Chapter III

War is a nightmare

Shasjiir, Khavaran District,

Tehran Province, Qajar Empire.

June 2nd, 1995.

Day-1

Khalid quickly dropped to the ground as a section of the wall exploded with a deafening BOOM! Debris and dust filled the air, scattering bits of plaster and bricks in all directions. Unfortunately, one of his comrades wasn't as fortunate and fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Khalid hurriedly sought cover, clutching his AK-47 tightly.

The origin of the attackers was unknown, but they had certainly arrived. Earlier, he had heard the impact, the cries of people claiming it was a meteor or a shooting star; initially, he had mistaken it for another missile attack from the UAR. However, the attackers suddenly materialized in the Grand Bazaar, mercilessly attacking anyone in their path. They wore peculiar helmets and shouted battle cries in an unfamiliar language.

Khalid sensed movement beside him and instinctively spun around, almost accidentally firing his Kalashnikov.

"Take it easy! Take it easy!" a voice exclaimed.

"Dude, what the hell?" Khalid stared at the figure, which turned out to be a somewhat embarrassed member of the Qajri Imperial Army, the regular army.

"Who the hell is this."

Sargent Ishfan poked his head out of the dugout, staring at Khalid and the newcomer.

"Corporal Reza sir!" He raised his hands placatingly. "Sorry sir, just trying to get to your position from the south trench. Half my squad got vaporized back there!"

Sgt Ishfan grunted acknowledgment, eyeing Reza's battered uniform appraisingly. "How bad is it out there Corporal?"

Reza wiped grime from his face. "Whatever hit us came down near the Grand Bazaar - whole place is a raging inferno from the impact. These things just rose up out of the flames already shooting. Never seen weapons like it!"

Khalid peeked over the smashed parapet cautiously. A hail of red bolts stabbed back, making him flinch. "They just keep coming Sarge! Nothing's dropping them, they just keep advancing through the streets."

"Well then take cover and wait."

Ishfan stuck his head out as he the sound of boots on stone. They were fresh recruits, most little more than young boys who barely fit in their uniforms. They charged forwards as a great mass, driven on by fanatical fervor and their minders. They could only watch in horror as the black and white armored invaders stormed forward to meet them, guns blazing, their voices howling.

Riverfront.

City Designated Antares Nox.

Cetus Quadrant.

Nova Arcadia. Nova Arcadia system.

Brother Hectean ducked as more stubgun fire peppered the wall he was using for cover. The Rockrete here was more or less similar to standard Imperial Rockrete.

However, this entire city was strange. There were no spaceports, as far as Hectean could tell. The Scorpions arrived at the city's waterfront. They quickly and mercilessly handled the local resistance, who were fewer in number and had less advanced weapons than anticipated. Hectean believed that the main forces of the resistance were likely scattered across the planet, but it wouldn't take long to gather them together.

"What seems to be the problem, brother?" Apocathery Tallion asked from behind another wall.

"Rebel Quickstrike group seems to have armor with it."

Tallion peeked out to see for himself. Sure enough, tanks, a bit longer than standard Leman Russ tanks of the guard and boxier too, were trundling toward them. Their cannons, as Tallion's HUD in his helmet told him were 105 mm's. But their armor could be pierced easily by the bolt rounds from an Astartes bolter.

"Brother, this is child's play for you. End this charade quickly, will you?" Tallion rumbled nonchalantly.

Brother Hectean grinned wolfishly under his helm. "By your command Apothecary."

With lithe speed he burst from cover, bolt pistol barking ceramite-piercing death. The first tank exploded violently as its fuel lines ruptured. Hectean rolled, coming up in a crouch to unleash hellstorm bolts at the second vehicle.

Its treads shredded under the salvo, immobilizing it. Crews bailed out in a panic, only to be cut down by well-aimed shots. Within seconds both tanks lay in flaming ruins.

"Such primitive weaponry poses no threat." Hectean scanned for further targets, augmented eyes cutting through dust and smoke.

A squad of rebels opened up with Stub weapons, shots pinging off his Power Armour ineffectually. With a contemptuous snarl Hectean advanced, bolt pistol punching through bodies with methodical precision.

The last rebel fell, heart pulped by a bolt round. Utter silence reigned once more upon the 'designation: Riverfront'.

"The locals have ceased to amuse, Apothecary." Hectean rumbled over the vox. "Shall we seek worthier prey further?"

