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This will be done in Twenty installments, basically when i have time to sit and type it out. Nothing Fancy, however I hope as i regurgitate this out of my head it can entertain some of you as well.

Below you will find the tale of the Valourian Rebellion, in the wake of solar Macharius's Crusade and the reclamation of a thousand worlds.

*Disclaimer* I apologize for any less than accurate factoids or terms, I have not read any of the 40k universe beyond the codex's of the imperial guard, tau and a couple others.

***Kelryan Colony - Castien Fields - 2 Hours After Contact***

The bulk head rattled in a disturbing manner and Guardsmen Von winced as a bolt slipped from its housing along the far wall. The sound of its clatter along the plasteel floor was drowned by the unstable roar of the engines. Another bump of turbulence and one of the engines shuddered producing a whining sound. Von glanced down the double row of infantry, faces pale and sweating, fear evident on everyone's face. There were twenty of them crammed in the old fuselage which was originally built to hold half that number. The Valkyre may have been old long since seen its service, their equipment was new from the foundry, their las carbines and flak vests would see their first test shots and trials soon.

A mumble emanated from the front of the hold, only just noticeable above the din of the engines, barely caught Von's attention. The only standing passenger, a young commissar, who's name Von hadn't bothered to learn, adjusted his breathing mask to reveal his mouth. "We are five minutes to the jump point." The young commissars shaky voice finally caught the attention of everyone in the hold. "We're leading point, we lost one Valkyre after launch, we will be supported by two more air drops and the single tank drop. We will hold until Governor Valouran arrives with the initiative cavalry." The commissars throat bobbed with an inaudible gulp as he pulled himself up to an unimpressive height. "Ready your packs. You will hold the Xenos, and drive them back. The emperor will protect."

Half hearted mummers of "emperor protect" echoed through out the chamber. Even Von's lips habitually formed the words without heart. Why would the emperor choose now to protect his unloved children? The guardsmen checked to ensure the safety was off on his brand new compact las carbine, and began to coax his intake decelerator to life. The experimental grav-paks began to hum as their intake vents warmed up and the compartment was filled with a cacophony of the uneasy engines.

An over head light began to flash red as the compartments suddenly depressurized. Von scrambled to secure his respirator as the side doors screeched open. The guardsmen had all practiced this maneuver hundreds of times, never expecting to actually use it. The Imperium had taken all their service ready aircraft, who would ever have thought command would patch together derelicts and expect them to work? The two doors continued to grind their way home revealing a hatch large enough for two abreast to jump, turbulent air began to suck at uniforms and guardsmen alike, threatening to drop them into the predawn sky.

Gripping an overhead guide line the young commissar leaned out the right hand door into the darkness, risking a quick glance ahead. With a horrendous squeal the entire hold jumped as the left plasteel door was ripped from its mounting. The Commissar stumbled, loosing his grip, almost falling as he frantically grasped at his now long gone hat. Only the lending hand of Sargent Dannel prevented a more serious loss. Even so, the loss of his iconic symbol reminded Von and the guards once again at how young the commissar was, he couldn't have yet reached his 20th cycle.

Among the guard it was common to see children serving. From the Kelryan Colonies, most children were being drafted at 14 cycles. Only the Colonial Defense Initiative had any years, and all of them were beyond conformity. At 28, Von was unlikely to have meshed well into a large off-world regiment. Not one member of the initiative was under 25, and all those over 30 had long sense made their service to the god emperor. This out world commissar was a child leading men half again his age and respect was far from forthcoming.

The young commissar's tawny hair, cut in officer regulation, blew madly around his face as he began securing his own intake decelerator. Once secured, he turned to watch the over head lights. Von and the other guardsmen followed the young officers' example as the steady red light glared down at them. The engines rumbled and thrummed distantly in time with the beat of Von's heart. The anticipation grew, drowning out all but his concentration on the light.

The light flicked green.

"FOR THE EMPEROR"

***

EDIT: Changed Subject Title from "Beat to Quarters"

***

Kelryan Colonial Air Space - 3 Hours Before Contact

"Wez gonna have fun stompin humies boss?" Noggard asked around his meaty hand. One fat finger lodged deep within a nostril. "Whaz de plan boss?"

Cap'an Wazgobla sneered at his underling. "If Iz told ya once Iz told ya a 'undrad times! Weez gonna ZTOMP EM." All this yelling without smashing was giving Cap'an Wazgobla quite a bit of indigestion. A loud belch resonated from his mighty girth. "Wherez dem gitz got at? Iz hungry."

Noggard paled. The appetite of Wazgobla was legendary, he'd devoured four of Noggard's predecessors when no git or grot was within reach as the hunger took him. "Iz gonna get zome right away boss." Noggard hurried off through the space hulk's empty halls in search of a tasty snack.

"Itz about time wez had a good scrap." Wazgobla's belly roared in agreement. It had been too long floating on the hulk, the tribe had turned on itself so many times. There were few enough left to wait for a more populated landfall, but even still, his clan would descend upon this world in a right proppa waah.

Scratchin his steel head plate with one massive klaw drew sparks into the darkened navigation post. Wazgobla continued to scratch feverently, drawing deep rivulets into his protective skull casing. How could metal itch so much? Looking about at the many encased displays in the room made Wazgobla dizzy, this navpost was no place for a boss, smashin' here would be bad. "Waz da vektor, flyboyz?"

The front of the compartment dipped down into a pilots nest, the mishapen orks who resided there were the only ones Wazgobla didn't dare eat. After all, if he ate them, who would get his clan to the next fight? "Wez right on schedual, boss. Have you there soon." A pilot's voice wailed from the cockpit, their goggled faces not bothering to turn from the massive plexisteel windows. "Wez gonna have to slow down tho boss or weez gonna crash. We'll land you near da humie hive."

The sight out those windows just reminded Wazgobla why bosses shouldn't be pilots. No wonder the flyboys were so demented. Who would possibly want to slow down when the killin was so close? One look out into the great empty void was almost enough to drive Wazgobla mad. All that emptiness, nothing to kill, nothing to eat. "Look at my killy klaw boyz... you boyz betta hurry or I may just start the killin wif YOU!" The threat made Wazgobla feel better, nothing helped a little worry like good ol' intimidation. "Show meez the weak humie landz on da projekto fingy."

The bridge's holoprojector had been rigged with plexisteel panels after the third time Wazgobla had poked it too hard with his klaw. The holofield depicted a massive gas giant with a large double ring of debris. Nestled deep within the rings were 8 moon worlds. "Which one weez gonna bring da word of Gork to?" They all seemed so small by comparison to the gas giant, the giant glowed a sickly orange green in color. This was a good omen, green for the ork!

"Bring it right up boss." The holoimage shifted to focus on the outer ring. A large moon had created a rift in the planetary belt, its surface a dusky grey in color. "Is got umies all over it. Humie hive homes and lotz of humie scraps." The image grew to display mediocre hive cities dotting the ash and snow strewn surface.

"Dez look small," Wazgobla observed. Considering the state of his clan, this was good. "Wez gonna have a propa fight on our handz." The prospect of up close killing got Wazgobla's belly a broiling again. "Wez gonna have our own right wah." This moon would be just a starting point, the killin and eatin would get his boys back to strength. There was enough scrap to be had in any hive to make another Rok, and if there were humie builder plants then there would be lootin' enough for the whole clan to have mega armor. "Heh heh heh, weez gonna have us some real fun."

"Keep course and landz us there." Wazgobla could barely contain his excitement; it began to seep and bubble from his glorious hunger. "Weez gonna eat real good."

Noggard returned with a panicked git in his arms. "Boss, i found one!" Noggard's massive form dwarfed the little green snack. The little git began to struggle more feverently upon smelling the glory of Wazgobla's hunger. Such a weak thing these grots were and Wazgobla wondered what good gits were for other than eatin or buildin stuff. "Shall I assemble the boyz boss?"

The squirming grot disappeared behind Wazgobla's steel jaws with a shrill and gurgled squeak. "Wherez ma zstompin boots? Find me zomethin killy... is time da boys got stuck in! Wez gonna make dis place orky, and I'm still HUNGRY"

***

Edit: Lots of grammar problems fixed

***

Kelryan Colonal Command - 8 hours before contact.

"The space hulk entered our systems air space one hour ago. Based on its trajectory and velocity it will enter our atmosphere within half a rotation, eta 10 hours. Its mass reading is mostly hollow and could be carrying an entire war force. Distress signals were emitted the moment the hulk was spotted. So far there has been no noticeable reduction in speed. Analysis has determined the hulk to be Xenos in origin, most likely Ork. Threat range in the order of thousands to millions." The servitors voice continued to run down threat ratios and readouts in the monotone indicative of an imperial lobotomy.

Colonial Governor Valouran and his entourage listened and watched the holo-image unfold on the central display. The hologram depicted a small comet or meteor that had been modified with engines and red painted armor plating, a classic 'roc'. The space hulk was large enough to carry the entire moon's population. However, as hulks went it, was minimal. Perhaps it was too small for the empire to react and send any regiments. "According to the read outs its mostly empty. Could the hulk be abandoned?"

