97th Conglomerate's Tyrannic War - Revision history

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1d4chan>CommissarBrett at 23:41, 31 July 2019

2019-07-31T23:41:57Z

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198.24.98.34 at 02:17, 11 September 2016

2016-09-11T02:17:14Z

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	“Yes, the Emperor Protects with lasbolt and shell!” They triumphantly reply, feeling the lander begin to stabilize.		“Yes, the Emperor Protects with lasbolt and shell!” They triumphantly reply, feeling the lander begin to stabilize.

	The first craft to take a hit had descended uncontrollably, now smacking into the with an enormous explosion. Another of the landers had to barrel across the ground, smashing through shelled-out buildings, most of its hull heavily damaged. The platoon’s lander pitched upward as it reached ground level. Its nose pulled upward in rapid deceleration, the embarked troopers’ stomachs lurching with the sudden change in momentum. It slowed down to the ground, its landing feet extending and bearing the weight of the lander.		The first craft to take a hit had descended uncontrollably, now smacking into the ground with an enormous explosion. Another of the landers had to barrel across the ground, smashing through shelled-out buildings, most of its hull heavily damaged. The platoon’s lander pitched upward as it reached ground level. Its nose pulled upward in rapid deceleration, the embarked troopers’ stomachs lurching with the sudden change in momentum. It slowed down to the ground, its landing feet extending and bearing the weight of the lander.

	There was a moment of almost unsettling silence; every man’s veins were flooded with a mix of adrenaline and hormones preparing them for the unprecedented violence of combat. The red light blinked green, an alarm belched once, and the loading ramp began to open slowly, the grinding noise of it near-deafening inside the metal box of the hull.		There was a moment of almost unsettling silence; every man’s veins were flooded with a mix of adrenaline and hormones preparing them for the unprecedented violence of combat. The red light blinked green, an alarm belched once, and the loading ramp began to open slowly, the grinding noise of it near-deafening inside the metal box of the hull.

2A02:582:932:C500:B9B1:4559:777E:5B6E: /* Part 1: Into The Valley of Death */

2015-11-05T13:44:58Z

Part 1: Into The Valley of Death

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	== Day 1 ==		== Day 1 ==
	=== Part 1: Into The Valley of Death ===		=== Part 1: Into The Valley of Death ===
	The light wasn’t particularly bright. As a matter-of-fact, it was remarkably dull and gray, seeming to be endless, gray cloud banks for as far as the eye could see in any direction. However, compared to the barely lit interior of the platoon’s lander, the dull light that flooded in as the ramp opened had practically ~~blinding~~ Samson. His eyes adjusted to the light until he saw the hellish state of Terragrad Hive. Buildings were little more than hollow shells of the grandiose structures they once had been; roads had been cratered and blasted, almost impassable except for military vehicles and equipment. Artillery batteries and their crews worked tirelessly, running to a constant rhythm of load, fire, reload, fire, repeat. Earthshaker platforms let loose thunderous barrages of shells, lobbing them in high arcs towards the frontline. It was a desperate-looking defense if Samson ever saw one.		The light wasn’t particularly bright. As a matter-of-fact, it was remarkably dull and gray, seeming to be endless, gray cloud banks for as far as the eye could see in any direction. However, compared to the barely lit interior of the platoon’s lander, the dull light that flooded in as the ramp opened had practically blinded Samson. His eyes adjusted to the light until he saw the hellish state of Terragrad Hive. Buildings were little more than hollow shells of the grandiose structures they once had been; roads had been cratered and blasted, almost impassable except for military vehicles and equipment. Artillery batteries and their crews worked tirelessly, running to a constant rhythm of load, fire, reload, fire, repeat. Earthshaker platforms let loose thunderous barrages of shells, lobbing them in high arcs towards the frontline. It was a desperate-looking defense if Samson ever saw one.

