The End is the Beginning

+++++Transmitted: *undisclosed location*

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

+++++Origin: Lord Marshal Harazahn

+++++Decode Authority: Magenta

+++++Issue: RE: Final Mission

+++++Thought for the Day: "A Man with nothing can still offer his life!"

+++++Time Remaining: 2 Days--error-- [Estimate revision:  5 hours]

Soldiers of the Imperium: Victory is ours! Once again we deny the efforts of the Ruinous Powers and saved the citizens of Medusa V from a horrible fate. You were there to blunt the Arch Enemy's offensive and protected the evacuation zones on ever hive city on this planet. You have withstood the horrors of our fallen and displayed unfaltering vigilance to the xenos who fought to thwart our mission.

But on this solemn day, Victory has come with a terrible cost. Our Total Victory was won from the sacrifice of many millions of our valiant guardsmen. In that, we honour their lives with the billions we have saved and are now far in the safety of the void. Unfortunately the warp storm has made it impossible for any further evacuations. As reality breaks down around us, the Imperial Navy withdraws with their bulkheads filled to capacity, leaving us stranded. The fleets has already departed in the wake of the impending storm for fear of becoming entangled by the Rapidity, we are not getting off this planet.

In the light of this dreadful news, I order this final mission: Ensure our enemies do not escape. If we are to face oblivion, we will sell our lives dear!

The Emperor Protects!

+++++ Transmission Terminated

The remaining Imperial guardsmen on the ground looked up in envy as the last transport shuttle receded from view, silhouetted against the raging warp storm swallowing up the sky. Though the war had been won, their districts secured, this was a moment that they should embrace with pride. But fear and despair was all they felt at that moment as a cold realization dawned on every guardsmen's mind, "They've left us to die."

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"This is insane! All this time we were at war and High Command neglected to fabricate an exit strategy?!"

Many High Ranking Officers and the General Staff of the Hydra Zone have been recalled for an emergency meeting concerning the dire situation. There were around fifty occupants gathered in an oval chamber overlooking a holographic image of the planet in the center. The diversity of the occupants varied from the proud Mordians, to the tough looking Catachans, the stern Vostroyans and everyone else in between.

"And the Observers neglected to inform us of actual time the storm is about to hit?!"

"The fact of the matter is what's done is done". A Cadian Officer took control of the conversation as the last visual representations of the Imperial Fleet winked off the holo-display.

"The topic for which we are gathered here is to discuss methods on how to endure the storm".

Colonel Constantine's mind trailed off as he recollected the last several days. The drop to the planet's surface was largely uneventful due to the relatively tame airspace of their landing zone. It had been all downhill from then on as relentless attacks from daemonic incursions materializing from nowhere inflicted severe damage to all regiments station in the hive. Within days, the great majority of his regiment was lost in conflicts spread across Sybilla Primus. Two Days ago the hive city was declared a lost cause and was abandoned to avoid close-quarter engagements with chaos forces, his 82nd were one of the last to make it out of that dreaded hive alive.

Now he found himself in Geryon Airbase, the last stronghold remaining, along with whatever was left of Imperial leadership in the region. Other surviving regiments had also consolidated at the stronghold to make their last stand before fate pried the life out from them all.

"The vast subterranean networks will most likely be our most valuable stratagem to survive the warp storm. With the very earth utilized as a buffer, our survival will fare better than any stronghold on the surface."

The meeting drove onward as officers contributed to the topic. Despite the dire circumstances, the debate was everything but disorganized. Always moving forward; never shooting down a suggestion, but never perused those with unfavorable outcomes.

"Indeed, but we must also account for the number of access points all over this complex."

There was some muttering until an Officer of Krieg jumped in.

"Our engineers can see to it that the access points are limited once demolition teams make short work of them."

"Or perhaps there should be none at all." Constantine added, the occupants in the room looked at him in silence. Intentionally trapping themselves underground was not a comfortable thought and their silence demanded explanation.

"Once the warp storm reaches the surface, no one in the right mind will want to bear witness as the very ground we stand transform into a hellscape. Better that we entomb ourselves underground then be destroyed utterly by the endless onslaught of daemons and other warp twisted things that will infest the surface. Either we attempt to preserve ourselves from the apex of the storm or we die in a blaze of glory that will be remembered by no one."

A moment of silence passed as his words were digested. Even though the idea was blunt and uninspired, he knew that doom and destruction was the only alternative, an outcome that everyone wanted to avoid at any cost.

"Your suggestion is sound." The Cadian broke the silence. "I agree that it would be folly to consider blunting the storm head on. We should also fabricate long term goals if we are to survive indefinitely. Eventually, we may be able to make contact with other regions if they survive as well."

"I wouldn't dwell on the thought," added a grim Vostroyan Officer.

