Two Terras

Grinding Treads

Trage hissed as the stump that was once his arm rasped across broken concrete, the agony was incredible. His eyes watered as waves of pain radiated from the limb, yet he continued forward. His squad was counting on it. Trage looked back at his squad, now halved and injured. They had been trudging through the ruined streets of the city for a while, following the strobing red flashes in the dim sunlight. Every now and then a quake would shake the road, Trage knew the sound of a Leman Russ when he heard it. The roar of the main battle cannon was what kept him going forward, but the chittering sounds that assaulted his ears constantly also gave him pause. Nevertheless, he was a Cadian. First in and last out. A large incline faced the Cadians as they rounded the last corner, the sounds of battle echoed from the other side. Trage gestured behind him and his men paused, he hefted the lasgun in his usable hand and braced it along his stump. Sweeping it back and forth for a second he decided it was clear enough and began to sprint. The inclined road was torture on his sore legs but salvation was just over the top. Instead of the strong imperial hold out Trage was expecting he was presented by a sole Leman Russ and a scattered few Guardsmen desperately attempting to survive.   

Kolm grasped his controls with dripping hands, his eyelashes caught salty sweat from falling into his eyes but they still obscured his vision. He wiped his eyes, squeezing his trigger and obliterating more xenos. He didn't have to take his eyes from the gunsight to know that Petra had slapped a new shell in. Another explosion and more insects died. Still, they clambered over bodies of the dead to maul the men who sheltered around the Organ of Fire. The sponsons had not quieted, only for the seconds it took for the operators to reload. The lascannon at the front had skewered many a spider, still the xenos continued. "When death smiles at us, all we can do is smile back." Kolm muttered, rocking with the recoil of his gun as it fired again. He had stopped aiming, only targeting clumps of ants. And there were many of those, too many. He moved the gun to fire at the crest of a strange inclined road, when he noticed lances of ruby lights firing down into the horde. He pulled his periscope up and peered towards the top. "Commander? You see them?" Kolm asked, but Petyr was already looking. "Yes. Support them Kolm, they won't last long." Kolm snapped to it, launching a shell at the base of the xenos attempting to close on the half dozen guardsmen. It was as Kolm waited the few seconds for his new shell that he saw how beat to hell the Guardsmen were. The squad leader was firing a lasgun one handed, his other arm wrapped in stained bandages. One was firing a long las awkwardly from the hip as their eye was covered in similarly stained bandages. A large guardsman wielded a long pole as a spear, sending ants flying back from the force of his blows. Then Petra finished and he fired again, blowing a hole in the horde. One of the guardsmen exploited this and slung a frag grenade into the hole, the shrapnel shredded xenos and put the injured insects down. "Frag it." Petyr muttered, Kolm was trying to comprehend the statement when Petyr shouted down from his post. "Driver! Straight forward, We need to support those Guardsmen." Petyr then opened the top hatch and hoisted himself up. He shouted similar orders to the dozen surviving Cadians that huddled near the tank. Soon they had rallied, and the Organ of Fire began to roar forward.

 Mistress Veronica sat within her steed, brain connected by hardline connections to her Knight Crusader. Augur readings flashed into her retinas, connected to the Knight's sensors. A warning rune began to chirp, the red light bathed her seated form. The heavy graviton artillery mounted to her right arm began to glow with awakening power, the Questoris Pattern Battle-Cannon on her left arm began to autoload shells. Veronica smiled, so much ordnance at her fingertips. A vox communique cut across her musings, the holo field snapped on and portrayed a reflection of herself. A slim, angled face with creased green eyes  regarded her, Veronica smiled. "How can I help you today sister?" The woman on the other end sighed and rolled her eyes, she was not in a jesting mood. "Ready your formation, we will arrive planetside in ten solar minutes." Veronica sat back, crossing her legs. "Always business, always so worried." Veronica pouted, her sisters eyes narrowed, "I am your twin, my existence is worrying for you." The vox cut out and Veronica was left staring into empty space. She sighed and sat forward, opening a link to her Lance. Her formation consisted of a Knight Paladin; Storm of Retribution, Knight Warden; Honor Unchained, and her Knight Crusader; Pharisus. "Unchained, Storm. We're gonna be hitting the ground running, get ready." The crackling response from Unchained rung out. "Don't we always Mistress?" Veronica laughed aloud, baring her teeth. "Its more fun that way, trust me."

Ranger Turner was a quiet man, he had green eyes and red hair. Those somewhat unique parts of him were always covered by his uniform though. And his eyes were always behind the lens of his Hercules Rifle. The long barreled sniper had been the bane of many an insectoid reject to crawl near his position. Now though he watched an altogether different kind of war, he watched as men in green armor and bone fatigues roared down the streets of Paris. They were as small as ants to Turner atop his perch located in the depths of the Notre Dame's cracked roof. They moved forward at a crawl, their day long offensive having ground down to desperate hold outs in places. Turner had tried to radio HQ about the development but found comms cut off, and responses from other units garbled and ineligible. Turner pivoted slightly and zoomed in on a rather sad sight. A sole tank ground through cobblestone pathways with a long trail of ants in front of it. The tank reversed through the narrow road, using its bulk and weaponry to shield the injured troops behind. The machine guns mounted to the side sponsons scraped against the sides of buildings, they did not stop belting their rage though. Cutting down any to come close with short controlled bursts. Turner magnified his vision to focus on the tank, a man popped out of the turret and swung a pintle mounted machine gun around, the fat double barreled gun began to fire as well. The controlled ordnance cutting down ants and spiders alike. Turner whistled softly and smiled, these new arrivals were proving to have some teeth after all.     

"The Cadians are in a fighting retreat." The vox said simply, the garbled statement was a punch to the gut for Major Stour. He had fought alongside Colonel Octus for over a decade, and he respected the quiet Cadian. He closed the hatch of his Command Baneblade, the inside was spacious and populated by the massive technology that kept the massive vehicle running. As Stour climbed down the command hatch ladder his men ceased their non-urgent tasks and saluted. Stour nodded and continued to his location in the middle section of the vehicle, monitors and cogitators surrounded his office all showing things he did not like to see. He had 20 Super Heavy Tanks attached to three companies of Leman Russes, all though were bogged down and in active combat. 1st and 5th companies were engaged along the banks of a the largest river on the continent, translated road signs called it the 'Volga.' They had found very little native human presence but enough xenos for everybody. the 2nd were busy supporting the Carcosian Rifles in a continent known as 'North America.' The 3rd and 4th company were on station with him and currently roaring across the steppes of a highly populated area designated by translation matrixes as 'China.'  They were in support of the 546th Messore Artillery, escorting the basilisks as they moved to support current operations in 'Japan.' There they would rain hellfire down in support of the 808ths 3rd company.  

Stour took a deep breath and ran his hand along his moustache, the planet was large. And he doubted the Imperium had the numbers of boots on the ground to take the world. Until he noticed it, the desert continent designated 'Africa' was being cleared at a rapid pace. he tried to see what forces were on station there but found his attempts thwarted by restricted access. "The third day of the invasion and half a continent is almost clear? What in His name did we send there?" Stour muttered, sitting back.