Outskirts of Lublin,

Maszowia Rzeczpospolita Ludowa,

June 2nd, 1995

Wladyslaw Petrik had been a boy during the Vostokvakian intervention in Maszowia in 1973. Thankfully, he and his little sister had been sent to the countryside in the relative safety of the countryside. They'd only returned back home to Lublin in January in 1974. Now a grandfather, he'd been smoking outside on his balcony, like he did every day.

Much had changed in the past few hours. Firstly, on the news, it appeared that OFN and the Warsaw Pact had now created a unified command, on the night of June 1 Wladyslaw had seen the "Meteor Shower" in the night, thinking little of it. The next morning, there were now refugees from the border, as far as Lviv in the Ukraina SSR! Cars, trucks, carts, it felt like seeing something from those documentaries of the 2nd Great War on TV. Then the tanks arrived, Western tanks like the Abrams, T-55s, and T-72s from Maszowia and neighboring Czeslovenia, even Ulraznavian Leopards!

The news anchor had been droning on about how Lublin was now the center of the new "Unified Defense Line" and how Maszowia was fulfilling its role as the protector of Euronia, as it always had from Turanian Invasions, Mongols and the old Teutonic order.

"Grandpa! Whats happening! Some of my friends say it's aliens!" Monika. His little 6-year-old granddaughter rushed out to join him on the balcony.

Wladyslaw laughed, "Seems like your friends watch too many films."

There was a small slamming sound from inside before Monika's father, Wladyslaw's son, came out in the balcony.

Władysław puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette, gazing out at the bustling street below. Never in his days had he seen Lublin abuzz with such frenetic activity.

"There are always strange tales in times like these, dziecinko." He ruffled Monika's hair reassuringly. "Best not to spread rumors. Now run along and help your mother, I'm sure she could use an extra pair of hands with all the newcomers."

Monika nodded, dashing inside. Wladyslaw watched the convoys roll past towards the front; tanks, IFVs, and support vehicles from every ally nation. Clearly a major defensive line was taking shape.

A crackle broke his musings - the old transistor radio beside him. "Attention citizens, a state of emergency is declared. Curfew begins at dusk. All able-bodied men report to your local recruitment office by 0800 tomorrow for evaluation into the People's Militia. Stay vigilant and pray for our defenders. This is for your safety. Stay tuned for updates."

There was a small slamming sound from inside before Monika's father, Wladyslaw's son, came out in the balcony.

"Dad it's crazy, they're rounding up people on the street!"

"Who are they taking Janek?"

"The Milicija. they're taking people on the street to conscription." Janek said breathlessly.

"Is mama okay?" Monika jumped off from Wladyslaw's lap.

The raven-haired beauty joined the rest of them, her jeans looked ripped, and so was her jacket. With a cry, Monika jumped into her mother's arms.

"Bianka! What happened?" Wladyslaw sharply asked his daughter-in-law, rising as he did so.

"Shh it's okay Monika." Bianka soothed her daughter, hugging her tight.

Bianka hugged Monika tight, visibly shaken. "It's madness down there! Half the shops have been cleared out already. People are panicking, shoving, and yelling..."

She took a breath to steady herself. "I tried to pay but the card machine was down, that's when it turned nasty. Some guy just grabbed everything in my cart and bolted."

Janek ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Fuck, knew this would happen. Those emergency broadcasts have everyone spooked."

Monika peered out at the hectic street scenes below, wide-eyed. Wladyslaw rubbed her back reassuringly. "Janek, help me board up the balcony doors. Bianka, stay here with the girl and radio - let me know if the situation worsens."

They set to work hurriedly reinforcing the exits as sirens blared out across the city. Civilization was already fraying at the edges under the stress.

The radio crackled again. "...curfew now in effect until further notice. Any person on the streets will be detained. Authorities say this is for the protection of citizens. Stay indoors and await further instructions."

An air raid siren began to keen, carrying on the tense wind. They gathered closer together on the balcony, peering fearfully into the gloom as night blanketed the suddenly fragile city.

He stood near the window of his apartment, gazing down at the street. Across from him, in the windows of the concrete apartment block, he could see others doing the same - mothers, fathers, children, and the elderly. They all watched silently as a group of large, noisy vehicles passed by.

First, two T-55 tanks rumbled right below his window. They were followed by two BWP infantry fighting vehicles. Behind them came several Jelcz 442.32 trucks, filled with infantry. As each truck drove past, Wladyslaw could see the young people inside - mostly reservists from nearby Siedlce. They looked just as scared and uncertain as he did, probably because they were called in quickly and lacked experience.

