Storm Heralds Reading List: Maledicti Venator, Serrati Stellas, Tenebris Resurget, Finis Fide.

Tergum Cultro Chapter 1

965.M41

The noise of the artillery barrage battered her ears, pounding like someone was beating her skull with a mallet. The detonations shook her bones as she clung to the wet mud, pressing her body down into the bottom of the trench as she prayed for survival. Above her head showers of mud and blood fountained high, falling upon her in a cloying mix of substances that clung to her shoulders. The smell was incredible, a mix of wet earth, entrails and voided bowels that described the deaths of her men. She knew she should be leading her troopers forward but it was impossible, Lieutenant Marisa was pinned by the artillery barrage and could not even see her platoon, let alone lead them into battle.

Marisa didn't know how long she lay in the filthy mud, all she knew was the world shaking as death tried to take her. Yet eventually the thunder of explosions moved on, raining down on another section of the trenches and she was able to drag herself to her knees. What arose from the filth was a middle-aged woman, with a muscled frame made hard by years in the Imperial Guard. Her face was broad, her nose wide and she was missing several front teeth. Perhaps once she may have been attractive, in a rough fashion, but those years were behind her, leaving a hardened warrior more suited to bellowing at green recruits than anything else. Her uniform was caked in filth but she brushed off the worse, revealing the patch of the 011th Caminus Hussars on her padded flak jacket and the brass bars of a Lieutenant on her shoulders.

Marisa's head was ringing as she looked down the trench but she spied none of her men nearby. She did spot her peaked cap laying upside down and put it on without thought, only to grimace as wet mud poured over her head. She took it off and knocked the mud out before replacing it, then checked her las-pistol and sabre were in her belt. They weren't fancy weapons like those her Colonel liked to show off, merely crude and brutal instruments of war. They weren't intended to impress courtiers at grand ballroom dances and victory feast but to end lives as efficiently as possible. The notches on her sabre attested that she had done plenty of that in her time.

Marisa was growing more aware that she was engaging in distraction activity, refusing to accept reality and needed to get her head straight. She forced herself to stand up and glanced over the parapet, wary of enemy fighters nearby. What she was beheld was the detritus of war, a series of trenches dug into the ground outside the slums of a city, one she knew all too well. Under a shimmering void shield lay the city of Arun, capital of the planet Caminus. It was the heart of this drab mining world, boasting the Governor's Palace the Ecclesiarchal temple, the noble's mansions and of course the Adeptus Mechanicus' forge-fanes, so many that they nearly overran the city itself. The city boasted a high defensive wall, impervious to anything short of Macro-weaponry but it did not protect the whole urban centre. The wall had been built around the heart of the city to protect what had then been its perimeter, but centuries of growth had seen the slums outside grow to epic proportions. The nobles hadn't cared if the filthy masses had been left unprotected by the Inner Wall, so long as their homes were safe. This then was Arun, the only real settlement of note on Caminus other than the endless mine workings. It had been Marisa's home once, before she sailed off to the stars, but now the flags of rebellion flew high over its ramparts. The people of Caminus had broken faith with rulers of Mankind, sick and tired of sending their mineral wealth to the hungry manufactorums of the Mechanicus and their young to the armies of Terra. Imperial authorities weren't about to allow that, they had sent a reprisal force to put down this rebellion. Unfortunately the attack hadn't gone well; the Imperial Guard were stuck in outer trenches and being slaughtered. What should have been a straightforward assault into the heart of the enemy had been caught in miles of razorwire, vicious crossfires from exceedingly well-placed dugouts and hull-down tanks, making the Guard pay in blood for every metre. Marisa's regiment hadn't reached the wall; they hadn't even reached the slums. Then just as she thought it couldn't get any worse an artillery barrage more powerful than the wrath of Rogal Dorn had come out of nowhere.

Marisa realised she was distracting herself again, thinking of anything but the carnage erupting around her. She shook off her daydreaming and forced her boots to move, placing her feet one in front of the other. Slowly she walked down the trench, hearing the battle rage on. She stepped over bodies of dead soldiers and she cursed to know her own people had done this, she couldn't understand what had driven her people to this madness, what brand of ignorance or corruption had wormed its way into their hearts. Explosions and screams rang through the smoky air, mixed with the howling of distant guns and the grinding of tanks. Her path took her past a burnt-out Leman Russ tank which was nose down in the trench, Imperial or rebel it was impossible to tell so blackened was it. She climbed over its metal bulk, still hot from the fierce battle and beyond it she found a gaggle of men, about a score huddling in the trench. Marisa pulled up as lasrifles pointed at her but they fell away as the men recognised her and voices called out in relief. They were grey-faced and filthy but under their helmets were faces she knew like the back of her hand.

Marisa breathed out as she realised her platoon hadn't wandered too far and said, "There you are."

A trooper name Berh answered, "We got separated in the barrage. We thought you'd bought a one way ticket to the Golden Throne."

"Obviously not," Marisa retorted, "So you've been hiding here, instead of seeking new orders. Where's Cendric?"