	He and the squad were already up and kitting before the ramp had lowered all the way. Compared to the rest of her squad, Natasha was packed very lightly. She carried her weapons, a few autopistol magazines in pouches, and a single, small backpack that maybe could’ve held a few school books. The whole platoon was hurrying urgently, as they had to get to the frontlines as soon as possible. The landing zone FOB was about 2 kilometers from the Aegis Defense Line on the city outskirts.		He and the squad were already up and kitting before the ramp had lowered all the way. Compared to the rest of her squad, Natasha was packed very lightly. She carried her weapons, a few autopistol magazines in pouches, and a single, small backpack that maybe could’ve held a few school books. The whole platoon was hurrying urgently, as they had to get to the frontlines as soon as possible. The landing zone FOB was about 2 kilometers from the Aegis Defense Line on the city outskirts.
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	“I trust the men in this tank with my life, because I’ve known them for years.” She tried to sound gruff and surly, but her eyes still gave him sympathy. “I don’t know you like I know them. We aren’t gonna just watch your arse while ours get ripped part because you’re the new guy.”		“I trust the men in this tank with my life, because I’ve known them for years.” She tried to sound gruff and surly, but her eyes still gave him sympathy. “I don’t know you like I know them. We aren’t gonna just watch your arse while ours get ripped part because you’re the new guy.”

	“Understood, ma’am.” He replied confidently, feeling that it was about more than just him and Natasha. There were 11 other men in the hull of this vehicle. They all had lives. Stories. Feelings. Personalities. Names. For all Samson knew, some of them might’ve even had families. They rode the rest of the way in silence.		“Understood, ma’am.” He replied confidently, feeling that it was about more than just him and Natasha. There were 11 other men in the hull of this vehicle. They all had lives. Stories. Feelings. Personalities. Names. For all Samson knew, some of them might’ve even had families. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

	=== Part 2: An Enemy Without Number ===		=== Part 2: An Enemy Without Number ===

1d4chan>Hiddenkrypt: category

2015-09-22T13:44:13Z

1d4chan>CommissarBrett at 14:39, 16 April 2015

2015-04-16T14:39:31Z

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	''I’m a coward…'' He told himself, trying to think of a way to get out of seeing combat again. They called him ''weak, blasphemous, heretic''. He damn near jumped when the door opened again.		''I’m a coward…'' He told himself, trying to think of a way to get out of seeing combat again. They called him ''weak, blasphemous, heretic''. He damn near jumped when the door opened again.

	The Colonel was a tall, intimidating man with a chiseled face and sunken eyes. His officer’s cane was tucked tightly under his arm alongside a thin file folder. As he made towards his desk, he possessed an authoritarian presence and a regimental gait. He sharply pulled his chair, Samson clearly seeing the extensive bionic reconstruction that had replaced his whole ~~right~~ arm, and sat down across from Samson, who simply sank in his chair, cowering in the face of raw Imperial authority.		The Colonel was a tall, intimidating man with a chiseled face and sunken eyes. His officer’s cane was tucked tightly under his arm alongside a thin file folder. As he made towards his desk, he possessed an authoritarian presence and a regimental gait. He sharply pulled his chair, Samson clearly seeing the extensive bionic reconstruction that had replaced his whole left arm, and sat down across from Samson, who simply sank in his chair, cowering in the face of raw Imperial authority.

	“Private Alexandre Samson…” Cronus began, flipping open the folder in his hands as he crossed his legs, sitting at an angle. “Age: 22; Height: 6 foot even; Weight: a little on the lighter side; Years of Service: longer than most.” He put his own slightly cynical spin on how to address Samson’s qualities. He started sizing up Samson skeptically. “How in the Emperor’s bloody name have you served as long as you have and still managed to get put through our screening?” He asked dubiously. Samson inhaled and went to answer, but was realized it was a rhetorical question when the Colonel simply continued. “Have you ever fired an autogun?”		“Private Alexandre Samson…” Cronus began, flipping open the folder in his hands as he crossed his legs, sitting at an angle. “Age: 22; Height: 6 foot even; Weight: a little on the lighter side; Years of Service: longer than most.” He put his own slightly cynical spin on how to address Samson’s qualities. He started sizing up Samson skeptically. “How in the Emperor’s bloody name have you served as long as you have and still managed to get put through our screening?” He asked dubiously. Samson inhaled and went to answer, but was realized it was a rhetorical question when the Colonel simply continued. “Have you ever fired an autogun?”

