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***
The sergeant's heart hammered in his chest. He could barely breathe.
Above him was the combined battlefleet of a thousand warships and endless troop transports. He could see a few hundred floating high above him against the sky, barely visible, despite each of them being the size of a floating city. The massive cruisers and landing craft had been assembling for days in orbit above the planet. Subtlety was not part of the Imperial Guard vocabulary. The enemy everywhere was on full alert.
For days he had waited, barely able to control the tension and the anxiety. He was a pathfinder. One of the very first guardsmen to be put down on the planet. If he thought the anticipation was killing him before, now that he was planetside, he was a thoughtless being of pure, surging adrenaline.
He took a quick look at his squad, which had assembled into a bit of terrain. He looked down at the locator beacon in his hand. He checked and double-checked his meltabombs as he and the rest of them struggled to catch their breath, desperately hoping they hadn't been spotted.
Dozens of drop sites had been selected, most of them onto the most heavily defended places on the planet. Unlike last time, it was decided that this planet's main defenses would be knocked out in the first punch. There would be more up-front casualties, attempting a landing directly against the fortifications, but it was thought that it would reduce campaign casualties and overall time of operation if the proverbial head were cut off first thing.
He was now in drop site Gamma. It was a string of hills studded with fortifications over the course of many miles. He was now standing nearly in front of one of them. This one appeared on the small side. That was good - fewer eyes to spot him. All he needed to do was to plant his beacon so that the space-borne forces would know where to strike.
Before the small squad of guardsmen, the enemy waited in their defensive position, keeping a sharp eye all around. Many looked up into the heavens to watch for the first sign of the Emperor's terrible wrath.
The sergeant took out his optics and quickly surveyed the fortification.
It was mostly traitor marines. The sergeant didn't know if that was a good thing or not. They didn't seem to have much by means of serious support weapons. Perhaps he really had gotten lucky. Perhaps this was just a small garrison. Perhaps they would be caught unawares.
Thoughts raced through the sergeant's mind as he continued to scan. He was nearly alone, on a planet teeming with traitors and enemies. He had never felt so naked in his life. It would be one thing if he were part of a pulsing horde of guardsmen, but that wasn't so, now. He felt the crushing weight of his responsibility. So much rode on just him doing the right thing. So many ways it could all get screwed up.
And death was the only price of failure.
The sergeant's eyes locked on a nearby metallic creature. They had a little bit of support weapons after all.
The sergeant closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. There was no sense in waiting. Nothing could be gained by it. He just had to step forward and complete his mission. There was just nothing else to do.
He opened his eyes. His muscles shook with tension. His heart fluttered in his chest. He looked at the other guardsmen in his squad. They looked at him, waiting and ready to go.
He tried to take a deep breath again, the air shaking out of him as it left his nostrils. He nodded his head.
The squad quickly and silently broke from cover and charged across the last little bit of open field. Before them lay the nearest bastion. Their legs pounded underneath them as they ran. Speed would be their only ally now.
The sergeant flipped on his beacon as he ran.
This would be it.
***
The valkyrie slammed into the upper atmosphere. The air in the cabin boomed around them and the vehicle shook violently. Flames could be seen shooting around the tiny windows.
It turned out that ogryn didn't care for loud, sudden noises. It also turned out they didn't like being violently shaken all unexpected-like, either. They also didn't like fire. They also didn't like dark, confined spaces.
There were six ogryn crammed somehow into the valkyrie, defying the very laws of three-dimensional space. Six ogryn who were suddenly made very agitated. In a very tight space. And they were armed.
This wouldn't do.
"Nah what'd I tell you all!?" came a shout over the growing disconcernment of the ogryn.
"Ta thinka happy thoughts?" one of the ogryn asked, unaware that the horrible experience around him was only going to be made worse by THINKING.
"That's right!" the human voice bellowed over the ogryn.
"But iz scary," one of the ogryn complained.
