The End is the Beginning

The Age of the Imperium is coming to an end. The Emperor's light glows dim as time continues its endless march. There can be no peace among the stars; no safety found in the void; for the Imperium of Man has known only war for the last hundred centuries. Attacked from within by separatists and heretics, besieged from without by xenos and daemons.

His domain dwindles, planet by planet and system by system. The High Lords of Terra are forced to partake in wars ever more costly and apocalyptic. Survival is no birthright, but a prize wrestled from an uncaring galaxy by unsung heroes and unremembered battles. The Imperium of Man is at war like never before. A hundred thousand warzones are spread across the galaxy, wracked in constant endless unremitting war. To be a man in such times is to be among untold billions; to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. Forget the power of technology and science. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for this is humanity's darkest hour in this eternal war.

Settled in the early years of the 38th millennium, Medusa V has enjoyed a relatively peaceful history and only recently had descended into turmoil. The warp phenomenon known as Van Grothe's Rapidity pulses on the Eastern Fringe of the galaxy. It is a bright colorful whirlpool of destruction that spans light years and spells disaster for those desperate or careless enough to enter it without caution. For thousands of years, the warp anomaly has been stable, and when traversed correctly can shorten interstellar voyages by months if not years. Because of this hazardous way point, the Rapidity has earned the nickname "Hell's Slingshot". Throughout history, warp storms will occasionally flare up and disrupt travel in the system from a couple of months to several decades. And on every opportunity the storm subsides, contact is swiftly restored;

Each time the message from the citizens of Medusa were the same:

All is well.

Only in the past few years of this dark millennium had events began to change, casting the safety of the system into doubt. The Rapidity has begun to boil over. Initially, this change of events did not warrant the attention of Mechanicus Observers, but now there is little doubt that it is growing at a dangerous rate. Theories and speculations surrounding the explanation as to why reality is breaking down so swiftly as the phenomena unfolds vary. Boastful soldiers suggest that it is trying to become a second Eye of Terror, agents of the Ordo Malleus suggest Chaos insurrections are invoking fury of the storm towards the system. For every plausible explanation, there are a dozen insane allegations. The fact of the matter is that they are all irrelevant. As the Rapidity extends its reaches at terrifying speeds, every outpost, waystation and satellite it touches is lost - all signs of life eradicated. Adeptus Mechanicus vessels attempting to monitor the storm have estimated that it will reach Medusa V in months, if not weeks. Regardless to the theories concerning the growing storm,

all are in agreement on one thing:

Medusa will die.

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Prologue

+++++Transmitted: Hive Megaera, Command Centre - Medusa V

+++++Destination: All Imperial Guard and allied elements

+++++Origin: Lord Marshal Harazahn

+++++Decode Authority: Topaz

+++++Issue: RE: Welcome to Medusa V Commander - Regional Status Reports

+++++Thought for the Day: "None who died for the Imperium died in vain!"

+++++Time Remaining: 14 days

Welcome to Medusa V. You and your men have been brought here to fight for the glory of Mankind and deny this world to the enemies of the Emperor. The High Lords of Terra have issued a declaration that Medusa V must not fall into the hands of the alien or the heretic. Enforcing that mandate falls to us, the fighting men of the Glorious Imperial Guard.

Make no mistake; Medusa V is a world ready to die. In just a matter of weeks, the malignant Warp storm that approaches this world will scour all life from it. It is our duty to see that Medusa V has a clean death. The forces of Chaos would ravage this world for their own debauched aims, turning it into a playground of filth. The Tyranids seek to devour it, feeding their inhuman appetites. The Necrons too are perpetrating some vile works; even as the Eldar stalk the land enacting unknown evils. Medusa V is beset on all sides by enemies that would benefit from its death — preventing them from succeeding is your duty.

From the vast trench works of the Mortise Line to the cramped and crowded hives of Euryales, Imperial Guard units are ready for battle. Military Command predicts that the attacks by the vile enemies of the Golden Throne will intensify as the storm approaches. Stand your ground; don't allow our foes to take advantage of any stratagem that can be used against us!

Unit commanders are instructed to keep a watchful eye on their soldiers for signs of weakness and impiety, and company Commissars are advised to watch any Sanctioned Psykers with increased vigilance as the approaching Warp storm worsens.

Fight onward! The Emperor Protects!