1d4chan>CommissarBrett at 14:25, 16 April 2015

2015-04-16T14:25:47Z

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	“Yeah, the techs got creative when making this bad boy.” She bragged, swinging the weapon/flag around, giving it an approving look as she did. The look in her eyes gave Samson comfort.		“Yeah, the techs got creative when making this bad boy.” She bragged, swinging the weapon/flag around, giving it an approving look as she did. The look in her eyes gave Samson comfort.

			==== 2234 Hours – Local Time ====

			The bunk rooms were.. well, Samson was relieved at their size. They were much larger than the standard Platoon Barracks (being that those were really just bedrolls laid out at your post), and there were actual beds; mattresses and everything. Samson’s and Natasha’s bunks were right next to each other, so they simply chatted whilst they undressed.

			“Hey, about yesterday…” Natasha managed uncomfortably. “… And this morning…”

			“Natasha, it’s fine.” Samson didn’t want her to feel bad. He tried to keep her from feeling like she had been a bitch (which she had been, but that’s beside the point).

			“No, it isn’t.” She denied, a pang of guilt in her tone. “I should’ve told you, but I didn’t, and you probably felt ignored.”

			“Well, better late than never.” Samson remarked under his breath.

			Later that night, Samson laid with his eyes closed but his mind still going. He couldn’t sleep, the events of the day still running through his head. He had helped repair ''Target Practice'', he had assisted in the cremation of the squad’s casualties from first contact, he had learned of an Exterminatus order if the Tyranids were not removed from this world.

			Through all of this he just kept thinking about Natasha that morning. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice when she had slid into his bunk with him. She got under the blanket right in front of him and slid her rear back into him. He put his arm over her and she drew a sharp breath, startled to realize he was awake. He pulled her closer to him and drew the blanket back over them. Now they both felt they could put their minds at rest and sleep for a few hours.

1d4chan>CommissarBrett at 14:23, 16 April 2015

2015-04-16T14:23:06Z

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 === Part 2: An Enemy Without Number ===
-''1703 Hours – Local Time''
+==== 1703 Hours – Local Time ====
 The Chimeras rumbled, but not loud enough to drown out the cacophony just outside their hulls. Samson had been mentally preparing himself since he last spoke about 5 minutes earlier. He realized he had to, because the squad was a unit; they all had to watch each other’s backs. Just beyond that hatch was absolute bedlam. He could hear what was most likely the Planetary Defense Force fighting and dying for their home.
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 === Destruction by Fire ===
-''1013 Hours – Local Time''
+==== 1013 Hours – Local Time ====
 Tyranids continued to skitter around as they were flushed from their hiding places, their capacity to fight dissolving with their ranks. The PDF, being the bulk of the numbers defending the city, were responsible for cleaning up the mess. Many of them piled bodies into small hills while a few created a bonfire of it with their flamers. This was The Line. A 300-meter-wide belt of emplacements, Aegis defense barriers, trenches, bunkers, and ruins that circled the Hive. The area was littered with munitions, weapons, vehicles, debris, and all other kinds of material. Ammo crates were piled around gun positions as cover, comfort, and convenience. Camo netting was pinned between ruins as overhead cover, providing a false sense of security to the officers of 1st Company as they debriefed first contact and organized the ongoing landing operation. Natasha was present like all the other sergeants of her platoon. Sergeant Simhed of Sigma Squad – Chimera ''Contents May Vary'' – was killed in combat the day before, as was all but two men from his squad. Of the 60 veteran guardsmen that make up Vanguard Platoon’s infantry, 17 were killed in total; most were only identifiable because of armour markings or ID tags. Upon hearing these numbers, the PDF Commander piped in with condescension.
@@ Line 516: / Line 516: @@
 === Digging Our Own Graves ===
-''0834 Hours – Local Time''
+==== 0834 Hours – Local Time ====
 Samson didn’t recognize anyone. He knew their faces, and their names, but these weren’t the same men he’d landed with. They looked dead inside. Some had thousand-yard-stares, some stared at nothing, and others were focusing on a single point on the ground. Grayson had lost that jocularity he had to him; Azeem, his ever-sympathetic expression. Hanz had changed little. Being in the Death Korps made one familiar with pointless, violent death in its many gruesome forms.
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 “Yes, Natasha. Yes you do.” The colonel concluded. Samson thought he could hear Cronus smirking under his mask.

