More story...

The ceiling buckled and shattered, glass and steel raining down upon the combatants as they grappled bitterly below. Brennan dived to the floor, narrowly avoiding the beam that crushed the Ork in front of him to a pulp. Looking up through the dust and smoke, disorientated by the sound and destruction, he tried to see what had hit them. As his vision cleared, the dust settling again, every combatant seemed to pause, registering what had occurred.

Pulling himself to his feet, Allen took advantage of the brief lull, punching his knife into the throat of the nearest Ork, dragging the alien to its knees before kicking it to the floor, blood gushing from the fatal wound. The other Orks turned to face him again, but they were distracted, still shaken by the new arrival. Allen looked up, his blood stained face realising what had arrived. The Adeptus Astartes.

Three Drop Pods stood in the building, their intimidating presence made worse by the steam venting from the door hatches and quiet hum of thrusters cooling. In one simultaneous movement, with a hissing roar, the hatches of each Pod burst open, disgorging the mighty Space Marines into the fray. Standing seven feet tall, clad in mighty ceramite armour that was proof against all but the toughest of attacks, they stepped out of the Drop Pods in perfect unison. They were the pinnacle of war, perfect soldiers bred for the sole purpose of defending the Imperium. Now they had arrived, the day was surely theirs.

Brennan’s eyes widened, emotions coursing through his veins, as he watched the tide of the battle turn. Time had seemed to slow as the Drop Pods fell, it had taken fifteen seconds to disgorge the finest soldiers of the Imperium, but to the beleaguered Guardsmen, it had been an age. Even as the Marines deployed, the Orks fought with a renewed fury, a new foe to destroy. With cries in the air, they set about slaying the humans ever more vigorously, intent on crushing everything. Ducking one Ork thrust, feeling empty and hollow, Brennan fired his rifle into the creature’s armpit, barely registering as his shots tore out through the beast’s head. He could do nothing but stand there as the bolters of the Space Marines opened fire, well drilled volleys crashing into the carnage of battle. Impassively he watched as the mass-reactive shells blew apart Orks, rending them limb from limb. Almost in a daze, he witnessed the biggest Orks charge the giant power-armoured warriors. Combat blade met cruel axe, honed skills met raw savagery. A few of the Marines were taken to the ground by weight of numbers, even their armour was not total proof against the devastation the Orks could bring.

He barely registered the Ork Warboss thundering past him, feeling his thunderous passage as a draft buffeted him. He saw the biggest Marine, clad in a huge suit of grey armour with a glowing sword in hand, break from his allies, barrelling into the Ork commander. He could almost feel the collision as they duelled. Each blow was parried, each thrust evaded. Each searched for an opening, a weakness in their foe. The Ork lashed out again, and the Marine took his chance. The bolter on his gauntlet barked as it fired into the Ork’s hand, blowing fingers to pieces. The shock caused the Ork to reel, his concentration broken. Bringing his other arm around, the Marine’s sword embedded itself in the Warboss’ ribs. Tearing it free as the Ork stumbled, the huge Imperial kicked his foe in the abdomen, pulverising flesh and bone. Crumpling to the floor, the Marine’s sword flashed once more, stabbing straight into the corded neck of the broken beast. Looking up from his vanquished foe, the Space Marine nodded almost imperceptivity at Brennan, before turning back to the fray. Brennan stood there, feeling lost. Everything they had fought for. Forty-two days of pain and suffering they had endured, only for it to be ended in minutes and seconds. It didn’t seem right.

Something called to him, something tugged at the edge of consciousness, pulling him from his numbed stupor.

“Brennan.”

A voice.

“Brennan. We did it.”

He turned, knowing what he would see. The broken body of the Sergeant lay to his side. Devastated by his battle with the Ork Warboss, his fate had been sealed by the roof beam that protruded from his abdomen. Tears instantly welled up in Brennan’s eyes. Dropping his rifle he sprinted to him, cradling him close. He tried not to look down, at the blood and gore that stained the Sergeant’s body, their gruesome path across the floor spelling out the time he had left.

“No, no, no.” He whispered. “We made it, you have to make it, you will.”

“Heh.” A thin laugh cracked from the Sergeant’s lips, a smile almost forming, the effort clearly draining him. Blood pooled at the corners of his mouth as he spoke.

“We did.” He reached into his tunic, pulling out a tattered data slate. Holding it fondly, he looked back at Brennan. “We did it, for them. We did it.”

His eyes shut, the smile still on his face. His hand slipped across his chest, but Brennan caught the slate before it could fall. He looked at it, the smiling faces of the Sergeant’s family looking back at him.

“Tell them hello, father,” whispered Brennan, wiping tears from his eyes, “Tell them I miss them.”

Gently laying the body to the floor, he snapped the identity tags from around his father’s neck, and looked up, a new purpose on his face.

Allen ducked another swing, rolling out of the way of the cleaver that threatened to rip him in two. Feeling a firm grip on his shoulder, he spun with his knife raised.

“At ease soldier,” a baritone voice reverberated from the helmeted figure in front of him. “We have them now.”

Deftly pushing Allen aside, three huge Space Marines engaged the Orks, their bolt pistols and blades cutting them down like grass. Exhaustion finally overcame Allen, and he dropped to his knees. He watched the Marines as they butchered the Orks effortlessly, acting in perfect tandem, a thorough killing machine. All at once he saw an Ork throw himself into the battle, he tried to call out, but his voice came out as a ragged cry, no words would form in his mouth. He watched in horror and despair as one of the Marines was borne backwards by the tackling Ork. Thrashing and twisting as he fell, the Marine slew his assailant, pushing his body to the side, but he could not stop his fall, his armoured bulk crashing onto the piled corpses below him. A sickening crunch, no louder than a whisper, reached Allen’s ears, but it sounded like a cannon shot. Stephan’s body, his friend, destroyed, after all he had done. Crying, ignoring the fighting around him, he dived into the melee, crawling amongst the blood and debris.

“Stephan!” His voice was cracked and hoarse as he tried to pull the mangled body together again. “Stephan...”

Tears ran through the grime and blood on his face as he tore the tags from the neck of his comrade, squeezing them so tightly his hand bled.

***************