"Attention all citizens!" shouted the loudspeakers mounted on a van, which brought up the rear of the convoy. "We are being invaded by a foreign enemy! Stay in your homes! I repeat: stay in your homes! Lock your doors! Arm yourselves with whatever you can! Do not leave until the all-clear is given! Attention all citizens, stay in your homes! I repeat: stay in your homes..."

Invasion? Wladyslaw was puzzled and troubled. Who could it be? Unless... was there going to be a nuclear bombing? Shouldn't they head to the shelter then?

"Grandpa," Monika, spoke up again, appearing beside him. "What is the man saying?"

Wladyslaw shook his head and put his arm around her, as if afraid of losing her too. "It means," he sighed, "we are at war."

Unified WarPac/OFN Field HQ.

Central Lublin.

June 2nd, 1995.

"The outskirts are taken..."

"11th Lancers report one of their Chieftain tank troops MIA..."

"Someone get me a CO on the Horn! Now!"

The operations room was a buzz, that much Lt General Ronald Sinclair could tell. A heavyset man, he was Concordian, and proud of it too. But right now he had big problems that needed solving quickly.

"Where is the 11th ACR?"

Sinclair slammed a meaty fist down in frustration. "Somebody get that corridor cleared, now! I need the 11th ACR in support range ASAP or we're sunk."

He wheeled to the comm tech. "Get me a line to Lublin sector command, tell them to blow the bridges if it jams up the evac route any more. Losing civilians is better than losing this city too."

The aide swallowed. "Sir, the Vostokvakian reports... they're saying these things vaporized whole cities in minutes. Conventional weapons don't seem to be doing much."

A grim silence fell. Sinclair ran scenarios, searching desperately for options against an implacable foe. Then radio crackle broke the tense quiet.

"Central, this is Dustoff-1, we have visual on advancing hostiles. My God..." The pilot's voice broke off in horror.

Sinclair stabbed the receiver. "Dustoff-1 report, what are we dealing with soldier?"

Only static answered. He exchanged grave looks with his command staff. Whatever was coming, it shattered all preconceptions of warfare. Failure was not an option - but with the fate of civilization at stake, could any strategy prevail against such terror from the stars? The general steeled himself to face a trial beyond all imagining.

Riverfront.

City Designated Antares Nox.

Cetus Quadrant.

Nova Arcadia. Nova Arcadia system.

Red Scorpions Chapter

The Scorpions had arrived at the city's waterfront. The local resistance was swiftly and mercilessly dealt with, as they were outnumbered and poorly equipped. But Brother Sargent Trajan suspected that the main rebel forces were elsewhere on the planet, but it wouldn't take long to gather them.

"Rebel strike force ahead," Brother Michelangelo warned, "their weapons may be primitive, but they have a large quantity."

"Yes, and they have armored support approaching. Brother Arulius reported two tanks and two smaller transports, similar to a Chimera."

The squad of Scorpions waited, their helmets picking up the sound of engines and tracks as the enemy armored forces drew nearer. Trajan checked his auspex, which displayed the locations of his and Arulius's squads, as well as Honored Brother Crassus who was taking cover under some rubble.

"Remember, aim for kill shots," he reminded them, "save your ammunition until we can regroup with the fleet and resupply."

Outside, a large tank, slightly smaller than a Leman Russ Battle Tank but with a lower profile and rounded turret, moved alongside another tank and two vehicles resembling Astra Militarum Chimeras, likely filled with soldiers. Ten more men and even women walked ahead of the convoy, scanning the burning buildings of the waterfront with raised autoguns. Trajan noticed that their uniforms vaguely resembled those of the certain PDF, although they lacked flak armor. The advancing rebels tried to ignore the corpses in the street and focused on their mission to search for survivors in the area.

Trajan watched dispassionately through his enhanced optics. These rebels lacked even basic flak jackets, an utter neglect of proper safety. No matter, they had made their choice to oppose the Imperium.

Over the squad vox, he signaled Arulius. "Brother, target the lead tank. We shall eliminate escorts and infantry, then focus combined fire on the second tank."

A brief click of acknowledgment came. Trajan rose fluidly, boltgun barking. The rounds slammed through weakly armored vehicles with brutal efficiency, crews cut down where they stood.

Within heartbeats only the tanks remained, confused gunners struggling to target elusive Astartes in the ruins. Arulius' plasma gun barked, its energy shear melting through primitive armor. The second Russ shuddered under precise bolter bombardment, exploding in a fireball.

