Post by Hyper Kinetic on Jun 24, 2008 13:58:33 GMT
(wow... i totally did not expect this one to be as long as it turned out... and it is the shortened version after a quick revision in my head)
*****
The Battle for Deck 27
“Men, move in!!!”
It had been a whole thirty minutes since the invasion began. Though they had been in the upper hangars of the ship to begin with, the 36th had been re-tasked to guard the rear of the ship on Level 27. They were to prevent the foe from breaching the engines, utilising any means necessary. After the sweep of this rear rearmost section was complete, Sergeant Thomas Ellion began barking new orders to his men, but was interrupted by their newly attached Commissar, Boris Tredinnick.
“I command this squad now, under the authority given to me by the Imperial Creed.”
“Let's get one thing straight here, Commissar,” Ellion's voice held nothing back of his displeasure of being watched over by the fanatic, “These are my men. I control them. I order them.” The commissar gave a grizzled low growl with gritted teeth. The troops watched on nervously. It was rare for a sergeant to argue back with a commissar. It tended to dramatically shorten their life expectancy. The two leaders eyed off each other, both containing the fiery gaze that allowed them to achieve their respective leadership positions, neither giving the other any sign of weakness. Tyler, a trooper, bravely moved forward. Heart pounding with the tension, he tried unsuccessfully to move between the men.
“Sirs, this isn't helping. We need to get out there to stop them now. Please, let's move on.” Commissar Tredinnick never let his gaze falter.
“Very well, Ellion. You can control your band of men... for now. But, if you are found wanting,” the Laspistol that he brandished was wavering nonchalantly in the direction of Ellion, “I am authorised to execute you.” Another silent second passed before the sergeant broke the stare and recommenced giving the orders.
“On my call, Flamers move through the next room. Five seconds, then Meltas move. Five seconds, then everyone else through.” The men steeled themselves for the unknown dangers that may be lurking in the next room. A moment passed.
“Move, Move, Move!!!” Heeding the call, those with the fuel-laden weapons rushed forward. They made a run to any cover afforded in the bare room. A table and four chairs were all that could be utilised as their eyes flicked in all directions, searching for anything that could be considered a threat. They did not even hint of turning when the next set of running footsteps began behind them. These new soldiers pressed themselves against the walls, aiming their deadly weapons at the doorway opposite their entry point. A second passed before the next wave of men poured into the room brandishing a combination of Lasrifles and Shotguns.
All was silent until, “Flamers, move!” The flamer-wielding men jumped from behind their makeshift cover and dashed into the next area. The entire procession of the well drilled soldiers rolled on. Meltas and then the regulars followed the Flamers into the hallway.
“Cover the doorway, we'll lay some charges.”
The men spread out, some moving forward into the doorway ahead whilst others removed their backpacks and began pulling out explosive devices.
“Very efficient, Ellion,” Commissar Tredinnick mused. His voice held a tone that said that he had seen it all before and didn't much care for this Sergeant. Ellion came back from the previous room, finished with placing warning stickers on the walls near the entrance, and sealed the door.
“Help us with these mines,” Ellion ignored the Commissar as he got to work with with his men. Mines were placed on the walls, the floors and the ceilings. Nothing coming through this way would ever be able to pass this point without triggering their own destruction. They moved into the next room and fanned out as before.
“Soldiers, this is the point of no return.” He made the theatrical gesture of pressing the remote activation button in his hands. A small series of blips from the hallway indicated that the previously inert metal objects that they had been laying throughout the hallway were now dangerously active. “No one moves into that hallway after we leave. It will be sealed from both ends.” Again, a melodramatic hiss of a sealing door signified this would be the last wall that they would be able to use. “Should we fall, this minefield will prevent the enemy from moving onto the engines. Up ahead, we may run into friendly forces. The 60th was on this floor when the alarms were sounded. Eye your targets carefully before opening up on them.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “And WHEN you open up on them, give them no mercy! Let them know that we take no prisoners! Let them know the full fury of the Umbridge 36th!” A round of 'hoo-rahs' went up before Ellion continued. “The mission is set, men. Brace yourselves! Flamers, take point... Go!”
Once again, the men began running through their rehearsed room-clearing pattern.
“You realise that no one comes back this way until the job is done.” It was not a question, it was a cold statement. The commissar's voice was a low dispassionate growl, but loud enough for all of the men still within the room to hear. The Melta carrying men made their move into the next room.
“We will do what is necessary to keep the enemy away from our critical locations.” And with that, Ellion led the charge into the next room.
