Jericus smiled as he watched the Valkyrie soar towards their flank.
"See that, Conroy?" He said excitedly, this was the first time in what seemed like forever that he'd seen any form of external support. "That's the Valkyrie bringing the specialists in"
Conroy snorted. "I bet they're ass holes. Bet they come in thinking they're better than all of us, condescending pricks"
"What makes you say that?" Jericus asked, he thought Conroy probably didn't know what he was talking about, but he was happy for the conversation.
"Because they've been given the title specialists" Conroy spoke with contempt. "So they get some haughty ideas that they're better than the rest of us, less disposable even" He spat.
"Maybe this lot will be different" Jericus leant on the heavy bolter and watched as it grew closer.
"You really are dim aren't you" It wasn't a question.
Jericus sighed. He really wanted a different friend.
Five minutes passed and the Valkyrie had finally flown over him. He felt the heat from its thrusters from where he sat, and he turned to watch it even after it had passed.
The sides of it were open and there were men manning the heavy bolter turrets that hung there, they did not regard him at all, they were too busy scanning the city ahead.
He watched the aircraft until it disappeared behind a set of buildings in the centre of the city.
"Whoever these ass-holes are, they're here now" Conroy grumbled.
"Cheer up, Conroy" Sergeant Grenn's voice rang out, Conroy and Jericus turned to look at him, the burly Sergeant was stood shirtless behind the trench washing his armpits with a dirty rag. "These guy's might save your life"
Staff Sergeant Cyrus Stainton looked out the side of his Valkyrie transport and breathed in the air. He wore a flakk vest over the top of his wooly sweater and yet still he shuddered. The wind coming in from the open doors were taking their toll so much so that he had removed his officer cap in a bid to prevent it from flying away.
Below he could see the burnt out buildings and the constant rubble and signs of destruction in the streets.
He could detect a lot of burnt out promethium on the wind and as ever on this planet, the stench of death.
A moment before, they had passed over a trench of Guardsmen who were looking up dumbly at their passing and why shouldn't they? He and his units were probably a great joy to the men that were manning this city.
He had read the reports, this company had sustained heavy losses and had even lost their armoured detachment after lending it to the city of Pirpryt. There was nobody to relieve or support them for miles due to General Blythe's huge push occurring against the Ork Warboss Naz-grub to the east. That's where he should be, not wasting his time here in this no named city.
He turned to his assembled men in the Valkyrie belly with him, two squads of six specialists.
His squad carried two flamers, three hotshot lasguns and a plasma gun, whereas the Squad his equal, Joseph Mc'Larvin led were armed with Mortars.
The Valkyrie began to land slowly in an open part of the city which he could only assume had once been a shrine park. The would-be park had been reduced to a dark barren square with the odd dead tree decorating it. Around the park all the buildings were leveled, the rubble from them spread across the wrecked roads.
The Valkyrie landed and the two men manning the turrets beckoned for them all to exit the vehicle. Cyrus ordered the men up and they all followed him out.
The Commissar greeted Cyrus the moment he had stepped out of the aircraft with a handshake.
"Sergeant Stainton is it?"
"Staff Sergeant, and yes sir" Cyrus retracted his hand and reached into his pocket. He retrieved his papers and documents and handed them over to the Commissar.
"Sergeant Mc'Larvin" Joseph shook the Commissar's hand also before handing him his papers.
"Commissar Yoren" The Commissar took both sets of papers and began to read them.
"If we might Commissar, if it isn't an inconvenience to you, we would like to be deployed ASAP" Cyrus continued.
"Straight to it eh? I like that" Yoren smiled. "We'll set your mortars up in the centre of town next to the CP, and your flamer units would be appreciated over with first squad to the West.
"Let us not delay then" Cyrus nodded curtly and beckoned his team to follow him.
The line of Orks grew rapidly closer now, the beat of feet and the terrifying shouts were deafening and some of their shots were actually coming into range now.
Co-Rolan heard the green tide coming and cursed. He had not yet finished the rites of armament.
The Hellhound's turret hatch opened and the operator appeared from inside.
"Tech-Priest! We have to move soon!" He yelled urgently.
"Fool" Co-Rolan spat in binary and quickly continued his rites.
"Tech-Priest!" The man yelled again.
