Number of the ED – Full Scale War
"And he gathered them together into a place called in the Hebrew tongue Armageddon"
--Book of Revelations Ch. XVI v16
<<<Hades Hive, 2 weeks after Ugulhard's death>>>
When Charleston came into the
hospital room, Sebastian was sitting up, regarding the plugs in his stump. Seb
had been unconscious for three days after he'd lost his arm. When he'd woken
up, Charleston had asked what Seb wanted to do with Ugulhard's battle-claw.
Charleston had been shocked to hear that Seb wanted it fabricated into a
prosthetic limb he could use instead of a normal bionic arm. The bio-meds had
done as they'd been told and after a week of surgery, Seb was now implemented
with the bionics needed to use the battle-claw as a weapon in battle. Seb was
obviously not going to use his chain-sword again.
"How's the arm?"
Charleston asked and sat down on a chair beside Sebastian's bed.
Sebastian looked up sharp from
his daydreams. When he saw it was Charleston, he relaxed.
"It feels like it still is
there, Ed." Sebastian replied and went back to studying his plugs. The
scar tissue was raw and fresh and in places Seb still had stitches left, from
where the surgeon had patched his arm, or what was left of it, back together.
"Doc said you'll be rid of
the stitches in a few days. As for the phantom feeling, I dunno."
Sebastian suddenly laughed
silently, and humourlessly, to himself.
"What?" Charleston
asked.
"Isn't it just dumb luck
that I'm left handed, Ed?" Sebastian said and looked at the marine.
Charleston saw the twinkle in Seb's weary eyes, and understood.
"Yeah, or maybe it's
fate." Charleston added.
"What have you got there,
Ed?" Sebastian said and indicated the data-slates Charleston was carrying.
"Morning mail,
commissar." Charleston replied with a smile as he handed Seb the first. He
had opened it so Seb didn't have to meddle with that.
"The satellite surveillance
system still works, even though we're in the middle of the Season of Shadows.
We were able to pick up some few pictures, mainly over Helsreach and it
surroundings, as there's no volcanic activity there, yet, should be
added."
Sebastian hummed a reply as he
looked at the photos in the pict-slate. Something approaching to Helsreach,
something big...
"Ed, what is that
big...blot, moving towards Helsreach Hive?"
Charleston said nothing, he just
leaned forward, and touched a few zooming runes, and Seb now saw what the big
blot was. Orks, hundreds of thousands of Orks.
"Ghazghkull..." Seb
said quietly.
"Bingo. We don't know if
there is Berzerkers coming the other way, or maybe even moving towards us,
cause Mount Erestus blew a few days ago. Most of the northern part of
Armageddon Secundus is covered in smoke. Nothing gets through."
"Have you sent signal to
Helsreach about this?"
"Did it two days ago. I've
got 100 men stationed there under the command of Captain Mikos. I ordered him
to begin shuttle runs to evacuate the hive."
"Where are you sending the
refugees?"
"Tartarus and Acheron.
Hades is not going to be left alone after Ugulhard was beaten."
Charleston handed Sebastian the
next data-slate. It was an ordinary text-slate, containing a roll of losses to
the Berzerker/Orks combine. Sebastian felt very disheartened when he read
through the list. So many lost? There was so many civilians, but also too many
soldiers.
"When this is over Ed,
remind me to shoot von Strab." Sebastian hissed. "1 million Guard, 74
Space Marine scouts, 316 Space Marines and an entire
Titan Legion. Some billions of civilians. He's got enough blood on his
hands to fill an ocean."
"Don't you think I'm aware
of our losses? I would gladly go to Acheron and shoot von Strab myself, but it
could very much demoralize the entire of Armageddon's population. I may be big,
but I'm not stupid."
"On the contrary to our
planetary governor." Sebastian muttered and snapped the data-slate shut.
"What's in the third?"
"The numbers of the new
hive defenders. It also contains some info on good officers. Officers and
officers. Some have been bosses in the industry or even gang leaders. The gang
leaders are very good fighters and most have a very good tactical knowledge.
They'll be great!"
"I believe so."
Sebastian said absentmindedly as he read it through. "What about Colonel
Archer? Is he up to it?"
"He's almost recovered now,
though he needed a pair of bionic hands, as his biological are gone. He's fine
now. He volunteered to command some hive militia. He said he 'wanted to act
under competent command'."
"I'm flattered."
Sebastian said and got out of the bed.
"Where do you think you're
going, mister?" Charleston said. "Doc's orders are 'Stay in
bed'."
"The new militia has to see
who's commanding them, and I wanted to share some of my knowledge with them
before their first drill with lasguns."
"You should still stay in
bed. You need rest."
"Maybe, but sooner or
later, I'll rest anyway. Forever."
Charleston recognized the
macabre in the comment and swallowed hard. Seb didn't think he was going to
survive this war. Ed was brought from his thoughts by a tunic hitting him in
his face. As he pulled it off his face, Charleston saw it was Seb's black dress
jacket. Seb was standing before him, dressed in breeches and undershirt. The
jackboots were standing by the chair where Sebastian's greatcoat and cap was
slung, together with his holster and Ordo Imperialis.
"Please help me with it,
it's impossible with only one arm." Sebastian said and turned round and
stretched out his arms, making him look as a man crucified, without a cross.
Charleston pulled on Seb his tunic and helped the old man button it. He then,
under Sebastian's instructions, tied the Ordo Imperialis around Sebastian's
waist, after putting on the holster. The greatcoat was a bit tricky, with an
empty sleeve being pulled into another but they managed. Seb left the greatcoat
unbuttoned and pulled on his cap while Charleston put on his jackboots as
carefully as he could. Eventually, Seb was dressed and ready to go. Charleston
followed him to the training grounds, but there he left the commissar, as
Charleston had other things to attend to.