One minute of sweeping later, and they could hear a noticeable intensifying of the sounds of fighting. Screams of pain were now audible, the barking of orders seeping into the air. They entered the next room, a mess hall with littered with tables, chairs and pillars. The walls were hollowed out in places, lounges and further tables inhabiting these spaces. The order was about to be given to move through the room but a blast of lightning shot through the doorway. The wall on the opposite side of the room had a large cavity resulting from the blast.
“Men, file out! Tip everything over, use it as cover. This will be the place of our central stand!” Quickly looking over the room, Ellion issued more orders. “Lasguns, take the sides. Flamers, near the entrance. Meltas, angle into the hallway!” The Commissar moved towards the doorway and pointed toward two of the Lasgunners.
“You two! Over here! Go and report on the situation!”
Not wishing to face the wrath of a Commissar, the men grimly ran around the corner. As Ellion was making a final check of all the men, the two scouts ran back into the room.
“Johnson, Tyler, report.”
“The squad ahead of us is taking heavy fire and have high casualties. They just forced them back for a third time but they aren't going to hold out much longer!”
The Commissar began to open his mouth to issue an order, but Ellion was quicker.
“Smithy, Jones, Raynor. Follow me – we're going to provide cover for them to retreat into here.”
They braced themselves on the wall of the hall and were about to go when Ellion realised that there was a gun pointed at him.
“I can not allow you to go out there, Ellion.” The Commissar was stoic, unwavering.
“What? Why?”
“No one retreats in the service of the Emperor. They remain out there while you prepare the defence in here.”
“We need the extra manpower!”
Tredinnick remained steadfast. “No one retreats in the service of the Emperor.”
If it weren't for the shouting and screams further down the hallway, there would have been silence. Most of the soldiers looked around, confused. Only Tyler dared move. He edged closer to the back of the Commissar.
“They must be saved!”
“They will all give their lives for the Emperor.”
“But they – NOW!”
Tyler jumped the Commissar, wrenching his gun arm down and away, wrestling him to the ground and keeping Tredinnick's sword arm helplessly pinned beneath him. Tredinnick was so stunned by this turn of events that he couldn't speak, only emitting sounds of struggle. Ellion smiled, baring teeth.
“Tyler, you're getting a commendation after this! Smithy, Jones, Raynor! Let's move!”
They leapt into the hallway, where a scene of destruction awaited them. Oddly, and even though they had been driven away from this area before, there were no fallen Necron warriors. The only trace of their former presence was the sheer devastation in the hall. The walls were pockmarked with divots, scorch marks and fleeting metal flames vicious testimony to the strength of the Necron's Gauss weaponry. The blackened floor held several bodies with charred flesh. Some had been completely penetrated through, leaving gaping holes within their torsos. Some small puddles of promethium liquid were still burning. The stench of burnt promethium, pyrum-petrol, ozone and broiled flesh mixed into a nauseous concoction, swamping the air and flooding the nostrils of the soldiers. Water dripped from the ceiling, the emergency sprinkler system out of pressure in this hallway. The beleaguered Imperial forces ahead had been slowly whittled down and were struggling to hold their position. Their resistance was now limited to the end of the hallway and a few pylons nearby.
“Who's in charge here?” Ellion called out.
“I am!” A grizzled veteran raised his hand, but never took his eye or pistol off the approaching enemy. “Derreck of the Umbridge 60th here.”
After making the mandatory salute, Ellion started talking again.
“Sergeant Ellion of the 36th. I think that you should fall back. This hallway will force them into a choke point and we have organised the mess hall to provide cover to -”
“Ain't nothing going to provide enough cover from this,” Derreck called back.
“I believe you. But I want you to fall back. We can provide cover fire for you to set up back there.”
Derreck thought this over for a few moments before,
“Umbridge 60th, when I give the call, fall back through the hall. We'll set up back there and then – Hedges look out!” Ellion and his party had just started moving out of the hallway to set up when they saw a blade attached to a gun swing around a pylon and into one of the 60ths men, cutting deep into thorax. He didn't have enough time to breathe a scream as the skeletal warrior wrenched the dripping blade out of its victim, before it was mowed down by massed fire. Even as it was falling, the downed Necron was beginning to glow. A loud crack and it disappeared, teleported to some unknown structure on the planet.
“Fall back!”
The few remaining Guardsmen jumped across into the hallway, one losing his head to the lightning. The remaining body slammed down hard on the floor, adding to the mutilated wrecks already there. Those left of the 60th ran towards the mess hall while Ellion's charges kept watch near the hallway's entrance, firing their weapons into the lumbering metallic warriors. Those that were hit seemed to shrug it off, as if being hit by a ball.