When Co-Rolan did not respond, the man disappeared back into his tank and the hatch sealed shut.
The Hellhound jumped into life and began to roll forward. Co-Rolan followed it angrily trying to finish his blessings.
The Ork horde was visible in front of the building that the Hellhound was hidden within and the operators wasted no time. The main gun unloaded its deadly payload, spitting forth a torrent of promethium-fueled flame that incinerated the Orks closest to it in an instant. The rest of the Orks hit were aflame immediately and began to scream and cry out in pain before dying moments later.
Vern grinned like a madman; the sight was a thing to behold.
In the first ten seconds that the Hellhound had spat forth its fiery wrath at least twenty Orks had burned, some that had been carrying rockets on their person exploded like a mortar round, killing even more of their kin around them.
As well as the inferno the Hellhound spat forth it also opened fire with its front mounted Heavy bolter; the Orks caught in its firing arc stood no chance.
The fire rose high into the air, blocking out the view of the main horde but the sounds of Orks roaring in anger from their denial could still be heard.
The firestorm wasn't twenty metres from their position and they could all feel the heat emanating from it.
"I saw it!" Quinn said again, "The Mek is with them!"
"I wish we could see the beast's face right now" Herax laughed as he admired the inferno ahead.
The men around cheered and shouted taunts at the dying Orks. Feral cries and roars were quickly being muted as the beasts fell to the flames.
"They act as if we have won this battle," Harold said disapprovingly. Quinn nodded and grimaced.
"We need to get ready to move" Quinn said to Vern.
"Not yet" Vern replied, "We have a good thing going here"
"It won't last!" Quinn said angrily.
And Quinn was right. Through the flames, the silhouette of a large walker came into view. The walker had four arms with an array of violent looking buzzsaws and klaws at the end of each. It charged through the fire and into the building housing the Hellhound.
The men inside the Hellhound didn't see it coming, but they felt the force of it. The four arms latched onto the front of the hellhound and began forcing it back.
Co-Rolan saw the quickly reversing vehicle and as he hurried out of the way he fell flat on his face, cracking an eyepiece.
The Hellhound continued firing desperately, but the walker's powerful weaponry managed to tear through the front of the hull before it could inflict any major damage to it. A buzzsaw cut its way through the turret's operator completely and severed his legs from his torso, and a klaw managed to cave the driver's head in without any extra effort. The Hellhound fell silent and the walker stepped back.
Co-Rolan could distinctly hear the amplified roaring laughter of the Ork inside; he rolled over and looked at it.
It was painted rust like red and a grinning visage had been crafted onto the front of it. The eyes of the visage were likely the pilot's vision slits and it constantly flashed. Its four piston powered arms were in constant motion as it stood gloating over its kill.
"Abomination" Co-Rolan stated. "An affront to the omnissiah"
The walker turned and stomped out of the building with surprising speed, leaving Co-Rolan with the deformed vehicle. If Co-Rolan had the capacity to feel emotions he might have wept, instead he started checking through the bloody, twisted wreckage at the front for any of the machine spirit to salvage.
The walker came back out onto the street and tilted to look directly at Vern's squad and the Chimera.
Vern's face dropped and his eyes widened as a booming laughter came from the Walker before beginning to run clumsily towards them. Behind it he could see the Ork infantry amassing once again, they were all following it with the same speed, many armed with crude melee weapons and pistols.
"Deff-Dread!" Mikey screamed.
"Move! Now!" Quinn ordered.
Vern began firing his pistol at the incoming Orks and ordered them all inside. The multi-laser was firing at the walker now to no avail and Lyra was firing the heavy stubber wildly.
"Lyra, in!" Vern roared. His pistol struck a charging Ork in the face causing it to fall backwards.
Mikey and Dab ran inside first and started manning the hull mounted guns.
"Herax, Urta you too" Vern ordered.
"Aye Sergeant" They said before heading inside.
Quinn, Jeremiah and Harold were still firing into the incoming Orks, their shots dropping a couple here and there along with Lyra's fire.
"Let's go!" Quinn yelled as he ran inside. Harold followed him but as Jeremiah ran to enter a shot caught him in the jaw.
The lower portion of the poor man's face exploded in a torrent of blood and he spun before falling flat to the ground.
