shoddy armour or tough skins, but the sheer amount of fire power being pumped into the horde meant that Orks were still dropping fast.
There was a thump farther down the line as Vostroyan mortars opened up. Sev could see columns of slush and dirt being shot into the air and could hear crashing as trees toppled from the explosions. Next to Sev, Illineth was pressed up against the wall of the nest, blasting away with her lasgun. A strand of hair had dropped across her mask and Sev could see the fear in her eyes. Behind him he could hear the sound of Tonna yelling into the vox but she couldn't decipher what she was saying.
Sev was terrified. He had never felt this kind of fear before. During the tank battle he had been powerless but at least he was riding a metal behemoth. He had the ability to fight back but it seemed futile. For every Ork that was sent tumbling down the hill five more would take its place. His hands shook as the bolter belt slid over his hands and his eyes, though hidden to his comrades, were white rimmed. Every centimetre of his being screamed at him to run; to stand up and leave his comrades behind. But he would not run. He would not leave his friends like the men in the manufacotrum had tried to do. He would not be shot for cowardice by the commissar.
There was an explosion nearby and a group of Orks were sent flying into the air, howling with pain and rage. The Leman Russ tanks had opened fire from their dug in positions farther up the hill. A lascannon shot toppled a killa-kan that was struggling over a collapsed tree. Checking over his shoulder Sev could see Jonesy hanging out of his hatch, sending bursts of stubber fire at the advancing Orks.
A distant thumping sound became audible over the sounds of battle. A second later and there was the screaming sound of incoming artillery. Sev ducked down beneath the lip of the heavy bolter nest, fear gripping him. He was hyperventilating and couldn't think straight. He pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped the bolter belt. It was all too much for him. First the horde of Orks bearing down, and now artillery? He was only seventeen, this was ridiculous.
The artillery began landing and Sev immediately knew that it wasn't aimed for them. The thump was farther down the slope. He peeked over the edge to see the artillery landing behind the first rank of Orks. There were flashes of light which appeared as muted blasts through the snow. The other guardsmen in the fox hole had failed to notice Sev's episode and they all pumped their fists and shouted taunts at the Orks, who were now faltering their advance. It looked like the tide of the battle was turning.
All of a sudden there was a renewed energy in the Orks. The alien's excitement could almost be felt in the air. They simultaneously bellowed another war cry and came forth again with renewed vigour. There casualties mounted but still they drew closer and closer, metre by metre. Sev could see the reds of the creature's eyes. A particularly large Ork, with dark brown skin, made it within ten metres. It let out a howl as it was cut down by lasfire. Bullets were flying overhead as the Orks got in range to return fire.
There was a hissing sound and Ryn cursed.
"Fuck!" He almost screamed as he racked the chamber on the overheated weapon. "We need to change the barrel Sev."
Sev reached to remove the busted heavy bolter barrel but was sent skittering back when an Ork slug hit right where his hand had been. Chunks of snow and frozen canvas from the sand bags hit his face and he wiped it off the glass lenses of his mask. A metal chunk from the slug had embedded itself in his heavy overcoat but failed to penetrate it.
"Forget it Sev" Ryn said, fumbling for the lasgun next to him. Sev grabbed his weapon as well. The Orks were pressing the advantage. Without the weight of fire on them from the heavy bolter they were able to close the distance faster. An Ork made it to within three metres of their position before being hit in the face with a las blast from Illineth. His head snapped back and his feet lifted off the ground as he tumbled backwards, knocking an Ork down who had been following close behind.
Sev clutched the grip of his lasgun with white knuckles. His hands were shaking badly and if it weren't for the sandbag wall to prop his barrel against then none of his shots would be landing anywhere near the Orks. There was a scream of pain off to the right, and it sounded human. A particularly tough Ork, weathering a storm of las shots, had made it into the trench, hacking down a couple Rolanders before being killed. But the damage was done. More Orks poured into the trench while the defenders were distracted and the gap widened. They had broken the Imperial line.
"Alright, let's move" Ryn yelled. He and Sev disassembled the heavy bolter while Illineth continued pouring fire into the Orks immediately to their front. Tonna was quick packing up her vox and the three other drop troopers followed her out of the heavy bolter nest. She was looking back over her shoulder as she entered the main trench and didn't see the massive axe coming down. Sev recoiled as it embedded in her back. The group faltered and a massive steel toed boot kicked the body out of the way. An Ork had jumped into the trench and ambushed Tonna as she tried to leave the foxhole. Sev raised his lasgun and depressed the trigger, not letting go until the entire magazine had emptied.
The Ork collapsed against the trench wall. Ryn checked the pulse on the female guardsman and shook his head. As if the massive axe wedged in her back wasn't sign enough thought Sev. They ran down the trench, passing Alfonzo, whose lungs had been plastered against the wooden planks that held up the wall of the trench. The three guardsmen made it to the communications trench that led back to the Leman Russes without further incident. Holly, Marn, Tunsy and Finn were waiting along with the Sergeant. Tunsy started to speak and Ryn shook his head. The men were silent and they started heading along the thin trench, away from the frontline.
"Orders been given to fall back. Lieutenant is waiting farther back. Sounds like first squad was killed to a man" The sergeant called over his shoulder as they ran. There was a boom as a grenade went off to their right and everyone ducked. The Leman Russes were close now. There was a sound behind them and they turned. Sev couldn't see what was coming as Tunsy and Marn were both behind him and blocking his view. There was flash of bluish light and a zapping sound as the melta gun ionized air. Marn gave the all clear.
They made it around the corner to the secondary trench. Their platoon, or what was left of it, had taken firing positions and were blasting away at the Orks who poured into the breach in the line. The Leman Russes were right behind them and had opened up with heavy bolter sponsons, sweeping the massive weapons back and forth. Orks, who were trying to vault into the cover of the trench, were hit as they tried to clamber over the parapet and sent tumbling backwards. The air stank of propellant, smoke, ozone and blood.
