This story is an unofficial story based, without permission, on the Warhammer/Warhammer 40,000 intellectual property owned by Games Workshop Ltd.
"Steve walks warily down the street
With the brim pulled way down low
Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet
Machine guns ready to go"
Colonel Arthur Hawk took another drag of the crooked, wounded clove that hung from his cracked lips. His chainsword was draped warily across his right shoulder, his bolt pistol hanging loosely from its holster. The Guard was making its stand at Liberation square. The 207th Kazarkanian first battalion, the 5th and 3rd battalions of the New Gurgenstein Penal Legion, and the New Gurgenstein Armored Corps 7th company: Taking into account the mass of priests and confessors that had been provided by the local ecclesiarch, just over six thousand, all told.
The square was a massive structure. A huge, marble floor pattern, it was surrounded by ornate gothic cathedrals, all devoted to the hymns of the Imperial Cult. It was essentially empty, except for the center where, on a massive, black marble base carved with the word IMPERATOR, was a huge statue of the Emperor, sword drawn, resplendent in his golden terminator armor, shoulder-length hair wreathed in a crown of laurels. Behind him, at his right hand, was a smaller statue, of a man in a white toga, large scepter in one hand, his head decked in a golden helm. The man was Arcturias Hargonus, the only king to ever unite the entire peoples of Hargon under a single banner, and, once the Emperor arrived, the first Imperial Governor of Hargon. At his left stood a man in a proud dress uniform, hair slicked back, nose long and hooked. Carrying a copy of the Liber Imperialis in his right hand and a long officer's sabre in his right, the statue represented Baron Tacitus Dalmaticus, the founder of New Gurgenstein and eventually also an Imperial Governor. Since the reign of Dalmaticus, just over four hundred years previously, the seat of the governorship had never once seen any but a citizen of New Gurgenstein, the planet's greatest hive, sit on its throne. The three great statues watched over the square like gigantic parents, visual representations of the glory of the Imperium.
Normally the square was a place of bustling trade and business. No longer. It had been cleared entirely, replaced by sandbags, heavy weapons teams, heavy weapons platoons and tank positions, cleared paths for melee counter-attacks, and large vox-towers for officers to cry out their orders to their men. Liberation Square was a choke point. One could not get from the main hive to the upper hive without passing through Liberation Square.
Not unless they went through the sewers.
Colonel Arthur Hawk finished his cigarette and dropped it to the ground, squashing it out with his boot. He ran one hand through his long hair. The sewers. He knew the Orks would figure it out eventually. He was surprised they had not come through yet. They had attacked three times thus far today, having been repelled with ease each time by the carefully set up chokepoint defense. The last attack had come nearly nine hours ago. Hawk had slept once, only for about an hour and a half. He had had nearly constant correspondence with the Lord-General, who was overseeing the broader defense of the city from a bunker in the uppermost section of the hive. A man approached Hawk, clad from head to toe in a bright blue uniform and a black beret. One of the civilian volunteers in the Penal Legion, who made up its officer corps from squadron level sergeants to the General himself. His uniform lacked the six digit number stamped on the back of his prisoner brethren in their bright orange jumpsuits.
The officer approached and saluted. Hawk returned it.
"Colonel, we have nearly lost contact with all combat patrols that we sent into the sewers. We are presuming that the Orks have seized the territory."
"Right then. Prepare to repel an attack from underneath us. Alone it will not be able to do anything of significance, but it could provide the crucial distraction necessary to allow an Ork wave to take the square the old fashioned way."
"Yes, sir. Ave Imperator."
"Ave Imperator."
Hawk had barely finished his sentence when a huge shell smashed into the statue of the Emperor, blowing his head into so much dust and rubble. Hawk turned, alarmed. The Orks were attacked. Reacting instantly, he thumbed the activation rune on his chainsword and began to bellow orders into the vox-mic hanging from his collar, his words emerging from the towers set up all over the square;
"MEN OF THE EMPEROR, MOVE! ENGAGE IN DEFENSIVE PATTERN ALPHA 22 GAMMA! I REPEAT, ALPHA 22 GAMMA, THAT IS ALPHA 22 GAMMA DEFENSIVE PATTERN! GO, GO, GO, GO! YOU WORTHLESS LUGS, LET'S MOVE!"
And then the green tide was upon them. The confessors and priests were lighting up with prayer hymnals as the men they preached to were lighting up with their guns. There were few things more horrifying than an assault from the Orks. They were massive beasts, their skin a sickly green, their teeth yellow and fearsome, their eyes small, red, and piggy. They were a sick assortment of stolen and looted technology, and simple, murderous brawn. They seemed to take some kind of joy out of war, which made the xenos all the more horrifying. The green tide was like some kind of cruel, malicious child, given the strength of ten thousand warriors.