After making a quick check in
the tech-shop, to see if his new 'arm' was coming along, Sebastian proceeded to
a part of the Middle hive that was currently being used as training grounds and
bivouac for the scratch companies. Many 'soldiers' looked up as Sebastian
passed by. Some whispered things and pointed towards his empty sleeve. A few,
most probably ex-guardsmen stood up and saluted him. Sebastian answered every
salute he received. When he got to the end of the line of tents he'd passed, he
stopped, and turned round and faced what had been appointed Scratch Company
Morpheus Alfa.
"Men and women of Hades
Hive Defence Militia, Morpheus Alfa!" Sebastian shouted out with
astoundingly clear voice, considering his age. Everyone in Morpheus Alfa turned
his or her attention to the commissar now. "I am here to supervise your
first firing drill personally! Get lasguns and power packs and I'll see you at
the rifle range in five minutes! I expect you all to be there!"
The nearly three hundred men and
women of Morpheus Alfa started milling around to get their gear and Sebastian
walked off towards the rifle range. As he walked, a man came running up to him.
It was Colonel Archer. Archer was tall, around two metres, but built slimly,
just like Sebastian and most people of Armageddon who weren't of the noble
houses. Sebastian immediately felt that Archer wasn't some officer given his
rank because his father was a general. No, there was an air around Archer
saying that the fifty year old or so man had grown up amongst ordinary Hivers.
He'd worked hard for his rank, Sebastian understood. Archer was still wearing
his uniform from the Steel Legion, though the regimental badge and the rank
pins had been removed. Archer's hands had been cut off, there were still marks
of blood on the sleeves of his greatcoat, and he wasn't wearing any gauntlets
like most officers of the Steel Legions did. He wasn't even wearing the helmet
or the gas mask.
"Been degraded,
Charlie?" Sebastian said to ease the tension that was in the air.
"What? No, it's just that
there's nothing left of my regiment to be spoken of. I think I'm the only
survivor." Archer replied, disheartened. "We should have listened to
you, Commissar. We should all have listened to you from the beginning."
"It's easy to be wise in
retrospect." Sebastian replied coldly, remembering the tactical 'council'
he'd been invited to and then ignored.
"I mean it, Yarrick!"
Archer cried out, a tad of panic in his voice. Or was it fear, Sebastian wasn't
sure. "We didn't understand the knowledge you hold. If you'd been your
grandfather, we'd all listened. No one would question his authority. But you,
you're just..."
"I'm just a
Commissar!" Sebastian snapped Archer off. "Listen here, colonel! I
don't want any half-hearted excuses. You all ignored me because you feared von
Strab. You feared contradicting the orders of an imbecile! That's what you
feared, not the enemy, right?"
Although Archer was far stronger
than Yarrick, he felt something inside him, lingering like a cancer. It was the
fear of losing his life.
"And all this stuff about
my grandfather!" Yarrick went on. "Forget him!! He's dead and buried!
I'm the one carrying our legacy now! I promised him to remember everything I'd
learned about Berzerkers and their tactics, and when it's finally needed, you
ignore me, because I'm not 'like my grandfather'!"
Sebastian grabbed Archer by the
collar and brought the colonel down eye to eye with him. Archer couldn't
afterwards remember if what he'd seen was true. He'd thought he'd seen tears in
the corners of Sebastian Yarrick's eyes. And still, the old man seemed boiling
with anger.
"I represent the Imperial
Commissariat on Armageddon, and I'll be damned if I can't represent the Yarrick
family also!" Sebastian growled at Archer. "I saved this Hive a few
weeks ago. Hell, I saved it when I arrived here. The smartest decision von
Strab has done throughout this war has been sending me here. So don't come with
excuses of me not being there or you not listening, colonel. They don't do
anything now, anyways. Right?"
With that, Sebastian left Archer
and walked off to the rifle range. Sebastian had built up a good deal of steam
to blow over the last months, as he'd grown more and more agitated about the
officers in charge of Armageddon's forces. Sebastian nearly hated them for not
lifting a finger against von Strab's insane decisions. And what the frekk did
Holt think he was doing? Nothing, Sebastian concluded to himself. The bastard
was doing nothing to stop von Strab's actions. Holt was for Saint Armagon's
sake a commissar, why wasn't he acting?
Seb found himself at the rifle
range when he came back from his thoughts. Much was happening right now, but he
had to concentrate on the task at hand: To teach some habbers who hadn't even
held in a lasgun before how to fire it as accurately as any Guard veteran.
Sebastian had a few days to this on.
The rifle range was a big, open
space on about 100,000 square metres. There was enough room here for seven
hundred men and women to have a firing drill at the same time. One very long
row of firing-stands and about 200 metres away from the stands were the target
plates. The target plates had, in Sebastian's own opinion, got a very unlucky
placement. He'd wanted to change places between the stands and the targets, but
it had came out that one of the noble houses of Hades Hive had apparently used
it as a warehouse for goods, like food stuffs and clothing, and with so many
'Underhivers' there, they weren't sure if their precious ownings and wares
would still be there after the firing-drill. Sebastian had said he'd understood
but in his thoughts he'd cursed the nobles for their greed. The reason the
targets were badly placed was because that along certain parts of the warehouse
wall, electrical cords ran, some were even of the high voltage kind. This
created electromagnetic fields at places, which made it impossible to scan the
building, which Seb thought was the original intention, but it also had a
dangerous effect when laser hit it. Some of these electromagnetic fields ran
right behind some targets, which meant that if someone missed the target, which
they undoubtly would do, they would get a nasty ricochet singing towards them.