"Satellite links have been severed by the warp storm, cutting off all intercontinental communications across all battlezones. As far as we know, we are the only ones left on this forsaken planet."

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Far from the military installation where the conference dragged on, past the air terminals that had once been busy with non-stop shuttle activity, a lone sentinel stood guard overlooking the trenches positioned just before the vast airstrip stretching out towards the Ash Wastes. Scattered throughout the airstrip are warehouses and hangar bays ranging from all sorts of material goods and vehicles. Under normal circumstances, the Imperial Guard would have had these structures guarded and extend their trench networks beyond the perimeter of the airstrip. But in an effort to concentrate troops into a feasible defensible posture, such actions were necessary to abandon these structures.

The lone orange sentinel turned and scanned the horizon, its multi-spectrum targeter scanning the surroundings.

"4th sweep, still nothing." Verticora had been spending a considerable amount of time keeping watch over the airstrip as the rest of his comrades dealt with fortifications.

"Acknowledged," replied the voice in his vox-caster, "might as well cool your engines now. Voltis has returned and his servants will keep a look out for the time being."

"Copy that Briggs, I already see them now."

He paused for a moment to watch a pair of Servo Skulls float past him. He knew these two skulls had names given to them by the Enginseer, but could never tell them apart. Agrippa and Helix for the most part are almost exactly alike in appearance, but their behavior was less than subtle. One was annoyingly intrusive while the other was shy, but creepy when things get claustrophobic. One of the ongoing problems with this identity crisis is that Voltis usually addressed the pair rather than called them out individually.

"Inform the others, I'm making my approach."

Carefully, he navigated the Sentinel down into the trench before maneuvering the length of the system towards the holdout shelter. For the most part, the trench was unoccupied, passing a guardsmen every hundred meters or so. If it were any other day, one might say that their security detail is woefully inadequate, but ever since they arrived at Geryon Airbase, there haven't seen hide or hair of anything remotely hostile other than the celestial event choking out the sky. That and their inevitable doom have caused the garrison to become slightly lax on discipline.

Verticora noticed the trench walls widening, he was close to his destination. Another turn and the gap grew to a large clearing with several vehicles parked along the edges. He dismounted his Sentinel and proceeded to travel the rest of the way on foot. As soon as he turned one last corner, he found himself at the doors to the holdout shelter. No one was guarding it, but that's what he kind of expected.

As the metal door slid open, he caught a waft of a bitter scent of smoke. At the threshold of the shelter, several guardsmen were lounging at a table set up in the center of the room. They were in the middle of a card game, exchanging laughter and smoking Lho sticks. Up on the metallic catwalks on the floor above, a couple guardsmen were idly stationed near the view ports. Passively enjoying the ambiance in the room, glancing at the view outside every so often.

After taking in the surroundings, Verticora proceeded towards the men at the table.

"Derrick, any word of the whereabouts of our Colonel?"

"No Sergeant, not since he left after we got that last message from the Lord Marshal." He said this as if he was bored, but a faint aura of anxiousness could be felt. "The Lieutenant and the Commissar left with him as well. We expect he'd be back soon, he's never left us out of the loop before and he won't begin now even in our final hours."

"It's good to know your faith in our Colonel is still strong Derrick, but do you really believe we’re all going to die?"

Verticora also believed that they were doomed, but one could still hope. Even if hope is often the first step on the road to disappointment, it is the drive that keeps them focused. No one knows what it's like to be stuck in a warp storm, but no one was curious to find out.

"There are legends of Astartes warriors who've gone into the Eye of Terror, emerged from its depths alive and victorious."

"Aye Sergeant, but we are but mortal men. We will eventually succumb to fatigue on our first few days if we are not slain first."

"Still, it is not the guard's way to take that lying down. If we are going to die here, we are going to resist that destiny for as long as humanly possible!"

"Hear hear." Chanted the few within earshot.

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In an empty observation deck, a man in a black coat stood still observing the scenery. High above the airbase, he took this time to enjoy the quiet ambiance broken only by the occasional thunder of distant war. Far beyond Geryon, Hive Sybilla Primus could be seen on the horizon as if part of the mountain range itself. Another sound disturbed his peace, someone was approaching.

"Commissar Holt, I knew you would be here", called Colonel Constantine, stepping through the threshold. The two men shared a moment silence before the Commissar spoke up.

"I assume you realize where this leaves us."

"The part about that there's still a war to fight or the part about the forecast of this seemingly anything but normal day."

"You still maintain your sense of humour even the face of our hour of doom," Holt glared at the Colonel for his calm stance. "Or have you become ignorant the world falling apart all around you."

"If you wish to express your opinion on the matter I would gladly hear it." Constantine returned as he approached his side.

