Personal
log Lieutenant Brookman.
Third
Platoon, 5th Company, 13th Regiment
Day 36.
The
comm-link has sent out nothing but static and garbled messages. There’s no way
of telling what my orders are to be. Normally HQ would send a runner but after
two weeks we still haven’t received any orders. I’ve sent out two local
gangers who acted as scouts for orders or any information but they just vanished.
I could send out the last of those local rats, but I’ve got a feeling that
this guy would rather refuse to do so. We’ve been holed up in a large
storehouse for long enough now. We were ordered to cross the bridge captured by
second platoon and hold this building. Were running low on food, that’s the
worst. And I bet that those Tau know that as well. If I’m not receiving a
order or a sign today I’ll fall back, there’s no sense in letting the men
die of starvation, disease or dehydration.
+++
I
ran my hand through my ruffled hair as I looked out a barricaded window
overseeing the general direction of the enemy. I feel dirty, actually I am dirty.
Not having the chance to bathe for more then two weeks straight has such an
effect. But it doesn’t matter I guess, the others smell at least as bad as me,
so I’m not the Atillan between the Mordians. “Some hot water would be nice.”
I chuckle as I rub my stubbled chin. “A big piece of meat would also be nice.”
Bronski called from his window. “Maybe a fridge filled with ice cold beers and
a couch to sit on would be nice!” Marsh yells from the other side of the room.
Acknowledgements and laughter erupt from the gathered men. Good men, my men.
Most men would be unnerved by not seeing an enemy for such a long period, but
these guys are fine with it. When it comes they’ll get it on. But I guess
now’s not the day.
I
straighten myself and walk to a wooden crate acting as my desk. On it are some
of my guard issue possessions and a personal possession. My chainsword,
boltpistol, Officers cap and a picture of Salena. I tug the picture in my cap
and put it on, buckle my chainsword and holster my boltpistol. “Boys, I think
its time to saddle up and move out. We ain’t getting better from this
place.” As the men gathered up their gear something heavy drooped on the roof
with a shriek. Plaster lightly dropped from the ceiling and softly flecked
helmets and shoulder pads. Instinctively men aim at the ceiling and squat down.
“Ah frag.” I open my mic and set it to platoon level. “Okay listen up,
2,3,4,5 get ready to move out as soon as I give the signal. 1 With me, we’re
going to have to check the roof. Johnson load a krak in the launcher and get
ready.” I pulled out my boltpistol and headed for the stairs, followed closely
by my own squad and 1st squad. At the top of the stairs I calmly open
the door and peer out. Well shit. It looked like a suit of power armour, but had
weird feet, menacing looking arms and a freaky looking head with two antennae.
Now what? Too late to think of some nifty Tanith like plan. It ‘s head
smoothly panned to me and its lens like eyes focussed on me. “Oh shit! Go back
down! Now!” I raise my pistol and fire a round at its head. The shell impacted
in the largest of the lenses. That should buy us some time. I pull the door shut
and run down the stairs. As I reached the base of the stairs a high whine could
be heard from above as wooden splinters from the now destroyed door rained down.
“Go! Lets get a move on ladies! To the bridge! 3,4 and 5 Provide overwatch! 1
and 2 Provide rearguard!” Men formed up in two man teams and darted into the
street. Firing at enemies who stalked towards our position. “Ambush!”
Petersen screams as he and his squad rush into a squad of enemy warriors. The
hacked and stabbed a way through as they made way for the bridge. “Party
hard?” Bronski asked me with a grim smile. “Be my guest, just as long as I
can join in.” He gave whoop and opened fire, providing covering fire for his
squad. I raised my pistol and emptied the hole clip, hitting at least two
enemies. “let’s go!” I shout as I deftly eject the clip, slam a fresh one
in and roughly slap the bolt in firing position. As we double timed it back to
the bridge I could hear heavier whining. Enemy heavy support has arrived.
As
we reached the bridge the first elements of enemy heavy support flew towards us.
Behind us enemy infantry fire whips past our heads. “Party hard!” Bronski
screams as he guns down two warriors with a burst from his autogun. His squad
has given a textbook rearguard covering fire. As the last of the men crossed the
bridge they started to return fire, cutting down several more of the vanguard
that where on our heels. We don’t have time for this, if they can get enough
men there we’ll be minced meat in no time or even drop behind us. “Go!
