Nigel Stillman
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Okay, so again, I'd like some comments and critique on this story. It's finished for now, but it can and probably will be changed.
The Last Stand of the 300th Praetorian
“Doctor, he is emerging from his comatose state,” said the medical servitor to the surgeon.
“Good, good, “replied the surgeon. “Servitor V-4, let the guests in. I believe that they wish
to speak with the patient.”
The medical servitor, which was essentially a human being if one could still call it that, fitted with electrical arms and legs, and other technological parts by the Adeptus Mechanicus. The Adeptus Mechanicus ruled from Mars, its monopoly on technology in the Imperium unrivaled.
The guests entered, accompanied by a bodyguard. The leading figure was Brigadier-General James Whitfield. He was dressed gallantly with brazen brass armor platebody, the Imperial Aquila emblazoned on his chest. James Whitfield applied some wax to his moustache, which was drooping.
“Leave us, doctor. It would be unfortunate if we would have to terminate you for hearing this conversation.”
Left with no room to argue, the surgeon and his servitors left the room.
“Now that they are gone…” continued the Brigadier General, “Let’s get down to business. The General sat down next to the wounded soldier, who had to be no older than 25, tried to salute him with his one good arm. “At ease, soldier. I want to know what happened at Asharnezzer. Don’t worry, my scribes will record everything you say, and we’ll be here as long as it will take. But first, I would like your name, soldier; and your regiment.”
“Sir, I am…Alasdair Venables, Weapon Specialist of the 300th Praetorian Expeditionary Force. I was assigned to the weapons team under Sergeant Montgomery…sir”
“You don’t need to call me sir…so you’re a Praetorian, are you? That’s in the Segmentum Tempestus? “Alasdair nodded weakly. “Hive Worlds do that to you, I suppose. You’re so damn cramped…you have around 20 billion people to one planet, though in hindsight I suppose that would make you tougher. What hive did you originate from?”
“I am from the Delta Hive on Praetoria, its population at least…3 billion. “Alasdair continued. “My regiment, the 300th Praetorian was to scout out the Asharnezzer system, which had stopped paying its taxes to the Imperium decades ago. A rounding error had ignored the system until recently, or at least, that’s what I had heard. At the time it seemed like it would be a short mission. Just threaten the governors with virus bombing, and they’d pay up. Of course, nothing is ever like it seems, is it?” Alasdair coughed up some blood, and stopped to inject some more morphine by pressing a button, and then went on with his story.
“When…when we got to the system, it was in complete and utter chaos. I don’t think that any of us had ever seen anything like it. It was under an attack by a renegade Imperial Guard legion under the name of the Tyrants of Asharzunipal. This was a perfect storm of events, as the higher ups hadn’t thought to bring the larger battleships. The Adeptus Mechanicus, like with everything, holds a tight leash on their technology, and the Battlefleet stationed in the Segmentum Tempestus only gave us some of their more outdated cruisers and destroyers. Like I said, it was total and utter chaos. Right when we had finished our warp travel, Private Jones began to act strangely. No one knew what the heck was going on. But when he began muttering things about some odd thing like the Ruinous Powers or something along those lines, the Commissar shot him. To be honest I’m happy he did, Jones was always kind of a bastard and he’d done enough to deserve it.”
“I see. So do you know what he was talking about?” questioned a Priest that was along with the General.
“No, why?” replied Alasdair.
“No reason. Blessed is the mind too small to doubt…” said the Priest. “Go on with your story, please.”
Alasdair’s eyes betrayed his confusion. What was happening? Not knowing otherwise, he went back to talking about what had happened. “One of the Renegade cruisers intercepted our force. It got into a fierce battle with one of our cruisers, the HES Auckland, in which the Auckland was destroyed minutes later. Its diversion saved the rest of the fleet. We were able to escape unharmed, except for our lost cruiser of course. Morale was low, of course, but the Commissars kept it up, with their guns consistently at their sides, ready to blow some poor chap’s head off.
We made planetside about 30 standard minutes later, and encountered heavy resistance. The HES Dreadnought exploded spectacularly when it was hit with a lance battery, literally cut in half. Our remaining 7 ships landed, battered but still together.”
“So they knew that you were coming?” questioned the general, who tilted his head to the side a bit.
“They must have…” replied Alasdair. Why him? He didn’t know the big picture. He was just one man!
“Continue with your story, please. “
“Although I said that there…was heavy resistance…I hadn’t truly learned what it meant until we had assembled our armies. The renegades were more heavily armored, our flak vests and jackets to their carapace armor, and they were better prepared. They must have known…“
“Indeed they were more heavily armored. They must have originated from a Forge World…which makes it more troubling,” Said the General, his brow furrowing.
“Finally, the commissars got control over our squads, and that was when the real battle had begun. Our Valkyries swooped over the enemy, firing their missiles, and dropping our Grenadier squads. Our Leman Russ tanks fired salvo after salvo, and the regulars, in their tan pith helmets, and bright red uniforms, fired their lasguns. But it just wasn’t enough, the renegades kept coming. Soon enough they reached our lines, and that was when it was all over. They tore through us…I can still hear the horrific screams of men being murdered by the foul beasts…” Alasdair cringed, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Get yourself together, soldier. The renegades have been defeated. Go on.”
“My sergeant, Montgomery, was ordered by our commanding officer to fall back to an abandoned factory that we had taken earlier. With my grenade launcher, I picked off several of the renegades, just in time to lock the door so that they couldn’t get in. Why we went in there, I still don’t know. We should have fallen back to the ships. The locked door didn’t hold long, as a chainsword tore it down.
My good friend Chadsworth took out his flamethrower, and burned down all of the renegades that got through. He was doing fine until…until…he met his hands at the end of an ogre with a chainsaw axe.
I tried to avenge him, but our weapons didn’t do anything to it. It cut down Sergeant Montgomery, and then another member of the squad. I ran; I ran as fast as I humanely could. I had lost all semblance of though…adrenaline had taken over long ago. The monster chased me. “
Alasdair stopped, trying to breathe. It was fairly obvious that even the retelling tested his sanity, and his physical well being. But the Brigadier General had to get the story.
“Go on with your story,” urged the general, this time a bit more forced.
“I ran back to the ships, past all of our fallen soldiers. Their gallant red uniforms and yellow epaulettes, their black pants and dress boots, were ripped apart and burned. A renegade saw me…and fired. His lasgun shot hit me in the elbow, blowing my arm off. Another shot hit me in the knee, blowing my leg apart. Words could not describe the pain I felt…I fell to the ground, tears streaming down my face. “Alasdair’s eyes became watery, as he tried to hold back his tears.
“My last few moments of consciousness, amongst the corpses and wreckage, I saw row upon row of Attilan Rough Riders, and behind them row upon row of Leman Russes…”
“Indeed…that was us. You are the only survivor, you know that, Alasdair? Of your entire army, only you are left. We managed to drive back the renegades, but we could not defeat them. But fear not, we are hot on their trail. In fact if it wasn’t for the keen eye of one of our soldiers you would have been trampled…” The brigadier general had a slight smile on his face. The victory for him was bittersweet. They had won, but the renegades had escaped. But by the God Emperor, justice would be exacted on them.
“Thank you Alasdair, for you story. The Imperium owes you a great debt.”
“The Imperium…owes me nothing…I only wish…to be with…” And with that, Alasdair closed his eyes, as the heart rate monitor beeped as it went to a straight line.
“Rest, Alasdair. You have done the God Emperor well. But while renegades and xenos still draw breath, our job is not done.”
Whitfield got up, and placed the sheets over Alasdair’s head. He nodded his head, as a signal that it was time to leave.
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