"NOW BROTHERS! WE STRIKE!"

"IN HIS NAME!" the squad echoed before rising and following him in rushing forward.

Bystrzyca Riverfront.

Lublin,

Maszowia Rzeczpospolita Ludowa,

June 2nd, 1995

The deep, metallic voice echoed loudly. Despite the noise of the tank's movements and engine, Sergeant Pawel Sobieski of the 21st Light Infantry Battalion could still hear it clearly. Sitting in the back of the lead tank's turret, he couldn't understand the words, but he knew it was a threat when the storefront collapsed and something large burst through the wall.

Through his sights, he saw a box-like shape emerge from the dust and rubble. It was about the size of a van, with a narrow slit in the front and arms ending in a clawed hand and a rotary cannon. This war machine walked on two legs, resembling a robot from a science fiction film.

"Target on the right!" he shouted, "load armor-piercing rounds!"

Patryk, the gunner, turned the turret to the right. Wiktor, the loader, was visibly shaken but followed orders as he loaded an armor-piercing shell into the breach.

In that moment, the walking robot opened fire with its rotary cannon, tearing through the convoy. The T-55AM Merida tanks were protected by thick armor, but one of the BWPs behind them was completely destroyed, forcing its occupants to evacuate.

As the two T-55s turned their turrets, Sobieski noticed more movement. Around ten armored humanoids, smaller than the robot but larger than any human, sprinted out of cover. Their guns fired automatic rocket-propelled grenades, causing two infantrymen to be engulfed in explosions. The remaining infantrymen took cover and returned fire but their Tantals were ineffective against the armored attackers. Even the DShK machine gun on Captain Polawnski's tank barely made a dent.

"Target!" Patryk shouted.

"FIRE!" Sobieski ordered.

The gun fired with a loud boom. The shell hit one of the attackers, bypassing its advanced armor. Sobieski felt a sense of victory, knowing they had achieved something. Patryk continued firing the co-axial machine gun while Wiktor struggled to load another shell. Suddenly, there was a loud clang as something hit the tank.

"Reverse, reverse!" Sobieski cried in desperation. But as they backed up frantically, another mechanized monster emerged from the ruins behind them. Its weapon barked, some kind of energy blast that melted straight through the tank's frontal armor. Sobieski had just enough time to scream before vaporizing within the inferno and everything went silent.

Sobieski's last thoughts were of his family back home in Krakow as flames consumed him.

Captain Polawnski watched in horror as the lead tank was destroyed. "Ambush! Ambush behind us, pull back!" He jammed the control yoke into reverse, treads grinding as the T-55 pivoted frantically.

But it was too late - a squad of armored giants had already overrun their rear. Another blistering energy lance liquefied the tank's engine block before it could get underway.

Polawnski grabbed for his Tantal, ignoring the searing heat. Through the viewports, he glimpsed a warped nightmare - his remaining squad torn apart by bullets that sheared straight through personal armor.

A faceless hell-machine stomped towards his crippled tank. Polawnski bared his teeth and aimed his rifle shakily through the viewport, determined to sell his life dearly.

But fate denied him even that small defiance. The backblast of its strange weapon washed over his tank, warping steel into molten slag and vaporizing flesh beyond recognition in an instant.

City Designated Antares Nox.

Cetus Quadrant.

Nova Arcadia. Nova Arcadia system.

Red Scorpions Chapter

Trajan watched the aftermath of the short engagement with the rebels with dispassionate eyes. No sounds were heard except for flames and the whine as metal gave way.

"All rebels eliminated brother Sargent." Brother Scipio reported, swiftly reloading his bolter.

"ETA of the Guard regiment?"

"Arriving right...now."

Trajan's eyes looked skyward as the telltale sonic booms heralded the arrival of the reinforcements from the Astra Millitarum. First came the Valkyrie gunships, carrying troops of the 11th New Cadian Shock Troops regiment. The Astartes watched impassively as the Valkyrie gunships swooped low over the ruined cityscape, disgorging squads of Cadians into the battle zone. Their lasguns would make short work of any remaining pockets of resistance. Lascannon batteries on the Valkyrie's wings peppered any probable remaining resistance nests in the area for good measure.

As polished Cadians double-timed into ordered lines, Trajan strode over. "Your target designation, Colonel?"

Colonel Franks of the 11th saluted. "We've orders to sweep this quadrant and secure the spaceport. Intel suggests enemy leadership may be holed up in the sector governor's palace two klicks east."