"Not likely sir." The gruff voice of Lord Commissar Draavis ground out from the back of the room. Draavis had been an unfortunate addition to Valouran's entourage, placed above the governor by segmentum command after the purge. When the colony re-embraced its imperial founders ten years ago, the aristocracy had all been sentenced to a service to the god emperor. Valouran had been an acolyte of the still loyal cult of the Emperor, and so was elevated to Governor. The other acolytes all found themselves in places of importance, the seeds of a new aristocracy, while the priests and higher were removed to do a service to the emperor for lack of zeal and loyalty. Draavis was from the segmentum, an out worlder, he and his commissars were here to ensure loyalty.

Valouran cringed, "Any chance in relief from central?" The local regiments had all been drafted to His Holy Army. Draftings had been severe since the colonies had returned to the fold. A third of the population had been put to death just for being slow to throw off their heretical teachings. All those within the recruiting age were drafted to colonial regiments and sent off world. The result was a population left decimated and largely unguarded. Of the original 5 hive cities on the moon of Kelrya, only two were now officially populated. The three darkside spires had been largely abandoned. All eight moon worlds had been reduced to skeleton crews or even less in some places. Agricultural production, on the inner moons, was so low as to have almost halted completely. They had difficulty producing enough food for the dramatically diminished populations of the outer moons.

The gas giant Helicos 4 provided the warmth and light required to sustain habitable planets this far from the central sun. The inner moons couldn't be abandoned, as they produced the only food products. The outer moons couldn't be abandoned, as they were the gateway to the inner moons. As Helicos 4 has two massive asteroid and debris rings, it was only safe to enter by hopping from moon to moon. As a result, the outer moons had adapted a defense and manufactorioum presence to compensate for their need to be populated, while the inner worlds had taken a largely agricultural role.

"Relief will come if and when the emperor sees fit. You have been unloyal. Now is the chance to prove your worth." Draavis's voice ground out a low staccato. "We must stand alone until aid arrives or we are victorious." The old commissar left the third possibility from being mentioned, voicing it would be heresy. It wasn't that Draavis was a fool, far from it. The man was as loyal to the emperor as any of his sect, and had seen more of war than most. His old gnarled face reminded Valouran of a stump, unmoving, unkind, but not exactly cruel. "You should be proud for the chance to serve your Emperor, to prove your salvation was even worth his consideration."

For the sin's of their forefathers, the moon worlds had fared quiet well, however. The rest of the the Helicos system had suffered worse. Helicos 1 and Helicos 2 had their entire populations put to death. Helicos 1 had been irradiated as an example to the rest of the system. The desert planet had only a hand full of mining colonies and its loss was of little significance, beyond its symbolic warning. The loss of Helicos 2 however was much more grievous. Having been sentenced to death as heretics and traitors, the large temprid planet had once been the most productive and heavily populated in the system. The large agricultural planet had sustained two full polar hive cities, with populations to rival any imperial world. Helicos 2 had also been the system's Bastion and military strong point. The third planet in the system, Helicos 3, had suffered much the same as the moons had; its population decimated by over drafting and sacrifices of loyalty. The planet's warm jungle wilderness had begun to turn on the decimated population and the remnants of its planetary defense were in a state of constant alert from local feral orks and other denizens of the jungle. The southern and central hive spires had to be abandoned leaving only its northern polar city now populated.

Valouran sighed, it was too much to hope for aid so soon. The other planets and moons couldn't spare even one soldier in the defense of another. Valouran's eyes wandered the room until they met those of his most senior officer. "What of our Defense Initiative, Commander Jacob?"

Jacob was the oldest guard member left in the system, aging at 56 cycles, and experienced in minor prior defenses as a guardsman. Only his injuries had kept him from being sent off-world. "Four hundred strong, two tanks and six transports functional." Jacob wore the Kelryan traditional guardsmen uniform despite his rank, empty right sleeve buttoned tight against his back. "We have no birds and our factories are all but bare. Current deployment is in urban pacification, between our two light spires." The implications of heavy drafting were heavier for having been left unspoken. Jacob was a loyal Emperor's man and would not speak out against the commissars, though his displeasure at seeing his home unguarded was evident all over his kind face.

Scratching his beard, Valouren considered the possibilities. There weren't many, so the reprieve didn't last long. "Halt current manufactorium productions. Have the servitors locate derelicts in the scrap yards. Let's see how much armor they can get moving, and how fast." Valouran's mind scrambled for possibilities. "Are the sonic emitters ready for test use?" Despite Draavis's disapproval, the technology research from before the purge was still being pursued. Prior to Lord Solar Macharius's crusade arriving ten years ago, Kelryan had enjoyed a hundred years of trade and intellectual commerce with a Tau outpost on the system's second planet. While the population had been eradicated as a punishment for this cooperation, the Imperium had not specifically forbid the continued pursuit of sonic technologies. This pursuit had remained the Helicos System's sole importance to the Empire of Man, that and its extensive penal facilities.

An idea struck. Penal facilities. Searching among the faces of his entourage, Valouran spotted the man he was searching for, Chief Warden Gordon. The tall, thin off-worlder had been put in charge of the moon's prison system when it was deemed that sympathy for crusade captives may lead to inappropriate handling of prisoners. "What about the prisoners? Could we raise the penal legions? Do we have enough blast collars?"

Gordon spoke in a slurred accent, "There are currently thirty two hundred prisoners in the compounds. While most are nonviolent offenders, many have seen prior service." Sudden hope began to surge in Valouran's chest. The addition of a couple thousand penal legionnaires would greatly improve the Initiatives chances at stopping whole-scale, planetary slaughter.

Draavis responded as he moved closer to the holo-image, authority and accusation heavy in his voice. "YOU!" He stabbed a finger at the tall warden. "Do not have approval from Segmentum. And you will not get it. They are traitors!" His face turning red in indignation, Draavis continued to push his way forward. "They are unworthy of his forgiveness in battle! They are to await transport to Terra and be made examples of." Draavis arrived before Valouran, his aged form covered in the decoration and regalia of his station and Valouran reconsidered his prior assessment. Draavis' face didn't remind him of a stump, more an old boot. "We must hold as loyal servants to the emperor. And only the loyal will serve."

"We have no blast collars anyways, sir, and the sonic emitters are far from ready." Commander Jacob's morose voice added, cutting the tension of Draavis' allegations. "We'll have to do this the old fashioned way sir, blood, las and plasteel."

Valouran glared at Draavis, "Fine. Jacob, alert the Defense Initiative and see about raising a militia. If we can get some derelicts moving we'll need bodies to fill them." Valouran felt sick as he considered the implications for the DI standing alone.

"Orders Sir?"

Valouran cringed. "Prepare the men for Battle. We are men of the Imperium and we'll face this threat head on."

***

EDIT: Grammar corrections.

DISCLAIMER: Yes, i realize the time leaps are not congruent, this IS on purpose.

***

DI Barraks, Kelryan Colonial Colony Beta. - 30 Minutes Until Contact.

Von glared suspiciously at his re-assembled las carbine, he'd already cleaned and assembled it twice that hour. He glanced around in need for something else to do. Everyone's nerves were on edge. The impending arrival of a space hulk had seen all the troopers called back from civ-detail. Command hadn't been forthcoming in their details yet and an assembly was promised to begin soon, with a briefing and assignments. All that anyone was willing to tell them had been that this would be an air cavalry maneuver, routine, just as practiced.

The last piece clicked into place. The ETA clock on the wall flashed 3 hours.

A soft cough drew Von's attention to the bunks near by. Every trooper was coping differently. Sargent Dannel had retired to a bunk near by, reminding everyone that once the fight began there would be very little time for sleep. They all should get what rest they could. Unfortunately for Von and the rest of his squad, this wasn't likely to happen. Even at the best of times, this barrack's quarters was hard to sleep in. The facility was a mirror of all the hive barracks on the moon. It was originally built to house a spire's garrison of two thousand. It contained four bunk rooms, each containing 500 bunks. This wing now held the whole of Beta Spires force, a full 200 men. It was half empty, and filled with less hope.

Beta company was composed of 20, 10 man squads, and not one man had seen full combat yet. Only Commander Jacob had served in combat before. Sure, there had been "combat" during riots and minor revolts. But even there, Von had never fired his las gun in earnest. This was to be something different, something everyone in the room feared, but didn't speak of. The ork were known to be vicious, they'd all aided on Helicos 3 during the abandonment of the southern spire. Stories from the local guards serving there had spooked the men from Kelrya.

Heavy boot steps echoed through the hall. The four barracks were set up in a large square with a barracks flanking either side. The main entrance was located centrally, a quadruple row of bunks stretching off from each side. Occupied bunks were closest to the bastion stair wells, and incidentally, furthest from the entrance. The steps continued closer to the hall's entrance, revealing a coms officer as he rounded the corner and clicked his heals to an attention.

"Guardsmen, Lord Commissar Draavis and Commander Jacobs will begin the briefing in five."

