Day 00-1, 1000
"Ah-TEN-shun!"
The compartment went silent. Captain Patterson's well oiled jump boots echoing through the ranks were the only sounds as he slowly stepped up to the podium. His spectacled eyes meandered through the crowd, as if searching for an old friend. A drop of sweat ran down his bald head and past his cauliflowered ear.
Statuesque under his gaze stood the most fit and finely trained men the planet of Valencia III had ever parented. They were strong. Fast. Fearless. They contained no flaws.
Except one. They had never seen battle, test subjects for a new method of interplanetary deployment. A device called the Grav Chute, after its predecessor, it was an atmospheric life support system hard-wired with friction accelerators. Under them they wore heat sink suits to protect themselves from the high temperature heat transfer in exchange of landing on the planet's surface at a safe 5.46 meters per second.
And Patterson was to lead them, the Valencian 322nd "Valkyyrns".
He slammed one big black fist on the podium, to wake up the dozing.
"Valkyyrns, listen up! I've just received a memo from the Admiral. The situation on Rhal three has just hit the fan. The Emperor's Chosen have landed, and their planetary defenses are offline. This so called Imperium of Man is impeaching upon the sanctity of our Federation, and we have been called to duty!" He watched as jaws dropped and murmurs of astonishment and excitement crept through the crowd. He smashed the podium again, and all was silent.
"We leave in an hour, get your gear and MOVE OUT!"
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Day 00, 0122
<--------------------<< Space Surrounding Rhal III >>-------------------->
Lt. Eagla checked his gear on last time before he began to move down the line. His men were all strapped and ready to go, laughing and betting on kills. Every man in his squad knew what they needed to do, and they did it perfectly, which made his job easier.
Just as he strapped into his Chute, the pilot came over the 1MC. "This is Ensign Loveless. I'll be your captain for this flight, and would just like everyone to sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride before I kick ya'll out."
He laughed, and the 1MC went dead. A few minutes later, the alarm for the airlocks went off, and Lt. Eagla could feel the small space seemingly shrink as cabin pressure was initialized. The single giant engine began to rev its engines, and he could almost feel them takeoff.
Hopefully the landing would be as easy.
He turned to Pvt. Fusselman, his radioman, and clucked under his breath. "Just another easy day, eh, Pvt.?"
Pvt. Fusselman chuckled, and adjusted his lasgun between his legs.
Moments later, they were screaming through the atmosphere with the sounds of a battle so vicious that they could hear it miles above the fighting ringing in their ears. Now no one was laughing, no one was talking. They all just stared at the door at the aft of the aircraft, and the big red light above it. Lt. Eagla rested his hand on the door release lever, his burden of the flight, and the other on his lasgun, the burden of the fight. The Environmental display showed other Valkyries, planetary attack carrier craft, with the rest of the 322nd sitting patiently as they charged ahead to their landing zone.
Suddenly, one exploded, and their craft shook with the force. Artillery charges came bursting up through the clouds below them, smashing into the helpless Valencian fleet. One took a shot to a fuel pod on the wing, and blew out the passenger compartment wall. Lt. Eagla watched as brave soldiers were sucked out, their Grav Chutes blazing, trying to save themselves.
The 1MC exploded into sound. "Holy Fuck! They got fucking Earthshakers aimin' at us! Fuck the LZ, get ready to jump in 15!" It cut out.
15 seconds was long time. The four Pvts, Fusselman, Grenk, Hatchins, and Canin, stood and prepped themselves with a final gear check. Eaglas stood, checked his gear, and readied to pull the lever. As the light turned green, the door was ripped off by tail of another Valkyrie, along with most of the tail of Eaglas' transport. Grenk, the first in the line, got sucked out by the vacuum and was nearly cut in half by the tail.
"Go, go, go! We only got one shot at this!" Eaglas thrust Hatchins through the gaping hole. Canin and Fusselman followed behind without hesitation. Eaglas looked to the cockpit, to see Ensign Jenkins madly trying to pull up, then jumped himself.
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Day 00, 0211
Pvt. Fergusson looked around. No one near, but battle rang from every corner. He dropped his Chute and checked his lasgun. Its readout glowed happily at him. Behind him PFC Larson searched the wreckage of their fuselage for any survivors.
Fergusson glanced back at him. "Anything?"
"No. Sergeant Rink's leg's are twitching, but I can't find the rest of him. I think we're the only ones who managed to jump before we hit."
Fergusson said a silent prayer, slid over to Larson. He turned on his light, and began to rummage through the bodies and steel.
