Editing Trip Into Hell (Warhammer High) (section)

===Taking Command and Signing Up===
The Seadelant military command building was located beside the Governor’s palace at the very top of the hill the city was built upon. Like most of the buildings, it resembled a rounded pyramid with an observation dome on the top. Ahriman all but crashed through the door, briefly acknowledging the existence of the sentries before barging past them, ignoring their admittedly half hearted protests. What mortal would argue with a Marine in Battleplate, who obviously meant business? He reached the main room, patterned on a starship’s command deck with rows of screens above security consoles along the walls and a single massive window overlooking the Spaceport. An image of the Space Hulk was projected on the large Holodesk situated in the centre of the room, with several aides pouring over the fragmentary data the probes recovered. Graf Trakeria, supreme commander of the Seadelant PDF stood there flanked by the Planet’s Senior Astropath and Governor Shroe. Instead of talking about potential invasion scenarios or plans for defending the planet, they were talking about the last load of messages sent out before the distress call, with the Astropath apparently concerned about one outbound for Nocturne of all places. He had no time for that sort of thing; he needed to force some sense into them before they made a mistake which would cost the Imperium dearly.

“Lord Ahriman, we’ve been hoping you would join us. Of all the things that could happen, we had to get a full on Ork Space Hulk bearing down on our planet. What were the chances of that?”

Ahriman needed to cut to the chase, but as gently as possible. He didn’t want to offend them, or simply cut over them and take over. He was no arrogant Word Bearer or Emperor’s Child. “Believe me, there are many worse things that Hulk could have been. A Hellship for one, but that’s beside the point. The point is there’s 50 million Greenskins on that hulk, heading straight for this planet with one aim in mind: conquering and looting this world.”

“50 Million? How do you know exactly?”

“Because I saw them with my own eyes.”

“What do you mean, you…oh. Oh.” He hadn’t advertised his psychic potential to them, but they all had heard of his reputation. They just hadn’t expected it to be demonstrated in such circumstances.

“Yes. I’d like to hear what your plan is for dealing with this invasion. You’re sending the Defence Monitors out at the Hulk?”

“Yes, as well as every system ship we can muster. We would have the two Frigates up there with them, but both are not yet fully refurbished. A blasted shame the Mars Class Battlecruiser Thunder’s Fury left yesterday, else we would get the use of its Nova Cannon against the Green Menace. We don’t want the green scum setting foot upon our world, not in a thousand years. Why, do you have something with that plan?”

“My apologies Madam, but yes I do. Being honest, your plan is stupid. Foolhardy and stupid both.” He ignored the shocked expressions on their faces, and the looks he was getting from those personnel elsewhere in the room. They had to know. “That hulk is several kilometres across and studded in hundreds of guns, and you think your Defence Monitors can hope to destroy it? A great admiral once said that shooting Nova cannons at a Hulk was like ‘Like throwing eggs at a stone wall.’ You have no ability to damage the hulk before it reaches orbit, it’s just too big and powerful. And though the Orbital Defence network is stronger, even that will do little but slow it down. You’d need the combined fire of several Battleships and Battle Barges to destroy it, and I don’t see any around. Fortunately it has no escorting ships with it, so I’d suggest you withdraw the Defence Monitors until relief arrives. No sense in having them destroy themselves and doing little to stop the Hulk. No, the Greenskins can’t be stopped in orbit; they will have to be held here, on the ground, until a real military force can arrive to assist us.” He let that sink in. this was a time for harsh truths, nothing else would suffice.

Governor Shroe glared up at him, or at least tried to. “How can we stop an Ork Invasion on the ground? The total PDF numbers only 100,000, and that’s spread across the entire planet. They’ll get overwhelmed within days!”

“What Guard Regiments are currently here?”

“We have the Caorst XVI Charxers headed to Cadia, and the Belladon fifteenth, Perdix Hunters thirty-ninth and Tanith fifth ‘Larisels’ all headed to the Sabbat Worlds.”

“A Tanith Regiment, eh?” Tanith had supplied very few Regiments, but every one of them was worth its weight in gold. It was said the Emperor Himself intervened with the commander of the celebrated first regiment, the ‘Ghosts’ was court marshalled for disobeying an order which would have seen most of his regiment destroyed for no gain.

“Lord Ahriman? What would you do if you were in my place?”

Ahriman thought about it for a few seconds, each second stretching to minutes in his mind as he calculated feverishly. With the limited troops they could not hope to fight outside the city, and with those defensive walls… “We hold the outer walls for as long as possible, and when it becomes untenable to hold them any longer we withdraw to the inner walls, and there hold them off until relief forces arrive. Given the importance of Seadelant as the main hub between Segmentum Solar and Ultima Segmentum, I expect relief will arrive within two weeks or so, warp travel time permitting. We only need to hold that long, and with careful force positioning and maximum use of every available resource, I am quite confident we could do that.”

“And what about the civilian population?”