Von and the other guards hurried to put away supplies and migrated to the over sized central assembly hall. The hall was designed to brief the entire garrison, the assembled soldiers only occupied the first few rows. The assembly hall was situated as a large circle, with the rows surrounding a central raised dais complete with a massive holoprojector. On the central platform, Commander Jacobs stood at ease. His classical uniform was old, his flak armor was worn, but still serviceable. Along with commander Jacob stood the impressive Lord Commissar Draavis and four of his subordinates. Draavis had been placed planet-side with a cohort of Commissars in training. The young officers were standing at perfect attention, their uniforms immaculate and polished until they glistened.

Once the commotion had died down, Jacobs began to speak. "The Xenos vessel trajectory has shown it to be touching down in 3 hours. We believe their target to be Fenrir's Crater, just out side Beta Spire. We will schedule our arrival to reach the landing zone exactly 5 minutes after touch down. As our numbers will surely not be greater, we will take advantage of the confusion of their landing and hold them at their roc. Armored companies will hold the Ork at their craft while two squads place demolitions." The holoimage rotated to reveal a theoretical view of the crash site. Red and blue dots appeared to represent the clash between forces. "With luck we can hit fast, hold them, and eliminate the threat without engaging the bulk of their force." The scenario continued to unfold, showing massive explosions originating from the hull of the roc, resulting in a cataclysmic destruction of the vessel.

With the completion of the demonstration Jacob began to list squad assignments. As half of the military force was stationed at Alpha Spire, the transports had been divided between the two. Beta Spire was to be the staging point as the travel time was estimated at just under half an hour by armored transport.

"The majority of our force will be led by Commissar Draavis and Governor Valouren. We expect combat along the front to be severe and openings for the demolitions may not be readily present." The holo image adjusted back to the previous combat scenario, but this time depicted a thick circular band of colored dots to show a solid battle front. "As a solution, the manufactorium have been re-servicing five Valkyres." The map now revealed four air transports. "Four squads will be selected to carry demolitions across the front. Each of you will be accompanied and commanded personally by the Imperium's Best." Jacobs began to spout detail orders and squad assignments.

Von listened halfheartedly until Sargent Dannel's squad was called. Demolitions, assigned to Commissar Eaden. Demolitions. Von had seen the basics in training, the demo charges were complicated and frightening things, AND they would be riding in a re-serviced valkyre. While not the assignment Von would have secretly desired, it was a position of great honor which no true man of the Imperium would turn from.

As the assembly ground to a halt they were dismissed, and ordered to appear before their transports in 15, in full service gear. They would rendezvous soon enough with Alpha Company and wait to deploy. The trek back to their bunks was done in silence, some eager with anticipation, others with morose determination. Gear was all fairly standard issue, and not having been assigned any special weapons, Von soon enough had donned his Flak Armour and secured his armaments. The demolitions and experimental Intake decelerators would be assigned to them at the transports.

Sargent Dannel called his squad to attention, and began his inspection. Behind the officers head the ETA clock continued its count down. 2 hours 34 minutes. 2 hours 33 minutes. Sargent Dannel tugged on a flak vest, ensuring it was secure. 2 hours 32 minutes. Sargent Dannel moved on to the next trooper. 0 hours 09 minutes.

0 hours 09 minutes? Sirens began to wail.

A crisp commanding voice sounded down the hall, "BEAT TO QUARTERS!!"

***

Edit: Grammar fixes, again.

***

Kelyran Penal Facility - 5 minuets before Contact.

The truck idled outside the main gates to Kelrya's Supermax facility. Here resided the scum of the system, murderers, rapists and traitors. Those however made up only a small percentile of the immates. A full two thousand, at least, were deserters, traitors or noncompliant soldiers, all guilty of treason, the imperiums most serious capital offense. Some of these traitors were citizens of the Helicos system who had refused to serve, or worship the emperor, most of the rest were the same from other systems. Men and women from reclaimed world, guilty of only being born in the absence of the Emperor's Holy Light. The guards and wardens under Chief Warden Gordon kept a close eye on the condemned, the prisoners were perhaps safer than the planets population, locked up behind solid walls.

Corporal Tadaris wasn't comfortable as he stood and watched the gate guards inspect his cargo. His papers permitted his person and prisoner to pass by order of Valouren, but they had excluded his cargo. The massive crates labeled -Property of the Kelryan Defense Initiative- gave the guards pause however and listening to their nervous whispers at their contents drew a sly smile to Tadaris's gaunt features. The crates were filled with an unusual delivery for a penal compound and their labels would allow him to pass unscathed.

The gate Sargent handed Tadaris his papers back. "You're cleared to go. Best you move fast."

Urgency was something the Corporal didn't appreciate. Oh, he knew he had to be urgent, but urgency could get a man killed today. The warning alarms had been going off all day and nobody liked the idea of getting closer to harms way. While the Corporal knew he would have many bodies between him an any Enemy, the fear was simply that the bodies between them could be just as detrimental to his health. The penal legions had a reputation for turning on their handlers, and Tadaris wasn't eager to become a casualty.

Corporal Tadaris climbed back into the drivers seat, his single prisoner sat rigid as when he'd climbed down. The man scared Tadaris, they'd shackled him and covered his head in a black bag, yet he hadn't made a single attempt to change his state of imprisonment. "Here we go," Tadaris said as the truck started rolling again. He'd be meeting the chief warden in the main yard.

The warden had assembled a handful of prisoners in the yard under the supervision of the guards. As Tadaris parked the truck Chief Warden Gordon signaled a couple of guards to remove the hooded man, and assist in unloading the crates. Tadaris took this opportunity to approach Gorden and hand him sealed orders. "Straight form Command, Sir."

Tearing the seal open Gordon's eyes moved quickly over the enclosed papers. As he neared the bottom his face paled. "Are you sure about this?"

"Saw him write the orders my self sir." Corporal Tadaris wasn't much more pleased than Gordon. "I am to man the sonics while you begin the collaring. If we make it public enough they shouldn't have reason to question."

Gordon nodded as he watched one crate being prided open. It contained a thousand collars, all the manufactoriums could dig up on such short notice. "Best get your sonics, four of my best shots will be waiting for you up along the walls."

Corporal Tadaris hurried to get set up as Gordon supervised collar placement on the assembled prisoners. Once those assembled were collared Gordon signaled for more prisoners to be released. The process of assembling and collaring a thousand prisoners took perhaps twenty minutes. The prisoners were aligned in ranks, with five in the front where the others could see. The five men were amongst the more vicious killers in the system. They all had grins and leers on their faces, the prospect of killing again soon driving them near mad with anticipation.

"Prisoners of the Imperium!" Gordon began. "You are traitors to mankind, commiters of capital crimes, conspirators with Enemies of the Imperium! You have been sentenced to death and your souls will forever wander in the absence of His Holy light." The assembled crowd had heard it all before, however most seemed to be troubled at hearing it again. Many burst into tears or tensed with anger. "But hope has come, as we stand on the threshold of doom, the hateful Xenos have come to our world and the Emperor offers you your salvation. Service in the Penal Legion. To die a legionnaire is to be forgiven of your transgressions against the Imperium. Your souls will once again know the light of His gaze."

The response was compelling, most of the assembled mass wept or cheered as Gordon continued over the din of their voices. "But to disobey, as a member of this Legion, means death. As you can see you are all wearing a sonic collar." Gordon pulled out a small device with a single button and pointed it at the first of the five men out front. Instantly the crowed quieted and the leering prisoners began to second guess their good fortune.

"Should you disobey your orders, should you run from service..." Gordon pressed the button. A high pitched whine broke out across the prison yard. Wardens and prisoners alike flinched as a fountain of gore fountained from where the convicts head had been. "There will be no respite! No forgiveness! A single transgression will warrant your demise and you will find your soul unforgivable!"

With the end of his speech Gordon pressed the button four more times in quick succession, the four remaining examples crumpled with their heads replaced with red fountains. The rest of the legion murmured and stirred. They all knew the tales of the Penal Legions, the mortality rate and suicide missions they were known for attempting. The fear of death on the enemy or by the collar now secured around their neck was short lived, as hope and remembrance of a chance at forgiveness grew.

As Gordon and the wardens supervised the unloading of the remaining crates Corporal Tadaris returned. The two stood and watched as the crates of las guns were dispensed among the Legion.

"I hope this works Corporal, if they were not fooled it is our lives which you have committed." Gordon didn't show the strain and worry that had entered his voice. Watching a thousand weapons being handed into a thousand hands of convicts he had held prisoner. "I have selected those with a history of service, and as many of the locals as possible, it should give us the best fighting force and the greatest chance of loyalty."

Corporal Tadaris re-shouldered the sonic sniper he had fired moments before. "There is no way they could tell the burst didn't come from the collar."

Gordon met Tadaris's eyes. "I can't spare many custodians, you will each have to watch a hundred Legionnaires." Gordon shifted his gaze to the hooded man standing rigidly by the truck, "and what of him?"

Tadaris cringed, "I was told he is to be offered a chance to serve in the Legion, to inspire Sacrifice for the Imperium. A priest, to ensure loyalty." The words dripped from the Corporals mouth with an unpleasant taste.

Gordon and Tadaris walked over to the prisoner. As Gordon pulled the hood from the shackled man Tadaris lowered his eyes. The once well pressed uniform was rumpled, torn and grimy. Gordon's face split into a wolfish grin, "welcome to our Legion, Sir. Have you come to preach His name?"