"Shit" Quinn muttered. He looked up at Vern who was still outside. "VERN!"
Vern finally turned to get inside with the Deff-dread less than ten metres away. He didn't remember falling but next thing he knew; Quinn was dragging him into the Chimera.
He looked down and saw where he had been hit, a stain on his stomach that oozed blood and another that had torn his knee apart. He shuddered.
"Get us out of here, Flair!" Herax screamed.
The ramp at the back of the Chimera rose ever so torturously slow and the Chimera began to reverse away. Just before the ramp closed Quinn spotted the angry faces of several Orks, moments later he heard the clangs of the ramp being hit over and over.
"Ly-Lyra" Vern coughed out blood over the floor. He could faintly hear the heavy stubber's harsh rattling above him.
Quinn looked down at him and shook his head.
"Quinn" Vern croaked.
"Yeah buddy?" Quinn gave him a nervous smile.
"If you get out of this, go back to New Lettucin. They need help" Vern finished his sentence with another goblet of blood falling from his mouth.
"Shit man" Quinn looked up at the ceiling and grimaced.
The Chimera suddenly rocked and everyone inside jolted over. The side of the transport had been ruptured, and through the gap Quinn could clearly see the forms of Looted Leman Russ tanks, their Leman Russ tanks. Back to haunt them like ghosts of old.
But in front of them and a lot closer were the Orks and their Deff-Dread; the Orks were already sprinting towards the breach and the Deff-Dread was prying it open further like a can of rations, the pilot's laughter audible even over the din.
Quinn stood up, leaving Vern on the ground; he drew his pistol and fired three shots into the first Ork to stick its ugly head into the vehicle, it dropped with a whimper but was replaced by two more.
"Flair! Lower the ramp!" Quinn yelled urgently as he continued firing his pistol. "Open it!"
Harold ran forward and stabbed an Ork in the gut with his bayonet. The Ork roared and swung his axe down.
"Harold!" Quinn cried. Harold's head exploded from the impact sending bits of brain and skull splattering all over the rest of him and the floor around. His body spasmed a moment before falling limp to the ground. The rifle was still jammed in the Ork's belly but still it moved forward.
Quinn cried out in a wordless yell of grief and unloaded the last of his pistol's magazine into the Ork. It jolted and yelped before slamming against the wall, dead.
The ramp began to lower to Quinn's left and he reloaded his pistol.
"Everyone out!" He ordered. But by this point the Orks outside were swarming into the breach, some actually fought each other to get in first.
The man Vern had referred to as Mikey took several shots to the chest before having his face bludgeoned by an Ork wielding an iron pole. He fell without making a sound and the Orks began to beat his prone body.
Herax turned and fired his lasgun wildly into the nearest Ork; the Ork returned his gunfire with a swing of its axe. The blow struck his weapon and sent the lasgun flying from his hands with such force it almost broke his wrist.
Quinn dragged Vern's limp body to the back of the Chimera and unloaded another couple of shots into the back of an Ork who was bearing down on Dab. The Ork's head ruptured and collapsed in front of Dab who was already jamming his bayonet into the face of another Ork.
"We've got to move!" Quinn yelled urgently. Looking down at Vern he realised the man was dead. He had no time to grieve. The Orks in the Chimera were already laying into the remaining Guardsmen who were doing their best to fight back.
An explosion from behind made Quinn flinch. He turned and saw a misplaced shot from one of the looted leman Russ tanks had left a large crater in the street.
When he turned back to the assault inside the Chimera, he saw Dab moving towards him and Herax too.
"Urta come on!" Herax yelled back, but his friend already had an Ork chain-blade eating its way through his stomach. "Urta!"
Urta dropped to his knees vomiting blood, and the Ork that was gutting him fired a shot from its pistol into his temple. The spray of blood and brains splattered against the wall of the Chimera and Urta fell to the ground.
"You fucking monsters!" Herax screeched.
Quinn dragged the grieving man out of the Chimera and whisked him around to the right side, which gave them cover from the incoming Orks.
There they found Dab, who was crouched over Lyra's blood soaked body.
"She musta fallen off when the Chimera got hit" Dab speculated, the girl was unconscious.
"Get her up, and lets move" Quinn ordered.
But before he could say another thing he heard a blood-curdling scream from within the Chimera. Flair.