"N'I'ain't got time for your lip!" the human voice responded from somewhere in the shattering darkness, "N'I'ain't got time for no pansy-ass this-and-thattin' neither! We here are going to be a disc-ip-lined operation, and that's'a'be'en' THAT!"
Lord commissar Caspar affected his fiercest growl. Whether the ogryn could see him at all, packed in the middle between them or not in the flickering light, he did not know. The important thing was to be stern and uncompromising with these ogryn. It was the only way you could get anything useful out of them. Show even the briefest lapse in command, and that would all be that. The ogryn would crush and grind and stampede all over each other, and when the valkyrie opened the back hatch, all that would fall out would be a few hundred gallons of pureed gore splashing out onto the ground.
Caspar had little interest in being made into pureed gore, nor any other gore of any type. Not today at least. Today he had a thing or two that needed doing.
A loud blast rocked the valkyrie as it bucked frantically in its plummeting descent. It was followed by a second one of a similar nature.
Wait, what was that? It wasn't anti-aircraft fire. It didn't appear to be a noise that their transport had made. What could be the -
A horrifying wave of
raw sewage rolled into the commissar's nose. He had forgotten, to his peril, that violent shaking made ogryn gassy. A third ogryn farted uncontrollably. The commissar desperately gasped for air.
"Nah that's enough-a THAT, if y'all please!" Caspar barked, desperate for oxygen.
"But wez can't help it," the ogryn boss complained.
"Nah here's what I'mma do. I'mma tell you to stop your infernal ass blastin', and y'all'r'a putta cork in them damn things. This here's the Imp-er-i-al Guard, not some three cent whore-house where you can just blast whatever it is you fancy straight out your respective asses. Am I makin' myself clear to you all, or is things gonna have to get all forward up in here?"
"Nah," the ogryn muttered as the sky began to lighten around them and the flames flickered out.
Caspar leered at one of the ogryn, who was clearly deciding whether or not to risk things becoming much more forward, or whether to release the massive cloud of methane painfully building up in its bowels.
"Don't do it!" Caspar barked.
"Uhh..." replied the ogryn.
"N'I said don't do it!"
The ogryn looked confused.
"There are going to be words between you and I if you do what you're gonna do. Words, boy!"
The ogryn squinted, his brow furrowed.
"That's right now, let's all just be reasonable here. Y'all just hold it right in there where it belongs, now."
Caspar turned and scowled at each of the ogryn in turn as the valkyrie suddenly began to jerk out of its dive and into a rapid, controlled descent.
Thousands of descending valkyries made up the spear point of the attack. Their job was to hit fast and hard, disrupting the enemy and destroying as much of their fortifications and materiel as was possible. They were to break open the first tiny crack in the enemy's armor, allowing the troop transports to be able to safely land and disgorge their mighty cargoes.
They'd be in there first, and they'd be wrecking stuff right away. The whole thing sounded like a hoot and a half. Caspar and his posse were amongst the first to volunteer for the strike wave.
The cloud of valkyries began to split off, first into groups of hundreds, and then into groups of dozens, as the various aircraft peeled off in formation towards their respective targets.
Caspar's ride quickly descended. It looked like the enemy was going to belay shooting at them in the air, and was content to try and kill them on the ground. The back hatch opened. Caspar and his ogryn piled out the back and the valkyrie quickly lifted up and away.
Safely on the ground, five ogryn blasted five rippling clouds of flatus simultaneously. The sixth was able to muster a little squeaker after, so as not to feel left out.
As Caspar held his breath, he looked up to see more valkyries around him everywhere, dropping off their cargo. In mere moments, the whole fortification was swarming with guardsmen.
Caspar coolly flicked on his megaphone. It let out a low hum as he cranked the power up to 10.
"N'all right, boys, you know what to do. Let's get in there and thug 'em up! Iffa please!"