***

-has not been edited yet-

***
Castien Fields Crash Site - 5 minutes after Contact

"Ouch whyz me 'ead 'urt?" Wazgobla bellowed at the night. At some point during the landing Wazgobla had hit his head. One of his mighty boss horns was snapped and dangling. "Dis isn't gonna work," the giant boss began tugging on the dangling horn. Perhaps the final boost he'd 'encouraged' the pilots to make hadn't been such a good idea.

The ork tribe had stumbled from the wreckage and in a truly Orky fashion immediately began to squabble. Some of Wazgobla's competitors had already made off with a handful of nobs and boyz. The remaining Orks made a sorry image. The tribe was lost almost in its entirety. Those not killed by infighting had been crushed in the landing. The mob of boyz paraded around the large boss. "Is dis it?"

"A kan is trapped, we'll have it loose soon. And the scouting party has already seen some 'umies. They're on the move boss." To Wazgobla's infinite displeasure his lackey Noggard had survived remarkably unscathed.

Displeasure with Noggard was a mixed emotion, the loyal little lackey was obnoxious to be sure, but maintained just enough usefulness to avoid being eaten. Noggard was small for an ork, but in his shifty way he'd found dakka stik just before the crash. The unusual axe - gun hybrid look vicious enough to be Orky and Wazgobla was able to heft the weapon in one hand. The barrels were capable of holding only two massive slugs, and unfortunately with his giant claw Wazgobla would have to keep the obnoxious runt close for reloads. It seemed once again Noggard would ensure his survival by sheer unfortunate necessity. "Good, 'ow many are there?" The presence of humans so close got Wazgobla's gun all a bubblin'. There would be smashin' and stompin' and goblen' soon! The only problem was his few orks, they'd need a good scrap to replenish their numbers, not a massacre.

"Not many boss, scouts say there were 20 treks all smellin of the puny 'umans." Even the lickspitle Noggard was getting excited with the idea. Brandishing his slugga and choppa wildly. Anticipation and yearning keen in his voice, "we gonna have fun now boss?"

The mighty warlord raised himself up to his full height. Boss Wazgobla was impressive for a warboss primarily still ork, his girth deceptively round, with bulging muscles. Raising his single bionics, his large killy claw, Wazgobla brought the green seething mass to a quiet attentive audience, their yellow and red eyes eager and glowing in the dim half light of this dark moon. Their green glowing with anticipation and the reak of their musk heavy upon the air. They couldn't' contain the urge to kill and smash the pinklings for long.

"Good," Waz gobla addressed the mass, his eyes on the distant horizon, where the scouts had been." Wez gonna get a proppa fight now. Can you smell the 'umies?" To emphasize his point he drew a deep breath through his nostrils. "Dis planet reeks of them. Wez will bring war to this place! wez will smash! wez will stomp!" the energy was building with each promise of a fight. Wazgobla held their attention. For even hungry as he was, a boss must always time his actions right if he wanted to stay boss.

The horizon showed what he had been hoping for, a mass of lights began to appear, the coming of the human caravan. It didn't matter what kind of treks these were, Wazgoblas orks were mean, green and unstoppable. All they tribes eyes were on the boss as he distracted his mob with speech, waiting, letting the lights and traks get closer.

"Wez gonna takes dis planet, in da name of Gork and Mork! Wez gonna make it Orky!" He drew in one last large breath, letting the anticipation climax and bellowed, brandishing his mighty dakka stik. "I promised you a fight boyz," Wasgobla pointed behind the mass. Heads began to turn in question, "and der it is!"

The hoard erupted in gitters of excitement, "I smell 'UMIES! Its tome to get STUCK IN! WAAAAAAAH!" The final scream was all the hoard needed, echos of "WAAAAAAAHHH" broke out until the ground shook with the ferocity of Gork.

***

-has not been edited yet-

***

Castien Fields - 2 Hours and 5 Minutes after Contact

The light drizzle must have begun sometime during the fall as first splash Von had felt was as the Intake Decelerator kicked in and his body strained against its harness. The slim engines aligned along his back had begun to function a few seconds after jumping, air entering the engine was immediately propelled back out, slowing the decent with increasing energy the longer air was pressed into it. The device had begun as a barely noticeable tug, which had escalated into a feeling of falling through molasses rather than nothingness. Small droplets of water hanging in the air if by suspension had begun to accumulate along the cold cables of the respirator's breathing apparatus, the reflections off his own visual illuminators making them sparkle to his stinging eyes. While the drizzle had provided a temporary reprieve from his grim predicament he was soon brought back to reality by the stinging impressions it made upon his bare eyes.

Despite the imminent danger, Von allowed himself a momentary smile. The exhilaration of the drop had made every detail of the world stand out to his adrenaline enhanced eyes. The half light which passed for day on the dark side of Kelrya turned the landscape to a bleak washed grey, but left the sky a bewildering carpet of lights. The dusty clouds did little to hamper the brilliant sky above. The sight was only marred by the light of fires below. There was no sound or sigh of gun fire this high, or obvious motion, only the glowing of battles aftermath. Von could feel more then see the darkened shapes of his comrades descending around him as the air hummed with the energy of their Intake Decelerators.

Seeing himself drop into hells forge Von couldn't help but reflected upon how he got there.

Their plans had radically changed only hours ago, the device now strapped to his back had been handed to Von at the hangar, along with a disparagingly small number of special arms, just after the alarm had sounded. When the alarm had changed, everything had changed. The majority of the DI's Chimeras were being used to transport Alpha Company to the staging point and there weren't enough left behind to carry everyone. To make matters worse, the Roc's sudden acceleration had changed its course to land just outside of Alpha spire and command had been forced to make a desperate decision. Valouren, and as many as the remaining transports could fit had left immediately with the two old tanks. The remainder who were left behind had to strip the Valkyries and pile into them in a desperate attempt to support Alpha Company while waiting for Valouren's arrival.

The speed of the Valkyrie would be imperative to arrive in time, allowing the guards to plunge alone in an attempt to reprieve a beleaguered Alpha Company. But, at first they hadn't even known if the old hulks would fly, they'd had to strip armaments, fuel reserves and landing gear in order to grant an increased transport capacity. This capacity had come at a devastating cost, once air borne there would be no safe landing, -in fact for one Valkyrie there hadn't even been a safe take off- The prospect of boarding the refitted craft had been daunting, courage only being bolstered by the Commissariats bolt pistols, which had been assigned by Valouren to each craft.

A sudden vacuum of air as a massive object passed beside Von snapped him back from his reprieve. The objects dark outline against the dim sky did nothing to reveal the details of the object, though great thrumming of the decelerator engines along its side hinted at its mass. His decent was soon outpaced by the falling monstrosity leading his eyes down towards ground. As his eyes adjusted to the differences in light an image of hells forge resolved itself. Shapes were beginning to become visible below, great green shapes lumbering through the ashes and flames.

Despair began to claw at his sides as the realization of Alpha Companies fate sunk in. Von fingers fumbled desperately at his weapon harness as details from below began to spring forth. With an effort Von unhooked his carbine, the weapons smooth plasteel slick in his bare hands. Fumbling slightly until securing a firm grip, Von and sighted down its length. The struggle and ordeal had taken time and the ground was now less than a hundred meters away. Von choose a target quickly, one that appeared to be almost directly below him as the respirator on his face began to sequel slightly, sweat and drizzle having slicked his face. The Intake Decelerator thrummed against his back, and hummed loud in his ears as he waited. Watching, as the green shape grew larger, Von depressed his finger slightly, tightening causing the trigger to creak.

Less than 50 yards now.

A crash sounded below and to his right, barely audible above the noises around and his own labored breathing as the bright flash of a las carbine filled his vision.

***

As the seventh installment (of twenty) has just been posted I must admit I am currious to see/know if anyone is reading. C&C are welcome. Questions, and suggestions as well.
As this is my first attempt at post any kind of short story your feedback is welcome.

Has not Been Edited yet. My edity friend has been rather busy of late.

***

Castien Fields - en route - 1 Hour After Contact

The Com Officer took the headset off and shook his head. The man was crowded into the back of a Chimera along with the majority of Beta Companies Command structure. The mans face was creased with worry as shook slightly, he hadn't relayed the horrors he had heard through his ear pieces but the tiny voices had been barely audible to all in the compartment. He had spent the last few minutes frantically hailing the com's-man from Alpha company, but hadn't heard any reply. The silence in the passenger compartment stretched on making it feel like hours since the last scream had died.

Valouren sat hunched in with his command staff and body guards. The Governor had insisted on joining the expedition, his actions had warranted a death sentence and leading his command personally may just be his one chance at redeeming himself. Despite his station he had insisted they fit as many into his personal transport as possible, the remaining Guards would be riding in the few Transports Beta Company had, 120 men transported in a motley combination of Chimeras, Salamanders, and other small personnel carriers. The 80 men he had sent by Valkyrie would be passing over head soon, out pacing the ground transport in an effort to relieve Alpha Company.