He eyed the Scorpions' bolt shells spent everywhere. "From the looks, you've softened them up nicely already. We'll mop up what's left and hold this ground."

Trajan nodded. "The Chapter fleet engages in orbit. Apothecary Tallion reports low munitions - we shall resupply and join their battle when able. Clear your objectives swiftly, Colonel - the more territory we reclaim, the closer compliance draws."

The sound of engines drew everyone's eyes upward as a large group of Grey painted Valkyries with the red scorpion emblazoned arrived, the Auxiliary of the Red Scorpions. Equipped like regular guardsmen, but wearing Scorpion Grey

The sight of more Valkyries was a reassuring sight for Trajan and the battle-weary Scorpions. Though not Astartes themselves, the Auxilia were proven soldiers with the discipline and skill to carry out missions effectively under the Chapter's command.

As the gunships circled, Lieutenant Felicia Gret voxed in. "Sergeant Trajan, Auxilia squadrons standing by to deploy at your order. We bring supplies, munitions and additional forces to assist in securing this zone."

Trajan nodded curtly. "Your assistance is appreciated, Lieutenant. Have your troops start unloading and establish a docking perimeter. We shall resupply then sweep east with the Guard regiment towards the next objectives."

"Apothecary to the front, Apothecary!" A medical servitor scurried up, bearing a freshly recharged plasma pistol and a pack of frag grenades. Tallion took the proffered weapons with a nod.

. "Gret, deploy your Valkyries to reinforce the Cadian lines east of here. Your lasguns and armor will serve to bolster their defense."

As the grey gunships peeled off, the Space Marines turned their attention to resupply. Their bolters were loaded with fresh magazines of deadly shells, packs restocked with grenades and krak missiles.

"Brothers, see to your wargear. I shall confer with Apothecary Tallion aboard our strike cruiser." Trajan voxed command, requesting an uplink to his superiors in orbit.

Moments later, the hooded face of High Chaplain Arkkad appeared on his visor display. "We sense your plight Brother-Sergeant. This world's defiance has lasted longer than expected but complacency will be their downfall. Hold fast to the Imperial Truth."

"Yes, High Chaplain. We shall purge this sector and move on, despite these noncompliant savages' pitiful attempts at resistance."

"See that you do. Victory through compliance, Brother."

The link terminated. Trajan reloaded his bolter with an empty clip, discarding the spent rounds onto the stained pavement. Another firefight no doubt awaited, as these primitives defended their delusions of independence. But compliance was inevitable, whatever the cost in blood spilled. The Emperor's will would be done.

Outside of Niram,

People's Democratic Republic of Alernia.

Another day had come to an end. The night brought relief from the scorching heat, but it also concealed the suffering of the sick and dying, their cries still audible. It was during the night that the Warlord's death squads would ambush anyone unfortunate enough to be outside. If a child, regardless of gender, was caught, they would be forced into the General's armies with only a Kalashnikov, a certain death sentence. So, when considering it, it was hard to determine if night was truly better than day.

In the small, dilapidated houses that resembled pigsties more than homes, the people of Alernia, victims of General Louis Manabe's coup d'état and now warlord, sought rest. Inside one of these shacks, a family huddled together in silence, enveloped by darkness. The mother cradled her whimpering baby, while the father stood guard near the curtained entrance, rifle in hand. Two hungry children clung to their mother, their faces gaunt. This scene was repeated in countless homes across Alernia.

Under General Manabe's brutal rule, war and chaos had become the norm. Food and medicine were scarce, and the nights were fraught with danger and uncertainty. Many had fled to refugee camps in neighboring countries, if they were able. But for most, this was their grim reality.

The father glanced back at his family, his heart heavy with helplessness. He could protect them from opportunistic looters, but not from the merciless death squads and child conscription. Nor could he shield them from the rapid spread of disease in the absence of doctors and aid.

All he could offer was meager shelter and his presence. It seemed insignificant, but it meant everything. He would keep watch throughout the night, granting them a few hours of rest.

Softly, the man began to hum an old folk tune, its melody both bitter and comforting. His wife's voice soon joined his, providing a momentary escape for them all. The children nestled closer, their fears momentarily eased.

The cries of panic reached his ears; something was approaching the camp. The father anxiously watched as the tall, armored figures made their way towards the refugee camp. Even from a distance, their imposing size and strange appearance instilled a deep fear. They moved with an eerie synchronization, holding their weapons ready.