Lasguns never got ricochets, unless the shot hit an electromagnetic field.
When the five minutes had
passed, Seb looked to see if everyone had arrived. They all had and this in
fact impressed Sebastian. Not even well drilled Guardsmen always made it on the
time the sergeants and commissars ordered them to perform their orders, but the
habbers seemed to have some inner force driving them. Sebastian knew what it
was. They fought for their homes and lives and loved ones, not just the
Emperor. They had so much more to win on this than the Guard had. Sebastian
decided to appraise them before they started.
"My fellow hivers, you'd
undoubtly already had a run-through on how a lasgun works and how to clean it.
Today, warriors of Morpheus Alfa, you'll have your first firing drill with the
weapon used by Guardsmen, and women for that part, every day across the
Imperium. It's versatile and rugged. Simple yet complex. It can be used as
anything ranging from a sniper rifle to a machine gun. It can, depending on the
power setting, be used as either a stun gun or as a weapon killing with each
shot. But still, this would all be nothing if you can't use it properly. In the
hands of a competent marksman, this weapon could rival the Exitus Rifles of the
Vindicare Assassins. In the hands of a brave Guardsman, with a good training,
it can be as deadly as a bolt gun. This, my friends, is why you're here today.
You'll learn how to fire a lasgun, at different power settings, at different
fire rates. Still, there's one thing I want you to have clear for yourselves.
You're not Space Marines. You're no super humans. If you fire badly compared to
a Space Marine, remember, their eyes are ten times better than yours. But for
that we're not worthless. The Marines of the Adeptus Astartes Legio Mortes
Angelicus, the Death Angels in Low-gothic, puts a great trust in the
inhabitants of Hades Hive. Their commander, Lieutenant Commander Charleston has
told me that without the help from the Hadesians, they'd be lost. Let that
serve as proof that we are more important than the Marines of the Adeptus
Astartes, you are more worth than the nobles not lifting a finger to help you
in these dire times!"
This last remark caused cheers
and applauses in the crowd. Sebastian was aware how important it was to keep
the morale up amongst people, especially civilians, in wars. It was true
though. Most noble houses hadn't done a thing to help in the defence of Hades
Hive. House Artis was one possible exception, but otherwise it had been the
minor houses and the merchant families who's helped the most. And of course the
habbers themselves. Sebastian hoped they knew how proud he was of them. Men,
and women, taking up arms to protect their homes. It brought some hope to him
that the most were prepared to sell their lives dearly. Losses would be big,
big indeed.
"One last thing, before you
start out on full-power, single-shot." Sebastian said, raising his hand.
"I would rather have had the targets here, and you over there where the
targets are. But there are high voltage cords running along the wall behind the
targets. This, my friends, causes an electromagnetic field to form. Now, las
shots are quite nasty when they hit electromagnetic fields, as they ricochet,
without dropping speed or power. I know las shots aren't supposed to ricochet,
but I know this of old. Begin!"
The static feel and the uncanny
cracking of lasgun fire filled the air. Sebastian started to walk down the line
of three hundred slowly, stopping at some people, giving them some advice or
correcting their aim. At some, he just stopped and stared as they got bull's
eye on bull's eye. There were at least five very skilled snipers in Morpheus
Alpha, and many more who could rival the Guard snipers. Sebastian had almost
walked down the entire line when he heard a curse. Sebastian turned quickly,
fearing the worst, and felt something hot burn across his left eye.
Dropping to his knees, holding
his good hand over his left eye, Sebastian understood far too well what had
happened. A ricochet had hit him. The soldier who'd uttered the curse hadn't
been hit, he'd known he'd missed and Sebastian had turned in time to receive
the las shot in his left eye.
"Sir, I'm so sorry,"
the soldier said as he sat down beside Sebastian. "It was a mistake, I
promise. Medic! ...Commissar Yarrick?"
Sebastian removed his hand from
his face and looked at the trooper with his one good eye. There was a long
moment of silence before Sebastian broke it.
"I understand it was a
mistake," Sebastian said softly. "Another commissar might not have,
but I do. How does it look?"
"Bad." the soldier
replied simply. Sebastian saw in the man's eyes how bad he regretted this.
Sebastian didn't want to believe it himself. Las wounds were tricky, Sebastian
knew. There was just a split second of stinging pain, the wounds fusing
together skin and there was almost always no blood. But Yarrick understood what
bad meant. It meant there was blood, and Sebastian could in fact feel it
running down his face. There was no pain right now, but it would come. Yarrick
knew it. Instead of waiting on the medic, Sebastian got up and walked away
towards the hospital where he'd spent the last two weeks. No one tried to stop
him as he walked there. No one dared to stop the old commissar whose left eye
was just a bloody mess.
In his mind, Sebastian knew with
what he would replace his eye with. A special bionic implant. The Orks already
feared him, Ed had told him that, so Seb knew how to terrify them even more. He
was, after all, considered an expert on the Ork mind. The Orks, when seeing Warlord
Ugulhard killed by an old human with one arm, said that he couldn't be killed.
That he was death to any Ork. And that in two weeks. It would be fun to see
their reactions at his new eye.
Sebastian savoured his thoughts
of this until he was sedated so that the tech-medics could build in the bionic
eye into his cranium. A bionic eye which projected a pulse of laser-light at
mental command.