The truth of Alpha Companies fate was only known to those in this vehicle so far and the decision of whether to keep it secret weighed heavily upon Valourens mind. The men had a right to know what waited for them ahead, however courage would be hard enough to come by with out the ominous feel of loss weighing over them. Governor Valouren carefully studied the faces of the men around him. The body guards were cold and calm, expressions never changing. His chief advisors were white in the face, one swallowed visibly, only the grisly veteran Jacobs looked unphased, his single arm folded across his chest, his eyes closed with his head leaning back against the hull as if sleeping. Infact, Valouren could swear the man was snoring slightly. The com officer's eager face urged Valouren to action of speech and order. "Hail our birds, inform the Commissars that they are to drop as soon as they reach Alpha Companies Location." The guilt of his next words chewed on Valourens stomach tho he knew better than to show it to his surrounding officers. "Inform them that Alpha Company is in dire need of relief, say nothing else." Technically, Valouren supposed, he hadn't ordered the officer to lie.

As the officer began to hail the birds ahead Valouren contemplated their fate. The drop was being made with experimental technology, with out any significant armored support and with limited special weaponry. Valouren had felt the nature of the mission hadn't merited risking the valuable weaponry to chance, a decision Valouren began to regret as he thought of the men dropping blind into the slaughter virtually unarmed and unsupported. The message of an old Vulture managing to be refitted to haul a tank drop was a half hearted hope as word of their success had also carried word of a Valkyrie down. One of the refitted birds had suffered engine failure during take off and was lost with all hands.

While unfortunate the fate of the men hadn't been unexpected and Valouren couldn't help but feel for the pilots. As Kelrya had been ordered to deploy its fleet of air crafts along with all other regiments there were consequently no military flight personnel planet side. The pilots now locked with in the tomb of the Valkyrie had been civilian pilots, each had volunteered knowing the fate that awaited them. The stripped aircraft had minimal weaponry, having stripped any hull weapons to allow for transport capacity had essentially made the vehicle defenseless, and worse -with fuel reserves and landing gear also being stripped- unlandable. Once airborne the pilots had no safe way of returning.

Valouren eased the mighty power weapon which rested on his lap out of its sheath slightly. The weapon was made of two black crysteel blades. The crysteel had been one of the new technologies they had continued research on, a hybrid metallic crystal with unusual properties. The weapon was an old prototype and while destructive was unlikely to prove much use in a battle already so far lost. Fear and anger seemed to resonate within him as he stared at the deep black crystal, and all sound and sensation felt like it was being pulled or absorbed into the couple inches of bare crysteel visible. The Imperium had left his world defenseless again and his anger began to replace his fear.

When the warp storms had cut off commutation with the rest of the Imperium the Segmentum now being reclaimed had been stranded for hundreds of years, left to fend for themselves. A few of the stronger systems had managed to cling to true Imperial ways, but most turned to dark worship or were assaulted one by one and absorbed into new budding Empires or Xenos. Helicos System had clung to survival, and now with their 'saviors' returned they were more vulnerable then before.

The com's officer gave a thumbs up to the Governor, the Valkyries had received his instructions and were on task and running hot, they would be making the drop site in less than an hour. A quick check with the officer told him it would be at least two before they themselves arrived, the lumbering nature of the two old Russ's held the column to a slower travel speed than he would have preferred, attacking the invaders one at a time would not make their chances of survival improve, however it would hopefully keep the Ork all in one place, and Valouren's plan had any chance they would have to hold them for hours more.

Despite the cramped confines of the transport Valouren felt as alone in his endeavor as his world was now. The people of Kelrya had loyally paid their debt of faith, and for it were left bare and exposed. Faith in the Emperor was supposed to be their Shield, not their doom. And yet, doomed they were as Valouren thought back to the deeds of the previous hour. Even victory would not save them now.

***

time for more orkiness. I'm not too good with Ork lore, so help with how they grow and behave would be appreciated. Once again will be edited soon.
***

'Ummies tasked pretty good reflected Wazgobla. Their bones were nice and small and didn't pick his gums too much as he crunched into them, the way they popped and split oozing the tasty yellow stuff. Even 'ummie armor wasn't bad on the stomach. Unlike many of his small followers, Wazgolba had developed the massive tusks and gob fluids to eat the pink weaklings whole, their Armour and clothing not hampering the experience and Ecstasy of consumption. With the last bite the might boss let loose a belch that Gork would have been proud of.

The battle had been brief, the battle lust of his ork had been shocking, the green energy coursing through them. the first wave of his tide had simply been run over by the vehicles but soon their sheer weight of numbers had ground the traks to a stop and such was the ferocity of his boyz that using bare claw and choppa they had peeled the first kans open and swarmed inside. The slaughter of the first few transports had only increased the frenzy of the hoard and Wazgobla swore he saw the power of the waaaaaaah in the air, growing the muscles and size of his orks into true visions of their primal gods.

Promise of war and battle had been offered by Wazgobla but their long journey lost in the voids of space had cost him the loyalty of many followers. This victory would bring new loyalty, he had indeed kept his promise of a good fight. Wazgobla would build a new clan here on this moon. A bigger clan, he didn't need the traitorous orks he'd had to kill along the way. These were the true ork, and how their green forms glowed in the dim light. Their shadows dancing with a demonic frenzy among the fires of the first step of his new waaah. The ork had come to this world, and the 'umies would burn to make room for Wazgobla. His boyz were gonna make this place green.

Wazgobla couldn't have been prouder of his clan, he watched as they fell upon the dead, consuming and destroying. Each of the greenskins seemed to celebrate in their own way, some dismembered bodies, while others tried to fit themselves with scraps from the traks. One thing was apparant through out the whole mob however, growth. The growth of his Ork was undeniable now, even those who spent their time scrapping the metal traks of valuable plasteel were larger than when the fight had begun and as Wazgobla reached for his next snack he observed a pair of nobz quarreling over who got a 'ummie officers pointy hat. Had there been any nobz among his followers? or had the power of the waaaaaahh been that great? Indeed growth was evident everywhere, even the runty space squigs which had been too small to be worth the effort of catching were looking like right proppa meals themselves, bouncing with exuberance as they consumed the dead, they'd soon be large enough to squeeze for oil.

A loud crunch drew Wazgoblas attention back to his meal, the tasty snacks Noggard had piled up before him had included something metal. Wazgobla rammed his Orky fist into his great maw and began to fish about for the source of his annoyance. A great wire filled metal box had got all tangled about one of his teef. Probing at the box evaporatively with a meaty tongue only rewarded Wazgobla with an electric jolt. The jolt rand right down his toof into his jaw. "Owww! 'wur 'at 'Oogar' at?" Wazgobla rumbled around the metal obstruction in sudden and startled pain.

The two nobs near by snickered and ran off in the direction of where clans single Killa Kan was choppin armor platting from the vehicles. Just as Wazgobla glared suspiciously at the departing backs of his underlings, but just as he began to sort out if they had actually dared to laugh at him the high pitched voice of his lackey pulled him away form vengeful thoughts. "I'z here boss," the smaller ork was picking his teef with a 'ummie light stik. "Waz da matta boss?"

Wazgobla's indignation at having the smaller ork dislodge the device began to grow on him after the endeavor continued. The whole affair had resulted in Noggard having to all but climb into the war bosses mighty mouth. "Almost got it boss." Noggard's voice echoed with fear and humor at the same time.

"MAgau gure gii uuu" Wazgobla tried to threaten around the foul taste of his worthless peon. Why should a war boss tolerate such unorky behavior? As Wazgobla began to contemplate consuming the runt a metallic box was flung from his maw and quickly followed suit by a soggy Noggard. "Das betta," Wazgobla quickly decided best to pretend the whole thing hadn't happened. "Werez da mech boyz got at?" His mind, now freed from the distraction around his toof, began to return to clan matters, he had left the tech savvy orks to salvage the roc. "Get dem from da roc, I wann'em to strip da ''ummie traks and make us zum mega armor." The thought of having his very own Mega armor suit brought a wide grin to the Bosses face. Every Right proppa boss had da best of armor.

"Right away boss" Noggard ducked and bobbed as he backed away still fearful of retribution.

Wazgobla turned his attention to the object of his frustration as Noggard hurried off to carry out his order. The box must have been some kind of communication device wazgobbla decided as he approached it. There was a buzzing in the air that grew as he got closer and a slight dampness that was growing in the air must have added to its shockyness. As he leaned down to inspect the object the buzzing grew from that of an obnoxious nat to the steady rumble of a bike.

Out of rage and indignation Wazgobla stomped the vox caster with a mighty booted foot, grinding the wires and metal into the drizzle softened ground. Wazgobla froze, Immediately realizing something was wrong.

The thrum in the air continued to grow.

Shock and suspicion struck the Ork boss at the same time as he glared out over his rambling mob, noting that none of the others had noticed the rumble. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the shadow of movement and turned just in time to see a massive object slam down on top the running form of Noggard. The monstrosity looked suspiciously like the 'ummie traks they'd just dismembered only more shootie, sporting four massive gun barrels. The blue grey paint scheme of the vehicle would have made the tank typically blend well into the ash and cold mud of the moon world, but the violent crash of its appearance had drawn the attention of every ork, and they quietly stared its unmoving form.