The boy's screams were heard for another four seconds before they were suddenly silenced. The Chimera's turret hatch swung open and the muscled form of Gaius appeared, he swung his legs over and slid off of the Chimera. He landed next to them with a groan.
"Flair's gone" He grunted before pulling out his laspistol.
"We'll be gone if we don't-" Quinn was interrupted again as a sudden explosion from inside the Chimera rang out, a dozen Ork screams followed.
Gaius pushed past them and began to run back towards the secondary line.
Quinn turned and saw their two battle tanks lying in wait accompanied by another Chimera and two-dozen men. The men were waving their arms, beckoning them to fall back.
Dab and Herax lifted Lyra between them and began to run back, Quinn ran backwards with them aiming his pistol towards the Chimera.
The four-limbed Deff-Dread appeared over the Chimera, its arms revving and reaching out towards them.
It spotted the retreating Guardsmen and began lifting itself over the Chimera. As soon as it stood upon the hull of the wrecked Chimera, a loud BOOM was heard from behind them. The Deff-Dread exploded in a bright flash of fire and fell back out of sight.
Quinn assumed the battle tanks were firing again, so he turned to the others and ran normally.
"Stick to the left!" He ordered and they obeyed.
Their Leman Russ tanks continued firing down the street, killing scores of Infantry whose only cover was the ruined Chimera and their fallen walker.
For a moment Quinn thought that the tide of the battle was turning, but alas his hope died when the battle tank on the other side of the street to them exploded. The entire front was reduced to a twisted piece of metal and the turret spun out and fell off.
Quinn grimaced and continued running. He allowed himself a look back and he could see the Mek growing closer, now the monster was surrounded by a retinue of Orks carrying large shoulder mounted weapons that looked too slender and well designed underneath the modifications to be their own craft.
"Lootaz" He muttered.
When the five of them reached the Guardsmen who had beckoned them forth, they were met with pats on the back and cheers.
"Sergeant, should we pull back?" One of them asked hopefully.
Quinn didn't need a moment to think about it.
"Yes, fall back to Sergeant Hughes' position, don't stop until you get there"
The man nodded before yelling; "You heard him! Fall back! Double time! Run run run!"
The men mobilised and began falling back up the street that grooved into a hill halfway along and ended on a sudden corner.
Quinn ordered Dab and Herax to put Lyra's unconscious body on the back of the remaining battle tank. They did as they were bid and heaved her onto the tank hull before jumping up on it themselves.
Quinn banged on the turret with his pistol and the Tank began to roll backwards, its guns firing all the while. He peered around the side of the turret and saw the Mek was taking no damage; the shots were being soaked up by a damned force field.
"Cocky bastard" Quinn cursed.
The Ork Lootaz were preparing their weapons to fire now, Quinn could see the looks of glee on their faces as they aimed.
"Faster!" He yelled as loudly as he could.
But before a single shot was fired form the shoulder mounted weaponry, the Mek barked an order and pointed toward the sky. The Ork horde looked up, as did Quinn.
A single Valkyrie zipped overhead; its heavy bolter turrets fired several bursts into the streets. The fire could be described as inaccurate at best, yet it caused the Orks in the horde to stop and attempt to shield themselves from the fire.
Quinn grinned in triumph the distraction had been enough. The tank was half way up the hill by the time the horde turned their attention back towards them.
The Orks began to fire once again. The lootaz heavy weapons stuttered and spat their long-range shots ahead of the others, but the tank turned the corner before any could do any real damage.
Quinn sighed a breath of relief and looked behind the Leman Russ.
The street the corner had turned into was narrow and barely wide enough for the tank to maneuver through with a constant line of hab-units lining the sides. The hab-units were ugly buildings without the battle damage, but now infested by craters and collapses they looked absolutely terrible. The men who had run on foot were still jogging down the street with their weapons raised high. At the end of the street on the corner was a taller three building with sandbags stacked along all of the windowsills. Behind the sandbags on each floor was a different form of mounted turret, on the bottom was a heavy bolter, the next floor up an autocannon, above that a missile launcher and on the top floor a lascannon.
The tank stopped at the corner where the rest of the retreating men had fallen back to and Quinn jumped down.
"Hughes!" He called.