<<<Helsreach Hive, 3 weeks after Ugulhard's death>>>
Helsreach had plenty of time to
evacuate. Still millions of habbers decided to stay. How they regretted that,
probably, when the Orkish psyker attack came. That was five days ago. Most
people had died when it came. They had either been killed by the psychic storm
created by the hundreds of Orkoid psykers, or driven insane by the visions that
came afterwards or the sights of their dead friends and family. On some, the
heads exploded. Crane-drivers in the harbour of Helsreach welded themselves
into the huge cranes they used to drive. There, they made a last stand against
the savage Ork horde led by Warlord Ghazghkull Thraka. A last stand, which
would go into the history of Armageddon as one of the most heroic feats ever.
The Roll of Honour of the many martyrs of Helsreach would be long.
Commissar Ishmael Grisham knew
that it was inevitable that he would end up on that roll, but he would make an
exit that would make deep boot prints in the history of Armageddon. For the
last five days, Ishmael and a tiny group of Helsreachians, about fifty men and
women, had conducted guerrilla warfare against the Orks. The Orks were
constantly searching for survivors, those capable enough were used as slaves,
those who weren't, were killed. Ishmael didn't like this. Food and water was
scarce. He had himself not drunken anything for 12 hours, and he was beginning
to feel the strain. As soon as his group found a scrap of food or some water,
he gave it to the civilians. They were looking up to him now; they saw him as
their protector. He was a commissar, Emperor damn it, and he wasn't going to
let these people down.
That had been his thoughts four
hours ago. One hour ago, his group had been discovered by Ork so-called
Kommandos, Orks who were very good at infiltration and guerrilla warfare. In
half an hour, 30 of Ishmael's group had been killed. That had been those
unarmed and unarmoured. Ishmael and the 20 remaining put up a stalwart defence.
Ten minutes ago, though it seemed like an eternity, the group had been reduced
to ten men, including IG.
The Ork Kommandos were crumbling
away. 'Maybe there's a chance that we'll survive until tomorrow.' Ishmael
thought to himself as he put a perfect shot with his laspistol between the eyes
of an Ork.
Ghazghkull Thraka, Ork warlord,
jumped out of his war truck, a 7 metres long, red-painted, open-topped truck.
Beside the driver in the front, an Orkish try at a plasma cannon was mounted,
manned by a gunner. The platform at the back was big enough to fit in both huge
Ghazghkull and his bodyguard of mega-armoured Orks. As Ghazghkull jumped out of
the truck, his bodyguard and truck-crew held on for dear life as the truck
wobbled when the nearly one and a half-tonne heavy Ork jumped out.
Landing hard on the ground,
making half a metre deep boot prints in the asphalt, Ghazghkull walked off
towards where Big Boss Uzbex was waiting. Uzbex had called the warlord
concerning some puny humans putting up hard resistance. They didn't want to get
caught and made slaves. For some odd reason, humans didn't want to be slaves as
easily as gretchin, or grots as Orks called them. Ghazghkull couldn't believe
Uzbex couldn't even take care of some stray humans. "How da zog did Uzbex
make Big boss?" Ghazghkull thought to himself as he approached the other
Ork commander.
"Good dat yoo could cum
boss," Uzbex said and made a clumsy salute. Uzbex was only armoured in
pieces of plasteel he'd torn of Land Speeders and fashioned into armour. Under
that, he wore simple combat fatigues (for Orks) and a commissar's greatcoat.
The sleeves had been torn off so Uzbex could put it on, but otherwise it was
largely intact. On his head, he had one of the many peaked caps he'd collected
over the years. On Uzbex' feet was the powerful boots all Orks used and knew
how to make. Uzbex happened to be made of Squiggoth-skin.
"Wot's yer problem
Uzbex?" Ghazghkull growled. He'd had fun executing the stout humans that
ruled this metal-city when Uzbex informed him. Executing, Ghazghkull saw it
more as target practice.
"Dere's a skwad of Oomies
down dere wot won't give up!" Uzbex said and pointed towards a part of the
giant plaza. Ghazghkull heard shouts and screams, both human and Orkish. Under
all the screaming, Ghazghkull make out something else. It was what the humans
called a battle-psalm. Only one type of human sung those songs; commissars.
"Dey've got a commissurr
amongst dem," Ghazghkull said simply as he and Uzbex walked towards the
part of the plaza the fighting was taking place in. They stopped behind a
massive pillar and looked at the bloodbath before them. Seven human soldiers
and a commissar, fighting like possessed against the Orks. Under the
disciplined command of a commissar, humans didn't give up, Ghazghkull had
learned. He also knew the effect of taking away the leaders of the enemy force.
As Ghazghkull thought on this, one Ork warrior got to close to the commissar.
With a backhand punch of his left hand, the commissar smashed the skull of the
Ork to pulp. This was repeated on three other Orks. Still, the man seemed old,
his hair white and his body shrunken of age. Uzbex stood twice as tall as the
commissar, Ghazghkull realized. Still such courage, such stamina! Ghazghkull
almost admired the old man fighting for his cause. An impossible cause, though.
Something in Ghazghkull's mind flickered, a memory. He couldn't put his green, massive
finger on what, but the human seemed familiar. Where had he seen the human
before? As the commissar jumped down and moved carefully, as if careful not to
break anything, Ghazghkull finally put two and two together. The bionic arm,
the broken back, the very looks of the man! It was the commissar from back on
Gideon! So, the human was still alive?
"Pull back da soljers,
Uzbex." Ghazghkull snapped.
"Wot?"
"Get dem away from da
Oomies!" Ghazghkull roared.
Uzbex ordered the Orks to fall
back and regroup where he and Ghazghkull were standing. As the Orks ran from
the humans, some were shot down by the las-fire of the humans. As the Ork
warriors regrouped at fifty metres distance of the humans, the human fire
seized. Ghazghkull smiled. Soon, the indoctrinated commissar would emerge to
lead a charge, and play right into his hands.