Commissar Holt turned to face the window overlooking the vast airstrip. Somewhere out there, their regiment was within the trench lines; most likely idle due to the lack of action in this side of the Ash Wastes that made up most of this side of the continent.

"Moments before our descent, you remember what you asked of me?"

"Of course, I also recall that you had no objection to stow your pistol and leave judgments to me. I am very thankful for your cooperation and I hope that you too can feel the appreciation from me and the guardsmen."

"Indeed I have, but there is something more to behind my decision not to embrace the way of the executioner."

There was a pause as the Commissar thought up a way to deliver his piece. Medusa's sun was beginning to set on the world, illuminating the room with a blood red light.

"Decades ago on my assignment to the Lord Commander of Volistad, I had learned many things that proved to be worth more than the tactical value of Tank Battalions. I discovered something as valuable as any strategic asset that cannot be requisition by order or decree. Can you guess what this may be?"

"Exterminatus?" Constantine guessed followed by the Commissar nodding 'no'.

"Respect, Colonel. A universal language that speaks louder than vox commands or the barking of orders. It is respect that can make a regiment withhold their competitive nature among themselves, to embrace cooperation and efficiency mirroring that of any Astartes chapter. It is respect that can unite entire campaigning assets into one coordinated effort that can rival crusades. It is what drives the Imperial guard to accomplish the impossible and look upon their efforts with pride."

"I can see where you are going with this, but a Commissar such as yourself must have thought intimidation can earn you the same results here and there."

"Yes of course, but intimidation is a double edged sword. Sure it can be useful if you don't intend on rejoining the same platoon ever again. Fear begets resentment and resentment can turn to hatred if a Commissar executes the wrong person, and it is all up to imagination as to what would happen next."

"How had you become enlightened to this revelation in your previous campaign?" Constantine was intrigued by this enigmatic Commissar as he could see a grin forming on his face.

"On my arrival on Volistad, I was to meet with one of the most inadequate and disgraceful Planetary Governor that shamed the name of the Emperor's Proxy. Over looked an entire Ork invasion and expected his servants to deal with this threat as if it were common civil malcompliance. Haven't it not been for our intervention, Volistad would had fallen. Our forces were varied, but not united. It then became an effort to unite all the regiments that made planet fall before we were able to take back the region. Eventually communication with all Imperial Assets was re-established, including a Titan Legion whose Tech Adepts were all too grateful for us breaking the Gargaunt blockade keeping them hidden within their mountain strongholds."

There was another pause; Commissar Holt squinted as the sun was now more than half way beneath the horizon.

"Grateful for our efforts, they no longer listened to the orders given to them by the incompetent Governor, but to my General Staff. It was there when we reformed the command structure into a more efficient and carefully thought out configuration. If it were any other world, getting any two different regiments to cooperate will be a battle in its own right, but through a common allegiance won by our Lord Commander, Mordian, Tallarn, Volistad and even His XIII Legion fought with unprecedented unison. It was not long before the continent was retaken and Skrull, the Ork Warlord, neutralized. It was with great honor that we saved another Imperial world from the xenos threat, but it was made ever more significant by lessons learned and what respect can invoke."

"I'm surprised that you haven't ascended to Commissar Lord with this insightful tale."

"Indeed, but unfortunately, the Departmento Munitorium is more interested in the ends rather than the means. It is to my dissatisfaction that there are curtain 'prerequisites' that's needed to be fulfilled before then. I am more likely to become an Inquisitor than a Lord Commissar. Even so, I don't believe I will get a chance for either now, as we bear witness to the last sunset we will ever see with living eyes."

"Not to mention this will be the last that will ever graces this planet," Constantine said as the blood red colors began to cool into a darker shade, the light retreating into the horizon as if it too wanted to escape the storm.

As soon as the last rays of the sun fell below the horizon, a new source of light began to penetrate now that the sun could no longer interfere. A purple and pink glow began to overwhelm all that could be seen in the distance. The warp storm was approaching. The sky itself, with the strange spectrum of colors, changing as it absorbed the energies licking at the atmosphere. Inky trails began to weave through the sky, liquid-like in description, it spread until it was thick with the immaterial substance. The storm currents began to influence this new phenomenon, mixing the ink trails. There was no pattern, no direction, and no purpose. This is the nature of Chaos and Emperor have mercy on the unfortunates that stood in its way. It was still a few hours or less before the storm actually reach the surface as what little atmosphere between them acts as a buffer zone; temporarily damming the storm as it adapts to the new world.

"It's time for us to go," said Constantine in a more urgent tone. "We need to get back to the regiment and rally the troops. If we are to follow through with the plan, the demolition teams mustn't be disturbed.