+++++Transmission Terminated

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Emerging from the cramped corridors, Constantine let the sea of bodies lead him in the direction of the massive launch bay. Everywhere around him, the intercom speakers screeched instruction to the squabbling masses in transit.   Dominating everything in sight is the Bulk Lander, its true size hidden by the dozens of boarding ramps, clamps and cables from end to end. Thousands of Tech Adepts were on the move, operating the fuel lines, calibrating the vessel's auspex instruments, and other logistical concerns to ensure a smooth separation of such a vast medium. Through the cacophony of Infantry flooding the bridges connected across multiple levels and heavy mechanical rumble of vehicles flowing into the carrier’s lower levels; whatever directive each individual contributed, they all strive for one grand commitment; they were going to war.

Constantine continues traveling with the slow current of personnel. Cabin by cabin was filled to the brim with guardsmen as far as the compartment's length. With everyone trying to restrain their kits and buckling down for the departure, he would have to be delicate with his navigation through the mess before he reached his destination. Every compartment he passed showed varying degrees of readiness, improving as he transcended the length of the vessel. The last compartment before his goal was all set to go. The guardsmen here, those who weren't occupied with the restraints, all looked up at Constantine as he strode past them. Finally, he reached the end of the corridor, and steps past the threshold.

"Officer on deck!"

Nearly everyone within earshot rose to the occasion and saluted as Constantine entered the flight deck.

"At ease." He said quickly returning the salute and began to take observation on who was in proximity.

To his left, was a man in a black coat; his face was like stone, cracked with scars and drained of color by endless deployments; his left eye replaced by a mechanical replicate with a red glow coming from the iris; his hat wore a grim skull engraved on its peak. This was without doubt, the Commissar attached to his regiment. Commissar Holt. There was an aura of intimidation about him for the Departmento Munitorium's legendary role, but Holt had a reputation for his respect for front line personnel.

Beside the Commissar, there was an Officer who had the same attire as any other guardsmen in his regiment. The only difference was the helmet, which had a microphone integrated into the side, and a lightning bolt insignia on his right shoulder guard. This was Logistics Officer Briggs. His exceptional reliability to manage communication channels makes up for his lack of combat proficiency.

To the right of Constantine was another Officer in a guardsmen uniform. Just like Briggs, the right shoulder was what distinguished him from the rest; the insignia of the Medical Corps. This was Doctor Graff. Again like the Logistics Officer, his skill is not adept to combat, but that would be a dangerous assumption to make.

Next to Graff was someone that stood out as much as the Commissar. He wore a pale green overcoat and was leaning against a metallic staff. At the tip of the staff was the ornament of an Imperial Aquila perched on a single eye. This was a Sanctioned Psyker, known only as Karos. His helmet was different from the guardsmen issue, because it blocked his vision just like that of a welding mask, but instead of blocking out eye-melting beams of light, it was for deterring something darker and more elusive than anyone could control.

In front of Constantine, by the control consoles, were one of the co-pilots of the ship; Lieutenant Dalia. A proficient Valkyrie pilot, but for the descent she will be assisting the primary helmsman for the descent.

Constantine stopped next to Dalia. "Lieutenant, when do we depart?"

"The ship will be fully loaded and fit to deploy within the next ten minutes." She responds without hesitation. "The super carrier, however, will not arrive at the deployment zone for another 20 minutes."

Quick and to the point, that was her usual response. 20 minutes to relax and learn more about what we are up against. He's pretty much aware of how the war down below was progressing, but the situation has turned to the worst as the days stacked up. Not to mention the impending warp storm that was about to consume the whole planet.

"I appreciate the update; let me know when we are about 5 minutes from deployment so I can address the regiment."

"It shall be done, Colonel."

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Several compartments away from the flight deck, preparations to launch were moving by.

"Take note of the quality your restraints lock as you buckle down!" barked Sergeant Verticora over noise of armor in motion rumbling below them.

"Emperor have mercy for the poor fool to slip from their restraint harness when in free fall!"

There was no objection to this order; no one really took heed of the warning anyway; imagining the sensation of the descent was more than enough incentive for every guardsmen strap themselves in as best they could. For many that were not already panicked by their imagination, their anxieties were already getting to some.

Brennr was scared shitless, but remained lucid as a few guardsmen nearby succumbed to their terror.

"Calm down or you’re going to pass out!" Brennr called to his comrade adjacent to his seat.

"I'm trying!" replied the voice of Alicia. "The anticipation is getting to me."

Every guardsmen knew that they could all die at any moment in flight without any warning or means of escape. There were tens of thousands of them on board and indistinct tonnage of Armour tucked into the cargo holds. Countless things could go wrong. What if any of the tanks came loose and starts bouncing around the cargo bay during the descent? What would happen if something ruptures the hull? What if they were attacked on the way down? The Bulk Lander is a large target and won't be safe until they've landed. And everyone's survival depends on the skill and agility of the pilots. Once they get down planet side, it would be an all out war; up against overwhelming odds: xenos, heretics and daemons. But there was the Emperor, He who keeps watch over all his servants. Although they all knew their deaths were inevitable, the Emperor would at least provide a fighting chance.