A man at the back with a bulky vox-set on his back called out, "Here Lieutenant!"

Marisa snapped, "Don't just stand there, get a channel to Headquarters and tell them we're pinned here. Request new orders."

Cendric pulled a bulky headset to his ear and began fiddling with dials attached to his belt. Meanwhile Marisa directed the rest of the platoon into some form of order, facing outwards with lasrifles poking over the lintel of the trench. She wasn't happy with their lack of heavy firepower but it was all they had. She stepped past Berh and the trooper asked, "Lieutenant, we weren't expecting serious resistance. Why didn't recon warn us?"

Marisa sighed, "They may not have known, this is a popular uprising, the civilians weren't supposed to have any fight in them. I reckon they raided the Cogboy's Forge-fanes for guns, but someone trained them how to use 'em."

Berh hissed, "Damned the Brass hats and their fancy braiding. Someone frakked up and we get dropped in this Dung-storm."

"Careful with that talk," Marisa warned him, "Criticising the Lord Generals will get you shot by a Commissar."

Berh didn't seem to care and from further down the line Trooper Kalle spat, "Bloody rebels, I can't believe our own people turned on the Imperium. What could make a planet betray the Emperor?"

"We haven't," Marisa snapped irately, "We are the true Caminus, not that rebel scum. We remain loyal and we'll make this right. Caminus won't turn so long as one brave heart of the Hussars fights on!"

It was a nice speech and it put some steel back into the spines of the troopers but barely has she said it when Behr yelled, "Movement!" Marisa's head snapped about and she saw a line of men in thick long coats and pot helms advancing across the ground between the parallel trenches. They moved with sure confidence and bore lasrifles like they knew how to use them. Rebels, coming to reclaim their trenches. Marisa realised the artillery barrage had been cover for a counter-attack; an infantry advance had been hot on its heels and was headed the loyalists' way.

"Open fire!" Marisa yelled and the distinctive snap-hiss of las-shots rang out. Troopers stood to the parapet and discharged their weapons in sprays of lasfire, scything into the oncoming rebels. A half-dozen rebels went down to the first volley but they reacted with crisp discipline, diving into cover and returning fire. Las-shots peppered the lintel, spraying flecks of wood and mud into the faces of the defenders. A vicious crossfire sprang up, both sides trading fire in the muddy hell of the trenches.

"Pick your targets!" Marisa yelled as she put a las-pistol shot into the heart of a burly man. Return volleys overwhelmed her position, forcing her to duck lest her brains be blown out. The defenders had the advantage of position and cover, using the trench to their advantage, but the rebels outnumbered them many times over and they laid down covering fire for their comrades to advance in pairs. Marisa knew the defence was about to be overwhelmed, the rebels would breach her line in minutes and then roll up the trench with ease. She turned to Cendric, intending to shout orders but suddenly the vox-operator jerked back from the lintel, a smoking hole where his face had been. Instantly she was in motion, diving to his side and ripping the headset off. Thankfully the vox-set was undamaged and ignoring the corpse of her trooper she clamped the set to her ear and yelled, "Come in! Can anybody hear me?!"

A crisp and rim voice replied, "Who is this?"

Marisa bit down on a curse and stated, "Lieutenant Marisa, Platoon nineteen requesting reinforcements in grid sector six-three."

The voice replied, "Lieutenant, you are behind schedule. Your force should be in sector two-one by now."

Marisa's jaw dropped and as the lasfire flew overhead she snarled, "Don't you know what happening out here?! it's a Frakking counter-attack, we're being overrun!"

The officer at the other end didn't seem to understand as he replied, "Lord General Ferandin has labelled any talk of a counter-attack an attempt to subvert to morale. Cease such talk immediately and advance to your designated coordinates or be reported to the Commissariat for insubordination."

Marisa pressed the headset to her ear as torrents of lasfire nearly deafened her and cursed, "Listen, you worthless Grox-fondler. If we don't get reinforcements immediately the whole grid sector will fall. We're dying out here you mother-loving idiot! "

Whatever the officer's response would have been was cut off as waves of static washed through the vox. Marisa winced as the noise scraped over her ears and made her teeth clench. Yet she refused to pull the set away as she cried, "Come in. We need assistance. Can anybody hear me? Is there anybody there?"

Suddenly the static cut out and a deep voice, sonorous and growling as she had never heard before rumbled, "To all Imperial units, hold fast and prepare for reinforcements. Stand your ground soldiers of the Divine-Emperor, for He has heard your prayers and sent His angels to aid you. The Adeptus Astartes shall deliver death unto the rebel scum."

Marisa couldn't believe her ears and lifted her eyes to the grey sky, seeing the ashen clouds above swirl and part. From their billowing mists shot forth a volley of tiny projectiles, travelling earthward at fantastic speed. Drop-pods: orbital drop pods trailing the fires of re-entry in their wake as they fell into the midst of the battlefield. Marisa's heart surged with joy as she cried, "Fight on men, fight on! The Space Marines are with us, the Angels of Death have come!"