“Evacuate as many as possible on the docked civilian and cargo ships. Have them sent a safe distance away. Everyone else, pull them into the central city. If the outer walls should fall…”

Graf Trakeria and the Governor stared at each other for a few seconds. He could clearly read their auras, fear at the foe bearing down upon them, uncertainty as to what they were to do, and a growing sense of apprehension. This was a situation neither of them had ever expected to be in. Finally Graf Trakeria addressed him.

“Lord Ahriman, we know little of war, or our greenskin foes, but you do. Though this goes against tradition, I wish for you to take my place as supreme commander of the Seadelant defence forces.”

Externally, Ahriman stood impassively. Within, he was conflicted. Though he had wanted them to see sense, he didn’t want them to give him the job of defending the planet…or did he? Pride was something he had removed long ago, reaching that moment of full ego-extinction which allowed him to fight as impassively as a robot. But since the crusade ended, that pride had re-manifested itself, and try as he might; he could not fully remove it. And now he was being offered this, command of an entire world’s defence. What would Lord Magnus say to him? He imagined the crimson king; a supernova made flesh, the very essence of the great ocean coursing through him. He would take the reins; bend every fibre of his being to doing his duty, and saving this world. That made up his mind for him.

“If that is what you wish, fine, I will take command. I’ll need you both though; your troops may be a bit reluctant to take orders from me, and the civilians will need to follow my instructions. Together, we will save this world!”

He could notice the almost imperceptible twitch in his right hand. The fate of this world now rested on his shoulders. A small part of him rejoiced, but that feeling was submerged beneath a tide of grim resolve. He had work to do, if this world was not to fall under the green tide.



The skyscraper sized barrels of defence lasers poked their iron snouts out of massive underground bunkers, the shadows they cast lying long and heavy over Port Huron. That seemed a fitting allegory to Julius as he made his way through the now deserted streets of the Old City. A once shining city of light and colour was now under a shadow, the shadow of the approaching Space Hulk, and the millions of Orks within, all lusting after the planet. All day civilian transports had departed from the Spaceport and the Seaport, carrying thousands away from the planet and the city respectively. Once again he wondered why he wasn’t on board one of those transports, leaving the planet with the rest of the civilian population, and why he was about to do something which many would construe as ‘stupid’, and which could easily get him killed.

Because, like it or not, he felt he could make a difference, by doing this he could atone for his sins, for nearly having the girl he loved killed and for seemingly ruining his relationship with her. He didn’t even know if they would stay together after this, they hadn’t spoken since that torturous grilling in the Emperor’s office and Julius didn’t know if she had forgiven him or not. For a long time, once he had finally stripped away the mask she wore in public and beheld her true face for the first time, he had felt that they would remain together. She may have found his beliefs kind of weird, and could never quite grasp why he chose to remain celibate, but they had got beyond that, they knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and each acted as an anchor for the other one. And now he was cut loose from that anchor, and he was drifting with no idea where he was going, apart from the office building a short distance up the road. He had been brought up with the full knowledge of what war truly was like, and had no illusions about the hell he was about to descend into. There was every chance he wouldn’t make it.

The queue outside the offices was relatively long but fast moving, and it wasn’t long at all before he was inside and standing before a short, plump man in a PDF Officer’s uniform.
“Name.” he said without looking up.

“Parsson. Oll Parsson, Ser.” Julius used the last name of an old friend of his mothers, and his father’s long standing nickname. Better not to be known, for if he was doubtless he would be refused and forcibly evacuated. His father’s name was famous across the Imperium, doubtless people would make the connection if it was known.

“Ser? You’re from the Thousand Worlds?”

“Yes Ser. I was on my way back, but the damn Greenskins have interfered.”

“Weapons proficiency?”

“All standard patterns of Lasgun and Autogun, as well as Hellguns, Bolt weapons and Needlers.” He was actually trained in far more than these simple weapons, but best to keep that to himself.

“Bolt Weapons?”

“It’s the Thousand worlds of ''Ultramar'', Ser. The XIII trains us well.” What Julius didn’t mention was Vulkan’s Hellpistol, concealed beneath his Greatcoat. Though that weapon now had several bad memories attached, it was still a perfectly crafted and deadly firearm, and would serve him well in the unlikely event an Ork came at him.

The PDF officer rapidly scribbled on a sheet of paper, before handing it to him for his signature. Julius paused, pen held over the paper. He could still back out, get on a transport and flee to safety. What would Isis say, were she here with him? They were each other’s moral compasses; every time Isis had to do something on the student council she would seek him out first, to get his opinion on the matter. Throughout all her struggles with Roberta, it was he who had stood by her, and never let her down. She wouldn’t back down then, and neither would he now, even if it was over between them. He signed his name.

“Congratulations.” the Officer said in a less than congratulatory tone. “You have just been enrolled in the Civilian Defence Auxilia, for the duration of the Emergency. You are assigned to Munitions Escort, please report to outer wall gate 1-5.” He handed Julius an armband with ‘CDA” monogrammed in gothic script. And just like that, Julius was a soldier.