Warhammer 40K Fan Fiction ❯ 21 ❯ The Battle for Missile Silo 943 ( Chapter 1 )

The Battle For Missile Silo 943

 

 

Sergeant Morst of the 21st Teutonian Aces surveyed the oncoming ork warband with the casual interest you would only see in a Teutonian. Planet Teutonia is located in Segmentum Tempestus and has spilt more Ork blood on its forest floor than most of the sector. Where others would be terrified by the enemy mass, he saw 2 hours overtime cleaning bodies from the area around the missile silo and trench line. Morst had been in active service for 19 years and had been through more battles then all his squad put together. The greenskins had been spotted 3 days ago by an air patrol, so it was no surprise. The enemy bikers and boyz were packed tightly around the ford of the stream, about 400 metres away, but instead of rushing forward as would normally be expected of the fragmented groups of wandering Orks; they seemed to be waiting for something. 2nd Officer Hawk, the company's commander, had called for support so Morst had no problem with waiting. The Imperials had drawn their forces around the missile silo. They had 2 full platoons and a Lascannon battery on the hill to the east. The Orks were amassed around the forest border overlooking the killing ground cleared around the silo. Morst sincerely wished that he was inside the Vogelsburg Forest instead of being holed up in the trench system surrounding the missile silo, but orders were orders. The stream that lay in front of the Orks trickled merrily as if it didn't know what was coming its way. The silo was one of 2000 on Teutonia and was absolutely vital.

 

 

Suddenly, silence descended on the Orks, bringing Morst out of his thoughts. The whine of crude hydraulics could be heard, seconds later, Morst spotted trees rustling on the greenskin's right flank moments before 3 Ork walkers, Killer Kans in foul Ork speak, burst through the tree line. The biggest greenskin Morst had ever seen strode out of one of the crude transports. This Ork was huge, about 12 feet tall with dark, very dark green skin and 2 foot long tusks. The other Orks avoided his gaze. This was not just a wandering group of orks; it was a co-ordinated war-band! For a few seconds that felt like hours, all was still, and then the warboss levelled his massive gun and pulled the trigger, firing four or five different shots at once. With an earth-shaking “Waaggghhhh!!!” the orks opened fire and charged the imperial positions.

 

 

On the hill to the east 3rd officer Hausser was directing the fire of the 3 Lascannon teams.

“Range 350, low and fast, fire!” shouted Hausser, a second before the air in front of the lascannon was split by a searing blast of pure energy that lanced towards the enemy war-bikes and sliced a cannon off the side. The bike skidded slightly but continued. The driver didn't look like he had noticed. The second Lascannon was more successful, impacting squarely upon the centre of the bike, flipping it into the air before it detonated. Miraculously, the driver managed to crawl from the wreck, only to be cut down by las fire.

“Well done, only 2 left now”, Kurt muttered sarcastically.

“ Ha Ha, yes! Just because you missed…” jeered Dieter, still elated by his excellent shot.

2nd officer Hawk, commander of the silo garrison, walked slightly stooped down the lines until he came to Black 1 squad to pull up one of the men who was cowering in the trench.

“Get up, Ossary, give those Ork scum hell!”

He knows my name! Thought Ossary, shocked. He looked up at Hawk with his bolter raised, standing proud and unflinching despite the heavy fire around them.

“Fire your weapon trooper!” he called out.

Not waiting to be told again, all fear gone, Ossary rose slowly and loosed off a trio of shots bouncing off armour and skin alike. The second attempt hit an Ork square between the eyes and pitched him over.

“See that sir? I sent that greenskin to hell, another for the Acers eh, Sir.” he said, turning to the 2nd Officer.

Hawk was gone.

“Alexi, how is everything going?” he asked his vox officer as he strode up to the missile silo where his command squad were deployed.

“Looks okay sir, but Sergeant Uver says the orks on our far right flank are-“

Hawk never knew what was happening on Sergeant Uvers flank, a volley of big shooters mowed down his whole command squad in a red mist. A shot bounced off the back rampart and buried itself in his leg and bowled him down like a tree in the logging season. He cried out in pain but the professional soldier part of him would not let him lie around screaming like a baby. Slowly, with pain bursting around his leg, he dragged himself into the lea of the silo wall as more bullets bounced of the space he had been occupying a few seconds ago.