The ogryn posse roared its approval. Massive hand cannons began to discharge with reckless abandon, generally in the direction of the enemy. The sounds of battle quickly broke out everywhere.
Stormtroopers and cadets quickly found their targets and began the attack. To Caspar's left, some storm troopers had landed on a balcony and began to open fire into the tower. The whole building writhed in an enegery field that desperately attempted to fend off the awesome power of their meltaguns. To the right, more guardsmen opened fire. Melta shots screeched into the side of the bastion, melting huge swaths of the stone. The building groaned under the weight of the attack.
Soon, large flakes began to chip off of the building. The roof suddenly and violently began to collapse, and the whole tower began to crumble in under its own weight. Everywhere guardsmen were doing their lethal duty of destruction and disassembly without regard to the enemy.
Flame throwers began to spray into the air over the barricades as other guardsmen equipped with anti-personnel weapons hosed down their enemies. Nearby stormtroopers added their own fiery death to the nearby enemy soldiers, and then quickly charged into the fray.
Now this was how it was supposed to be done. The enemy simply did not stand a chance against this kind of awe-inspiring attack.
At least, he thought. Recovering from the initial shock, the enemy began to return fire onto the guardsmen everywhere in their midst. The whole fortress became a swirling melee as attackers and defenders shot at each other from every quarter and in every direction.
This was the moment that would require decisive action.
Caspar turned to his posse.
"Alright, reload ya guns, iffa please. We got ourselves some work to do."
Those ogryn for whom the correct steps in the proper order were at immediate remembrance began to reload their weapons, while the others just sort of stood around confused.
Just as they were ready to go, enemy reinforcements materialized.
Caspar barely had time to flinch as the enemy tank opened up with its massive cannon.
A universe of violence exploded around Caspar in a way he had scarcely felt before. He was instantly knocked to the ground as the flaming concussive blast threw him off his feet. His head reeled as he struggled to fade back into consciousness.
The whole world around him swam as if in a dream. The ringing in his ears was now a horrible shreik.
With great effort, Caspar managed to stagger back up onto his feet. The rest of the ogryn around him were less so capable.
"Y'all'r'a buncha low-life loafers, yall'r," Caspar said to his posse as they writhed on the ground in agony. The words reverberated back and forth inside his mind. It wasn't generally that stable to begin with, but being knocked about made his cogency just that much worse.
"Git! Get up you sonnabiches! Don't make me have to take care of this all myself, now."
The ogryn boss got to his feet, and decided to run off in some random direction. That direction contained enemy, so the commissar could only reluctantly approve.
The world was a slow-motion haze around him as the blood rushed back and forth onto his eardrums.
Around him, the guardsmen were countering the counterattack.
With lethal efficiency, the guardsmen began to reduce the last of the enemy's hard targets. One of the cadet squads that had survived continued to shoot up into the main tower, but the building remained stalwart against the meltagun attack.
Not to be worried - they had been prepared for this. The remnants of the squad pulled out their meltabombs and primed them.
They quickly rushed in and affixed them to the base of the tower, trying to find weak spots. The charges placed, they quickly backed up.
A blinding flash briefly shone out over the fortress, followed by a series of dull thuds. The air began to rend with the sound of horrible cracking as one whole face of the tower began to buckle. Eight stories of concrete and reinforced steel began to collapse in on itself. The failing wall cascaded into the center, knocking out two of the other walls, causing the final one to fail.
In a sight of pure, horrible demolition, the entire tower crumbled and collapsed, huge slabs of concrete and dust pouring out into the sky and slamming down into the ground.
Rubble sprayed down onto Caspar. Several large hunks collided with his helmet and knocked him to the ground. The commissar squirmed and writhed as he attempted to struggle free of the pile of ruin around him. He felt the weight on his lungs as he was crushed beneath a ton of rock and debris.
He wasn't the only one struggling though. Even though their demolition mission was now complete, the enemy was still present and in force, and the guardsmen were quickly being wiped out by a determined enemy.