"Quinn" Hughes walked through the crowd of Guardsmen, flanked by a plasma-gun wielding man and their last medic.
"The Mek, the Mek is with them," Quinn said with graveness in his voice. "He'll be throwing everything he's got at us, we've got to leave"
"Leave?" Hughes spat. "You've been spending too much time with that Vern bastard"
"He's dead, Hughes" Quinn said spitefully. "He begged me as he bled out in my arms to head to New Lettucin and help them there"
"You think they need more help than us?" Hughes face was bright red and he yelled for all the men present to hear.
"No, but we at least stand a chance with them" Quinn replied, "Hughes its over, the Ork aircraft will be coming in soon enough then what?"
"Then we go down in a blaze of glory" Hughes tried to sound inspirational when he said it.
"Who will be left to tell of our glory? We will die for nothing if we stay here. This city is lost"
The lascannon on the top floor opened fire suddenly. The bright lance zipped down the street and struck the two-limbed walker that had stomped around the corner, it exploded in a bright fireball. All of the men present flinched and aimed their rifles down the street.
"Make the call, Hughes" Quinn grabbed his friend by the shoulder. "Stay here and die for a lost cause, or head out to assist our brothers in the city over"
Hughes pondered a moment; he then turned back to Quinn.
"I've made my decision," He said with a growl.
Co-Rolan stood with his arm elbow deep in twisted steel and decimated flesh. He silently gave a prayer to the omnissiah for the wrecked vehicle, but nothing for the two men who had died within it.
"They should not have ridden into battle without the rites," Co-Rolan repeated to himself.
The horde outside had passed him five minutes previous hungry for the prey they had sought already, leaving Co-Rolan alone in the skeletal body of the ruined building with the corpse of the Hellhound. It truly had been a wonderful vehicle, he must find the machine spirit within.
He spotted a light source inside the gorey mess and reached in for it. As he did, the rest of the driver's head's flesh fell away and landed on the floor with a wet splat.
He had found one of the consoles that were used to interact with the machine spirit and to his pleasure was still intact. It was attached to a part of the Hellhound by a thick wire, which allowed Co-Rolan to take several steps back and operate it.
The console lit up and Co-Rolan began to punch in the required strings of code to interact with the machine spirit on a baseline level. The spirit was unharmed and responded accordingly.
Co-Rolan had been preparing to move it when he heard the squeal from behind him.
He turned and had to look down to see the source of the noise.
The short form of a Grot stared back at him, its beady eyes squinting and its large nose sniffing the air.
Before he could say or do anything, the grot turned on its heel and sprinted out of the building screaming all the while.
"Damn." Co-Rolan cursed in his monotone voice. He quickly began to make preparations to store the machine spirit.
He was interrupted once again by a lower grunt, he turned and saw a large Ork carrying a two handed chain-axe, its face was half hidden by a brightly coloured bandanna of red and its eyes hidden behind half a welding mask.
It growled at the tech-priest and began to walk forward. The Grot he had seen before walked carefully behind the beast's legs.
Co-Rolan turned back to the console and keyed in a command as quickly as he could. The Ork Nob was running at him now, the chain-axe screamed hungrily and the beast laughed.
Suddenly the building exploded with sound, the Hellhound's main vox casters sent out an intense high pitch whine that caused the floor to vibrate. Co-Rolan's ears were adjustable in the way of volume they chose to take in, but the Ork present's was not.
The beast dropped its chain-axe and held its hands over its ears. It roared out in pain.
The Grot next to it died of shock, its lifeless body falling to the floor with blood seeping from its ears.
Co-Rolan quickly resumed moving the machine spirit, ignoring the writhing Ork behind him.
Suddenly the console gave an alert, the last of the power cells in the hellhound were dying out. The console began to flicker. If he kept the audio assault going then he would lose all power and the chance of salvaging the machine spirit with it.
The Tech-priest made his choice immediately. The vox casters stopped emitting the whine and powered down. He then quickly began to type in the last string of code he would need and began to chant rites to appease the spirit.
Co-Rolan felt a sudden force from behind that caused him to jolt forward and splutter a mixture of fluids from his metallic mouth. Looking down he could see and hear the chain-axe that had impaled him spring into motion.