1d4chan>CommissarBrett at 12:43, 16 April 2015

2015-04-16T12:43:27Z

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	And so they coordinated what was to be this planet’s last four weeks of existence… and yet the majority of this world was still unbeknownst to its destruction. Natasha couldn’t look Samson in the eyes when she got back from the meeting. She couldn’t meet any of their eyes.		And so they coordinated what was to be this planet’s last four weeks of existence… and yet the majority of this world was still unbeknownst to its destruction. Natasha couldn’t look Samson in the eyes when she got back from the meeting. She couldn’t meet any of their eyes.

			== Day 3 ==

			=== Digging Our Own Graves ===

			''0834 Hours – Local Time''

			Samson didn’t recognize anyone. He knew their faces, and their names, but these weren’t the same men he’d landed with. They looked dead inside. Some had thousand-yard-stares, some stared at nothing, and others were focusing on a single point on the ground. Grayson had lost that jocularity he had to him; Azeem, his ever-sympathetic expression. Hanz had changed little. Being in the Death Korps made one familiar with pointless, violent death in its many gruesome forms.

			“Samson, melta-cutter.” The mechanic called, snapping Samson’s attention back to the here-and-now. The guardsman walked to the bench along the wall of the makeshift garage and hefted a large tool off the top of it. His movement was finally freed up in just fatigues and his flak vest. He lugged the equipment over to ''Target Practice'' and lifted it as high as he could up to the tank driver on top of the tank’s turret, who then handed it to the mechanic who was squatted on top of the left track. “Now lift the track up to me.”

			Samson walked around to the front of the left track and lifted the heavy steel links up as close to the other end of the chain as he could manage. He held it against the gears and leaned on it with his weight as the mechanic lowered the short, glowing jet of super-heated promethium from the nozzle of the melta-cutter and began welding the ends of the track together.

			Samson almost shuddered when Natasha walked into the garage. She had a look in her eyes the day before, but when Samson tried to talk to her she shunned him repeatedly. Now she walked straight towards him.

			“Samson… we need to talk.” She said plainly, standing right in front of him with a look of intensity. The mechanic stopped welding for a second, curious as to what was going on. A momentary glare from Natasha set him back to his work behind Samson.

			“Well that makes a change.” Samson he muttered more to himself than his squad leader, still bothered by her behavior the day before. Without skipping a beat he was met by a swift, open-palmed slap across his cheek from her. When he looked at her he realized he had upset her. Her eyes were red and watery, the blue in her eyes becoming deeper and more brilliantly sad with each miniscule moment he left the statement before apologizing. “I’m sorry.”

			She turned around and almost stormed out of the garage, but Samson caught up to her and grabbed her by her arm.

			“Don’t– just don’t touch me!” She gestured in frustration. Samson took a step back from her and let her compose herself. She stood there for a moment with her arms crossed, doing the lip-biting thing she did when she was talking to Samson. Then she took him by surprise.

