Editing Trip Into Hell (Warhammer High) (section)

===Driver, Advance!===
The worst part of any battle was the waiting before it began, the agonising period before you went into the fray. And when your foe was a fugging Daemon, it made the whole experience worse. Julius was twitchy, jumpy. They were about to take a step into the unknown. They had got away from the Daemon last time, but that was last time.

“Oll…Julius, its bloody Julius now isn’t it? Anyway, there’s something up there, too big to be a landing ship. Can you see?” Dyllion’s words brought Julius back to reality.
Julius followed Dyllion’s outstretched finger, and sure enough, there was a faint object high above the city.

“Ser, what’s that?” Julius asked, pointing to Dyllion’s faint speck in the sky.
Ahriman lifted the magnoculars to his eyes, pointing them at Julius’s mystery object.

“That’s a Legion Frigate, Gladius class. What it’s doing in the high atmosphere is beyond me, but it must have something to do with the Legion landing forces. Any minute now.”
Within a few minutes Ahriman’s words came true and the skies were filled with fighters, bombers and Landers. Thunderhawks in the olive and white of the Death Guard and the crimson of the Thousand Sons jostled with sea green Stormbirds of the Sons of Horus. Huge Titan landers and bulk Army haulers joined the Legion ships plummeting to earth. Julius had never seen a more spectacular sight. Beyond the walls the call of battle raged, the distant roar of thousands of small arms and the crash of artillery. The Orks were in for it, at long last.

Ahriman clambered back into the Chimera, but left the top hatch open and he stood up in it. He gestured at the others, who swiftly clambered in after him. The back ramp hissed shut behind them. From outside, they could hear the sounds of all the troops mounting up, swiftly drowned out by the roar of engines starting up.
“This is it then?” Scvott asked. Next second the powerplant on their Chimera powered up, rendering speech impossible. The answer was already around him.
Ahriman said two words, barely audible above the roar of the engine.

“Get moving.”
	
“Driver advance!” the call echoed up along the column. The clatter of tracks rose up as the lead Baneblades lurched forth, the column trailing behind them. Ahead, the massive fortress doors opened with a moan of hydraulics for the first time in twenty three days.
They were on their way. Back to the bunker, back to the Daemon.

Summer reached over and took Julius’s hand, ignoring Flynn’s rolled eyes or Dyllion’s perpetual scowl. He couldn’t say anything to her, but this was enough.

For several minutes the convoy ground onwards. Julius could hear noting above the roar of the engine, and he was more focused on holding on for dear life. He’d been in a Chimera before on Terra, but not one driving through a ruined city. It jerked and bounced until Julius though his brains had been mashed inside his skull and he was covered in bruises. He had no idea how far they’d gone, how far they had to go, what the situation was like outside. Lord Ahriman stood rock still with his head poked out of the top hatch, commanding the battle. Julius had no wish to distract him.

Suddenly there was an explosion loud enough to cut over the engine noises. Julius reached for the nearest vision slit, but could see little through the fogged armourglass. A few seconds later another massive explosion came up, and then another. Julius’s curiosity finally overcame his reluctance to distract Ahriman.

“Ser, what is going on out there?”

“Bomb Squigs.” Ahriman muttered as he opened the vox and barked out a warning. A few seconds later, another muffled explosion announced the demise of yet another tank.
The roar came up even above the engine growls and the squeal of tracks, a roar which though he was familiar with it, still chilled Julius to the bone.

“WAAAGH!” 

It was followed by the chatter of Ork weapons, and a few screams from the Caorst troopers caught up in the charge.

“Ser?” Julius asked.

“Orks. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands. The bastards were waiting for us, setting an ambush” he opened the vox. “This is Lord Ahriman; watch your nine, incoming Orks.” The Chimera stopped dead and the back ramp hissed open.

“Stay here.” He commanded as he dashed out. For a few minutes they sat there, watching troops dismount and rush into battle through the open hatch. More and more streamed past, as the crack of lasfire and the roar of battle cannons grew and intensified.
Julius could see they needed help, and he reached down and unbuttoned his holster. “We have to go and help; they will need every man and woman who can handle a Lasgun.”