"Uzbex," Ghazghkull
said as softly as he could. "Would ya like a new hat to yer
collektion?"
Uzbex nodded his reply. He
understood the plan. Ghazghkull sauntered off towards his truck; he had other
business to attend to. Some more target practice.
Back at the corner of the plaza,
Uzbex kneeled down and aimed his big shoota steadily and waited. The big
sub-machine gun had been heavy for any ordinary Ork, but Uzbex was a Big Boss,
a leader and thus bigger than most Orks.
"Do you think they've gone,
commissar?" a soldier asked IG. The man couldn't have been more than
twenty-five.
"No, they haven't," IG
replied curtly. "They may be Orks, but they're not stupid." Ishmael thought
about the big mega-armoured warrior he'd seen. There was no mistaking it was
the same Ork that he'd encountered on Gideon. The same Ork that had broken his
back ten years ago. Maybe he was going to get revenge for that now? Ishmael
wasn't going to act stupidly now. The Orks most probably thought that they were
going to make a counter-attack, but IG knew that it was pure suicide. They had
to attract the Orks attention in some way, but how?
Pulling off his dog tags and
handing them to the nearest trooper, Ishmael got ready to leap up.
"Give these to Commissar
Yarrick, if you get out of here. He'll understand." IG said and fixed his
peaked cap into place.
"Sir, don't tell me that
you're going to..." the soldier said with a dismal tone in his voice.
"I'm an old man, boy. I
most surely won't survive anyway. You run from here as fast as you can, find a
shuttle and get out of here!"
"What are you going to
do?" the soldier asked as he and the others got ready to leave.
"Me? I'll distract them
long enough for you to run, what else?" Ishmael said with a shrug.
The soldier nodded simply.
"May Saint Armagon be with you, Commissar Grisham."
"You too." IG
responded and leapt over the lip of the crater they'd been crouching in.
As IG got over the top and over
on the other side, he screamed at the top of his voice "For the Emperor of
Humanity, in all Eternity!"
This move was so sudden that the
Orks on instinct ran forward. IG saw to his dismay that the Ork Warlord had
gone. As the Ork warriors attacked him, he felled them with well-placed shot
from his laspistol or he broke their neck with deft swings and chops of his
bionic arm. He felt like a god, not even being touched, until one Ork came up
from behind and gave IG a powerful punch in the back. High on adrenaline,
Ishmael could shut out most of the pain as he heard a horrible crack on the
inside. Spinning round, ignoring the immense pain and going on adrenaline
alone, Ishmael punched a fist-sized hole in the forehead of the Ork behind him.
Seeing that the Orks had been beaten, Ishmael sagged down onto his knees, the
pain of his broken back reaching to him like an avalanche. Tears streaked his
wrinkled face as he tried to shut out the pain as a thick darkness was
beginning to surround him. He barely realized the red laser-point searching its
way up from his abdomen up to his chest. He did, however, see the big Ork
dressed in a commissar's uniform, or what was left of it. The beast was smiling
and it uttered something IG couldn't make out what it was. The smile went over
into a deep, growling and despicably evil laughter. IG understood. He
understood perfectly what was going to happen.
"Bastard," Ishmael
mumbled with his last powers. "May you burn in hell." A split second
later, the huge gun in the Ork's hands erupted into explosive life and, though
barely conscious, Ishmael Grisham, Imperial Commissar, felt how his chest was
blown open and his back broken on yet another place. Two seconds later, he was
dead. He never saw how the Ork picked off his cap and added it to a collection
of other commissar caps, dangling like trophies from the Ork's belt. He also
never saw the monument raised in the plaza of Helsreach over his sacrifice and
all the other men and women who gave their lives in defence of Helsreach. The
plaza, should be noted, was renamed Grisham's Plaza and each street going from
it, around 47 streets, were named after the men and women who died here in
service of the Emperor on this day.
<<<Hades Hive, one day after Helsreach's fall>>>
"Commissar Grisham wanted
you to have these," the soldier said and handed Sebastian the dog tags.
"He said you'd understand."
"Yes," Sebastian
replied in a voice full of sorrow. "Yes, I understand.
And now Helsreach has
fallen."
"Yes, what I know, we were
some of the few to survive, sir. We took one of the last shuttles."
The soldier saw how Commissar
Yarrick's bionic eye blazed with inner fire. The old man was still looking at
the dog tags in his left hand. Yarrick had no right underarm any more. At
final, after a long moment of silence, Sebastian looked up at the soldier.
"Do me a favour young man.
Go to Hive-monitor Artis and tell him to issue one hour of silence in memory to
Helsreach's loss and billions of lives in it."
"Yes, sir!" the
soldier said, saluted and walked off.
Sebastian was at Level Top 60 of
Hades Hive. There was an old Imperial Chapel not far from where he was.
Deciding to go there, Sebastian put the dog tags into his coat pocket. He
needed some time to himself. Charleston was supervising the defence turrets, so
he wouldn't bother him.
When Sebastian came into the
chapel, he ordered the preacher and the missionaries out of the chapel.
"Isn't it anything that we
can do for you, commissar?" the paunchy preacher had asked. "A low
song of lament, anything?"
"Just leave me alone!"
Sebastian had roared, his voice broken with sorrow. The preacher had then left
the chapel, he and his missionaries closing the huge oak door behind them. As
they closed the door, some of the missionaries said he'd be drawing fresh
inspiration from the God-Emperor. The preacher knew better. He knew Yarrick was
just one man, an old man. Things can get too much even for a veteran like him.
And the preacher was right. As
Sebastian was left alone, he sagged down before the altar of the Emperor,
clutching the dog tags of his old friend in his hand.