Caspar grunted and groaned. He slowly started to free himself.
With a jerk, he managed to free his power fist arm, and used the added strength to clear away the largest pieces. With a little bit more effort, the black-clad warrior managed to clear the rubble and stagger to his feet. All around him, his guardsmen were being swept away in brutal assaults by the enemy, chainswords ripping through flesh and armor. Those who managed to escape the combats fled in terror.
"Nah get back here, y'all! You will all respect my authority, you hear?"
He looked down at his megaphone and flipped the power switch all the way up to 11.
"N'AI SAID GET BACK IN THE FIGHT, YOU
MIS-CRE-ANT COWARDS!!!"
The guardsmen broke and scattered, regardless of the admonitions of the lord commissar.
Caspar seethed as gunfire directed at him began to patter all around him. It looked like he would have to do this all himself after all.
He turned and looked at a squad of the enemy that was rushing in to chase after his fleeing guardsmen.
"HEY! YEAH HEY YOU!" he shouted through his megaphone.
"YOU ALL C'MERE AND TAKE YOUR LICKIN'! THAT'S RIGHT!"
The commissar staggered forward, running as best he could to catch up with his foe. His legs had been hurt by the collapsing rubble, and his head reeled under the pressure of a hundred blows. It was hard enough to put one foot in front of the other usually, but now it was nearly impossible.
"I SAID 'MERE!!!"
The enemy ignored him, instead continuing on into the fight in front of them.
Not everyone was so inclined, though. From out of nowhere, a previously unseen lurking threat charged forward to meet the commissar.
The beast pounced on him, horns and claws bared in their razor intensity. Caspar staggered backwards under the incredible flurry of attacks. His armor screeched as horns and teeth bit into it, and claws rent and ripped at his flesh beneath.
He desperately attempted to attack back with his powerfist, but the mutationous spawn knocked him to the ground and scrambled to feed on his flesh.
Caspar went limp under the creature.
The monster bit at him a few times before it lost interest, looking for something else to fight against. It turned and saw some guardsmen, and bounded off into the distance.
"OH NO YOU DON'T!"
The creature turned, only to see a very much alive, if copiously bleeding lord commissar charging straight for it.
The two quickly re-engaged in mortal combat. The commissar's powerfist swung wildly, knocking off one of the creatures many horns. In return, he was bitten by several fanged maws and torn into again by sets of razor-sharp claws.
Caspar grunted as his flesh and armor were once again eviscerated by the warp-spawned beast. The creature knocked into him, laying him flat on the ground again.
Dizzy from the myriad of concussions and the horrible savagery of the monster, and the result of a fair bit of lost blood, Caspar struggled to remain conscious.
"Oh no... you... don't..."
"Not finished with you... yet..."
***
Melchoir frowned.
There were his troops arrayed in perfect columns in front of him. Very soon, they would all be put to the test. The officer tried to hazard a guess about how many of them would be turned into casualties soon.
The invasion had been on for over thirty hours now. Things had been going very, very badly. Melchoir was used to high casualty counts from his years in the Guard, but having several successive lines meet 100% figures was pretty tall, even for him. What gains had been made in a day and a half of fighting weren't even particularly clear. If there even were any gains.
Melchoir's line would be going in at the break of D+3. Hopefully two whole days of combat would have weakened their enemy somewhat.
Hopefully.
He was assigned to the Gamma drop zone. A series of hill forts that had some strategic importance or another. He was promised that by the time he and his forces had landed, that the enemy strongholds would be largely razed, and that the enemy would be met in a pitched, fair fight. Then again, he was promised a lot.
The officer took in a deep breath and looked down at his chronometer. Soon it would be time to go. Better address the troops first. Nobody liked to get thrown into the meat grinder without at least a rousing speech first.
***
KHADOR 
X-Wing (Empire Strong) 