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Back at the holdout shelter, Brennr, Larn and Sketch were preparing the meals in the mess hall. This was not as complicated as it seemed, only involving the mixing of tasteless nutrient rich substances in several great pots, and converting it into an oatmeal-like paste. A ration bar was added to the side of the meal, also tasteless, also a necessity for a decent source in protein.

"Hey Brennr, do you remember what it was like to have a real meal back on our homeworld?" Sketch said to pass the time.

"What real meal?" he replied to scattered chuckles. But there was a slight truth to the answer; most of the regiment was recruited from the lower hive districts from their homeworld on Vendolant. Back there, lower society was organized into gangs, those that were not had to endure the many turf wars that plagued the city. Supplies and foodstuffs were always hard to come by as the gangs fought over what little they had. With that incentive they were all the more willing to being conscripted in to the guard just to get out of that hellish pit. Even in their final hours, they still haven't regretted that decision.

"I suppose we are no better off than before, right?" Brennr said as the chuckles subsided.

"We're always no better off," Larn added as he tasted their product. "No one in this galaxy is better off."

"Perhaps so, but it wouldn't look so grim if we focus on the 'now' instead of what will." Alicia had entered the room. She was a different person now that she's not in space. Much calmer after the drop, but acutely aware of what's going to happen. She continued speaking, grabbing a tray and ration bar.

"Sergeant Verticora is back by the way. Nothing new, but I'm sure the mood will get a whole lot worse when the Colonel returns."

"How can it get any worse?" Sketch said as she turned off the heat to the pot. "We've been abandoned, and the storm is almost here. The fact that the Colonel is still here to remain should be an inspiration."

"Agreed, but I'm more worried about the part when we all die. Even if he comes back with something I just cannot foresee how anything good will come of it." Alicia left after receiving a scoop of the pasty meal to find a seat at one of the tables scattered throughout the mess hall.

Not long afterward, many of the guardsmen stationed in the shelter started filling in for their meal. Brennr, Larn and Sketch remained to distribute the foodstuffs. As more personnel arrived they were able to identify most of the guardsmen by name. There was Raf and Anders, part of a Heavy weapons platoon along with Alicia. Davir and Samson, including Sketch are Exotic Weapon Specialists. Darrick and Korin are vox casters; usually there was one in each squad, providing the means to communicate between other squads. Dale the driver for the Chimera and Mathias, another Guardsman like Brennr and Larn. Then came Sergeant Verticora the Sentinel pilot, he bore the highest rank among the guardsmen in the room before the Lieutenant. Briggs and Doctor Graff were next, soon afterward the Psyker appeared.

Karos was a Sanctioned Psyker. Most of the time he operated alone whenever he was not needed, his self imposed solitude is more of a precaution as well as a habit. Because of the inevitable warp storm, some in the regiment are a bit wary of his presence. No one knew if he is getting stronger or weaker, neither thought is comforting, but arriving in the mess hall normally like everyone else was reassuring. He must've known of the impending doom better than anyone else in the room, which made it all the more frightening to be around him.

In about 5 minutes, the mess hall was crowded with most of the survivors in the regiment, somewhere near a hundred strong. The mess hall was small and bland with concrete walls and steel framing. Above them, standards from each platoon hung from the ceiling. Some of which were still active, but many are there in remembrance to the fallen. Most of the guardsmen were already finished with their meals, but having nothing to do and with everyone here in the same place, many were engaged in conversation.

Finished with distributing the foodstuffs, Brennr and Larn seated themselves next to Karos, each taking a spot on both his flanks.

"So, exalted Psyker, you go by Karos, am I right?" Larn asked nervously.

"I know you are not here to ask me my name, Guardsman Larn." He replied coldly. "I also know the answers you seek will not satisfy your curiosity."

"I'm not too interested in what the warp is up to or how to fight it. I am more concerned about your well being." Brennr leaped into the discussion causing Karos to face him instead.

"I am well, thanks for your concern." There was sarcasm in what he said, but after foreseeing the next questions from Brennr and Larn, he decided to give up early and give them what they wanted.

"The warp screams all around us, breaking down reality as we know it. It has not touched down on our battlezone yet, but I hear the writhing and screaming as the immaterium encloses on every corner of Medusa V. It is all I can do for my mind to block out the noise, but as the darkness gathers around us, I don't know how much longer I can resist."

The two guardsmen stood their ground as they took in the new info. Karos was right, they didn't like the response and their looks of fear showed it.

"On a lighter note, the Colonel is back," Karos finished.

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"At ease." Constantine immediately said as he entered the mess hall. "The General Staff had come up with a contingency plan that may be our only salvation."

Everyone in the mass hall was at and attention staring at the Colonel. The idea that a plan was actually fabricated in the wake of the storm lifted their spirits and the guardsmen wanted to know more. There was no need for a microphone; as long as everyone remained quiet, the echo in the room would be sufficient enough to reach every occupant in the room.