Larson grimaced,"What're you doing?"
Fergusson paused, then reached down and picked up a battered, but still working comms pack. He gave a cold smile, turned it to the SOS channel, and listened. Larson covered the immediately surroundings but found it apparently secluded from the battle.
After a few moments, Fergusson dropped the pack. His plain face lit up a little as he smiled,"Feel like a walk?"
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Day 00, 0754
The air exploded with light and molten metal, and Rhal III groaned in agony the ordnance blast scarred its face and pulled the meat off of the Rhalian Death Corps platoon's bones and charred their tanks. Rocks and boulders rained from the sky, crushing the scorched survivors as they tried desperately to pull their flaming corpses from the wreckage.
Lt. Eagla said a quick prayer, then regained his feet and checked his lasgun. It was untouched, which was good, he'd need it later. He helped Pvt. Fusselman to his feet, the comms pack offsetting his center of gravity. "See if you can contact HQ, we need our orders. And some friends," He looked down the hill at the devastated prairie beyond, "That aren't on fire."
"Eh, that was nuthin', sir," Fusselman grinned. "I've done worse with some matches and a few fireworks." Fusselman turned off his headset. "Sorry, sir, I can't reach them."
Eagla grimaced. They'd been on the move for the past two hours, after their emergency evac from their doomed flight. They were the only two to survive, Grink being cut in half and the other two unluckily having defective Chutes. Sighing, they moved further up the hill, where they had a better vantage point to locate the rest of the 322nd, and spot approaching enemies.
As they reached their makeshift bunker, no more than a ramshackle fence with some driftwood and foilage for camoflauge, Fusselman noticed some movement in the woods below them. Drawing his knife, he slowly pulled back, taking time to aim. Just as he released, the blade glinting as is spun through the air, Fergusson emerged from the undergrowth. The blade sunk in to the hilt into a small tree next to him, and he raised his lasgun and nearly melted Fusselman's face with a reactionary barrage.
"Good to see you two made it." Eagla returned Fergusson and Larson's salutes quickly, and they made their way up the hill to what was now a mini outpost. "I have to apologize about Fusselman," he said as he walked. "He's quite the Wild One.
"Yeah, I guess so. This fucker's mighty sharp!" Larson tossed Wild One's knife up in the air, and caught it deftly in his other hand, and handed it back to its owner as he passed him.
Eagla called them around a patch of dirt, where a vague map was sketched in the mound. On it was the hill they currently squatted on, and off to the north was a large X, and the letters 'OBJ-1' scrawled next to it.
"What the hell is that? Is that supposed to be a map?" Fergusson wore a crooked grin that was all too out of place for their situation. The sounds of battle, while not in site, were not too far out of reach. Eagla pulled his knife, and stuck it into the X, and stood up.
"We've gotta clear the way for the Federal Marines to arrive, and those Earthshakers are one helluva thorn in our side." He pulled his knife from the dirt, wiped it, and put it away as he began to walk. "We've got a few days walk, but don't worry boys," he shifted his lasgun, "I'm sure we'll find a way to kill the boredom."
And so they marched to the North. To the Earthshaker Battery, booming terror and flame across the continent.
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Day 00, 1715
"Shit!"
Larson dropped to the ground, weakness draining through the hole in his leg, as he let our a shriek and sent round after round blasting into the woods up ahead. Fergusson and Eagla jumped behind boulders and fallen logs for cover, trying to sight in on the threat.
Wild Fusselman let out a warcry, drew his knife, and charged forward. A glimpse of movement was leaking sweet crimson from a glinted edge as Wild thrust his knife hilt deep into the mouth of a Cadian. He gurgled blood and went limp at Wild's feet, and he charged deeper, hungry for the taste of blood.
Eagla leaped to his feet and followed after him. After all, he couldn't do without a com-man. As he caught up to him, the woods around them exploded into a rain of needle sharp splinters and the world was drowned by the heavy ratta-tat-tat-tat-tat-tatta of a Cadian bolter squad. Eagla dropped to the ground, purposefully tripping Wild to keep him from another suicide run. Without knowing where the shots were coming from, Eagla pulled the pin of his HE and tossed it in a near random direction.
All he heard were screams of panic and an explosion chased by the screams of the dying.
Before he could gain his footing, Cadians with white striped helmets, sharply contrasting to their forest green armor and camoflauge, came charging at them from all sides, lasguns preceded by gruesome bayonets and the distinctive cry of authority.