"It can't be true, please,
God-Emperor, don't let it be." he mumbled under his breath. But Sebastian
knew it was. Tears began streaking his old, lined and wrinkled face. Tears of
both pain, sorrow and shame. The pain Sebastian had gone through the last few
weeks should have killed a normal man, his sorrow would have driven anyone else
mad. And his shame... He was ashamed that he couldn't live up to the demands
put on him, as a commissar. He had failed in his service to the Emperor, his
loyalty to his best friend and his promise to his grandfather. Sebastian raised
his head to look up into the roof and screamed out his sorrow and pain. As he
lowered his head, he mumbled to himself "What sort of commissar am I? I
can't even help my best friend when he needs me, I can't even keep a
promise!" Sebastian's right face-half was wet with tears now. He didn't
cry any more with his left. He couldn't. But what did that matter now? With
Helsreach gone, the water supplies would in the end run out. And the Season of
Storms was approaching. What could he, Sebastian Yarrick, do? He was just one
man...just one man...
A hollow sound behind him, made
him start up and look around. Sebastian knocked the feeling away. It was the
delusions of an old man. Just delusions. When he heard the sound the second
time, Sebastian stood up and scanned the chamber with his bionic eye's
heat-scan. No readings.
"You can't see me on
that." a hollow voice said behind him. Sebastian spun round and stared
into the face of his grandfather. Or the face of the ghost of his grandfather.
Screaming, Sebastian fell backwards, forgetting the staired altar and landed on
his back on the floor. Crawling backwards, Sebastian tried to distance himself
from the apparition. He had never been so scared. His grandfather had finally
come to exact his vengeance on Seb for his folly. For his cowardice.
"Sebastian," the
apparition called. "Don't be afraid, I'm not here to harm you."
Sebastian calmed down, a little.
The apparition looked at him for a long moment until it said something new.
"What has happened with
you? You look like you've been through hell and back."
Sebastian smiled sadly to
himself. It had to be his grandfather, all right. A ghost, maybe, but still his
grandfather. Same sick sort of humour.
"Really lame, gramps!"
Sebastian said and sat up. "Or what are you really? You can't be a ghost,
they only haunt the places they died on."
"That's right. I'm a
memory, you can say." the apparition said and drifted closer. It looked
exactly as Commissar-general Rolf Yarrick, just semi-transparent and grey, but
still dressed in the uniform.
"Why now, why here?"
Sebastian said silently, his voice still having streak of sorrow in it.
"I don't think the Emperor
had time..." the apparition said with a smile. "You've lost hope,
Sebastian."
Sebastian looked up, straight
into the dead eyes of the ghost. "That's true. I've lost hope. My best
friend is dead! Of Armageddon's eight major Hives, five belong to the enemy
now! All is lost..."
A chilling feeling passed
through Sebastian's body. It had felt as going through an ice-cold waterfall.
It took Sebastian some time to realize that the apparition had tried to slap
him, but instead passed right through his face with its hand.
"First fault as a
commissar, Sebastian!" the ghost shouted in its hollow voice. Rolf
Yarrick's usually comical dialect didn't sound funny at all. "Never lose
hope. To lose hope is to blaspheme against the Emperor! It's another step on
the path of damnination!"
"But we are cornered, what
can I do?" Sebastian asked and stood up again. "What can I possibly
do?"
The apparition drifted closer
and put its hands on Sebastian's cheeks. The chilly feeling was gone. This
touch was gentle and warm and Sebastian looked up into the eyes of his
grandfather.
"Remember when you asked
about how commissars came to be?" he said softly, the voice sounding less
hollow.
"Yes, they were the police-officers
of the planet Moskva." Sebastian replied automatically.
"Remember their leader,
Mikhail Mischkjin? He took care of ten families of common workers. He organized
all the People Commissars into a force that one day assaulted the Government Council
and executed each and every member of the Political Commissar order, as they'd
become as corrupt as the other politicians. Most politicos of that council were
executed. Mischkjin created a new council, and the council was always watched
at its meetings by a People’s Commissar, or simply Commissars, as they became
known. He established our creeds and working orders which we follow
today."
"And when the desertions of
Imperial Guard increased, the Committerea Imperius was established and
Commissars trained for use in the Imperium. I know that." Sebastian said
quietly. "But what happened to Mischkjin?"
"Mischkjin died of a rare
cancer disease in his heart at barely 55 years of age, he never got to see how
the Imperial Commissariat was born. But we celebrate him none-the-less as our
founder."
"And the morale is..."
Sebastian queried.
"Mischkjin never lost hope,
not even when he faced off against five gangsters alone. He never gave up,
never lost hope. And that has become one of the corner stones for a commissar.
Never give up in the face of the enemy, it's a blasphemy. Never lose hope, as
long as there's life, there's hope. Haven't you proved that already? You
defeated Ugulhard single-handedly. What did you use as driving force?"
This was a question, Sebastian
heard it well.
"My faith in the Emperor.
My promise to you. And my iron will in victory." Seb replied.
"And that iron will comes
from...?"
"A hope. A hope in
life." Sebastian complemented perfectly. There was no longer any doubt in
his mind. He would save Hades Hive from the Orks, if it so killed him! He
wouldn't let it fall into the hands of his most hated enemy, Kharn!
Sebastian picked up his peaked
cap by the altar and moved to walk out of the chapel. The hour of mourning had
almost passed. He would walk out and show Kharn once and for all that he had
bitten of way more than the Chaos Lord could chew. As he got to the port, the
apparition called him a final time.
"For the Emperor,
Sebastian, in deed and mind..."
"I don't need that anymore,
gramps." Sebastian replied, a small smile forming on his lips. "My
new motto is going to be 'Iron Will, Iron Fist'!"