The people who had spotted them first were already running away in panic. The Western medical team watched in shocked silence.

A part of him wanted to join the fleeing crowd with his family. But another part of him was frozen in place, unable to move at the sight of these... beings. They were so alien and foreboding, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

As they came closer, more details became visible. They were covered head to toe in dull metallic green armor. Their helmets resembled insects, with glowing optics. They carried massive guns with fat barrels that could potentially destroy buildings. And they were towering in height, like giants from ancient tales.

Faced with such overwhelming power, resistance seemed impossible. The father dared to hope that they would simply pass by the camp. So far, their body language seemed more curious than openly hostile.

He glanced back at his frightened family, huddled in the shadows of their hut. Could he safely lead them away if necessary? His own weakness from malnutrition made it unlikely.

With a tight jaw, the father turned back to face the armored figures, now at the edge of the camp. He would stand between his family and these intruders for as long as he had the strength. It was the only thing he could do.

Bude, Cornwall, United Kingdom of Eden, June 2nd, 1995

Andrew Daly held onto his Enfield L66A1 Assault Rifle firmly while he and his fellow soldiers surveyed the expansive landscape of Eden. It was a serene period of the year. The ancient Nordic structure stood majestically in the distance, the sky adorned with a neutral shade of grey, and a sprinkling of snow covered the ground. As he contemplated these sights, a realization struck him. "A war of tranquility," he murmured softly, "if only it were real."

"Oi! Daly! Quit bugging around!" Sargent Cornelia Hemsworth's tone threw him out of his stupor.

"Apologies Sergeant!" Andrew straightened unconsciously at her sharp tone.

The Cornish countryside was indeed tranquil, but he knew better than to relax his guard even this far from active fronts. The TV had relayed reports all morning of escalating clashes with unknown invaders, Aliens the report was calling them. It had caused the EAOR to move forward into Maszowia, that was hours ago.

A gust of coastal wind buffeted his jacket as Andrew turned back to scan the coastal defenses once more. Multiple coastal artillery batteries lined the cliffs, pointing seawards. A squadron of Harrier jump jets zoomed low overhead, rotating for their regular patrol.

For now, the Kingdom remained unthreatened. But unease gnawed at his gut all the same. Other countries had not fared so well against these alien invaders. Eden's turn could come at any moment.

Sergeant Cornelia's voice snapped him back to attention. "Daly, you're on perimeter watch - keep those eyes peeled till Gibson relieves you."

"Yes Sergeant!" Andrew trotted off to his post, grabbing his kit. He knew complacency could prove fatal in this new war of horrors. Every sense must be vigilant against threats from land, sea - or even the skies above.

Sierżant sztabowy Andrysiak, 11th Sniper platoon took a deep breath as he stared through the telescopic sight of his SWD sniper rifle, itself a licensed copy of the famed Dragunov from the VSSR. He carefully counted his heartbeats before he found an interval. Then he gently pulled the trigger.

The rifle spat fire with a crack before a round was sent flying through the air at 3,000 km/h. A point man of an alien squad went down with a cry, while his comrades shouted in dismay. Andrysiak merely smirked before rolling over swiftly as red laser beams struck the walls and room where he was positioned. Lying prone on his stomach, he began to shimmy out, cursing slightly as a beam nearly nailed his leg.

Standing up quickly once he was out of the room, he quickly went to the next room. The sniper flattened against the wall, catching his breath laser beams scorched the rubble where he'd been. Those aliens meant serious business - and had formidable sensors to pinpoint targets so swiftly. Or they were just good soldiers.

Placing his rifle on the windowsill, he again aimed and fired. Another ET jerked, red blood spilling on the ground. Andrysiak confirmed the kill before quickly exiting the room, just as the enemies began to fire. Exiting the small bungalow, he quickly began to move down the hill, in case his unit called in an artillery strike to soften up the hostiles. Breaking into a run, he soon arrived at the small village his unit was using as a staging point.

"Well, what happened?" Stanislaw, his commander asked.

"They're experienced, but not invulnerable, that is the "Normal" infantry," Andrysiak answered before lighting a cigarette. "Like right now, I just encountered a minor patrol of ETs. Mostly scout elements and squads though, no idea where their big formations are, seems like they're busy pounding Lublin."

"That's to be expected."

Their unit was one of many that were guarding the road to Warsaw and the rest of Western Maszowia and the Ulraznavian border that entered East Prussia. They hoped that with the massive defense line in Lublin, would slow down these invaders from space. However, the fact that there were scout elements that had bypassed Lublin meant that they were smart and tactically adept.