He rolled over to where Alexi was groaning in pain, “Alexi, Alexi damn it! Are you okay?”

“yessir,… but they got me in the chest… and in the arm” murmured the prone vox officer before passing out.

Hawk reached for Alexi's mike, he couldn't risk channel changing in case he switched it off or lost frequency.

“This is Hawk, I'm on the Silo, any troop units read me, I repeat can anybody read me I have a situation here. Over” He said, a hint of desperation in his voice as the dreaded sound of mechanical hissing came to his ears. He now knew what had just blown his command squad into bloody dust, Killer Kans.

“This is Hausser, I here you, what's the sit. Over” came the voice of 3rd officer Hausser, his voice a warm relief.

“Karl, I need some back up, my squads down and I see Kans cresting the hill at point 129,899, by the woods, get some fire on them.” Bawled Hawk, getting the authority back in his voice.

Soon sharp, disciplined volleys of Lascannon fire were streaking over his head. Hitting the Killer Kans Square on, blowing off legs and weapons but miraculously they came on, charging up the hill.

“And again!” roared Hawk over the barrage. The second volley of shots would take them out for sure. It didn't come.

 

 

Hausser's glowing power sword cleaved through Ork flesh, splattering foul, green Ork blood over his sharp features. He jabbed out with his sword, going straight through an oncoming enemy. As he pulled out the power weapon he lashed out at another Ork with his fist, the knuckle-dusters making a sickening crunching noise. The aliens eyes crossed and it fell to it's knees, pawing uselessly at the air where Hausser had been a second ago. He spun round, beheading the greenskin that was trying to get behind him, at the same time crashing his foot into an Ork's knee. It crumpled to the ground. He narrowly avoided a chopa that was nearly as big as the thing wielding it. Hausser put his boot on the struggling Ork's neck and twisted it, giving off a cracking noise as the thing went limp. He turned just as the remaining Orks ran back down the hill.

“Right men, lets get back to the cannons,” said Hausser, breathing heavily and turning to the crew of the lascannons. They stood there; just staring at their 3rd Officer drenched in green blood before them.

“COME ON THEN!” he roared, getting angry at them not just for being so slow, but mainly for looking at him like that. He had killed a few Orks, so what? Morst could have done it and so could Hawk, so what?

“Right then, what's our firing priorities” he asked casually getting back into the routine of things. Somehow, he seemed to have forgotten what he was doing before the fight.

“Sir, we were firing on the Kans advancing on the Silo…” ventured Dieter, letting the sentence hang for a second” lets get some fire on em now” he said, realising the situation Hawk must be in right now.

 

 

Hawk loosed off another trio of shots as the Killer Kan clumsily clambered on top of the silo. The prone 2nd officer tried again to sit up, but nearly fainted so decided to stay down. He checked his ammo counter, grimly realising that he had one round remaining. Hawk heard manic laughter coming from the visor that protected the Ork inside. Last chance, thought Hawk as he aimed at the vision slit and pulled the trigger, The shot drew sparks from the vision slit guard as it bounced off and embedded itself in a pipe jutting out of the engine on its back. The Kan drew back its massive, whirling saw arm and collapsed as steam and foul black fluid gushed out of the pipe he had unwittingly severed. The crippled machine staggered backwards a few steps and crashed to the ground, just as two men came up the stairs, carrying a wounded trooper.

“Medic!” shouted the sergeant carrying the wounded man, who Hawk recognised now as Viktor, his face drenched in his own blood.

“There is no medic, Poliakoff” groaned Hawk grimly ”unless you count that splatter of blood on the opposite wall.” Hawk was losing blood fast, and was feeling very light headed. A look of shocked comprehension dawned on the Sergeant's face as Hawk spoke again. “Can you use a vox? Right, good then get online and call up a medic and tell Hausser to change targets, I got the last Kan. Tell Morst he's in command.