"Don't worry Alicia," Brennr said back at towards her direction. "We'll get through this, I know it."

This reassurance wasn't convincing, but the hyper-ventilating eased a little.

"She'll get over it once we start moving", came a voice in ahead of him. "Which won't be for another 15 minutes or so."

Brennr looked up and was about to ask him about how he knew when they were departing; then he saw Derrick with his Vox Caster.

"So is there anything else we should know about from that box of yours?"

"I could only tune into local frequencies, but I don't think I can get anything else out of it, besides all the Tech Adepts babbling." Derrick replied, slightly discouraged by how little he could share. "Plus all the noise outside is drowning out whatever they're saying."

Next to Derrick, Larn joined the conversation.

"So, you think this will be the shortest campaign we'll ever get?"

Like every guardsmen in this compartment, they were from the same platoon, so jumping in without permission was tolerable. Even with this, Brennr was puzzled by this new set of info.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, the whole reason why we’re here is to help evacuate the planet. We were called from half a Segmentum away for duty that's practically trivial in writing. So why call out to hundreds of regiments, many Astartes Chapters and everything in between. Nearly all walks of life are converging on Medusa V, and if you put two and two together, something terrible is about to happen to the world below us."

Brennr and Derrick were silent with this intriguing foresight. Perhaps the drop was the least of their concerns.

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"Before I mention Battlezone: Hydra, to the north Euryales has all but fallen as the Archenemy's advance spreads like a plague, leaving whatever's left of the local PDF forces into disarray," continued Commissar Holt.

For the last several minutes, Constantine listened to Holt's report of the situation on the surface, his optimism sinking as these current events were not corresponding to the Lord Marshal's enthusiasm. Alas, this was what to expect from Imperial Propaganda; informing the bad news was not the method to instill confidence in their officers.

"Governor Soloman was evacuated and whatever Imperial forces remain inside the Euryales Hive is are on their own if they are not already withdrawing. The Marshal is ordering the area quarantined, but the impending warp storm, relentless xenos attacks and heretical insurrections are making this effort nearly impossible to accomplish. On top of that, every continent is reporting unconfirmed sightings of daemonic incursions."

There was a pause as the information settled. Constantine broke the silence.

"I would assume these incursions will intensify as Van Grothe's Rapidity grows ever more unstable."

"Unfortunately, that scenario is a certainty." The Commissar replied grimly.

"Very well. So, about Battlezone Hydra?"

The Commissar continued.

"Sybilla Primus will be our assigned station. Fortunately for us, the city's loyalty is in check, but evacuation efforts had had severe setbacks due to increased traffic of refugees now that Euryales is no longer a reliable evacuation hub. It will only be a matter of time before the blight that fell Euryales makes its way towards us."

At the word loyalty, Constantine was reminded of a Commissar's secondary function. While he was all for preserving order among the ranks, he would not resort to crude summary executions.

"Our time to get acquainted will be limited upon arrival before we are thrust into battle. At that I'd like to request that there will be no executions without my consent. I'd like for this campaign to proceed with no regretful acts."

Commissar Holt paused for a moment while he digested the Colonel's request.

"I would have it no other way. Despite what some of my colleagues say, most of us believe that respect is more powerful than fear. Respect earns favors, while fear invokes resentment; neither of which I desire, but the latter is what encourage some to sleep with one eye open."

Pleased with the response, Constantine pushed the issue aside, as it was no longer necessary to continue that conversation. Perhaps there was more to Commissar Holt than he initially thought. He would get back to him on that later, but there were other matters to attend to.

"I'm glad to hear that. That's one less problem to worry about when the time comes to wage war."

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From an elevated position, Sergeant Verticora observed the Tech Adepts securing the Sentinels to their bindings. His attention was set on his own mount which stood out from the rest of the squadron. It used to be as green as any other Sentinel in the regiment, but after one misadventure being splashed by some chemical during an engagement with an Ork mob, turned the pigments into a slight orange hue. Ever since then, he never thought about repainting his mount, because he thought it complemented the heavy flamer he often fitted to his Sentinel.

