Editing Terindom Civil Reparation Regiment (section)

===The First Drop===
Sergeant Browton double checked the magazine lock on his lasrifle a third time. It was an archaic pattern from the Lierpuul forge world, a Lierpuul mk IV, specially granted to the Sky Sharks for their role as air cavalry and drop troopers. Greatly reduced cowling, a detachable wire-stock, and a side-feeding magazine all gave the gun a truly unique look, ubiquitous to the regiment that bore them. The rifle in question was battered and scratched, its parts all mismatched from being replaced half a dozen times. The grizzled Veteran Sergeant remembered when he had first been issued the gun, years ago upon his induction into the vaunted Terindom 19th.
	
The Intercom in the passenger compartment of the Valkyrie cracked with static and came to life, the distorted and tinny voice of the pilot coming through. “Commencing attack run. 15 minutes to drop.” The compartment where Browton sat was momentarily shrouded in darkness as the dim, loading lights switched over to the glowing red of the combat lights.
	
It was nearly time, thought Browton to as he adjusted his maroon beret, a piece of kit unique to the Sky Sharks alone out of all the Terindom regiments. A blast helmet, like those worn by the Elysian troopers or the Harakoni Warhawks would have been more appropriate for a regiment of drop troopers, but then, the Terindom 19th were unlike any other. No member of the Elite corps would be caught dead without his maroon beret on. Bearing the Maroon was a badge of honour. It meant you were the best of the best Terindom had to offer.
	
Browton handed his lasrifle to corporal Williams, his second, and stoop up to look at his men, 9 of them, huddled in two rows of five on either side of the cabin. Himself, Williams, and eight greenies, fresh from their training grounds back on Terindom. The troopers had never seen real combat before in their lives, just the mock battles and training simulations back at Skybase. Their young, unlined faces glowing blood-red from the battle-lights.
	
“Boys,” Browton began “I’m not going to sugar-coat this. We’re in for a real fekk-show when we hit the ground. You all remember the briefing.” The briefing seemed so long ago. In reality it had been less than six hours before now when they had received the word they would be dropping tonight. The Sky Sharks had only fully finished deployment to the planet’s surface just that morning. Browton didn’t even know the throne-damned hunk of rock’s name. “This is the real deal now” he continued, knowing that if his words could keep even one of these men alive that otherwise wouldn’t be he would be satisfied. “Just follow my orders, keep your heads down, and shoot anything that doesn’t have the maroon.”

He surveyed the raw troopers, each looking back at him with a mixture of fear and determination for the fight ahead. Browton knew that as the second wave of a line-drop they would have the hardest fight ahead. The first wave always had the element of surprise, drops ships swooping in out of the dark sky one moment, and disgorging their payloads of troops the next, the troops hitting the ground and opening fire before the enemy was even aware they were under attack. The third wave always had the knowledge that they were dropping into a secure drop-zone and wouldn’t take casualties until they moved into the fighting. The second wave had to drop onto an enemy who, by now, was fully aware of the attack and take over in securing the landing zone for the arrival of the third wave and the support units. The second wave always took the highest casualties in line-drop actions.

Browton’s unit would be lucky to survive the drop, never mind get to their platoon’s objective.

[[File:Sky Shark 3.gif|FIGHT LIKE BASTARDS! DIE LIKE HEROES!|thumb]]

“Algie fer tha love ah th’Emprah, turn a diff’rent shade ah green boy!” called out the irrepressible Corporal Williams, breaking the silence. “Yar gonna blend in wi’ th’ wall lad.” The exclamation served to cut the tension in the cabin, managing to get a couple forced laughs at the expense of the terrified and queasy trooper.
	
The Squad lapsed back into silence again, the roar of the scram-jets once again filling the ears of each man. Some hummed songs softly to themselves, some prayed to the God-Emperor to see them through the fighting, Browton took his lasrifle back from Williams and checked all the parts and the power-pack charge level again.
	