“Fall back!”
The four men jumped out of the hallway, but Jones was too slow. He screamed in agony as his legs were heavily cauterised by a streak of lightning. The other three turned in time to see the faint glow disappear from the wound sites and the hideous injuries show themselves fully. His right leg was basically non-existent, save for a few shreds of stringy muscle and skin dangling uselessly from his hip. His lower leg had detached and tumbled uselessly on the ground in front of them. On his left thigh, much of the skin and muscle shielding the bone had been vapourised. Remnants of his pant leg were smouldering, burning into the remaining blackened skin, muscle and bone tissue. Wide-eyed, Jones pitifully hopped forward twice before collapsing. Putrefying blisters already were forming on the edges of the burn.
“Jones!” Smith was the first to move, grabbing his mate's flailing arms. The others joined in to half-drag him through the corridor but couldn't carry the frantic man far as his body contorted and he threw up, the pain becoming too much to hold inside.
“Guys...” Jones panted in between convulsions, “You gotta go... I'll hold... them up. Pass me a weapon.” Smith refused to let go, but Raynor nodded and picked up a flamer from one of the nearby fallen.
“Blaze o' glory, brother...” Smithy quietly whispered.
“May the Emperor help us...” his friend smiled meekly back, holding back another choking fit.
“Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, Jones...” Ellion's gaze flicked up as he noticed a blade moving around the corner. “May the Emperor guide you.” With those parting words, Ellion tore Smith away and ran to the temporary safety of the mess hall.
He had hardly made it all the way around when Derreck yelled at him.
“Ellion, why is your man holding a Commissar in a restraining position?!?” Ellion took a look at the scene. Tyler still had the man pinned, but the Commissar had now been disarmed completely: his pistol and sabre spread metres in front of him. He had already ceased his futile struggles.
“We needed your squad, but he wouldn't let us go out and order your retreat.” Ellion recovered his breath. “Would you have preferred for us not to?”
“Well...” Derreck shrugged his shoulders, “when you put it like that, I guess that -” He was cut off by shouting from the corridor.
“DIE METAL BASTARDS! IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME, BURN!!!” Jones unleashed flaming gouts from his weapon. “BURN IN THE WARP, FOUL -” A crack was heard over the top of the noise of the flamer, followed by a sharp gurgling sound. A metal foot stood upon Jones' chest, breaking ribs and puncturing organs. A sickening loud wet crack signified the end of Jones, another metal foot crushing his skull. Many of the troopers shifted uncomfortably, the fearful knowledge that they could be next showing on their grim faces. The room was silent, with only the final sputtering of the flamer and the pounding of massed metallic movement in the corridor outside audible.
“Faithful unto death...” Ellion whispered. Regaining his composure, he started rousing the faltering men. “Men of Umbridge, you have just witnessed the braveness of our people. Let Jones' sacrifice not be in vain! Fight until the end!” His punched the air. “Fight for The Interminable!” He punched the air again. “Fight for the Emperor!” The men joined him in the final punch with a rousing roar, their spirit and will to fight on restored. Ellion moved to Tredinnick and Tyler. The Commissar's face was contorted with rage, his head swollen with bloody fury.
“When I get out of here,” he scowled, “your court-martial will be full of pain.”
“I don't care, you need to help us.” Ellion pointed to the doorway. “One enemy at a time.” He darted behind one of the makeshift barricades and ordered Tyler to release him. And not a moment too soon because the hulking metal soldiers began rounding the corner. The Commissar had a quick moment to hastily grab his pistol and duck behind the nearest cover before hearing the roar, “FIRE!”
All hell broke loose as the men broke their cover. The temperature in the room instantly soared with the use of the flamer and melta weapons, drawing sweat from the soldiers. The light was nearly blinding as the front two Necron warriors were instantly melted in the intense inferno. Scintillating sparks bounced off the skins of the lifeless soldiers marching inexorably to their doom in the coruscating light. Several gauss shots fired through the conflagration, harmlessly hitting the wall opposite. Red laser streaks could now be made out as the promethium smoke billowed through the air. The fire alarms bellowed their warning cries as recycled water sprinklers shot their soothing spray over the room in futile attempts to halt the deliberate inferno. Near the pyre, the water did not even get close to the ground as it was vapourised in mid air by the searing temperatures. Such was the ferocity of this opening salvo that the entry way could be heard to creak under the energy being focussed at that point.