Sev heard a boom from behind him. He looked back to see that the Commissar stood, bolt pistol levelled, to where a man had just had his head blown off. He had tried to run. The Commissar climbed up onto the firing step, chainsword raised into the air. He fired slow calculated shots with his bolt pistol.
"Men of Roland, today we will make our stand. Today we will show the Emperor what we are made of, for we will not run. We will kill the xenos and we will drive them back to their holes" He roared, and everyman in the platoon hung on each word. "There will be no retreat, for in retreat there is only defeat. In one hundred years your grandchildren shall talk of this battle, they will speak of our Glorious..." There was a sudden cracking noise, like ripping canvas. There was a flash and the Commissar was gone. A bolt of lightning had vaporized him, completely erasing his form from existence. Someone started screaming something about a psyker. Sev tried to spot the warp touched Ork but couldn't see it through the gun fire and explosions. He did noticed a bitter sweet aroma mixing with the smells of battle.
The Orks poured forwards. There was the cough of engines behind the wavering guardsmen. A vox operator from second squad shouted that contact had been lost with regimental command. Sev looked behind in horror to see the tanks pulling back onto the logging road, weapons still firing.
"I think now is the time to take our leave lads" the sergeant grumbled over the micro beads. And with that the men fled, the rest of the platoon following close behind. They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, up the slope and away from the trenches. A minute later and the Tanks were out of sight. Behind them the fortifications were visible through the trees. Green skins swarmed over the area which they had fought so hard to hold.
Sev suddenly had a horrible realization. Where was Illineth? He had been so preoccupied with his own survival that he had completely forgotten that she existed. He looked around him as drop troopers sprinted past. He turned a full circle, trying to pick out her distinctive pony tail among the faceless masks and form obscuring great coats. Suddenly he was knocked flat on his ass by an explosion. He sank into the snow and panicked as he felt himself being pushed deeper and deeper. He couldn't see, his mask was covered with snow and he felt like he was suffocating.
Sev felt small hands wrap around his webbing, pulling him up, slowly. He struggled from the grip of the snow, trying to free himself. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, but in reality was a matter of seconds he sat upright. A figure was trying to drag him to his feet and he recognized the brown pony tail. Sev got to his feet and they took off, side by side, running through the trees. There was another explosion just off to the left and Sev covered his head with his arm, keeping up the pace. The sounds of battle behind them were starting to fade. They were going to make it.
Schultz felt weightless. Was he dead, had he made it to the Emperors side? His side hurt like hell and his head felt like it had a pick axe stuck in it. He slowly opened his eyes. The soft orange light of sunset filtered through the trees. He was swaying back and forth gently and the change of position in relation to the light made his head hurt even more. He looked up and saw his parachute tangled in the tree branches high above. Suddenly everything came back to him.
He remembered the dog-fight, the tail gunner, and his plane being shot down. He remembered losing consciousness briefly. He remembered watching with horror as his altitude dropped at an incredible rate and how he had decided that he wasn't going to die. He had fought against the G-force pushing him into his seat and managed to release himself from the constraints of the flight harness and lifted off the canopy of the thunderbolt. The last thing he remembered was crawling from the plane moments before it tore itself apart.
Schultz's side felt like it was on fire and he could feel his nose bleeding into his oxygen mask. He tried to move his arms to release the parachute but they were sore and difficult to move. He tried again to unclasp the harness but only succeeded in turning his slow swing into a lurching twist. Off in the distance he could hear artillery and the sounds of battle. He pulled off his leather helmet and goggles, running an aching hand through his sweaty blonde hair.
He noticed a sound drawing closer and identified it as a group of footsteps, stomping through the snow. The aviator fumbled for his laspistol in its holster on his hip. His finger fumbled at the safety. He rarely practiced with the weapon and wasn't confident about his ability to use it, but his will to live had gone from a tiny flame to a burning fire. He tried to aim the weapon towards the source of the noise as best as he could, despite the fact that he was swinging back and forth, suspended two metres above the ground.
A figure appeared and Schultz fired. The shot went horribly wide and the figure ducked back behind a tree.
"Imperial, Imperial!" He yelled. Schultz's shaking hand lowered the weapon.
"Imperial" Schultz called back, his voice wavering. The figure appeared from behind the tree, weapon held at the ready. He stared for a second before bursting into laughter, doubling over and holding onto his lasgun for support. Schultz was glad of the oxygen mask as his face went bright red at his embarrassing circumstances. More soldiers appeared from behind the trees and the one who had first arrived approached the hanging air man. They wore trench coats and rebreather masks, and carried the distinctive bullpup lasguns of drop troopers.
Two minutes later and Schutlz landed heavily on the ground as one of the guardsmen managed to release the parachute harness. He cried out with pain as he hit the ground. It wasn't a far drop, but his legs had lost circulation and he was injured quite badly. He tried to push himself to his feet but failed and slumped back into the snow. Two of the guardsmen came over and lifted Shultz up, pulling his arms over their shoulders.
"We need to keep moving, Orks will be heading this way soon" A man said. He wore the pins of a lieutenant and wore a crusher cap. The group moved out, keeping pace with the men carrying the wounded aviator.
"Things did not go well on the ground then" Schultz asked the taller man on his right.
"No they did not. Sounds like it was equally bad all the way down the line" The man responded. "I'm Ryn by the way. And that's Sev." The man on Schultz's left nodded as acknowledgement.
Schultz felt exhausted. He was happy that he had managed to survive, but was unsure and apprehensive of what the future was to bring. It would seem that aside from death, things could only go up hill from here on out.