"Why, Sebastian?"
"I have a small surprise
for the Orks." Sebastian said and smiled as he rubbed his right arm stump.
With that, Sebastian left the chapel. A historical note should be made here.
Commissar Sebastian Yarrick never revealed what had happened in Chapel 03/ac of
Top Level60. It was a secret he was going to have with himself to the grave.
Only one other person ever found out. Master Lexicanum McKenzie, but that was
all that Sebastian told him of the Armageddon War.
<<<Hades Hive, 2 weeks after fall of Helsreach>>>
Days passed, weeks passed.
Ghazghkull threw everything he could at Hades Hive after he'd conquered Helsreach.
Each and everyday had it's new battle. Ghazghkull soon gave up in trying to
conquer the hive by sheer force, and went over in trying every sneaky tactic
the Gork and Mork (the Orkish gods) had taught him. He tried to infiltrate the
hive with Ork Kommandos, he built huge battering ram Gargants, but Yarrick and
the Hadesians staved them all off. Against the Gargants, Sebastian ordered each
and every weapon more powerful than a missile launcher to fire at the huge war
machines, and against the Kommandos, Seb found men who knew the ventilation
system like their own pockets and sent them out into the system, stripped
nearly naked and armed with bolt pistol and power sword to combat the Orks. Not
a single Kommando emerged alive. But these tactics were only few amongst many
Ghazghkull tried, and still, none of the two commanders had truly met.
Ghazghkull only knew he was fighting one tough nut of a human, while Sebastian
didn't know the true size of Ghazghkull (physically). He wasn't sure that he
was facing the Ork Warlord of Gideon.
After one fierce attack by the
Orks, which ended in a retreat across River Euminides for the Orks, Yarrick and
Charleston decided to take a look outside, to see what the landscape looked
like. And to get a few hours off from their Hive life.
Sebastian threw off the gasmask
as soon as they'd gotten out of range of the ash wastes. There was breathable
air on Armageddon, but it certainly wasn't in the ash wastes. There was one
such place just a few hundred kilometres from Hades, and that was where he and
Charleston was right now. Charleston had almost been driving Sebastian nuts the
last two hours by singing 'Walking Across River Euminide' by Fred Hartmann, but
it was also nice be able to breathe air that wasn't filtered. They'd though on
finding any stray Orks out there, but there had been nothing in the wastes.
Ed was still humming!
"Ed!" Sebastian
growled. "For saint Armagon's sake, shut up!"
"Sorry, Sebastian, just
can't get that song outta my head." Charleston replied meekly.
"Just be quiet, I'm trying
to think." Seb fell quiet for a while. "Hey, what actually happened
to Hartmann? He just disappeared from show biz."
"What I heard, he was
killed by three sisters for insulting their family."
(Author's Note: The Euminides
were the three sisters of Revenge in Greek mythology.)
"I've had enough of the
wastes, let's go home..." Sebastian said and started to walk, without
looking where he was setting down his foot. He disappeared in a cloud of dust
and he fell headlong to the ground. Charleston just stood were he was, just as
surprised as Sebastian had been.
Sebastian coughed and dusted of
his greatcoat best he could. After a moment of coughing and violently cursing,
Yarrick stood up and looked at Ed. Charleston simply looked back at the old
man.
"I've never heard so many
curses. Had no idea there were so many in the Low Gothic language, Seb."
Charleston said and chuckled.
"I know, that's why I threw
in a few on High Gothic, Callidussian and Armageddon slang tongue." Seb
said as he got out of the hole.
"That is a weird place to
place a hole in. In the middle of the road...or whatever you can call
this." Sebastian said with a gesture.
Charleston didn't reply
immediately. Instead he was quiet for a long moment, studying the hole.
"That isn't a hole,
Sebastian."
"Then what is it?"
"A boot print...a frekking
big boot prints."
"A boot print?"
Sebastian echoed and looked at Charleston and then at the 'hole'. "But
somebody, or something with that large feet must be at least five metres
tall..." Seb's voice trailed off. He looked down at the boot print again.
"And at least weigh like a Dreadnought walker..." he silently added.
"Ghazghkull."
Charleston said simply. "It has to be him."
There was a long pause of
silence. The only thing heard was the howling wind, as it blew up sand to a
storm in the far horizon. Charleston broke the silence. "There are prints
beside Ghazghkull's."
"And whom do you think they
belong to, my dear Charleston?" Sebastian said and cocked an eyebrow.
"Kharn." the big Space
Marine replied.
Sebastian jaw dropped, nearly.
Kharn had been here, but how did Charleston know?
"How come you're so sure
it's Kharn?" Sebastian asked quietly. He'd been so taken aback by the fact
that Kharn had been so close, that most of the air had gone out of him.
"Dunno, but I don't think
Orks have Marine boots."
"Most probably so..."
Sebastian said and looked around. They were standing in the middle of a crater,
blown out by a meteorite the probably struck all those months ago at the Day of
the Feast. Something didn't seem right though. Those rocks over there were a
bit too even to be rocks.
Seb realized to his horror they
weren't rocks!
"Ed, we'd better get our
butts out of here, quick!" Sebastian said and made a sign to move out to
the Steel Legionnaires that had followed them.
"Why so?" Charleston
replied. Seb thought it impossible that this man had just acted detective, and
now he missed some very crucial details.
"ED!" Sebastian
hissed. "We're standing in the middle of the nest of a sand-cob..."