Where had it come from? Wazgobla's contemplation didn't last long. Looking up, surprise drew the deep breath he needed to bellow his warning and challenge to the dark shapes above.

"WAAAAAAAHHH!"

***

I don't understand much about the tech priests of mars, so hopefully i didn't botch this part to much

***

Beta Hive Spire - 4 Hours Before Contact

Osiah stepped back and took a deep breath through the vents of his metallic form. He felt the mighty servo arms lowering as he willed them to release their hold on the Vultures hull. The last of the modifications were complete, and his servitors were finishing their modifications to the vultures pay load.
Initially Osiah had been skeptical at Valouren's choice of role for the Vulture, a single light tank was un-likely to alter the course of any war, however Osiah admittedly doubted even he could have managed to get the old vulture to carry a proper tank, and at the end of the day Osiah would place his faith in the spirit of the machine over any foot slogging fleshling.

Faith in the machine spirit was only one of the aspects that separated Osiah from the populous of the universe as a whole. His mostly mechanical body was encased with-in a body of armor, mighty servo arms protruding from his back, capable of lifting unimaginable loads. While not native to this world, Osiah had found them friendlier to his kind than most worlds he had been stationed upon. The plant had a history of exploring unusual technology and the presence of a tech priest of mars had brought a sense of pride to the populous, validating their worth. The reception and respect with which he was treated had grown on the priest and over the last few years he had begun to found a following of mars. While Osiah had long ago considered himself above the station of an engineer he was aware of the necessity of what he did, the technology he had witnessed only hinted at the true potential it held, such a potential had prompted him to request a founding of a citadel of mars to continue research upon the moon world. Of course any response to his request would take years, and he had to ensure there would be something left to study when reason was seen.

Deciding that his servitors could handle refitting the Vultures engines with the supervision of the engineer staff Osiah turned his attention to the small tank which was being outfitted with intake decelerators. In intake decelerators had been one of Osiah's inovations. The properties of the black crysteel allowed for an impressive absorption of energy, the vibrations caused by air passing through their turbines was enough to power the negative thrust. While certain of their use on a man sized object even Osiah was hesitant about his hastily created plans for a tank sized drop, and again considered the logic in selecting the lightest of tanks for the misison.

The flak tank was one of the only service ready vehicles the moon had. Their position as the outer most moon had enabled the Governor to argue for an Anti-Aircraft capable defense, the Administratum in their divine wisdom had decided that a single tank would be more than adequate for an entire planetary defense. Although he would never voice his opinion he had begun to suspect that the Administratum had made a numerical mistake. The tank was in remarkable condition -which Osiah supposed was since the mechanic crews after all only had one tank to look over- its guns would be an important aspect if they could be protected, would pound the Xenos with a relentless hail of auto cannon shot.

Osiah supervised the final stages of the drop assembly, leaving the servitors to once again finish their work under the watchful eye of human engineers. His attention would be needed for the four Valkyries and two old Russ derelicts the salvage teams had brought him. The work would be long and tiring and the tech priest doubted he could get them to full operational use. Full effect was not necessary though, they just needed to work for a little while.

Osiah sighed again, the sound of his breath filling the soft membranes of his technolungs, the ache in his remaining muscles reminding him of the pleasures of a long day of labor. A smile pulled at the edges of his human lips hidden behind his sacred plasteel helm. He wouldn't tell anyone he enjoyed this work, it had been too long since he felt the heavy power wrench in his hands. The voice of the Omnissiah filled his mind as he approached the closest of the derelicts, its sound filled his ears with song and guided his movements and thoughts, this beast's spirit remained but it was buried deep. Osiah began to move in time to the silent song of the Omnissiah, coaxing and willing the spirit of the machine back to life, easing its pain, and strengthening is purpose.

An hour passed before Osiah stepped back from the injured metal beast, he could feel its spirit strong and awake now, its metal hull serviceable if not up to code. He could feel its spirit pushing at its confines, eager and filled with malice. Its massive battle cannon would be operational, and its armor while rusted and dented would hold and its engines would bear its burden for a while. The machine spirit sang lightly in time with the fading Omnissiah. Osiah was aware that he alone could hear the lament of the machine god, and was grateful for the concealment of his face as the fading lament drew him to pause, dispirited and empty in its absence.

The Omnissiah's voice was common when fixing the wounded spirits of the machine, but here on this world he had felt it stronger than he had anywhere but in the depths of mars. Osiah had assumed it was the presence of such new technology, feeding into the machine god. But when he turned to face the second derelict and the sad song filled him again the priest began to re-evaluate his belief, this was something more, this lament, the anger and lust in the machines, this was different. There was something stirring with in the machines.

Pushing the thought aside Osiah continued his task at hand and the lament the lost filled his ears once more.

***

As a crazy month finally comes to a dull and sleep deprived end, I have found time to again write. I will be posting my next installment tomorrow, in the mean time however I have taken the liberty to re-read and pound out some grammar issues with the help of a less grammatically challenged friend. I hope this makes the story more enjoyable. I will continue to update the story as time allows, and will have the rest of the postings grammarfied soon.

This one took a while. Now, I have never written action before so comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated. This is a long post, and while i made one proof read, i will wait until i am less tired to come back and tweek additional grammar issues. I hope you enjoy.

***

Castien Fields - 2 Hours 15 Minutes After Contact.

The commissar's head erupted in a spray of gore, ripping a hole in his pristine, fancy hat. The spray hit Von, and he blinked frantically to clear it from his eyes. In desperation Von pulled at the trigger of his las carbine in to buy himself time. The battle had begun well enough, the surprise of the guardsmen arrival had caught many of the green monsters off guard, buying the precious seconds needed to clear the ground around their immediate landing site. The landing had not been well organized though, and clusters of men were scattered all over the old battle field. The majority had dropped together and now rallied around the flak tank. Its mighty barrels providing protection to the teeming mass of guard surrounding it. The rest of the guards had not been so fortunate. The shock of their arrival quickly diminished and was replaced by ferocity and slaughter, already most of the small pockets of guards had been pulled down by the hoard and the remainders struggled in desperation to reach the strong point of the flak tank.

There had been eight of them in the initial cluster, finding themselves stranded but under the supervision of a commissar. For a few precious seconds they had held together, laying down a steady stream of las fire, holding fast and dropping a handful of the vicious ork. While Von was unfamiliar with the infantry and commissar around him their moral had been high as they operated efficiently together. That was, until, a wave of heavy fire swept across them. The unknown commissar had ordered them to hold, but all that ended with the young mans life.

As Vons vision returned it was greeted with the horrors around him, they slammed into his head as understanding of the hot fluid across his face became apparent. Five of the other guardsmen were torn apart by the heavy caliber ammunition and the two remaining guards near had begun a desperate run for the tank. Fear fueled Vons legs as he followed suit, stripping his drop pack as he went. Panic lent speed to their legs as they sprinted across meters of corpses old, new, and some on their way. A wide patch of open ground provided the safe haven Von sought. It was quickly expanding around the tank as its large guns drove back any ork brave enough to venture close. As the three men neared the imperial line, a sheik whispered past Von's ear, eliciting a fountain of crimson to spray from the leading man's back. The man arched and and stumbled his head thrown back in a rapture of pain. Von jumped around the soldiers limp form as stumbled, collapsing to its knees. With out looking back von ducked his head as a retaliation of las sprayed past. Under cover of the suppressing fire Von and his remaining comrade plowed through the line to collapse panting on the ground.

"Get into the line NOW lads!" Sargent Dannel's stern voice commanded. The squad Sargent was standing over Von, blood flowing freely from a missing ear, his helmet was like wise lost in the struggle. "C'mon now, plenty of time to lay down when your dead." Dannel reached down offering Von a hand, a sadistic smile spreading across his face.

"Thanks, Sarg." Von's voice croaked, his respirator had slipped from his mouth. His own voice sounded distant to his ears, the thunder of the big guns so close pounded at the back of his head. With each booming thud of the big buns Von could feel the pressure reverberating in his ears. Von's eyes ached as they flicked down the firing line, looking for familiar bodies. "Where's the squad?" The three valks which made the drop had delivered 60 guardsmen. The line looked to be composed of nearly thirty, and as Von watch two more Sargent's patrolled behind, shouting orders and encouragement.

"Damned if i know," the Sargent helped the second guard to his feet, he wasn't from Von's Squad. "Just get your ass in line, and keep firing."

"Sir!" Von ducked his head. While not hasty to return, the familiarity of an order had eased some of Von's tension, and he found his fear being pushed away as he made his way back toward the line. A nudge to his back drew Von's attention to the guardsmen in tow. "yeah?"

The guard was slightly older than Von and pale with fright, but his features showed pride. Von understood, they were afraid, but they were guardsmen, they had a job to do. There was pride in having the resolve to return to the line, when your instinct told you to run. "The name's Warric, 6th squad." His gate had all the confidence of a condemned man.

Von was unsure if his own features would reveal as much. "Von, 2nd Squad." Vons voice surprised him as it echoed distantly, sounding oddly strong and confident. As the two made their way down the line Von asked, "See any of your mates?" Hope and despair mingled with relief in Von's mind as Warric indicated a spot. It would be good to stand should to shoulder, could he say the same of dying?