"Back at the command centre, within the airbase, the subterranean levels below Greyon Base is believed to be adequate enough to shield us and all the regiments stationed in this base from the worst of the storm."

This news was very welcome to the guardsmen in the room. The mood was almost cheerful now that there is a reason to hope.

"But the problem is the number of access points to the underground levels. Demolition teams are currently at work at closing all but one access point. Once all others are sealed, we will withdraw through the final entrance, then and only then will the last exit be sealed, we'll be safe from the eyes of the Arch enemy's minions and it is our hopes that they will not detect our presence once we are safely underground."

There was a murmur of agreement and confusion spreading throughout the mess hall.

"I'm sure you might be thinking, what next? What are we going to do afterward? Unfortunately, there isn't much I can say on the matter because we haven't thought through with what will happen next. No one has done this before and we are treading in unfamiliar territory, but we need to be put on high alert. We must stand ready to move out once the engineers are finished with their duty. Until then, we must stand guard and prepare for anything to happen between now and the moment we deploy."

"Colonel Sir!" Karos' unexpected interruption startled many of the occupants in the room including the Colonel. There was complete silence as everyone waited for the Psyker to follow through.

"They.. are.. coming.." He finally blurted out. Their horrors were confirmed when the vox casters suddenly became alive with sound.

"Unknown contacts sighted along the perimeter!"

"Everyone to you positions and prepare for battle!"

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As the guardsmen quickly filed out of the holdout shelter, some paused to gape at the scenery before them. A fog was slowly moving in, but from an unknown source. A light mist was fuming from the grounds as if frozen, but the temperature was still relatively warm. The mist went largely unnoticed as the attention was focused at the sky, or what was left of it. The star lit night was now swimming with a large assortment of colors ranging from magenta to bright pink that overwhelmed nearly all corners of the sky. The surface was illuminated by the warp storm as if it were day, but with none of its warmth. As the trench lines began to fill, the sentry turrets sprung to life and heavy bolter teams signaled that they were good to go, it was around this time they realized that the fog was not as it seemed to be. It appeared to be controlled; it held its ground several hundred meters from their positions and steadily accumulating more gasses from the surroundings.

"Colonel Constantine to all units!" He shouted into Briggs' terminal. "Equip your re-breathers and lock them down, whatever you do, don't take them off under any circumstances!"

For several moments the fog held its ground. After about what felt like an eternity did the fog began to drift towards them.

"Targets on the move! 800 meters and closing!"

"What targets?!" Someone objected back through the vox.

Vox chatter was beginning to flood the air waves. Many of them are the repeat of the same question, "When do we open fire?"

"Infrared can see them as clear as day! Trust me! 700 meters! Hold your fire till they are 200 meters away."

"Sir, there is a call from the Cadians!" Briggs shouted over the vox chatter coming from his station.

"Let me see that," he said, taking the comm link from Briggs.

"The 91st Cadian Basilisk Battery, call-sign Nemesis, are awaiting orders!" replied the speaker.

"Acknowledged Nemesis, calculate your battery vectors, sector two-one-two, designation null plus 200! Acquire your targets and await orders to fire salvos!"

"600 meters!"

"I can see them, targets are emerging from the fog! There are thousands of them!

"What are they?! Can you identify them?" Constantine shouted back hoping the transmitter will copy.

"Bloody heretics! They're charging!"

"500 meters!"

"Wait till their within 200 before you open fire!"

They started to hear the traitor's charge, their screams for blood was audible through the gusts of wind that was beginning to pick up in the wake of the storm. Had the impending warp storm whipped them into a frenzy or this was desperation maneuver, no one cared. All they cared about was that they were being attacked.

"400 meters!"

Constantine continued shout orders, "Keep yourselves cool and sharp, no firing till they reach the kill zone!"

By now, every Guardsman had their lasgun trained towards the charging masses as well as several of the adjacent trench lines garrisoned by their counterparts. A faint tremor could be felt as the traitors stampede towards them.

"300 meters!"

"Enemies closing in," Constantine said. "Prepare to fire!"

The anxieties that had been present on board the Bulk Lander were returning to some of the occupants in the trenches, but unlike before, they were in control of their fates now.

"Bringer of death, speak your name; For you are my life and my foe's death." Brennr whispered to his lasgun.

"200 meters!

"On my mark, FIRE!"

At the same instant, every guardsmen on the line opened fire, sending a bright fusillade of lasfire burning through the air towards the incoming traitors. With it came a sudden flurry of airbursts as dozens of earthshaker shells thundered into no-mans-land, exploding in a deadly hail of shrapnel. Then came the blinding flash of lascannon beams, and the deafening rat-a-tat cracks of heavy bolter rounds. The withering torrent of fire tore into the charging traitors, delivering swaths of carnage throughout their suicidal charge.