But the fire could not last forever. Almost as one, the flamers had to be reloaded and the hellfire dimmed. Even though they were being incinerated, the Necron warriors tirelessly progressed through the blinding smoke and flames until they could make out individual targets. One by one, they aimed their horrifying weapons around the room and fired return shots. Several shouts of pain rose from the mass of Imperial troops. The noise from increased lightning fire drowned out the screams.
“Grenades!” One squad warned the rest. The flamer squad dropped flat to the floor, awaiting the imminent blasts. The Necron ranks in the hallway exploded as the fragmentation devices released their energetic payloads. Two warriors were shredded and made their teleportation back to their tomb structure. Several more fell backwards, temporarily halting the swelling numbers of Necrons entering the mess hall.
“Keep firing men!” Both sergeants and the commissar were yelling their encouragement to the slowly dwindling numbers of men. “Hold them out!”
The walking skeletal figures already inside advanced further, raining lightning death on more of the soldiers. The melta wielding soldiers were getting hit the hardest. Their improvised furniture barricades had been torn through many times by the flaying gauss blasts and they were down to a small group of individuals.
“Sirs,” one called, “We're running out of men!”
“Umbridge 60th!” The booming voice of Sergeant Derrick was very distinct, even over the noise of the battle. “Cross to the other side!” The remaining 60th forces leapt from their positions and sprinted like men possessed across the devastated battle zone. Several lost their lives to the tracking Gauss fire in the suicidal sprint. Only four remained, including Derrick, by the time they launched themselves over the riddled tables. They scrounged the dead and dying for their precious weapons and took aim again.
The flamers started back up but were no longer focused. Instead of one giant fireball, they spread their waves over the area. The gaunt figures continued on, almost unharmed by this weakened fiery assault. The flaring liquid stuck on their relentless bodies, their flaming appearance now the stuff of nightmares.
“Flamers,” Ellion called over the cacophony of screams, “Focus fire! The doorway! They must not be allowed further!” The fire trails swung to the doorway, but some were unable to make it. The lightning fire was now making inroads to the flamers and the massed ranks of Imperial troops. Lasgunners were falling as they were being shot through the aluminium tables. Several of the flamer-carrying men lay flat just to avoid the new intensity of return fire.
“Get up you unworthy swine!” The Commissar turned his pistol from the attackers to the men cowering beside him. One looked up grimly at him and collapsed back down. “Traitor! By the power bestowed on me, under the Imperial Creed, I find you unworthy of the most righteous Emperor!” He centered the laspistol on the soldier's head and fired, the man going limp instantly. “All of you, back up! Fight for all you are worth!” The dispirited men picked up their weapons and turned back to the menace entering the room, holding down their triggers in despairing resolve.
Blasts rocked the table Ellion was hiding behind. Lightning punched through first on his left side, then his right, before he lay flat on the ground and waited for the lightning to be aimed in another direction. He determined that there was a lessening in shots coming vaguely in his direction and popped his head up to survey the carnage.
The mist caused by the sprinkler system was clearing and the spray had become trickles dripping from the ceiling. The thickening smoke, however, remained hovering in the air, creating an eerie aura and a sense of foreboding. The acrid smell of chemical burning and ozone filled his nose and nearly overpowered all of his other senses. But there was one sense that was more frightfully alert than this. The sight of the alien warriors pouring through the flaming doorway, their lumbering advance seeming to never end regardless of the losses they took, filled him with dread. Half-bodies lay all around. Some were missing parts of their chest, others a limb, others still suffering horrendous burns over their disfigured broken bodies. Those still fighting held a common visage of hopelessness, the despair and horror of the situation switching off their minds and focussing them only at the task at hand.
He ducked back down and took a deep breath and he prepared to give the order to retreat. The order never came. A gauss blast flayed the skin and muscle from his left hand side after it penetrated the table he was hiding behind. First his arm, then his ribs, lungs and heart, were torn away from him, atom by atom in excruciating agony, before he lost consciousness.
The sergeant collapsed in the room with the rest of his men, the Commissar's previous show of disregard for life holding the other men in check right down to the last. Though they inflicted a heavy toll on the invaders, the Necron's resilience prevailed. The battered legion marched on. They encountered what they perceived to be a locked doorway. They blasted through it and marched into the minefield trap. The subsequent blast not only liquified some of the invaders but also caused a section of The Interminable's hull to be ejected into the cold depths of space. Those that remained animated were callously sucked out of the vessel, unable to reach their intended goal. They teleported back to the surface of the planet, awaiting their next deployment.