Emperor damn you all go!” They hesitated. “Fall back now or you’ll get
shot by myself!” I raised my pistol and fired a shot over their heads to
further convince them of this option. Bronski, the last man left behind for the
rearguard was firing a steady full auto in a wide spread. “Sir!” He shouted
over the firing. “Go now and I’ll” His sentence was cut short by a burst
that tore through his chest and throat. “No!” I scream almost hysterically.
That was the end of Corporal Erik Bronski, a close friend, comrade and brother
in arms. Funny how a war can do such a thing. As I saw his corpse fall to the
ground, his eyes still filled with fanatism something in me snapped. I got up,
pulled out my sword and pounded down the bridge towards the remaining Tau
warriors. My mouth giving sound to a wordless cry of rage and frustration.
They
knew that Gue’la warriors were weak and inferior wretches. They rely on their
crude and inferior weapons of war and fight for a old corpse on a planet that
they would never see in their
lifetime. They are cowardly to, they flee when outnumbered and outgunned. They
have exceptions, but those Gue’la are genetically enhanced. But this single
weak Gue’la charged them, with his crude weapons at the ready. They did not
expect this, they hesitated for a moment as they quickly conferred on a strategy.
They brought their pulse rifles to bear to aim, but it was already too late…
I
stomped towards them. They did not expect me to charge at them. I raised my
boltpistol and flicked it to full-auto and fired several rounds at them. I hit
two of them, leaving only four to stand. They returned fire, but didn’t hit
me. Could it be that the Old Man on the shiney throne himself be watching over
me? “Take this!” I decapitated the first with a wide sweep from my blade and
slammed my pistol at the side of the second, knocking him sideways. The third
jumps forward and tries to club me with his weapon but fails miserably. I slam
my sword in his side and the blade digs deep, coughing up bone and flesh as it
jams and wrenches itself stuck. I let go of the handle and fire a bolt in the
groin of the dazed fire warrior. He fell to the floor screaming in a high squeal.
As I turned to face the last I felt something slam in my right side. White hot
pain surged though as I saw a weirdly decorated blade jammed in my side. “Why
you dirty shitstain!” I looked round but saw that he was already running away
from me. “Bloody coward!” I scream as I pull out the knife. Oh
frag! Stupid! Never pull out a knife when
there are vital organs there. Are there any vital organs there anyway? As for
the running warrior, I’d go after him, if it wasn’t for the fact that he
stabbed me, making me bleed like a grox. That, and a mysterious robed alien
blocked my path. A leader by the looks of it. He carried a golden dual sided
spear. He pointed it at me before doing al kinds of spins and flips with it. A
challenge I guess… I carefully stooped over and planted my boot on the
warriors chest as I grunted and pulled my sword free. I raised it and cycled to
full rotation to remove the flesh and bone fragments from the mechanism. I
stepped over the corpses and tried a combat stance, but my painful side wasn’t
helping much. “Let’s get this over with scumbag.” I slur, knowing full
well that these last words are ill chosen and not great sounding in case they
write a chronicle about me.
Aun’Ukos
looked at the bleeding Gue’la leader, though wounded he wishes to fight on.
His crude and noisy weapon coughs up smoke and a fine red mist of blood as he
points it at him in a clumsy combat stance. The Gue’la slurred something in
his crude language. Aun’Ukos smiled and started to spin his staff around
several times, turning it into a golden blur. He stopped the rotation and
pointed one of the blades at his adversary. This would be easy, though the
Gue’la would be stronger he was no match for his skill with the honour blade.
This would be easy.
The
battle would be short, brutal, bloody and knew only one victor.
The
first sets of attacks were mere a mocking, slashing me and covering me in small
cuts. I tried to block it but proved to be too slow. His next attack was more
serious and more lethal. He jabbed several times at my carapace armour,
breaching it three times and at least once it felt like a lung was punctured. My
thought was confirmed as I coughed up a stream of blood. Frag this! I threw my
sword at him and pulled out my bayonet. He easily deflected my thrown chainsword
but did not resist when I slammed into him, sending fresh stabs of pain through
my body. I raised the bayonet and stabbed him like I would stab my mother in law.
Five stab wounds covered the aliens chest as I stumbled backwards. Bright red
blood jetted from the wounds as he sagged to the ground in a pool of his own
blood. I let the bloody bayonet slip from my hand and drop to my knees. More
blood came up through my throat as I collapsed sideways. I felt unconsciousness
overtake me like sleep. So, this is what dying is like. Hang on Bronski, wait
for me. It’s not half that bad…