“The Astartes lord commanded that we stay here, and you may be the son of the bravest man who ever lived but I am not and don’t want him yelling at me once this is done.” Scvott was still wedded to authority even now. Julius didn’t think he would ever learn.

“Suit yourself.” Julius got up and dashed from the Chimera, drawing his pistol as he did so. He did not need to look to know Summer was right behind him, and Flynn behind her.
The situation did not look good. Orks were pouring from the building and side streets, meeting the Caorst troopers in a storm of lasfire and bullets. Already the ground was carpeted in Ork and Caorst dead, and several pyres showed where tanks had been brewed up. Once the sight of all those dead humans would have made Julius sick, but not anymore. Now he gave them no more attention than he would were they the corpses of rats or dogs. It still felt unnatural to feel that way, and he knew he would have a lot of questions for his father when he returned to Terra. If he returned to Terra.

He saw an Ork about to throw a stick grenade and shot it through the head. He threw himself flat beside a dismounted squad and added to the firepower they were putting out. None of the Caorst troopers seemed to notice him, but they had bigger things to worry about.
The Orks were throwing themselves against the Convoy time and time again, wave after wave of green bodies. The urban terrain hampered the armour as they tried to bring their heavy weapons to bear.

Another howling mob of Orks burst out of a side street and rushed towards them. The Chimera’s turret Multilaser and the squad Heavy Bolter tore into them, scattering them. Julius felt that this might be the end of it; the Orks had been driven back. Then he saw it.

“Holy fug,” he whispered.

This time there was no end to this wave, it seemed every Ork left in the city were rushing the convoy at the same time. Was the Daemon responsible? Had it ‘informed’ the Orks of the threat and was it letting them deal with it?

Once again the Imperial forces opened fire, but now it was doing little to stop the onrushing horde. Battle Cannon shells tore holes which were quickly refilled, and Lasgun and heavy bolter fire thinned the ranks but could not stop them.

The front edge of renewed Ork push poured across the last few metres of open ground, losing troops to the sustained rifle volleys at every step. Ten metres, five, two, and still they came.
The concussion of the massed Ork charge meeting the Caorst line sent a ripple of shock back through the infantry as the Orks tore into the now vulnerable human soldiers. At range, the Imperials held the advantage, but once the Orks reached close combat, the tide turned in their favour.

Sense departed. Instinct took over. Julius fired his pistol, and saw an Ork’s head spray apart. He stroked with his sword bayonet, and took the top off a skull. Something hit him in the gut.
Winded, he wheeled, and eviscerated another Ork with his blade, before blasting a third with his pistol.

Around him the Caorst fought with bayonet and rifle butt, fighting not for victory, but mere survival. Julius had no idea how many Imperials had been killed in that charge, if Summer and Flynn were alright, but he couldn’t let himself worry about them. He couldn’t much help them if he was dead.

A Caorst Caporal was gutted before him by an Ork Nob with a power claw. He sank five shots into it before it finally died. His new uniform was baptised in blood. He had no idea who was winning or losing, but the Orks seemed to have the advantage, and it was growing all the time. If something didn’t happen soon, they would all be swept away.
A chain of missiles exploded amongst the Orks, and the endless wave suddenly started to slacken.

“Look!” a Caorst trooper yelled, pointing up. Julius looked up.

Above them hovered the slab-sided form of a Stormeagle gunship, missiles spearing away from the top mounted pods into the Orks. Its boarding ramp was down and a warrior stood upon it. He leapt into the air and hit the ground with a thunderous boom mere metres from the straggling Caorst convoy. Chain-blade whirring, the giant in forest-green levelled his bolt pistol at the nearest Orks.

“Rally! For the freedom of humanity and the glory of Terra!”
Like thunderbolts striking the earth, he was joined by others, warriors in green and black bearing the symbol of the snarling drake on their shoulder guards.
They roared as one as they set upon the Orks.

“Vulkan!”

The warriors of the XVIII Legion joined the fray, and the tide turned.