That is what the generals and senior officers would have said.

In the distance, Andrysiak heard their artillery open up as they probably pounded the area he'd just been in. Poor bastards, he thought, before he chided himself. They were the enemy.

Stanislaw lit his own cigarette, lighting it with a Zippo lighter brows furrowed in thought as he blew a smoke cloud. "Scouts getting this deep means their main force can't be far behind. Front's moving faster than high command expected."

Andrysiak shrugged, "Why send the weaker units to outflank? These guys put so much effort and time into invading, yet they can't seem to execute properly at times."

"Maybe if we shoot enough of them, then we can stop them here, eh?" another soldier said in an effort to lighten the mood before shutting up at the sight of Andryiask's glare.

"Nevertheless, we have a job to do, and we shall do it to the best of our efforts Stanislaw squared his shoulders. He had to stop himself from berating Andrysiak at the latter's eye-roll.

"Yeah, as long as we're not caught."

"well, then you'd better stay alive then. Rumor is we're gonna be pulled back to Warsaw. Better stay alive than Andrysiak." Stanislaw nodded. The rest of them remained silent. They didn't want to think of the possibility of death. After all, it was something that happened to the other guy.

Elsewhere.

Private Wilk Dremart of the 97th Elysian Drop Troops Regiment took a long, good drag of his Iho stick as he sat with his back against a thick tree. His unit, like so many others, had been tasked with facilitating a crossing over an unknown river north of a rebel city and beyond. His 190-man company had surprisingly taken the bridge intact and now had a strong perimeter around it. All it had to do was wait for the 17th Mordian Iron Guard regiment forces that would approach in the morning if all went to plan.

If it goes to plan, Wilk reminded himself as he stood up and took another drag, feeling the mild stimulant take effect amidst his fatigue. With Battlefleet Scolaris and its assigned forces going sublight to not tax the already fragile state of the engines. It was unanimously decided to send smaller transport ships and drop pods to the target planet once they reached an assigned area referred to as the "In-between point" From here on they'd dropped, with the Elysians finding little to no resistance on the target bridge. But things hardly went according to plan in wartime, unlike in exercises, where everything ran like a well-oiled machine.

Wilk began to chide himself for such thoughts. Have faith in yourself and the abilities of your comrades. You're a soldier of the Imperium for crying out loud!

He stood back up and took the Iho stick out of his mouth.

"Hey! I have a pack here, who wants some?" he picked up his Accatran Pattern lasgun and waved to his squad.

"One for the God Emperor eh guys! Private Lacus Welt fished out an Iho from the pack and held it up, even though it was very dark and hard to see, their company commander had forbidden any lights, campfires, or anything luminescent lest it drew unwanted attention. They were a small company after all, they weren't suited to take on big threats just yet.

Wilk shared out the rest of the Iho's and helped his squad mates light theirs.

"Ah, reminds me of simpler times." Private Edgar Link puffed up a cloud.

"I wonder if the women are beautiful on this world? It is a civilized world after all." Mild-mannered Private René Simm wondered aloud, causing the rest of the squad to laugh.

"We need to get you a proper girlfriend. Maybe marriage might change that stiff upper-class act you got going there." Sargent Irclu lightly chided.

"Girlfriend? I fail to see your reasoning, Sgt."

"You should be more like Wilk." Edgar chirped, "He understands the opposite sex far more than we ever will!" he was of course referring to Farina, Wilk's longtime girlfriend, who was in another company in the regiment at a different target.

"Hey! Leave Farina out of this!" Wilk protested weakly, causing the squad to laugh heartily.

At this point, they were surprised by another squad creeping up to them.

"I thought I made it clear there were going to be no lights whatsoever!" Captain Jorhan Rietveld, their commanding officer.

"Sorry Captain, just a quick smoke then we'll sound off." Irclu apologetically replied.

Rietveld kept a stiff expression as he stared before finally, he smirked. "In that case, hand me one too, payment for you guys surviving the drop on Fontaine XII before this."

Several weary hands reached out eagerly for the contraband Iho sticks. In these dark times, a little morale boost went a long way.

Lacus struck a flare to light the bundle, illuminating drawn faces beneath equally grime-streaked flak armor. Two squads formed a loose circle, passing smokes and talk between them in hushed tones.

"Think the coming night will stay quiet, Wilk?" Lacus took a long drag before passing the stub.