He saw a Tech Adept deviating from the pack overseeing the lock down. Enginseer Voltis, who was attached to the Regiment, was coming along for the ride. He thought of saying something rude, but friendly rude, to acknowledge his presence. Saying anything erotic about machines always confused him greatly and occasionally he would get some hilarious responses. Once he inquired on a 'crush' fabricated between Voltis and one of the Sentinels in his squadron. "Crush, why would I do that to the poor Machine after the abuse you put it through?" He had to admit that was a pretty good comeback even if he didn't understand the question. After recalling that humorous encounter, his mind wondered about this war.

'Something strange was bothering me about the campaign,' he thought to himself. 'I know that we're to help everyone evacuate it before the warp storm reaches Medusa V, but surely this could be done without deploying troops en masse to the surface. Everyone seems to be in a hurry to get off that forsaken rock, while Segmentum Command is throwing everything they got at it.'

After this thought, an alarm sounded and the Tech Adepts begun to evacuate the cargo bay. Voltis climbed in through the hatch Verticora had watch over and was his cue to lock it up. In the short instant he caught the Enginseer's attention; he gave a short nod before they parted ways. As Verticora got buckled up, he continued to think to himself as his thoughts explored topic on the war down below.

'There will be Arch Enemy forces on that world as well as xenos, but surely there should be more efficient ways of getting everyone off that planet with fewer armies.'

With the hatches sealed, kit and gear secured, he proceeded to double check the quality of his restraints. All the while, ignoring the nervousness of his neighbors as their deployment could begin at any second.

'Besides,' he gave a final look down the corridors, down the other crew compartments, 'how do they plan on evacuating us when it's our turn?'

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The vessel gave a very subtle quake as the launch bay floor slowly retracted into the super carrier, exposing the vacuum to the Bulk Lander. In time, the entire length of the vessel would be open to the planet below and all the clamps had to do was release the ship from its grip.

"5 Minutes to launch Sir," announced Lieutenant Dalia, as Constantine was finishing his meeting with Holt.

"Thank you Lieutenant." He walked over to Briggs. "Is it ready?"

"Ready and waiting Sir," replied the Logistics Officer holding out a microphone to the Colonel.

After taking the device, he positioned it close to himself and gave Briggs a nod. He clicked the switch.

"Men and Women of the 82nd Vendolant! This is your commanding officer: Colonel Constantine. In a matter of moments, we will be on the surface of the dying world of Medusa V. In only seven weeks, the once orderly Imperial world has succumbed to destruction and chaos. What defenses they once had are now in disarray. Worst of all, enemies of man from all walks of life has descended upon the helpless Citizens of the planet; Xenos, Heretics and worse. Like carrion birds they search for easy prey, but to their demise they will run straight into the Emperors Hammer! As the Emperor protects, so must we! Our duty is to crush all enemies of the Immortal Emperor and with our glorious Imperial Navy above our heads, not one of our enemies will escape from our wrath!"

"As the fleet evacuates our citizens from this doomed world, they also provide the means to escape the warp storm that will consume the planet. We will be long gone before the storm lands, and there will be plenty of time to ensure that our citizens are safely evacuated. Once the storm arrives, our enemies be trapped and we will have the last laugh, as their crude and pitiful plans at finding easy targets crumble before Imperial justice!"

"We are ready to launch sir!" Dalia called up to Constantine.

He nodded his head, giving the pilots an affirmative; he was not quite finished yet.

"I know what you all might be asking yourselves. What role does the 82nd Vendolant have to play in this campaign? We are deploying at the Sybilla Primus Hive City in the Battlezone Hydra. Our assignment will be to take up defensive positions inside the hive, assisting in crowd control and reinforcing Imperial battle lines. We are expecting the enemies to flow in from the north, but we must also be vigilant for any forces that may have already infiltrated the Hive.

"Engines awakening", the Pilot recited in a deep mechanical voice hidden through the filters of his mask. He flipped a couple dozen switches, following through with the rites of activation.

Constantine continues shouting through the noise as the devices on board buzzed to life.

"Remember! Trust the Emperor to see us through to the end!"

"Power flow nominal, calibrating sub-system networking." continued the Pilot.

"Do Vendolant and Terra proud and stand against the heretic's vile corruption. You and what you do are the pride of humanity!"

"Machine Spirit, hear thee and grant us your cooperation."

A small vibration can be felt as the engines became fully alive with power.

"Behind you stands billions of men, women and children, all breathing their thanks to you! Before you stand billions more!"

"Launch Bay depressurization complete, standby for response from external guidance."

They were moving, the ship began to sway as massive machines, which had once been used to restrain the Bulk Lander, lowered through the floor to a position outside of the Carrier.

"Ours is not to reason why!"

"Mooring Clamps disengaged"

"Ours is to do and die!"

"We are Away"

"The Emperor Protects!"