Seb didn't get any further until the ground rumbled alarmingly and a 50 metres
long sand-cobra shot out of the ground. The huge serpent, most probably a
female because of its small neck shield, was hissing dangerously at the two men
that had gotten too close to her eggs. The cobra dived down with speed like a
lightning bolt, but Seb and Charleston ducked away just in time. They both hid
behind a huge rock that wasn't an egg and caught their breaths. Charleston saw
that Sebastian was white in his face with fear. He couldn't blame the old man
for being scared. Ed had encountered sand-cobras two-times before, but none of
this size. Something went up to him. Eddie had claimed to have killed a
sand-cobra at 30 metres once, he even had the skull. If he, Ed, could manage to
kill this beast, he'd prove himself a better warrior than the grand commander
himself. Charleston drew his power sword.
"Ed, you're not seriously
considering going one-on-one with that monster, are you?" Sebastian said,
his voice shaky of fear. If there was one thing faith in the Emperor couldn't
save him from it was the teeth of a sand-cobra. And this sucker's teeth were
about the size of Sebastian. At least the fangs.
"I'm gonna kill it and take
it's head as a trophy, that's what I'm gonna do!" Charleston said and
turned on his jump pack and flew off.
"ED!! NOOO!" Sebastian
screamed after the lieutenant commander, but it was no use. Charleston had made
up his mind. "That nut has to be nuts!" Sebastian mumbled to himself.
Up in the air, Charleston ducked
for the sand-cobra's attacks. Even though the serpent was huge, it was quick, unnaturally
quick. But Ed was quicker as the suit of power armour he was wearing heightened
his reflexes. Sebastian watched in horror as Charleston was nearly missed by
the whip-like tail. One punch from that tail would break anyone's back, Seb was
certain. A crackling in his ear, woke him from his daily nightmare. It had been
the lieutenant of the Steel Legionnaires calling him over the short-range
vox-system. The officer had wondered if they should engage the giant wyrm.
"Are you crazy?"
Sebastian had spat back. "That thing could swallow a man whole! No, let
Charleston finish this himself, which I hope he can."
The tail barely missed again,
and Charleston had felt the wind rushing through his close-cut hair. It had
been close, too frekking close! He had to get out of the way of the damned
tail. A few quick manoeuvres and dodges and he were face to face with the
snake. The creature reacted instantly and attacked Charleston full on with its
maw. Charleston dodged it nimbly. But it was once again very close.
"Strike one!"
Charleston shouted.
The snake struck at him with its
tail once again. The horn-barbed tail scratched at Charleston's leg armour,
leaving three, inch deep scars in the right leg's armour. He had to get the
tail out of the way!
"Strike two!"
Charleston said and dodged away to the face of the wyrm.
The snake didn't attack like
before, instead it tested a new manoeuvre. It stopped almost in front of
Charleston and sent out its snapping tongue at him. The tongue took a big chunk
of ceramite with it as it loosened itself from Charleston's chest plate. After
retaining it's tongue, it made yet another fly on attack.
"Strike three! You're
OUT!" Charleston screamed as he went up at the right side of the serpent's
face. Charleston very seldom fought according to the Codex: Adeptus Astartes,
although he should. But on one point he and the Codex agreed; when facing an
Armageddon sand-cobra, armed with only one sword, you can only do one thing and
you only get one chance, so time it PERFECTLY!
"I said: You're OUT! O-W-T! OUT!
You frekking son of a..." Charleston cursed as he loaded up for the
thrust. He had to time it perfectly, only one chance. If he missed, he probably
would lose his power sword too. Two, three, four dodging manoeuvres, and then
the opportunity were given.
"Die evil wyrm of
Hell!!" Charleston shouted at the top of his lungs as he ran the gleaming
blue sword through the right eye of the cobra. His goal was to pierce the brain
of the creature, but it had a brain the size of a football and a cranium the
size of Charleston, so it would all be hanging on luck now. Charleston flew
away a few hundred metres, as not to be in the way of the thing, unarmed, if
he'd missed.
With a mighty crash, the 48
tonne serpent went into the sand dunes of Armageddon, dead. Its tiny brain
pierced by a power sword. From where
Sebastian stood, he felt the ground shake violently as the snake went
down. He soon joined the soldiers' shouts of victory and congratulation hoots.
Charleston landed, a proud, but sweaty look on his face. Sebastian
joined him quite quickly.
"Charleston, that was
either the most stupid or most brave thing you've ever done!" Sebastian
said, his voice showing clear traces of the man's excitement. "So, what
are you going to do now, eh?"
"Bring ropes."
Charleston said simply. "I'm taking its head with me." With that,
Charleston pulled out the sword from the skull of the snake and aimed at its
neck, raised it, hesitated. Charleston lowered his sword, moved a few metres to
the left, raised the sword again and this time completed the swing by cutting
off the head of the serpent, below the neck-shield. By now, one of the Chimera
transport-tanks had come down to them and eight guardsmen were trying to lift
the head onto the tank so they could take it home to Hades. They didn't succeed
in lifting it until Charleston helped in. He lifted the many hundreds of kilos
of bone and sinew easily and threw it onto the tank. Then the soldiers could
secure the trophy onto the tank with the ropes they'd found. With that, the
small column left the nest.
The Imperials had never seen the
Berzerker overlooking the scene. He'd been standing behind a boulder, watching.
With interest. Kharn, Lord of Berzerkers, but actually named Kevlinn, smiled
behind his facemask.
"Too bad the cobra didn't
get you, Charleston." the dark lord muttered to himself. "It would
make things so much easier."
Kharn slowly walked away,
towards the waiting Rhino-class transports. They would take him to the
surroundings of Acheron Hive. As he approached his bodyguard, Kharn thought:
"I hope this war makes the Imperials think I've gone desperate. They might
just think I'm a spent force. If so, they're playing right into my century long
plans..."