*****
*****
The Battle for Deck 27
“Men, move in!!!”
It had been a whole thirty minutes since the invasion began. Though they had been in the upper hangars of the ship to begin with, the 36th had been re-tasked to guard the rear of the ship on Level 27. They were to prevent the foe from breaching the engines, utilising any means necessary. After the sweep of this rear rearmost section was complete, Sergeant Thomas Ellion began barking new orders to his men, but was interrupted by their newly attached Commissar, Boris Tredinnick.
“I command this squad now, under the authority given to me by the Imperial Creed.”
“Let's get one thing straight here, Commissar,” Ellion's voice held nothing back of his displeasure of being watched over by the fanatic, “These are my men. I control them. I order them.” The commissar gave a grizzled low growl with gritted teeth. The troops watched on nervously. It was rare for a sergeant to argue back with a commissar. It tended to dramatically shorten their life expectancy. The two leaders eyed off each other, both containing the fiery gaze that allowed them to achieve their respective leadership positions, neither giving the other any sign of weakness. Tyler, a trooper, bravely moved forward. Heart pounding with the tension, he tried unsuccessfully to move between the men.
“Sirs, this isn't helping. We need to get out there to stop them now. Please, let's move on.” Commissar Tredinnick never let his gaze falter.
“Very well, Ellion. You can control your band of men... for now. But, if you are found wanting,” the Laspistol that he brandished was wavering nonchalantly in the direction of Ellion, “I am authorised to execute you.” Another silent second passed before the sergeant broke the stare and recommenced giving the orders.
“On my call, Flamers move through the next room. Five seconds, then Meltas move. Five seconds, then everyone else through.” The men steeled themselves for the unknown dangers that may be lurking in the next room. A moment passed.
“Move, Move, Move!!!” Heeding the call, those with the fuel-laden weapons rushed forward. They made a run to any cover afforded in the bare room. A table and four chairs were all that could be utilised as their eyes flicked in all directions, searching for anything that could be considered a threat. They did not even hint of turning when the next set of running footsteps began behind them. These new soldiers pressed themselves against the walls, aiming their deadly weapons at the doorway opposite their entry point. A second passed before the next wave of men poured into the room brandishing a combination of Lasrifles and Shotguns.
All was silent until, “Flamers, move!” The flamer-wielding men jumped from behind their makeshift cover and dashed into the next area. The entire procession of the well drilled soldiers rolled on. Meltas and then the regulars followed the Flamers into the hallway.
“Cover the doorway, we'll lay some charges.”
The men spread out, some moving forward into the doorway ahead whilst others removed their backpacks and began pulling out explosive devices.
“Very efficient, Ellion,” Commissar Tredinnick mused. His voice held a tone that said that he had seen it all before and didn't much care for this Sergeant. Ellion came back from the previous room, finished with placing warning stickers on the walls near the entrance, and sealed the door.
“Help us with these mines,” Ellion ignored the Commissar as he got to work with with his men. Mines were placed on the walls, the floors and the ceilings. Nothing coming through this way would ever be able to pass this point without triggering their own destruction. They moved into the next room and fanned out as before.
“Soldiers, this is the point of no return.” He made the theatrical gesture of pressing the remote activation button in his hands. A small series of blips from the hallway indicated that the previously inert metal objects that they had been laying throughout the hallway were now dangerously active. “No one moves into that hallway after we leave. It will be sealed from both ends.” Again, a melodramatic hiss of a sealing door signified this would be the last wall that they would be able to use. “Should we fall, this minefield will prevent the enemy from moving onto the engines. Up ahead, we may run into friendly forces. The 60th was on this floor when the alarms were sounded. Eye your targets carefully before opening up on them.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “And WHEN you open up on them, give them no mercy! Let them know that we take no prisoners! Let them know the full fury of the Umbridge 36th!” A round of 'hoo-rahs' went up before Ellion continued. “The mission is set, men. Brace yourselves! Flamers, take point... Go!”
Once again, the men began running through their rehearsed room-clearing pattern.
“You realise that no one comes back this way until the job is done.” It was not a question, it was a cold statement. The commissar's voice was a low dispassionate growl, but loud enough for all of the men still within the room to hear. The Melta carrying men made their move into the next room.
“We will do what is necessary to keep the enemy away from our critical locations.” And with that, Ellion led the charge into the next room.