			Before Samson even had time to react – in fact, to even register she had moved – Natasha had pulled his head down to hers as she stood on her toes and locked their lips together. For a moment, Samson was practically wide-eyed with fear, but then he simply went with it. He closed his eyes and matched her enthusiasm.

			He knew that people would ask questions, but he didn’t care. He knew people would disapprove, but he didn’t care. He knew this went against almost everything he had been taught about being a Guardsman, but he didn’t care. After the meeting lingered for 4, maybe 5 seconds, Samson pulled away from her slowly, holding her arms to her side. He could still taste her.

			“What was that?” He finally asked after almost a minute of simply staring into each other’s eyes. She cast her gaze to the ground, her face reading regret. “What’s wrong?”

			“We… we’re going to lose this planet.” She managed, trying not to think too much about her and Samson and their situation. Her eyes were still red and her voice caught in her throat.

			“What do you mean?” He asked, confused at what she meant. ''Lose this planet?''

			“We…” She looked for the words. She figured cynical and blunt was the way to go after milling it over. She took a deep breath and choked down that lump in her throat. “… We have 27 days to deal with the bugs, or the fleet is going slap this planet with an asteroid.”

			Samson was speechless. He didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know what to think. His mind become awash with emotions that flooded from the edges of his mind.

			''Is she saying'' Exterminatus''? Has it already gotten that bad?'' Samson thought to himself. He was terrified, angry, devastated, pissed, and about 20 other emotions. ''What about Natasha? What if we get left here? What about us?''

			“Okay…” Samson simply replied. He tried to push everything to the back of his mind. Too many memories would flood into his nightmares if he let loose.

			“Is that all you can say?” She replied, distressed at his lack of reaction.

			“What more do you want me to say?” Samson replied, somewhat annoyed. He started listing the things he felt. “Do you want me to hold you and tell you it’ll be alright? Do want me to tell you we are already digging our own graves? Do want to say we’re dead anyway and kill ourselves? What do you want from me?!” His outburst had earned the shooting glares of passing PDF and Guardsmen walking past the pair.

			“Don’t talk like that.” She tried to calm him.

			They were interrupted by a menacing figure appearing behind Samson. Natasha craned her neck to see around him will he turned and looked over his shoulder. Before them was a man in a red trench coat, old and worn from years of use. Samson’s eyes followed up to the man’s gas mask. It covered his entire face and the majority of it was a bone white skull motif, as if he were death itself. Finally, he wore an old helmet atop his head, fastened with old leather straps. When the amplified voice spoke through the vox-grille, the pair immediately recognized its owner.

			“We are one of the most capable shock trooper regiments in the Astra Militarum.” Cronus spoke with pride. “I wouldn’t sell us out so easily, Private.” The commander then stepped around Samson to look at Natasha with his expressionless mask. She cast her eyes downwards, unable to meet her own reflection in those lenses. “I hope this does not complicate things, Sergeant Octavius.” His head gave a slight nod in Samson’s direction.

			“No, sir.” The was a lie. “I would never let my feelings get the better of me.” Also a lie.

			“I never said that, Natasha.” Cronus reminded her, as if he were about to dispense sage-like wisdom. “Remember, ''hate'' is a Guardsman’s greatest weapon.” The colonel gave a her a pat on the shoulder. “Come on, you’ve been promoted.”

			“Sir?” The sergeant replied with confusion.

			“Your squad saw a lot of men killed, so you’re being upgraded to my new Command Squad.” Cronus replied with congratulations. Natasha’s eyes went wide, then she seemed to tremble a bit.

			“Are… you sure about this, sir?” Natasha asked, unsteadily at first, but then more consistently.

			“Are you questioning my judgment, Guardsman?” Cronus inquired, cocking his head to the side.

			“Sir, no sir!” She snapped to attention. This was an honour, and is normally preceded by Platoon Command first. Natasha tried to act brave, but she was absolutely terrified.

			“Tell the rest of your squad, report to the Command Bunker by 1130 hours.” Cronus finished before turning to leave.