"CEASE FIRE" The order sounded just as Von and Warric took up a firing stance. Von had knelt in front with Warric taking up position behind. Repetitions of the order echoed from the other two Sargents down the line. The sudden silence was deafening, and filled with the soft clacking of spent charge packs being replaced down the line. The momentary reprieve in fire allowing for each man to become aware of the whole field.

Before the line lay over a hundred meters of smoking corpses and mounds of torn earth. The light drizzle worked to slick the field, mixing with rain water indiscriminately with blood of the dead and dying. Pools of the wet carrion were forming across the open expanse of ground. Hazy in the drizzle, forms could be seen across the field. The looming forms mingled and massed, the sudden silence was emphasized by the light rains deadening of sound. Hundreds of lumbering shapes could be made out, brandishing weapons wildly in the air. Only the sporadic dampened snap of enthusiastic firing in the air made its way to the guard line.

As Von and the others watched a massive form pushed its way to the front of the hoards ranks. Its circular hull was supported on two massive, squat, hydraulic legs. The contraption waddled sickeningly from side to side, a spindly metallic arm sprouting from each of its sides. The too skinny limbs supported a vicious circular saw on one arm and a vicious looking claw on the other. As the contraption pumped its legs a horrible screeching noise made its way through the damp air. Marching in place, the monstrosity seemed to be beating a rhythm, to which the teeming green Xenos's began to chant in a barbaric language.

Behind their line, the high pitched voice of a young officer drew Von's attention. A commissar, the one who had ridden with them, Von struggled to remember his name, Ethan? Eaden? Yes, Eaden. The young man, Eaden, was still missing his hat, but in its absence had drawn both his Iconic Bolt Pistol and a sleek sword. Commissar Eaden was shouting orders to the line which were being repeated by the other officers. "You will HOLD this Line. You will HOLD in the Emperor's Name. Should we die, we die as Martyrs! We are the guard, and the guard WILL hold. The guns of the Emperor shall protect!" The tremor in the young mans voice was unmistakable fear. In the officers it was repeated as zeal and anger. "BAYONETS!" The order drew a sharp look from the Sargents, who, cautiously repeated the order.

Von and the other men drew their long bayonet blades. The stock and barrel of the Kelyran Pattern las carbine were shorter and more compact than the normal las gun. In an effort to compensate the standard issue Bayonet had been replaced with a heavy two foot blade. The Blade would need to be secured, taking time, and make replacing the carbines magazine much harder. The advantage was it afforded the guardsmen extra leverage when thrusting and slashing. Von kept his blade in a harness down his back, and it took him just under 5 seconds to draw and affix the blade in practice. Today his muddied damp hands fumbled with the routine procedure, stretching its seconds into what seemed like minutes. Once completed, the added weight made the weapon cumbersome to hold in a firing position. the weight forced Von to pull the stock tight against his shoulder, aiming down the sight and resting his arm on one knee. Down the sight, he could see that the excitement and lust for combat had driven the green mass to boiling.

"Are you ready?" Von voiced over his shoulder.

"Can't say I'm eager," Warrics voice had taken on a resolve and his stance had become more sure. "If you stick em, I'll take the heads." Warric referred to their basic training: When holding an assault from a larger opponent, one guard was to strike low, skewering their opponent and holding them in place, allowing a second guard to take full advantage of the weighted bayonet, sweeping at the neck. In theory, the tactic sounded good.

Von nodded and unhooked his flask, taking a large pull of the acrid fluid contained inside. The guard weren't issued water on short campaigns, rather a heavy electrolyte gel which contained enough kaf and glyc to provide the needed energy to sustain combat. Von choked down a mouth full of the thick infused fluid, and passed the flask back to Warric. The other guard returned the flask to Von and attempted to coughed down his mouth full. Von promptly secured his flask. "How long do you think it will be?"

Warric sucked on his teeth as he looked out across the expanse, "can't be long, they're all gone quiet."

The implications of the standing mans statement began to roll around in Von's head as he contemplated his comrades observation. Even the large mechanized Kan had stopped its teetering leg pumping. The machine now stood frozen at the front of the unmoving hoard. As Von watched, a ripple of motion drew his eye, a massive Xeno was pushing its way to the front. The creature emerged right next to the Kan, and this was by fare the largest of the beasts. The ork's girth was almost as wide as it was tall. One arm had been replaced with a mechanical claw and its other waved what appeared to be an giant double barreled shotgun.

"Any moment now lads," Sargent Dannel's voice came from someplace behind and to the left of Von. "Best you ready some grenades, we're going to need them." Dannel emphasized his point by tossing an unarmed grenade in the mud by Von's feet. The other guards down the line followed the example, setting grenades by their feet, unhooked and within easy reach. The Sargent knelt next to Von, nodding to Warric, and signaling a couple of the troops near by to lean in. "That mechanical thing is going to make straight for the Flak Tank. If it can bring down our big guns, well, I don't have to tell you what that will mean." He un-slung a pouch from his shoulder and pulled out four large sticky bombs. The krak grenades were heavy and wound need to be placed, rather than thrown. "When it nears our line we will order a break of rank around it." Dannel started to draw a finger in the mud, visualizing his order. "We will close ranks as soon as it passes and hold the tide so that those mines can be placed. The other Sargents are distributing their mines down the line. It has to be brought down."

The guards nodded and Von felt himself swallow, in dreaded anticipation. "And what about that one?" Von shrugged his head towards the large Ork. "Its got to be the boss right? Those lads on Helicos 3 always said, if you brought the boss down, the rest would just wander off." Von saw hope blossom on the faces of the other guardsmen.

"Right you are mate!" Dannel face twisted into a wide toothy grin. His face had never been striking, and the mask of blood which still flowed down one side had transformed it into something fearsome. Sargent Dannel drew his chain sword, and planted the weapon blade down in the mud, crossing his arms over the hilt. "Those other officers and I will see to him, about time someone gave our guest a proper welcome." With a wink, at his own joke, the Sargent stood and strode back to where the Commissar stood, in front of the flak tank.

A sudden rush of adrenaline caused the hair along Von's arm to stand on end. A mighty energy rushed towards the men heralding a war cry, drawing everyone's attention. The cry shook the very ground the crouched on. As the distant hoard surged forward, their shout was met by the buzz chain swords being brought to life. The thudding of the tanks mighty auto cannons resumed battling with the savage roar for auditory supremacy. All down the line guardsmen needed no order to fire. Everyone attention was captured back by the dark angry energy, and thunder of battle. As one, the men opened fire.

Dozens of the Xenos fell under the steady tirade of las fire, constant streams of red energy lashed out to meet the onrushing green mass dropping bodies which tripped and slowed the advance. The success was short lived, however as the press of bodies only seemed to thicken. As the orks drew nearer they gathered in speed. Eating up the distance at an alarming rate. The kan had outpaced the rest of the mob, ignoring the small arms fire, it wobbled ahead at near sprinting speed. Even the impacts of high caliber cannon shot only seemed to make it wobble with drunken enthusiasm. By the time the hoard reached perhaps 100 meters, the mass began to spray the line sporadically with return fire. The first guard made a startled scream as a Xenos round found home, prompting men to duck and dive for cover. Sargent quickly made haste to embolden the men but the damage was done. The disruption in fire coincided with a surge of the green horrors and they closed the distance by half.

A shout for first rank grenades went out, and the kneeling guards dropped fire to pull pins and unleash a fusillade of tossed explosives. Small fragmentation grenades erupted down the approaching mass, grinding the advance to a halt. The order repeated with second rank and another cluster of explosions erupted mud and shrapnel into the air. The order repeated again and again, by the fourth series of explosions the effect had begun to wear off. A frightening screech heralded the Kans arrival at their line.

Men fell back in front of the kan, giving its wildly swinging blades a wide birth. A slow guard was cough by the whiling blade and it severed his neck and right arm instantly. The kans claw swung down to snatch the corpse by one leg and tossed it directly into the young commissar. The slaughter took seconds, but bought Von and the others time to break rank, scooping up their mines as they went. The kan was through the line and making steadily for the Tank. Von gripped the heavy mine, it had gotten slick with mud and required two hands to carry. Von struggled to keep his carbine slung over one shoulder, he could see another 4 men running at the mechanical form from other directions, each baring an explosive. The first caught up to the Kan as it was half way to the tank, the man managed to slap the mine on one of the Kans left leg with out notice, ducking off, to run back towards the line. Two more attempted to repeat the process but the Kans pilot had been alerted. Sweeping down a rotorblade met one man, liberating his head from his shoulders. The second man was snatched in a massive pincher claw and shook vigorously. The sound of the mans spine snapping was vivid, finding its way through the din to Vons ears. The mans mine flew from his lifeless hands and slammed into the front of the flak tank. The first mine erupted knocking the kan to the ground as the second sent a fountain of mud into the air. The third mine ripped the flak tanks hull open, bringing its mighty guns to a deafening halt.