The first Cadian tried to stab Eagla square in the chest, but was met by his foe's own blade as his ripped into his kneecap, making a sucking noise as it popped off. He screamed and fell down, rolling in agony. Eagla ignored him, but Wild silenced him with a slice to the throat. The Cadians began to raise their weapons to fire, but Eagla and Fusselman were faster, their lasguns blazing into the hapless enemy. They fell by the dozens, but more kept coming, only to fall in bewilderment as they watched their squadmates die.
As Eagla reloaded, their Sergeant, his heart gone as he viewed his crippled force, turned to retreat, but met the wrong end of a boltgun in the hands of a tall man in a black trench with a bionic arm. He looked at the men fleeing toward him. "There's only two of them! Kill them or die by my hand, you chicken shit bastards!"
Eagla and Wild tried to retreat, but were once again surrounded by the desperate soldiers. Eagla tried to break through, but took a bayonet to his left arm and a shot to his side, and writhed on the ground in pain. He watched as Wild kicked one in the groin as he stabbed another in the face, then turn and headbutt another only to be brought down by crack to the skull from behind. As the Cadians closed in, Eagla tried to crawl away, but only managed in tearing his wounds a bit more.
As two Cadians raised their lasguns to thrust, beams of energy pierced their skulls, and they fell. The rest turned to fight, but were quickly brought down by the volume of fire upon them. The survivors turned to flee, receiving each a blow to the skull from the man in the black trench, then he turned and disappeared.
Looking around, Eagla saw three Valkyyrns from another platoon come running over to assess the situation. One turned him over and shushed him. "Don't move. I'm a medic." He felt a prick of pain in his neck, then the world began to darken. The last thing he saw was Fergusson, helping Larson, arrive to help secure the area.
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Day 00, 2315
Eagla sat up at the sound of thunder and whistling. Disoriented, he stumbled from his medical cot, tearing the IV from his arm along with some of the skin around it. He grunted in pain, and tried to assess his situation. And remember what had happened.
He remembered running after Wild, and lots of lasfire. Then it all came back to him. Eagla tried to stand, but put too much weight on his bad arm and let out a cry as he fumbled back to the dirt.
Outside, the sounds of explosions and lasfire were mixing into a dull hum occasionally overpitched by the whine of a soldiers death cry. Eagla slowly took his feet and pulled himself over to the tent flap to see what was happening. As he pulled back the flap Wild burst in, nearly taking Eagla down again.
"Sorry, sir!" Wild gave a half salute as he helped Eagla to his feet. "Found out we got linked up with what's left of the 10th Infantry Div of the Rhalian. And, we found 'nother three from the 322nd. They're from C Div, the "Cocky Cacka-lackeys." Lucky for us one o' them was a medic, eh sir?"
"I agree. Thanks for update, now what the fuck is going down topside?" Eagla went over to his medi-cot to gather his things, but they were gone.
"Here, sir. I got it here for ya," Wild held in his hands a lasgun, monocular, and some emergency rations, which Eagla took with a small smile. "Alright, then. Just a few hours ago, the Space Marines began to drop in about a hundred kilos from here. Gay ass looking yellow armored guys, apparently known as "The Imperial Fist." I'd say they's the Imperial "Fisters" by the looks of 'em. Anyway, this gave those bastard Cadian armies more will to kill, I reckon, an' they managed to break the lines all over th'fuckin' place. They just began artillery on us about an hour ago, and they's moved into bolter range. Rhalian's ain't doin' so hot, an' I figures we got about another hour til we're surrounded and killed."
"So, what you're saying is," Eagla slammed a magazine in his bullpup and grinned. "Our day just got a lot more interesting."
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Day 00, 2334
"Name's Sgt. Rheault. It's pronounced 'Ralt.' This," Rheault pointed to the quiet soldier with nothing but a laspistol. "Is Com-Med Neuf. He's quiet, but'll save yer life. And this--"
"Name's Parker. Private Parker. Glad to meet ya, sir! I'm your blow-the-shit-outta-it guy," Parker stepped forward and with an outstretched hand grabbed Eagla's and gave it a furious shake.
"Well... At least it's good to see some familiar faces, eh?" Eagla replied, shaking his hand free of Parker's deathgrip. The bunker they were all sitting it shook violently, and dirt poured into the small space. "Well, I guess we'd better help them. Damn Rhalians need to learn to fight. Death Corps my fuckin' ass!" Everyone burst into a small chuckling as they loaded up their gear and ran out into the second worst day of their lives.