Wilk shrugged, ever pragmatic. "Rebs may launch probes, feel out our perimeter. But any full assault would come at dawn - take us by surprise."

He drew on the fizzing smoke pensively. "We've faced worse odds before boys, and come out on top. A few hundred men with lasguns brought this bridge. Just imagine what we'll do with proper support!"

Cheers and laughter followed, helping to buoy flagging spirits. Yet deep down, they knew these meager victories could not last forever against such alien might. Sooner or later, their thin line must break under weight of numbers. All that remained was to sell their lives dearly and pray it bought time enough for Imperial reinforcements.

A sense of foreboding hung over the wood like the mists rising with dusk's fall. But for now, warm fellowship and faith in each other was balm enough. The long night watch had begun.

MV Kronstadt War Academy.

Salrzgrad, Ulraznavia.

Office of Generalmajor Johannes Busch.

Night of June 2nd, 1995.

"Shouldn't you be heading home for the holidays?" a dark-haired man with piercing eyes asked another man who was seated across him on a desk, who sighed in response.

"I wish I could Mikhail, but I have tests to check, reports to fill, and information to parse." Generalmajor Johannes Busch clasped his hands together.
While he was right, he did have a lot of paperwork, he also wasn't going home for another reason. That was the recent mobilization on June 1st. Being on the faculty of the biggest War academy in the Capital allowed him to have correspondence with the Chief of Staff of the OKR. In the past 24 hours, meteors had been sighted, and the Excalibur chemical laser asteroid defense system in Tauberg was fired. The Bundesheer had mobilized and advanced into Maszowia from East Prussia.

Further reports showed that Eden's "Edenite Army of the Rhine had followed soon afterward with its forward units stationed in the Federal Union of Benelux streaming through. The US was also doing the same with its V. and VII. Corps followed, forcing the Bundesheer to mobilize the II. Army Inspectorate headquartered in the city of Berlin in the western Kreis as the 3rd Army into Maszowia.

While Busch was sure the government had its reasons, he couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable.

Despite what the news said, the Ulraznavian Federation, 3rd Superpower, was in a divided state. Divided on whether the army should be reduced. They were barely able to keep the 5th Panzer Division from being scrapped and disbanded. Worse, the army, despite its massive size, stretching over 3 whole regions simply was not capable of fighting a long, prolonged conflict.

Busch did not doubt the capabilities of the Bundesmarine and the Luftstreikräfte, he was certain they would perform well. It was the heer, the ground forces that worried him the most. Reports on his desk showed most of the Panzer divisions were armed with Leopard 1A5s, Keiler 1A6s, and Leopard 2 MBTs. While mostly armed with what was considered Western equipment, they also were equipped with licensed copies of the T-55 and T-72 tanks from Vostokvakia. Few were armed with copies of the modern T-80 in various different variants, while their own Leopard 2A4s were still the most of the numerous tanks, supplanted by the soon remobilized 2A3s, 2s, and 1s.

The infantry of the Bundesheer were well equipped with the best equipment and weapons that could be given. They were well-trained, well-equipped and well drilled and trained. They were tough, disciplined men and women who could be counted upon to stand fast if needed.

Equipment shortages however plagued armoured units - the vaunted 5th Panzer Division had only 70% of its authorized tank strength when the mobilization orders came. Logistics tails were lean thanks to reduced budgets, making rapid deployment of reserves difficult.

The artillery arm was, however, decently capable. They were equipped with several assault guns for infantry support.

It was, however, the well-armed air force, the Luftstreikräfte, and the Bundesmarine who were the most well-equipped with aircraft, ships, and bombers that could carry huge loads.

"Ah you worry too much Generalmajor, anyway I will take my leave. Goodnight." Mikhail saluted Busch, a gesture the older man returned. Then the cadet exited, leaving him alone to the reports once more.

Sighing tiredly. Busch rubbed his eyes before returning his attention to the papers on his desk. He quickly began to look through them.

As he began checking the exam results, he was rudely interrupted by the telephone on his desk ringing.

"Hello?" Busch said.

"Sir! It's begun! We're being attacked!"

"What? By whom? What's going on!" Busch asked again confused.

"It's begun, sir! We're being attacked by unknowns!"

Reworked chapter 3! Sorry for the long wait, I had a lot on my plate, school started again and all that. I kinda hope this chapter is more mature than whatever I wrote back then. Also, I have written a muv luv story too. Read it, it's only a chapter long and drop reviews. I'll edit and clean it up later once I've reworked this one though.