The ranks of the Guard held strong. Professional soldiers the Penal legionnaires were not, but they were inspired by the example of their much more hardened off-world brethren, and by the fear of death. They stood and fired in disciplined, well executed patterns, setting up deadly lanes of fire that sent Ork bodies crashing to the marble ground in bloody ribbons of their stinking flesh.
Hawk was pouring bolt rounds toward the enemy, swinging his sword about for dramatic effect. He placed one boot on the sandbags in front of him, making him the very image of a conquering hero. It was something he did not particularly like doing, not being a man given to theatre, but he knew that the men benefited from it, and so he did it.
Nobody did notice a small squadron of blue clad Gubernatorial Storm Troopers creeping behind enemy lines, setting a series of melta charges, and stealing off in silence. As battle raged in Liberation square, the Gonsalves Heresy unfolded. If the Lord-Deacon had known, he would have declared the Governor 'Extremis Traitorus'. No such luck. He and his entire guard had been personally assassinated by Colonel Marcus Flaviun not two hours previously. Soon the melta charges would be detonated, rending through Imperial lines in a massive blast. Even if the sewers held out, there would be no hope to defending the square. Colonel Flaviun would declare that his intelligence had found that this was the beginning of a rebellion, sponsored and led by Lord-General Montego, and the Governor would accept it readily, mobilizing his storm troopers to engage the "Traitor Guard" in battle. All this would provide a good cover for the escape of the Governor and his most trusted Colonel on his personal yacht. The Ork lord, in return, would receive Hargon right onto his lap. The Governor would be long gone, sitting in some much more comfortable palace with far fewer activities on a faraway world before any reinforcements had a chance to arrive, and any nosy Commissars had a chance to look into the matter.
***
"I WANT A COUNTER-CHARGE ON SECTION A-27 NOW!" Hawk's lungs were hoarse from his screaming. Overall, the defense seemed to be going rather well, but he found himself continuously worried about the Orks busting in through the sewers. He had them defended quite well by auto-cannon teams and a squadron of Leman Russ tanks. But there was something picking at the back of his mind. Something was not right.
The Penal Legionnaires fixed bayonets and threw themselves into the counter-charge against the Orks, performing surprisingly well, they managed to push them back until a special weapons team equipped with flamers and grenade launchers was able to take over and suppress the Ork breakthrough totally. And then the melta charges went off.
Hawk didn't have to worry about the Orks breaking through the chokepoints above the sewers anymore. There was no more chokepoint. A massive portion of the marble flooring of the colossal square had been blown apart, tearing massive holes in Imperial lines. If there had been any Orks in the sewers below, they had been annihilated. Not that it mattered now. Men had been flung like rag dolls, Imperial lines had been blasted through like massive holes. There was nothing left. The Orks would take the square in moments. Somewhere, Corporal Michael Callus heard the blasts, dimly over the continued blasts of his lasgun and wondered what had happened.
Hawk turned his attention from the blast just in time to see a huge Ork charging at what was left of his line. He fired his bolt pistol, pumping two rounds into it's face and felling it. His chainsword decapitated the second in a single clear swipe. The third one buried it's massive axe into his skull, lacerating his brain and nearly cleaving it in two. Blood shot forth from his skull as the blade was pulled from his cranium, and his body hit the ground face first.
The pict-recordings that survived that day were a horror to see. Three battalions of infantry and an entire armored company, caught between a chain reaction of melta charges and a seemingly relentless green tide, were massacred. By the time it was over, the square literally ran red. Six thousand fighting men of the Imperial Guard lost their lives, right down to a man. There was not one survivor. Later, Lord-General Julian Montego would be quoted to have said to his command staff, upon hearing the noise, the following quote;
"Gentlemen, steel yourselves. We no longer dwell in the Kingdom of the Emperor. We have passed into the Kingdom of the Damned. And there will be no mercy. We have passed into the Kingdom of the Damned."
The decapitated statue of the God-Emperor of Mankind was torn to the ground, and shattered into rubble, as the green mass continued through the great gate at the end of Liberation Square and into the upper spire. The end game had begun. On the eve of a Waaagh untold in it's fury, some time late in the 41st millennium, the beleaguered defenders of Hive New Gurgenstein, on the relatively out of the way world of Hargon, passed into the Kingdom of the Damned. There would be no mercy.
Hive World Terra