One minute of sweeping later, and they could hear a noticeable intensifying of the sounds of fighting. Screams of pain were now audible, the barking of orders seeping into the air. They entered the next room, a mess hall with littered with tables, chairs and pillars. The walls were hollowed out in places, lounges and further tables inhabiting these spaces. The order was about to be given to move through the room but a blast of lightning shot through the doorway. The wall on the opposite side of the room had a large cavity resulting from the blast.
“Men, file out! Tip everything over, use it as cover. This will be the place of our central stand!” Quickly looking over the room, Ellion issued more orders. “Lasguns, take the sides. Flamers, near the entrance. Meltas, angle into the hallway!” The Commissar moved towards the doorway and pointed toward two of the Lasgunners.
“You two! Over here! Go and report on the situation!”
Not wishing to face the wrath of a Commissar, the men grimly ran around the corner. As Ellion was making a final check of all the men, the two scouts ran back into the room.
“Johnson, Tyler, report.”
“The squad ahead of us is taking heavy fire and have high casualties. They just forced them back for a third time but they aren't going to hold out much longer!”
The Commissar began to open his mouth to issue an order, but Ellion was quicker.
“Smithy, Jones, Raynor. Follow me – we're going to provide cover for them to retreat into here.”
They braced themselves on the wall of the hall and were about to go when Ellion realised that there was a gun pointed at him.
“I can not allow you to go out there, Ellion.” The Commissar was stoic, unwavering.
“What? Why?”
“No one retreats in the service of the Emperor. They remain out there while you prepare the defence in here.”
“We need the extra manpower!”
Tredinnick remained steadfast. “No one retreats in the service of the Emperor.”
If it weren't for the shouting and screams further down the hallway, there would have been silence. Most of the soldiers looked around, confused. Only Tyler dared move. He edged closer to the back of the Commissar.
“They must be saved!”
“They will all give their lives for the Emperor.”
“But they – NOW!”
Tyler jumped the Commissar, wrenching his gun arm down and away, wrestling him to the ground and keeping Tredinnick's sword arm helplessly pinned beneath him. Tredinnick was so stunned by this turn of events that he couldn't speak, only emitting sounds of struggle. Ellion smiled, baring teeth.
“Tyler, you're getting a commendation after this! Smithy, Jones, Raynor! Let's move!”
They leapt into the hallway, where a scene of destruction awaited them. Oddly, and even though they had been driven away from this area before, there were no fallen Necron warriors. The only trace of their former presence was the sheer devastation in the hall. The walls were pockmarked with divots, scorch marks and fleeting metal flames vicious testimony to the strength of the Necron's Gauss weaponry. The blackened floor held several bodies with charred flesh. Some had been completely penetrated through, leaving gaping holes within their torsos. Some small puddles of promethium liquid were still burning. The stench of burnt promethium, pyrum-petrol, ozone and broiled flesh mixed into a nauseous concoction, swamping the air and flooding the nostrils of the soldiers. Water dripped from the ceiling, the emergency sprinkler system out of pressure in this hallway. The beleaguered Imperial forces ahead had been slowly whittled down and were struggling to hold their position. Their resistance was now limited to the end of the hallway and a few pylons nearby.
“Who's in charge here?” Ellion called out.
“I am!” A grizzled veteran raised his hand, but never took his eye or pistol off the approaching enemy. “Derreck of the Umbridge 60th here.”
After making the mandatory salute, Ellion started talking again.
“Sergeant Ellion of the 36th. I think that you should fall back. This hallway will force them into a choke point and we have organised the mess hall to provide cover to -”
“Ain't nothing going to provide enough cover from this,” Derreck called back.
“I believe you. But I want you to fall back. We can provide cover fire for you to set up back there.”
Derreck thought this over for a few moments before,
“Umbridge 60th, when I give the call, fall back through the hall. We'll set up back there and then – Hedges look out!” Ellion and his party had just started moving out of the hallway to set up when they saw a blade attached to a gun swing around a pylon and into one of the 60ths men, cutting deep into thorax. He didn't have enough time to breathe a scream as the skeletal warrior wrenched the dripping blade out of its victim, before it was mowed down by massed fire. Even as it was falling, the downed Necron was beginning to glow. A loud crack and it disappeared, teleported to some unknown structure on the planet.
“Fall back!”
The few remaining Guardsmen jumped across into the hallway, one losing his head to the lightning. The remaining body slammed down hard on the floor, adding to the mutilated wrecks already there. Those left of the 60th ran towards the mess hall while Ellion's charges kept watch near the hallway's entrance, firing their weapons into the lumbering metallic warriors. Those that were hit seemed to shrug it off, as if being hit by a ball.