After some minutes had passed the pilot’s voice squawked through the intercom again, “five minutes to drop. Better hold on to something gents, it’s about to get choppy out there; we’re about to hit the flak screen.”
	
As if the pilot’s warning was a cue, the Valkyrie started to shake and rattle, and the muffled explosions of anti-aircraft fire could be head outside the thin armour of the cabin. Browton heard a sharp intake of breath from the each of the troopers in the squad. Corporal William’s eyes lit up in anticipation, eagerly awaiting the certain-to-be-brutal fighting ahead. The Corporal had never quite been the same after the head wound he had taken in three campaigns ago. Trooper Algie violently threw up into a paper bag.
	
“Steady on now lads” Browton warned, his voice almost drowned out by the sheer amount of flak exploding around the aircraft. “Check Harnesses!” He ordered and each trooper triple-checked the harness of the man beside him and flashed the ‘ok’ symbol to Browton. “Check weapons!” he called out after allowing his own harness to be checked. Each trooper checked that his lasgun was firmly clipped into his harness and that the magazines were locked in place.
	
Trooper Robbs nervously started to fix his bayonet to the end of his rifle. “No stickers ‘till ya hit tha ground trooper!” admonished Corporal Williams upon seeing this, “cannae have ya greenies accidentally cutting tha line when ya go down, can we!?” Thoroughly chastised, the trooper reluctantly put the bayonet back in its sheathe and secured it.
	
“Two minutes to drop” squawked the intercom again “opening cabin.” A wall of sound greeted the men when the ramp at the back of the Valkyrie slowly opened.
	
“Clip in!” yelled Browton above the din, and all ten men stood up and clipped their harnesses into one of the deployment lines running the length of the cabin on each side and ending in a large coil at Browton and William’s feet.
	
The whole aircraft was shaking as it decelerated, the noise from the fighting below was drowning out even the scram-jets of the Valkyrie. The distinct whip-cracks from the lasrifles of the first wave, the chatter of the autoguns stolen from the manufactorums by the traitors and pressed into service for their rebellion, and the rapid, hard, concussive bangs of heavy bolters used by both sides marked the fighting around the DZ and added to the deafening noise of the flak. Browton could not hear the distinct fizzle of Lascannons though, nor the hollow pop of mortars being fired. Support weapons were often too bulky and heavy to drop in with the troops until the DZs could be secured and could only be landed just after the third wave’s arrival. Until then the troops of the Terindom 19th could only rely on their trusted lasguns and a precious few missile launchers. The lack of the distinctive sounds of lascannons and mortars meant that they had gotten lucky and the enemy didn’t have any in this sector.
	
“Thirty seconds!” came the voice of the pilot again, strained with the effort of holding the Valkyrie steady amid the gunfire and explosions. “Deploy lines!”
	
Sergeant Browton and Corporal Williams both kicked the lines at their feet out the back of the Valkyrie and into the fighting below. The Valkyrie had been dumping speed and altitude at an obscene rate for the last several minutes of the approach and was almost in a straight hover now, eighty feet above the fierce battles raging through the winding streets of the hab-block below as it approached the DZ.
	
The sergeant turned to his men one last time and yelled “remember lads,” his deep baritone cutting across the din of war and he shouted the first line of the famous Terindom 19th “Sky Sharks” battle-cry and unofficial regimental motto.

“Fight like bastards!” The sergeant called.

“DIE LIKE HEROES!” nine men roared back in reply.
	
“Green light!” yelled out Corporal Williams as the illumination of the cabin changed from red to green, the signal to commence deployment.
	
Sergeant Browton turned hurled himself out of the cabin of the aircraft into thin air. The automated arrestor clip that attached his harness to the drop-line would kick in at a pre-set height to slow his descent and have him hit the ground at a reasonable speed, but for the first few seconds of the drop, Browton remained in full free-fall as he plummeted down into the fighting below.