The chains of sharp teeth began to blur with movement and he shuddered with each lap they made. The Ork behind him yanked the hefty weapon upwards toward his shoulder and tore the blade clean through.
The Tech-Priest fell sideways to the ground with a thump. His ruined body sparked and bled alike as he lay motionless. If not for the heavy augmentations his body had undergone he would have likely died already from shock but instead he lay helpless slowly dying.
The Ork laughed and kicked his body. He rolled onto his front with no resistance and more fluids leaked from his agape mouth.
Co-Rolan struggled to move his head but he managed to look upon the console that was now lying on the floor. A large green hand picked the device up and to Co-Rolan's horror threw it against the twisted wreck that was the Hellhound. The console sparked out and shattered as it hit the ground.
The Ork laughed cruelly before stepping on Co-Rolan's back. It stomped away, leaving him lying face down on the floor to bleed.
Yoren gazed from the window of his office down onto the street below. Sergeant Mc'Larvin's unit was setting up their three mortars in a triangular sort of formation. The mortars looked clean as if never used and the men wore near pristine uniforms, the dirt and mud that caked their boots had been gathered while they were here.
"Soon" Remi said. The man was leaning against the wall near to the door; his plasma gun leant next to him. "Orks will be here soon"
"An excellent observation, Gunnery Sergeant" Yoren said with heavy sarcasm. "Tell me, will the sun set in a few hours too?"
Remi glared to the Commissar's back and continued; "Phelps' position will fall and the Orks will come straight to us"
"He has the specialist flamer team supporting him" Yoren turned to the sullen Sergeant. "Along with twenty men"
"He is too spread out" Remi insisted. "He is having to cover the street which Keeli had been holding. If both positions are assaulted simultaneously-"
"-Then there would be little they could do if both Sergeants were present" Yoren interrupted. "It's a shit situation I am aware, but we knew we were going to be dealing with a large force from the start."
"Yet you still let Vern take one of our last transports and leave" Remi retorted. Jonn stifled an audible gasp. "You should have given him the remains of fourth squad instead of that fool Vern"
"You would question my orders?" Yoren stepped towards the man, his hand resting on the hilt of his Bolt pistol.
"I would" Remi glared.
"You're lucky I need every man for this coming battle" Yoren chuckled. "I'll see you court marshaled if we survive this. Get out of my sight, man the front door and see that I hear no more impudence from you or I will see that you regret it."
Remi saluted, picked up his plasma gun and sulkily walked from the room, closing the door behind him.
Yoren looked over at Jonn and Cromwell who stood at the back of the room.
"It's getting to him, sir" Jonn admitted. "Even with these two specialist teams, I fear-"
"-Fear is infectious, Jonn" Yoren growled. "We cannot have a breakdown in morale. I will not stand for it."
"Apologies, sir" Jonn said embarrassedly. "I only meant-"
"-No matter" Yoren interrupted once again. "Whatever will be, will be"
Sergeant Mc'Larvin looked up at the lit window of the CP building and snorted. He then turned back to his own men who were busy setting up their mortar stations.
"Sergeant" One of said as they turned back to him.
"What is it, Willems?" Mc'Larvin replied curtly.
"Is it true General Blythe is making a move on the Eastern canyons?"
"I heard as much" Mc'Larvin sniffed. "I reckon they'll be in the thick of it by now"
"Why aren't we there with the rest of our company?" Willems asked.
"The Orks aren't like us as you may have gathered" Mc'Larvin allowed a smile. "They often do not strive for the same goals, the Ork forces harassing these cities back behind our lines are likely doing it to disrupt the order of things. For example, the city of Pirpryt had a lot of manufacturing plants. They were the only reason our forces wanted to hold the city. The Orks attacking the city have now seized these plants; our latest reports say there are little to no Guard forces remaining there now. With these plants they can now begin manufacturing a whole other armoured force which left unchecked will easily lay waste to our supply lines and eventually assault our main forces from the rear."
Willems blinked.
"So why aren't we over at Pirpryt?"
"We have to support this city first. After that we can start assaulting Pirpryt as a larger force."
"What's of import in this city?" Willems pressed.
"Absolutely nothing" Mc'Larvin laughed. "But we don't want the Orks to have it now do we?"