“Yessir… but what happened to you, sir? Said Poliakoff slowly as he realised what was happening.

“Just do it, O.K!” croaked Hawk, unable to bawl at the Sergeant now as everything went black as he passed out.

 

 

Morst swung the binoculars back again and surveyed the enemy once more, completely immobile as bullets, bombs, bodies and Emperor knows what else flew past him. Finally, he made his decision. The main Ork force was nearly upon them.

“Stanislav!” he barked at the Vox Trooper next to him, who was trying to re-lay co-ordinates and shoot at the same time. Stanislav handed him the speaker without looking at whom he was handing it to.

“This is Morst all squads respond, over.” droned Morst in one breath.

“White 1 squad responding, over.”

“White 2 squad responding, over.”

“Black 1 squad responding, over.”

“Black 2 squad responding, over.” finished Morst.

“All squads, volley fire with 1 second interval in T minus 10, over.” said Morst, relishing the prospect.

 

 

Even now, he could hear the commands being issued across the line before the sounds were snatched away by the roar of the Ork guns and the snap-crack of the lasguns.

10…9…all Imperial fire stopped as power cells were ejected.

8…7… as fresh cells were slotted in, the Orks stopped for a second, their bestial faces screwing up in painful concentration as they tried to work out why the enemy guns had stopped.

6…5…the entire battle line was completely silent as the Guardsmen re-adjusted their positions. With an almighty roar, the Orks surged forward, overjoyed at the prospect of no enemy fire. They were now about 30 meters away.

4…3…”Mark Targets!” came the order from the squad leaders.

2…Interesting, thought Morst the Greenskins still haven't noticed that every single Acer wore a sinister grin on his face.

1… No order was needed. Months of training took over. With hundreds of almost simultaneous snaps, practically a white wall of laser energy flashed forward, annihilating everything in its path. Whole Orks disappeared in puffs of green vapour, limbs and heads evaporated instantly. The enemy army reeled but the second volley never gave them time to recover and the push from the rear prevented them from falling back. The Aces were pounding the Orks relentlessly.

This is it, thought Morst, the crucial point of the battle. Will the volley fire break the warband, or is it too late? Miraculously, the Orks seemed to be gaining ground, the sheer push of numbers forcing the front forwards whether they liked it or not. Somehow, the Imperial firepower was not enough. Morst now sincerely regretted not opting for volley fire earlier.

It was then he saw the missiles.

They arced lazily through the air; trailing smoke so thick it was almost solid. Morst allowed a brief smile to play over his lips. The support, the air strike. Seconds later, three Lightening strike variants came tearing overhead in a tight V, autocannons adding to the carnage as the airburst Hellstrike missiles detonated in the Greenskin ranks. The Orks at the back had been pushing forward, compacting the alien ranks. The slaughter was horrific, shock waves bowling over Orks like a house of cards. Whole Mobs disappeared, blood running in rivers. This is it, Morst mused to himself, they're going to break any minute now, they're down to a tenth of their strength and if they don't run, we'll wipe them out.

“Stanislav! He barked. The speaker appeared in his hand.

“ This is Morst, to all squads, fire at will in T minus 3, let's pound em!” said Morst, his trademark protocol and iciness forgotten in the face of victory. Volley fire wouldn't be much use now, because the Orks weren't as tightly packed as before. The Navy had spread them out… literally.

3… all human fire stopped and there wasn't much left from the Orks anyway.

2… It looked like the Orks realised what was coming. They showed considerable cunning for their race and worked out that what the Teutonians were doing was similar to what had happened before most of their army was reduced to carbon dioxide and smoke. They turned and fled.

1…They had paid a massive price in lives for their advance up the hill, and now they were about to pay a similar amount for their retreat back down.

Withering gunfire from an assortment of weapons cut half of them down in a variety of horrible ways. Heavy Bolters coughed death, Missile launchers spat destruction. But now the real carnage was about to begin.

“Stanislav”

“Men”, said Morst into the speaker. He had now regained his cold composure. ”They are running into the forest. Now the real slaughter begins. For all the men who died here today, wipe them out! 21st Teutonian Aces, Advance!”