“Fall back!”
The four men jumped out of the hallway, but Jones was too slow. He screamed in agony as his legs were heavily cauterised by a streak of lightning. The other three turned in time to see the faint glow disappear from the wound sites and the hideous injuries show themselves fully. His right leg was basically non-existent, save for a few shreds of stringy muscle and skin dangling uselessly from his hip. His lower leg had detached and tumbled uselessly on the ground in front of them. On his left thigh, much of the skin and muscle shielding the bone had been vapourised. Remnants of his pant leg were smouldering, burning into the remaining blackened skin, muscle and bone tissue. Wide-eyed, Jones pitifully hopped forward twice before collapsing. Putrefying blisters already were forming on the edges of the burn.
“Jones!” Smith was the first to move, grabbing his mate's flailing arms. The others joined in to half-drag him through the corridor but couldn't carry the frantic man far as his body contorted and he threw up, the pain becoming too much to hold inside.
“Guys...” Jones panted in between convulsions, “You gotta go... I'll hold... them up. Pass me a weapon.” Smith refused to let go, but Raynor nodded and picked up a flamer from one of the nearby fallen.
“Blaze o' glory, brother...” Smithy quietly whispered.
“May the Emperor help us...” his friend smiled meekly back, holding back another choking fit.
“Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, Jones...” Ellion's gaze flicked up as he noticed a blade moving around the corner. “May the Emperor guide you.” With those parting words, Ellion tore Smith away and ran to the temporary safety of the mess hall.
He had hardly made it all the way around when Derreck yelled at him.
“Ellion, why is your man holding a Commissar in a restraining position?!?” Ellion took a look at the scene. Tyler still had the man pinned, but the Commissar had now been disarmed completely: his pistol and sabre spread metres in front of him. He had already ceased his futile struggles.
“We needed your squad, but he wouldn't let us go out and order your retreat.” Ellion recovered his breath. “Would you have preferred for us not to?”
“Well...” Derreck shrugged his shoulders, “when you put it like that, I guess that -” He was cut off by shouting from the corridor.
“DIE METAL BASTARDS! IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME, BURN!!!” Jones unleashed flaming gouts from his weapon. “BURN IN THE WARP, FOUL -” A crack was heard over the top of the noise of the flamer, followed by a sharp gurgling sound. A metal foot stood upon Jones' chest, breaking ribs and puncturing organs. A sickening loud wet crack signified the end of Jones, another metal foot crushing his skull. Many of the troopers shifted uncomfortably, the fearful knowledge that they could be next showing on their grim faces. The room was silent, with only the final sputtering of the flamer and the pounding of massed metallic movement in the corridor outside audible.
“Faithful unto death...” Ellion whispered. Regaining his composure, he started rousing the faltering men. “Men of Umbridge, you have just witnessed the braveness of our people. Let Jones' sacrifice not be in vain! Fight until the end!” His punched the air. “Fight for The Interminable!” He punched the air again. “Fight for the Emperor!” The men joined him in the final punch with a rousing roar, their spirit and will to fight on restored. Ellion moved to Tredinnick and Tyler. The Commissar's face was contorted with rage, his head swollen with bloody fury.
“When I get out of here,” he scowled, “your court-martial will be full of pain.”
“I don't care, you need to help us.” Ellion pointed to the doorway. “One enemy at a time.” He darted behind one of the makeshift barricades and ordered Tyler to release him. And not a moment too soon because the hulking metal soldiers began rounding the corner. The Commissar had a quick moment to hastily grab his pistol and duck behind the nearest cover before hearing the roar, “FIRE!”
All hell broke loose as the men broke their cover. The temperature in the room instantly soared with the use of the flamer and melta weapons, drawing sweat from the soldiers. The light was nearly blinding as the front two Necron warriors were instantly melted in the intense inferno. Scintillating sparks bounced off the skins of the lifeless soldiers marching inexorably to their doom in the coruscating light. Several gauss shots fired through the conflagration, harmlessly hitting the wall opposite. Red laser streaks could now be made out as the promethium smoke billowed through the air. The fire alarms bellowed their warning cries as recycled water sprinklers shot their soothing spray over the room in futile attempts to halt the deliberate inferno. Near the pyre, the water did not even get close to the ground as it was vapourised in mid air by the searing temperatures. Such was the ferocity of this opening salvo that the entry way could be heard to creak under the energy being focussed at that point.