Harlem wiped the sweat from his brow and exited the Chimera. He had just finished the final repairs on the hull-mounted guns along the sides and fixed the piston that operated the rear ramp. He was exhausted. He heaved himself onto the top of the Chimera where he found his flask of whisky.
After unscrewing the cap, he took a generous swig of the now warm liquid and coughed.
He remembered a simpler time before they had deployed to this planet for this engagement. Going out of the base on the weekends, drinking better liquor than this in several bars a night accompanied by men like Vern, Harold and Arashi. Better times.
Not a day had passed since his friend Vern had set out that he didn't wonder what had happened to him. Same as when Sergeant Quinn of fifth squad had been ordered out on patrol. Harlem was the last person both of those men had spoken to before leaving and he felt terrible for it. Sure he had given them both kind words on their passing, but it made him feel awful all the same.
Not as awful as the moment he had told his son that duty called. He recalled leaving them all over again. He had left their hab-unit clad in his gear, both his son and wife watching. The look they had both given him would haunt him to his last day.
A sudden noise snapped him out of his memories and brought him back to the earth shattering reality. He shifted nervously on top of the transport and looked over to the rear of the vehicle.
He saw nothing, but another noise sounded from inside the Chimera.
"Hello?" He said shakily.
"Harlem?" a familiar face appeared from behind the Chimera.
"Ravio" Harlem breathed out in relief. "Scared me half to death, man. Whaddya need?"
"Sergeant Nathaniel has sent me down to ask if you've got any lubricant that could be used for a flamer mount"
"Third squad asking for lubricant" Harlem slid down the side of the Chimera and Ravio walked around to him. "Why isn't that a surprise?"
"Funny guy" Ravio rolled his eyes. "You got the lube or not?"
Harlem chuckled and turned away from the private. "Got it right over here come on"
He took two steps before hearing the muted cry from Ravio. Harlem turned and saw an Ork towering over Ravio from behind. The Ork was clad in camouflage and wore a leather balaclava over its face, only its eyes were visible.
A large violent looking blade was protruding from Ravio's throat and the young Guardsman was trying desperately to walk forward, but instead frothing blood with the occasional leg spasm.
Harlem opened his mouth to cry out, when he heard movement behind him. He rolled to the left and used the Chimera to pull himself up. Looking behind him he saw another masked Ork with its axe held mid-swing, it followed him with its eyes and lunged forward with a grunt.
Harlem opened to side access point of the Chimera and leapt inside, the axe missing his back by inches it rather clanged off the hull instead.
Harlem raced to the front of the Chimera but realised he had left his radio on the roof. He cursed himself and instead picked up the wrench he had left in there earlier.
Harlem turned and saw the Ork inside the Chimera now, its axe raised once more.
"Come on then, you bastard" Harlem held his wrench up defensively.
The Ork lunged forth and swung the axe down in a killing arc. Harlem attempted to block the strike but was instead hit in the left arm by the axe. He cried out in pain as the axe sliced through his flesh and splintered the bone below.
He swung his wrench with a cry of fury striking the Ork in the side of the head. The beast lurched to the right from and an audible CLANG rang out. The Ork fell to the floor and stifled a roar.
Harlem went to strike the prone Ork again, when suddenly a second camouflage clad Ork entered the vehicle. This one wore a gasmask and carried two elongated daggers both twisty and rusted alike.
Harlem realised he wasn't getting out of this with just his wrench. He muttered a prayer to the Emperor asking him to bless his family and swung the wrench down hard.
The strike ruptured the top of the prone Ork's head and he swung again, and again, and again. He yelled at the top of his voice in the vain hope that anyone from third squad might hear. The dual wielding Ork stepped forward calmly and jammed the two blades into Harlem's chest.
The pain was excruciating yet he did not cry out; no one was coming and he wouldn't give the Ork the satisfaction. He spat in the Ork's face the saliva splattering over the gasmask's lenses.
The Ork drew him forward using the blades as prongs and twisted.
Harlem dropped boneless to the floor once he had slid from the blades' embrace and lay still.
The Ork who had slain the engineer retrieved a makeshift radio from its leather bag.
"Boss, we'ze in. We'z 'eaded to the middle of da town" It drawled.
"Har Har Har, the oomies won't know wut hit e'm" The deep voice of the Warboss replied.