			“Do we get to keep ''Target Practice'', sir?” She asked just before he broke line of sight.

			“Yes, Natasha. Yes you do.” The colonel concluded. Samson thought he could hear Cronus smirking under his mask.

1d4chan>CommissarBrett at 13:12, 15 April 2015

2015-04-15T13:12:34Z

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	The warrior he’d run down went limp and Samson brought his head back up to see the other two already bringing their vicious weaponry to bare on him. But as their muscles tensed to fire, they were thrown to the ground by the weight of 6 guardsmen piling in to them. Hanz had thrown every ounce of momentum he had into the Emperor-damned xenos warrior. Despite being a rather thin man, the Krieger had an impressively deceptive level of physical strength, and he stood no more than 6 inches shorter than the warrior. While it hadn’t fully fallen over, Natasha threw on her weight, and that was just enough. The rest of the squad took on the other warrior. Together they finished off the creatures, delivering the Emperor’s fury upon them.		The warrior he’d run down went limp and Samson brought his head back up to see the other two already bringing their vicious weaponry to bare on him. But as their muscles tensed to fire, they were thrown to the ground by the weight of 6 guardsmen piling in to them. Hanz had thrown every ounce of momentum he had into the Emperor-damned xenos warrior. Despite being a rather thin man, the Krieger had an impressively deceptive level of physical strength, and he stood no more than 6 inches shorter than the warrior. While it hadn’t fully fallen over, Natasha threw on her weight, and that was just enough. The rest of the squad took on the other warrior. Together they finished off the creatures, delivering the Emperor’s fury upon them.

			== Day 2 ==

			=== Destruction by Fire ===

			''1013 Hours – Local Time''

			Tyranids continued to skitter around as they were flushed from their hiding places, their capacity to fight dissolving with their ranks. The PDF, being the bulk of the numbers defending the city, were responsible for cleaning up the mess. Many of them piled bodies into small hills while a few created a bonfire of it with their flamers. This was The Line. A 300-meter-wide belt of emplacements, Aegis defense barriers, trenches, bunkers, and ruins that circled the Hive. The area was littered with munitions, weapons, vehicles, debris, and all other kinds of material. Ammo crates were piled around gun positions as cover, comfort, and convenience. Camo netting was pinned between ruins as overhead cover, providing a false sense of security to the officers of 1st Company as they debriefed first contact and organized the ongoing landing operation. Natasha was present like all the other sergeants of her platoon. Sergeant Simhed of Sigma Squad – Chimera ''Contents May Vary'' – was killed in combat the day before, as was all but two men from his squad. Of the 60 veteran guardsmen that make up Vanguard Platoon’s infantry, 17 were killed in total; most were only identifiable because of armour markings or ID tags. Upon hearing these numbers, the PDF Commander piped in with condescension.

			“Those numbers are nothing!” He voiced. “I’ve heard of casualties numbering in the thousands from a single company!” The planetary governor nodded in agreement.

			The gathering stood around a wooden table covered in maps and papers and folders and other toot in the middle of what once might’ve been someone’s parlour; the building it had been was little more than piles of bricks and rubble. servo-scribes stood on multiple spider-like legs, instruments and pens blurred in motion, recording everything said and done by the group. Old chairs, probably from what was once this house, were roughly arranged with the area of the room for people to kick their feet up and generally enjoy what was relatively relaxing compared to camping the gun-line.
			Cronus and his officers simply stared at the two locals silently, waiting for them to realize they should shut up. However, planetary governors are notoriously pretentious. Natasha decided she’d cut the tension by asking a question of her own while they were on the topic.

			“What’d we lose on the drop?” She asked, remembering the roughness of atmospheric reentry. She remembered the lander spinning into freefall.

			“As you may have noticed by now—” Cronus began. “—Our Ballista Platoon has not showed up yet. That’s because that lander was the one that made catastrophic contact with the ground.”

