+++++Imperial Troop Ship Righteous Fury+++++
+++++Somewhere in the Segmentum Obscura++++
General of the Imperial Guard von Paulus stood in front of the
plastisteel vision port, quietly contemplating the surface of yet another
Imperial industrial outpost. A veteran of countless campaigns, he had to
check the navcomp to remind him of the name, Volga IV. He thought back to
his briefing. The planet was covered almost completely in dense an
inhospitable marsh, with an enormous amount of biological material, and very
little solid ground. The petrol that the massive swamps produced was quite
valuable, and was refined and shipped off planet at the only city of any
size, New Stalingrad. New Stalingrad was a sprawling city, built on the
only shelf of rock on the planet. It served as home to almost 40 million of
the Emperors servants in a sprawling industrial maze. The orks had arrived
quite unexpectedly from a warp storm, and had taken to the miserable rock
like a fish to water.
"Major Kenering, what is the current ground status?" He said, turning to
face his adjutant.
"The orks are hitting the west side of the city in numbers that are
growing at an alarming rate, sir," the dour face Major replied, "the PDF is
only holding a small bridgehead on the west side of the river in the central
sector. I estimate less than 18 hours before they are completely over run.
If that happens, we have very..."
"I am aware of that we have little chance of attacking across the
river successfully, Major," von Paulus shot back irritably. "We cannot
wait for the Iron Hands. The assault must begin immediately. Colonel
Aukenlak will lead the first wave. The initial assault will include the
12th Praetorian and Lt. Pipers Mech. group from the 2nd Tallarn Rifles.
Aukenlak and his men will hold the western beachhead until they are
relieved. There will be no withdrawal. The attack will begin in 4 hours.
You are dismissed, Major."
Kenerings jaw hung open for a fraction of a second, before smartly
snapping a salute and turning to go. von Paulus was sending his best men
into the breach to hold a desperate position. Aukenlak's reputation
proceeded him. "May the Emperor shield them, and speed the arrival of the
Iron Hands," he muttered to himself as he headed to landing bay 6, where he
would brief Aukenlak....
Aukenlak stood in the vast expanse of Landing Bay 6, reviewing the
readiness of his men with two of his most trusted advisors,
Commissar-Captain Boxer and Lieutenant Anderson.
"How are the men, Anderson?" He asked, with little of the rigid
formality that had defined the Praetorian officer corps for untold
millennia. Until a few weeks before, Anderson had been a sergeant, and now
he held the reigns of First Platoon.
"Moral is excellent, Colonel," replied Anderson, "the men are
chomping at bit to get on planet. They are currently doing level Alpha
weapons maintenance, as per standard operating procedure, then they will
report to chapel with the rest of the company."
"Excellent," said Aukenlak, some pride in his young protégé coming
through in his voice, "double the men's rum ration, I have a feeling we'll
be off of this barge before too long. Dismissed."
Anderson executed a textbook salute to the two officers and headed
off to where the men were busily cleaning and maintaining their weapons.
The mention of the doubled rum ration had caused a dark look to creep across
Commissar Boxer's face. To those that were not familiar with him, the look
would have been terrifying. This was after all the same man that had
destroyed a Rhino full of the dreaded Plague Marines single handedly.
"Colonel," said Boxer, his voice showing little sign of anger, "do
you really think that doubling the rum ration is wise? Although I have no
doubt in our total victory, the situation is precarious at present. The men
will need their wits about them when we reach the fighting."
"Has it really been that long," Aukenlak said, his face breaking
into a grin, "since you were in their position friend? A little rum in
their systems will give them the fighting spirit that we have become famous
for. When push comes to shove, they will be ready, just like their fathers
were when we were fighting Menkon. Why don't you go talk to Anderson's
Squad? You have a way of calming the men down. You can give them one of
your patented talks, faith in the Emperor, stiff upper lip and all that."
Aukenlak laughed as he patted his old comrade on the back. The two
men headed to opposite ends of the Bay. Boxer to talk to the men in
Anderson's squad, and Aukenlak to the motor pool area where the 12th's
armored vehicles were being prepared for the ensuing battle. About half of
the vehicles had been panted a neutral brown for operations in arid
climates, the other half were still in the gaudy red and black color scheme
that they had been painted to celebrate the victory at New Arnham. All of
them would look rather conspicuous in the upcoming urban struggle. Aukenlak
approached one of the 12th's Hell Hound's that was being repaired by
Griffith, the 12th's head mechanic.
"How does she look, Grif?" Asked Aukenlak, "Is she going to be
ready when we hit this rock?"
"Doesn't look good, sir," Griffith scramble down the side of the
tank and gave his commander a quick salute, "something is wrong with the
Inferno Cannon's fuel regulator. She's only firing about half as far as she
should, and there seems to be something wrong with the engine as well, we
can only get her to about 12 miles an hour. If we took her out like this,
she would be a liability to the crew. They would come home in a box for
sure."
"How about the heavy stuff, are the 'Russ and Demo ready to go?"
Aukenlak's face made a valiant effort to hide his concern.
"That is affirmative, sir," Grif said with a grin, "it'll take a
shit pot more than a few AC rounds to do anything serious to the real
fightin' iron. They checked out this morning." Surprisingly, Grif snapped
to attention.
Aukenlak turned to see the approach of a Major of General von
Paulus' staff approaching, with a Tallarn Lieutenant close behind. The look
on both men's faces was a dead giveaway that the news could not be good.
"Colonel," said Major Kenerings while saluting crisply, "I have
orders from General von Paulus. You are to drop to the planet to reinforce
the PDF on the west side of the river. Lieutenant Piper here and his
detachment are being added to your force for the mission. I have also been
instructed to inform you that withdrawal is not an option. You will hold
your ground until the Iron Hands arrive."
As if on cue, two Chimeras with dangerous looking Tallarn Guardsmen
on them came rolling into Bay 6. Any reinforcement at this time was indeed
a welcome site.
"May the Emperor's hand guide you, and your faith in him be your
shield. All necessary tactical information is being downloaded into your
Comm units. Good luck, sir." Kenering saluted again and departed.
Aukenlak turned to face the almost skeletal Tallarn Lieutenant
standing in front of him. "Shit," he said.
von Paulus stood again at the view ports, watching the trails left
by the drop ships as they entered Volga IV's atmosphere. "Good luck,
Aukenlak, you are surely going to need it." He turned and walked across the
room to his desk, where he continued to work on his river crossing plan,
hoping that he had bought himself enough time.
End?.
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