Von and the others descended upon the downed walker. Two of the men tossed their mines, not daring to approach the still active Kans weaponry, their explosions opened rifts in the Kans armor but only seemed to aggravate the pilot. Warric jumped over a swipe of the rotor blade and Von hit the ground, feeling the air stir as it passed overhead. Von regained his feet he looked up in time to see Warric dash right up and plant his mine in the hinge of the roto bladed arm. Von scrambled to take advantage of the opening as well, wedging his mine into an armor rift. As the two dashed back out of reach the limp body of another guard flew past Von crashing into Warric, bringing him to the ground. The first explosion shook Vons knees causing him to stumble on the slick ground, and Von fumbled with his carbine. The second sent metal debris and shrapnel into the air, its shock knocking Von from his unsteady legs, his carbine ripped from his grip.

The sudden impact of noise and air caused a dizzying effect, and Von could taste the glyc gel as he vomited, the world spinning out of focus. He lay there for a moment, listening to the sounds of combat around him. The oddity of a soft sound near by drew him back to his shaking body. Von looked up to see the young commissar huddled in the mud, the limp form of a guardsmen near by. Eaden had his arms wrapped about his knees and he rocked back and forth slightly, tears streaming down his face. His gentle sobs a sharp contrast to the surrounding din.

Von, searched with his hands along the soft ground, grabbing up his fallen carbine and scrambling over to the commissar. Von grabbing the officer by his muddied uniform, and hauling him bodily to his feet. "We must hold the line, SIR" Some part of Von felt the sarcasm, and strangely he felt hardened by the sadistic joke. The amusement entered his voice, and Von felt his anger and fear being drawn away by a maniacal grin. "No time to lounge about."

The boys unsteady legs barely provided support, slipping constantly in the mud. He maintained a white knuckled grip with one hand, clutching tightly to his sword. Of his bolt pistol, there was no sign. "It... It's not right." The Commissar moaned, "We were only supposed to ensure loyalty, for... for the aristocracy. We weren't supposed to see combat yet." The mans tears flowed freely and Von felt a slight pang of shame, looking at the officer, the boy. The youths face was creased with worry and he trembled, his training either insufficient or forgotten.

"Eaden, right?" Von felt calm himself, trying to get the boy to look him in the face. "We must return to the line, c'mon." Von turned his head back to observe the line for the first time since he had left it. Less than a minute had passed, and all he could see was the struggling of bodies. The men's training was serving them well. They guards struck in unison, covering each other, and appeared to be holding the Xenos at bay. Their number had dwindled only slightly, back stepping to give ground rather than lives. The tactic was working, but as Von watched numbers were beginning to take their toll. In that moment two men were cut down, and the massive form of the Xeno boss pushed through.

The creature stood perhaps 9 feet tall, and its shoulders almost just as broad. Metallic implants were sported all along its form, and a mighty girth hung over deep purple colored trousers. Two bright red eyes glared out from under a heavy brow, beady nostrils flared as its head swung about searching. The red of the commissar's uniform caught the creatures attention, small eyes narrowed in focus upon the shaking boy. The beast opened its mouth in a deep bellow of challenge. Its mouth was huge, and filled with thick tusks larger than a grown mans thumb. The sight wiped any of Vons former amusement from his mind, and he felt his bile rise again. With a lurching motion the creature charged Von and the young man.

Von pushed the commissar aside, and brought his carbine to bare, depressing the trigger repeatedly. The las shots burning harmless tracks into the skin of the ork's belly and chest. The beast payed Von no mind, swinging its mighty gun like an axe at the stumbling commissar. This close Von saw the wide heavy blade held on the underside of the guns barrels. The vicious blade dug deep into the mud, missing the stumbling boy by inches. With a yell the Ork made a grab with its mechanical claw, snapping at the mans leg, again missing, as the Commissar was jerked out of the way by Sargent Dannel.

Dannel pulled the commissar away as the two other officers jumped in, attacking the boss. Their blades whirled, drawing dark black-green blood, and a scream of rage. Von ducked under a wild swipe form the boss and ran to meet up with his Sargent. Von slid to a stop, losing his footing in the mud and ending up on one knee next to the officer.. Von nodded to Dannel and hoisted his carbine to point back towards the struggle near by. He hastened a shaky question. "Sir?"

The Sargent nodded back to Von. "Hold fast," The officer glanced at the Commissar. "And get him fighting!" Dannel didn't wait for a response, charging with a shout back to the struggle and sweeping his blade low into the back of one meaty leg.

Von looked at the Commissar's face, wide eyed panic had replaced the previous despair. "Remember your training!" Von tried to sound supportive and suggestive. "The men need you," he looked back in time to see a Sargent jump into an opening, to drive his blade at the belly of the creature. Blade bit deep and stuck, as the man desperately pulled on the weapon, green jaws descended. The massive snapped around his neck, ending his struggle instantly. Von gulped, "Emperor protect, they need your help, SIR." Von pulled one hand back and slapped the commissar as hard as he could.

The blow landed and drove the boy into the muck, Von grabbed him by the front of his uniform and drew him back up. Panic had begun to encroach into Von's mind, as he watched the three combatants from the corner of his eye. Desperation lead him to draw back to hit the young man again, only the sound of a tortured scream held his blow, and drew his attention. The second Sargent lay in two pieces on the ground. Behind, the line had broke, guards were turning to run. Those brave enough to hold bought the other time with their lives as they were torn to pieces.

When Von turned back to face the commissar he froze, a new face before him. The officer was regaining his feet, and tears continued to stream down the boys face. His features stretched and hardness had entered the lines of his mouth. The commissar's eyes were wild and locked on Sargent Dannel. This face was still the boys but it had changed with as resolve had won out over terror. The mighty boss had caught Dannel's leg in its claw and hoisted him into the air. Dannel screamed and swung his blade drawing sparks in a futile gesture down the metallic arm which held him.

Horror at the loss of his friend and commander tore at Von's gut, he screamed and lurched towards the Boss. Rage have his tired muscles strength and his footing felt more sure. Von could hear his cry of anger mirrored by the young Commissar behind him.

Von plunged his bayonet to the barrel into the orks gut, twisting viciously with a shout. As the urge to duck low took Von, he released his grim and crouched just as the glowing blade of the commissar swept over his head, cutting a deep trough across the creatures chest. The attack caused the beast to bellow in rage, dropping Sargent Dannel. In panic of hope Von abandoned his weapon, still embedded in the orks belly, running to the Sargent's side.

The stricken man looked up as Von grabbed him under his arms, and began to drag him from the fight. "Emperor preserve us," One leg flopped bonelessly behind him. "Leave me Von," Dannel brandished his chain sword.

"I can't do that sir," Von panted over the effort of dragging his commander.

"Damn you soldier, that's an order!" Dannel made an attempt to throw his weapon at the Ork Boss.

Any response Von could have voiced was lost as a shout rose above the din. "Son's of Kelrya!" Commissar Eaden's voice resounded strong, betraying the shakiness of his early orders. He spun as if guided to catch the awkwardly thrown blade in his left hand. Wielding his own blade in his right hand, the man dodged in and out with youthful speed, managing to avoid the clumsy blows through skill and agility. "You are men of the Imperium! And you WILL STAND!" he rolled low below a sweep and brought both blades into contact with the Orks back. "We are The Empire of Man!" another blow landed along the creatures right side eliciting a bellow of pain and rage.

The cries of the commissar had halted the survivors retreat, they stood between the boss and the wreckage of their tank. Unease and nervous anticipation mixed with exhaustion. Even the ork mass has stopped their advance and stood opposite, hypnotized by the ensuing combat. Both sides, watching the conflict unfold.

"For the Honor of Kelrya," the boy parried using both blades, ducking low as the chain blade snapped. Charging in close the man grabbed the protruding hilt of the chain blade, rolling between the boss's legs and using his momentum to wrench the blade free. Even bleeding profusely from its belly wound the Ork only seemed to get further enraged as the Commissar struck at its exposed backside. "We are Blessed of the Emperor!" Again the boy rolled in an attempt to get behind the ork. The boss was ready this time, however, anticipating his move the creature had turned opposite, and brought its weapon to bare. The blow caught the Commissar with a meaty backhand, throwing his body to land limply yards away.

Rage bubbled in Von's throat, and he dropped Dannel, who fall backwards. Grabbing the officers pistol from its holster, Von pumping the trigger at the Boss. The las rounds burned harmlessly once more across its exposed skin, and despair dropped Von hopelessly to his knees. He watched as the alien shrugged off the rounds from the remaining guards, and leaned its head back to bellow in triumph.

The sound that escaped its mouth was nothing like victory, shock drew a high screech from the creature instead. Blood fountained form one eye. A second thick laser bolt impacted, boiling body tissue. The wail of alarm seemed to awaken the onlooking hoard from their stupor and they surged forward once again. Von watch in stunned horror as they descended upon him. The sound of their cries mingling with the roar of engines.

***

Kyle, this is really good stuff, I appreciate your writing. Look for some of my stuff I'll be posting soon.

It's been a while, since I tried to post a continuance, current plan is to finish over the next month. I just started re-reading my posts, I should try and proof read a bit more. Any finishing (non-spelling or grammatical) advice?