			“Cronus, you know you can say ‘crashed and disintegrated,’ right?” Lieutenant Gage – Vanguard Platoon’s CO – informed the Colonel. “We all felt it on the drop. It damn near smashed the whole formation to pieces.”

			“Well, Leftenant, that wasn’t the only thing we lost.” Cronus continued. He shuffled around some papers on the table until he pulled a roster from under one pile, running his finger down the list of items till he found what he was looking for. “While not as bad as the lander carrying the artillery from Ballista Platoon, the lander carrying Anvil Platoon made a very hard drop. The only tanks that were recoverable were 3 Leman Russ Battle Tanks, a Hellhound, and – if I’m not mistaken – a single Baneblade.”

			“Which Russes?” asked Sgt. Callaghan. He was pretty chummy with most of the tank crews and mechanics, so he was familiar with most of the tanks themselves.

			“Leftenant Tetrov and the Leman Russ ''Scourge & Purge'', Sgt. Damien of ''Bangers & Mash'', and Sgt. Alvarez of ''Rip & Tear'',” listed Tech-Priest Dobrov, who had been completely silent, save for his involuntary machinations, up until now. One would never have known his Vostroyan upbringing if they weren’t told or already knew. The half-man/half-machine’s voice was mechanical and sounded as if it was made from inside a tin box. “The Hellhound that survived was ''Fire Sale''. The recovered Baneblade was ''Hath No Fury''.”

			“Thank you, Enginseer Dobrov.” Cronus tried to stop before the Tech-Priest started on his statistical listings.

			The Colonel shuffled through more papers until he found a map that one of the PDF officers had drawn up of the city’s layout. The map showed the city that bordered around Terragrad Hive. While the objective was to hold the Hive itself, to fight Tyranids in the claustrophobic confines of a hab-block bordered on the suicidal. In the outer city and its ruins, the Guard had one advantage over the Tyranids: open ground. On the map were scribbled lines and red markers and such that denoted things the Colonel couldn’t clearly make out.

			“Someone explain this to me.” Cronus demanded, looking around at the PDF personnel who had most likely drafted the map. A single trooper stepped forward and started pointing to items on the map.

			“Okay, this jagged red line is the Aegis wall. This is where we will ''ideally'' keep the bugs at bay.” He pointed to the large outer ring around the city. “These red X-marked-lines indicated lines of explosives rigged to clackers in the sector-bunkers. The double-black parallel lines are trenches, the funky-looking boxes are the bunkers, and the triangles are weapon emplacements. Any other equipment like ammo dumps and crates are placed by the troopers to their convenience.”

			“Thank you, trooper.” Cronus gratified. “And the black X-marked-line?”

			“That’s the point of no return.” The trooper answered flatly. “If the bugs get past that line, we have to fall back, pursue, and establish a new line… hopefully.”

			“Okay then.” The Colonel was satisfied with the explanation.

			He could now clearly see the rest of the city’s layout. Rail lines crisscrossed across the city, running to many vital strategic positions. The Line was divided into 1000-meter-wide sectors, each one to be manned by a company of the 97th’s forces. The landing operation was carrying on as best it could, but the Tyranid fleet in orbit was making things difficult to say the least. Despite suffering devastating in the initial orbital engagement, a token force of the bioships managed to take refuge behind Moranis VI’s largest moon. The xenos now took to carrying out Hit & Run tactics to create pressure for ''Gravity’s Union'' and its fleet in orbit. Luckily, 1st Company sustained the highest casualties so far, which meant the other companies were still at almost full strength. However, Tyranids are known for their proficiency at using their losses to their advantage. Reconvert the biomatter into whatever is needed to win; that’s how the Imperium loses worlds.

			“So far,” Comms Officer Elias began to brief, “The other companies have secured all but three of the defense sectors. Command has informed me that 3rd, 12th, and 17th have been delayed on their drops.”

			“What’s holding them up?” The planetary governor cut in, growing impatient; not just with the delays, but with the entire situation in general.