In a few moments the heretical forces were meet with an untimely end. Several seconds after the second salvo of artillery ended, no more movement could be seen besides the fog that encroached ever closer. It was then when they realized what the true purpose of the gas.

As the fog reached where the dead traitors lie, their bodies appeared to absorb the foul gasses. Before their eyes, the dead began to rot at an alarming speed, transforming them into rotting parodies of their former selves. One by one they began to rise, and one by one, they resumed their advance.

"Their getting back up! Resume the attack!"

Once more the torrent of fire began as volley after volley was sent screaming towards the undead horde. But unlike their living counterparts, they were a lot more resilient to most of their weapons. Fewer were dropping as shots hit their mark.

"100 meters!

"They're getting closer, said a panicked voice from the vox, "should we fix bayonets?!"

"If it comes to that, we're good as dead!" Constantine replied as shock at what was going on was unfolding before his men.

"Keep firing!"

"There's no stopping them! We're going to be overrun!

"Damnation! Stand fast and don't stop firing!"

Sentinel squadrons sprang to action, spewing flames into the rotting masses. Scores of the undead were incinerated and the charge lost momentum as the ground burned. Even with the momentum blunted, the horde continued to advance, pushing and shoving their fallen brethren. Relentlessly, the advance regained momentum. Slowly and purposefully, the undead began to climb the final hill before they could roam among the lively guardsmen protected behind the trenches.

The first of the zombified traitors had reached the trench lines and not long afterwards the vox chatter degenerated into panicked shouts and screams. Standards began to fall as scores of guardsmen were dispatched by the crude blades of the plagued traitors. Several pockets in the trench lines began to rot at alarming speeds as more of the undead masses leaped into the trench lines to engage the doomed guardsmen that were unlucky enough to occupy them.

By now, many of the trenches were lost, and all they could be heard were the cries of pain from the guardsmen unfortunate enough to still be alive as they were possessed by the rot.

"Nemesis, awaiting orders Colonel! Are you still there!?"

"Affirmative Nemesis! Realign your target vectors, sector two-one-two, firing solution designation: null, danger close!"

"Target acquired!"

"Emperor, give me strength to carry out the deed, and Brother, grant me forgiveness for what I am about to do," Constantine said to no one in particular. "Fire!"

The next salvo of earthshaker shells pounded into the forward trench lines, annihilating whatever remains within, Imperial and traitor alike. As the dust settled, much of the landscape was in ruins. Nearly everything but the holdout shelter was left standing. Only a few guardsmen were left standing after the assault.

"All remaining units, fall back to the shelter, we need to concentrate our-" Constantine couldn't finish his orders when a tremor rocked the world around them.

The grounds quaked, throwing everyone to the ground as the demolition teams work took a disastrous turn. A torrent of lightning from the warp storm had struck a nearby entry point rigged to detonate on command. Amplified by the warp energies, the premature detonation split the earth separating the trench system from the air base behind them. The crack continued to grow until a great chasm lay between them, dashing any hope of salvation. Whatever remained of the 82nd Vendolant, they were stuck in the trench with no way out.

"What are we to do now sir?" Several guardsmen were arriving, and the Colonel was too distracted to tell who it was.

"We're doomed, we'll not make it out of here."

"Colonel Sir! We're getting a transmission from headquarters, they want to talk to you." Briggs said carrying his master vox.

"Put it on speaker, we can all listen in."

"Colonel Constantine, we've become aware of your situation, and we have prepared a Deathstrike Warhead for launch. The atmospheric interference has rendered the targeting system useless and we feel that it should be your honour to designate the target."

No one spoke a word after this news. They all knew what they meant when they said 'designate'. They expected the 82nd Vendolant to call down the warhead on themselves.

"Stand-by." Constantine replied back. "How long is the window of opportunity before it is lost?"

"Lockdown will commence in about ten minutes, after that you are on your own."

"Acknowledged, remain on stand-by and we will provide you your target."

He looked to his regiment to see that there were no longer a complete squad. Nearly every Guardsman was a last survivor from a lost squad. Some were wounded, but were still able to stand tall. A single orange Sentinel, with its armored canopy lost after the bombardment, emerged from the dust. No more than forty guardsmen remain in the regiment that had once been several thousand. Knowing that it was hopeless to consider an attempt to save themselves, he could not bring himself to order his men to die.

"Surely, when faced with such a foe all notions of strategies and tactics must be cast upon the wind." Commissar Holt appeared suddenly from the trenches, his black coat ripped in several areas, but he appeared unwounded. He continued to speak through his gas mask.

Constantine remembered that text from the tome 'Tactica Imperialis'. He turned to the Commissar as he continued to listen.