But the fire could not last forever. Almost as one, the flamers had to be reloaded and the hellfire dimmed. Even though they were being incinerated, the Necron warriors tirelessly progressed through the blinding smoke and flames until they could make out individual targets. One by one, they aimed their horrifying weapons around the room and fired return shots. Several shouts of pain rose from the mass of Imperial troops. The noise from increased lightning fire drowned out the screams.
“Grenades!” One squad warned the rest. The flamer squad dropped flat to the floor, awaiting the imminent blasts. The Necron ranks in the hallway exploded as the fragmentation devices released their energetic payloads. Two warriors were shredded and made their teleportation back to their tomb structure. Several more fell backwards, temporarily halting the swelling numbers of Necrons entering the mess hall.
“Keep firing men!” Both sergeants and the commissar were yelling their encouragement to the slowly dwindling numbers of men. “Hold them out!”
The walking skeletal figures already inside advanced further, raining lightning death on more of the soldiers. The melta wielding soldiers were getting hit the hardest. Their improvised furniture barricades had been torn through many times by the flaying gauss blasts and they were down to a small group of individuals.
“Sirs,” one called, “We're running out of men!”
“Umbridge 60th!” The booming voice of Sergeant Derrick was very distinct, even over the noise of the battle. “Cross to the other side!” The remaining 60th forces leapt from their positions and sprinted like men possessed across the devastated battle zone. Several lost their lives to the tracking Gauss fire in the suicidal sprint. Only four remained, including Derrick, by the time they launched themselves over the riddled tables. They scrounged the dead and dying for their precious weapons and took aim again.
The flamers started back up but were no longer focused. Instead of one giant fireball, they spread their waves over the area. The gaunt figures continued on, almost unharmed by this weakened fiery assault. The flaring liquid stuck on their relentless bodies, their flaming appearance now the stuff of nightmares.
“Flamers,” Ellion called over the cacophony of screams, “Focus fire! The doorway! They must not be allowed further!” The fire trails swung to the doorway, but some were unable to make it. The lightning fire was now making inroads to the flamers and the massed ranks of Imperial troops. Lasgunners were falling as they were being shot through the aluminium tables. Several of the flamer-carrying men lay flat just to avoid the new intensity of return fire.
“Get up you unworthy swine!” The Commissar turned his pistol from the attackers to the men cowering beside him. One looked up grimly at him and collapsed back down. “Traitor! By the power bestowed on me, under the Imperial Creed, I find you unworthy of the most righteous Emperor!” He centered the laspistol on the soldier's head and fired, the man going limp instantly. “All of you, back up! Fight for all you are worth!” The dispirited men picked up their weapons and turned back to the menace entering the room, holding down their triggers in despairing resolve.
Blasts rocked the table Ellion was hiding behind. Lightning punched through first on his left side, then his right, before he lay flat on the ground and waited for the lightning to be aimed in another direction. He determined that there was a lessening in shots coming vaguely in his direction and popped his head up to survey the carnage.
The mist caused by the sprinkler system was clearing and the spray had become trickles dripping from the ceiling. The thickening smoke, however, remained hovering in the air, creating an eerie aura and a sense of foreboding. The acrid smell of chemical burning and ozone filled his nose and nearly overpowered all of his other senses. But there was one sense that was more frightfully alert than this. The sight of the alien warriors pouring through the flaming doorway, their lumbering advance seeming to never end regardless of the losses they took, filled him with dread. Half-bodies lay all around. Some were missing parts of their chest, others a limb, others still suffering horrendous burns over their disfigured broken bodies. Those still fighting held a common visage of hopelessness, the despair and horror of the situation switching off their minds and focussing them only at the task at hand.
He ducked back down and took a deep breath and he prepared to give the order to retreat. The order never came. A gauss blast flayed the skin and muscle from his left hand side after it penetrated the table he was hiding behind. First his arm, then his ribs, lungs and heart, were torn away from him, atom by atom in excruciating agony, before he lost consciousness.
The sergeant collapsed in the room with the rest of his men, the Commissar's previous show of disregard for life holding the other men in check right down to the last. Though they inflicted a heavy toll on the invaders, the Necron's resilience prevailed. The battered legion marched on. They encountered what they perceived to be a locked doorway. They blasted through it and marched into the minefield trap. The subsequent blast not only liquified some of the invaders but also caused a section of The Interminable's hull to be ejected into the cold depths of space. Those that remained animated were callously sucked out of the vessel, unable to reach their intended goal. They teleported back to the surface of the planet, awaiting their next deployment.
*****