			“Oh, nothing.” The Comms Officer condescended sarcastically, annoyed with the governor’s impatience and contempt. “Just a minor Tyranid invasion and possible Exterminatus. You know, nothing ''really'' important.” He caught a pissed-off glare from Cronus and the Lady Commissar. It took him until he saw the horrified look on all of the locals’ faces to realize he’d said something that was in no way intended to be common knowledge. It took a long moment of agonizing silence before he could form the words. “I’m so sorry… I'm so, so sorry…”

			“How long?” The PDF Commander asked, trying to remain stoic, but was emotionally cracking. “Can you tell me that? How long do we have to evacuate? Can we even evacuate?” Aurelia was the most in-the-know person there.

			“Elias, I should gun you down where you stand!” She barked at the guardsman, drawing her bolt pistol but not yet raising it to sight the trooper’s head; she had enough years of practice that summary execution was more of muscle memory now, not even requiring a moment to aim the shot.

			“How long?!” The PDF Commander begged. He was breaking at the seams; his eyes were red and puffy, tearing up at the inevitable destruction of his homeworld.

			“Four weeks!” Aurelia snapped at the Commander, still preoccupied with being pissed off at the loud-mouthed Guardsman. “Commander, I suggest you start evacuating the civilians who can’t fight. We must arm the rest if you want time.”

			“Time for what?!” the Governor cut in. “We are dead anyway!”

			“Don’t you care about your citizens?!” lashed Cronus.

			“What’ve they done for me? Nothing!” the Governor accused/admitted. The PDF personnel in attendance exchanged looks of disgust and shock. There was a long silence. Aurelia simply broke the tension with a soft voice.

			“Are you suggesting that you be a priority evacuee?” She questioned, speaking softly yet professionally to the Governor. She sounded like an Inquisitor; an undertone to her tone, an ulterior motive to her question.

			“Well, as I am the most important member of this planet’s Adepta, I believe I—” A mass-reactive bolt cut off the cowardly voice midsentence.

			No one had even seen the single fluid motion of the Lady Commissar as her pistol swung upward and loosed a bolt at exactly the right point along the arc. She stood completely still now, bolt pistol leveled and barrel smoking. The PDF troopers and personnel were now all in utter shock. The ones who were nearest the insubordinate official were now splattered with what has left of his clearly cowardly mind.

			“That, you simpletons, is what a Heretic looks like.” She finally broke the shocked silence. “Commander, you are now the acting governor of this world.” She began, turning to the stunned man. His attention had to snap to her.

			“Yes, ma’am.” He replied dutifully.

			“You are to begin coordinating the evacuation. We need to get as many civilians out as possible. It is they who shall carry the memory of this world.” She nodded to the Commander with empathy, making sure he was able to handle the weight of his new role. She turned and nodded to Cronus. “You need to start organizing the PDF troopers into platoons. Give them what spare carapace armour we have. Consider them conscripted into the 97th. Emperor knows we’ll need to replenish the ranks.”

			And so they coordinated what was to be this planet’s last four weeks of existence… and yet the majority of this world was still unbeknownst to its destruction. Natasha couldn’t look Samson in the eyes when she got back from the meeting. She couldn’t meet any of their eyes.

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	Through all of this he just kept thinking about Natasha that morning. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice when she had slid into his bunk with him. She got under the blanket right in front of him and slid her rear back into him. He put his arm over her and she drew a sharp breath, startled to realize he was awake. He pulled her closer to him and drew the blanket back over them. Now they both felt they could put their minds at rest and sleep for a few hours.		Through all of this he just kept thinking about Natasha that morning. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice when she had slid into his bunk with him. She got under the blanket right in front of him and slid her rear back into him. He put his arm over her and she drew a sharp breath, startled to realize he was awake. He pulled her closer to him and drew the blanket back over them. Now they both felt they could put their minds at rest and sleep for a few hours.

			[[Category:Stories/Warhammer 40,000]]