"Instead he must reach deep into his soul and the souls of his men, and there he will find there the greatest, most terrible weapon in his arsenal," the Commissar continued. "Utter devotion to die in the service of the Emperor, even as death itself reaches out to claim him."

"Very inspirational Commissar Holt, but are you also willing choose to die now than wait it out as long as you can."

"It doesn't have to be here, but it will be all the more worth it if this also means to hit the enemy where it hurts most in the process." Commissar Holt paused as he considered his next question. "If anyone has an idea of where we should designate the target?"

Lieutenant Dalia stepped forward. "There is an Ammunition Warehouse across the airstrip, but it is beyond the fog and we cannot see what may be there. If we were to rush into that Warehouse with everything we got, we could then transmit the coordinates to guide down the warhead. The blast yield will definitely be amplified by the volume of ordinance stored within, it will be a parting gift that will not be forgotten by our enemy."

"Resourceful as always Lieutenant." He looked towards the rest of the guardsmen. "Are we all ready to do this men?"

"Ready and willing sir!" Verticora said from his sentinel.

"Ready to die for the Emperor! Brennr called from the crowd, followed by affirmatives and similar pledges from the others.

"Prepare yourselves men, we shall show these traitors the meaning of valor!" The Commissar replied back to the survivors.

"Sir," Karos said while clutching his head. "They're coming back!"

"Quickly men! We must beat them to it or we're gonna get stuck here! Over the top!" Barked Constantine, raising the regimental Standard, climbing up the dirt walls to lead the charge.

What ever remained of the heavy weapons swiftly piled into the last remaining Chimera. As they did so, the remnants of the 82nd Vendolant climbed up from the steep trenches. Weapons blazing, the survivors went over the top and blasted their way towards glory, death or whatever awaited them as they followed the Colonel's regimental Standard. The Chimera and Sentinel easily caught up with the advance and were the first ones to plunge into the fog, disappearing from view. One by one, the infantry followed suit, trailing behind the massive silhouette of the vehicles at the lead. Had it not been for their masks, one could easily stray from the group without the aid of acute senses hardwired into their helmets; or worse, they could be dangerously exposed to the unknown gases surrounding them.

Before them was the product of the last assault, remains of victims littered the grounds as they passed over heretical and Imperial in equal measure. The very air screamed with the plaintive wailing of the dead as the regiment advanced, voices from beyond entreating the 82nd to turn back lest they too be enslaved for all eternity. They did not turn back, but continue to sprint forward through the disease infested hellscape, into the wailing winds thrown up by the unquiet dead. What horrors called forth from the realm beyond only made the advance all the more frantic.

They passed several anchored down aircraft in their advance. From Marauders, Thunderbolts and finally Valkyries all lined in neat rows, but rendered unusable in the event of a warp storm. The Chimera was the first to reach the distant structures, the heavy weapons teams had already disembarked and with their combined efforts were sliding the doors to the ammunition warehouse. By the time the rest of the advance caught up the doors were wide enough for the troop transport to squeeze itself through.

"Hurry and close the damned door before those horrible things catch up with us!"

No sooner after Constantine spoke those words did gunfire erupt from outside the outside. The newly arrived Chaos forces were armed with bolters, which can mean only one thing.

"Chaos Space Marines! Close the bloody doors!"

Several guardsmen threw their weight at the door trying to close the door faster. Shots exploded against the thick door as it slowly closed shut. Darkness swallowed the occupants in the room after the door slammed shut. They were safe now for the time being. Constantine stepped back from the door to try to pear into the darkness.

"Can someone get a light here!"

Searchlights flashed on from the Chimera at the request to illuminate the room. Before them was a massive hangar filled with pallets of ordinance, creates of many varieties of ammunition and rows of tanks full of promethium. This was the ideal place to target the Deathstrike warhead.

"Who were those chaos marines outside," Dalia asked the Colonel. "I didn't get a chance to identify their marks."

Commissar Holt approached her after examining the hangar.

"Noxious gasses, rotting landscape, plagued minions; there can only be only one possibility; The XIV Legion."

A loud booming voice rang through the building, vibrating the foundation.

"Greetings faithful servants of the Corpse Emperor!"

The voice chuckled though gurgling sounds as if the speaker's lungs were filled with a foul liquid.

"I am Lord Ignatis, herald of a thousand plagues. Your futile efforts amuse the Great Grandfather and we offer our mercy. Lay down your arms and we will promise you a quick demise.

He ended the demands with giggling that degenerated into wheezing laughter that could make one gag at the foul sounds of sick.

"Briggs, open a channel to HQ, we need to launch that warhead now!" Constantine almost shouted at the Logistics Officer.

"The signal is weak sir! I can't get any reception!"

"You what?!"

The enemy outside began pummeling at the doors attempting to wear them down with their rapid decay.

"Form a firing line men, we need you to buy us time!"

Not having to tell them twice, the guardsmen retreated to seek cover around area the Colonel demanded. Because of the cramped space, there was no room to spread out, heavy bolters were deployed along side with the Chimera and stock troops. All training their weapons at the doors they recently closed. But the pummeling sounds were not coming from the doors alone, soon they realized that the pummeling noise was coming from the walls as well as the entrance. They were coming from every direction.

"Voltis! Verticora! Get over here on the double," the Colonel shouted.

The Enginseer and Sentinel approached the Colonel with haste.

"Quickly, I need you to see if you can boost the signal strength with the multi-spectrum module in your Sentinel!"

"My Sentinel is yours Colonel," replied Verticora.

"I will commune with the Machine Spirit and see your will be done," responded Voltis.

"Sir, whatever you’re doing, you've got to do it fast!" Shouted the Commissar over the pummeling.

Commissar Holt was among the guardsmen waiting behind cover and keeping a close watch over Karos, who was on his knees holding his head.

"Are you alright Psyker?"

"I... I will endure, Commissar," he managed to say.

No two guardsmen pointed their weapons at the same spot, as the pummeling seems to be coming from every direction. Even the ceiling appeared to be in on lashing as sheets of the roof began to peel off.

"Voltis, I need you to hurry!" insisted the Colonel as his tone became more desperate.

"Agrippa, Helix, awaken from your slumber and serve your master!"

The twin servo skills appeared from somewhere in the Enginseer's robes and hovered up to the sentinel to assist with hard wiring the master vox to the module.

"Verticora, divert all power to the support sub-systems!"

"Colonel, I'm starting to get a signal, but it is still too weak!" Briggs shouted over the noise.

"Too late!"

The roof began to buckle and peel off in chunks revealing the sky, the swirling sea of madness looming above them. At the same time, breaches were seen everywhere at ground level. They were getting through.

"This is it, we're done for!"

"I don't care! Open fire!" He barely got the last syllable out before every guardsmen engaged their targets as they cleared the breach.

The skirmish had erupted, each side exchanged shots. The limited visibility forbade them from seeing whether or not their aim was true, but the explosion of flesh and bone coming from their own was convincing enough that their enemies were making theirs. One by one more guardsmen fell as bolter rounds tore through their ranks. These were going to be their last few seconds, they were going to fail their mission.

'This is it,' Brennr thought, 'Merciful Emperor, please! This is so unfair. We cannot die here!'

Suddenly a scream echoed from their ranks and the room became illuminated by a light nearly a hundred times brighter than the searchlights the Chimera produced. Karos was firmly holding his staff which was emitting an intense light that appears to be protecting them all. Incoming shots were rebounding, energy weapons were being absorbed into the light. Most of the Guardsmen held their fire when they realized that their shots were not penetrating. Some took their sights off the walls to glance at Karos's work. It became obvious that they were all within a protective bubble provided by Karos, but this effort was taking a toll on the strength of the bearer.

"Colonel... Help me hold this straight..." He was gesturing towards his staff, approaching it reviled that it was vibrating madly.

Upon touching the staff, pain shot up his arm, like an electric shock that threatened to numb his limbs. The vibration was almost uncontrollable.

"Commissar! Help us!"

Confused by everything around him, Holt complied and gripped the staff. The only thing that could be seen from outside the sphere were the lightning strikes from the warp storm. Like a lightning rod, the protective shield reacted and absorbed each strike, splashing its ethereal plasma and accumulating the energies stored into the light. The Death Guard could have gone almost unnoticed if it weren't for their gurgling of jeers and rage.

"Colonel, we've made it through! HQ is on stand-by and still ready to launch the warhead," Briggs shouted with a relief and dread.

With his other hand not holding down Karos' staff, he reached for the vox caster mic.

"This is Colonel Constantine, confirm firing solution designation: on my coordinates," he shouted into the mic.

"You honor us with your sacrifice Colonel Constantine of the 82nd Vendolant. May Eternity's Gates swing wide for you and your men. Deathstrike missile is inbound now. The Emperor protects."

He clicked off the vox caster and faced his men with pride and grief.

"It has been nearly two decades since I've become your Colonel, and in these two decades you have always come through to the end! But in the face of death your faith in me did not falter, and in that, it was an honour to have lead you!"

As Constantine finished, he notice the brightness within the bubble was increasing in luminosity as lightning strikes continued to slam into the shield. When he looked up, he could barely see the streak lines of the missile bearing down upon them. The guardsmen followed the motion, to witness the event that will bring about the end of their world.

"So this is the end." Constantine said softly.

"The End is the Beginning." Commissar Holt replied as blinding white light consumed the world around them.