Ashes in the mud

Disobedience

The fog rolled in like a god's dying sigh, thick and heavy with the scent of inevitability. Swallowed the world outside the fortress, leaving only gray, a void that offered no solace, only the promise of what lurked within. Elara stood on the battlement, breath misting in the cold, feeling the stones beneath her feet for their stubborn solidity. Out there, somewhere, the Necrons waited. Silent. Patient. Relentless. She let the cold bite, a counterpoint to the numb fatigue that clung to her.

Then, without ceremony, they came.

One by one, metallic forms slithered from the fog - Necron Warriors. Emerald gauss weapons glowed, the only color in the monochrome dawn. They moved with timelessness, a grim precision echoing through millennia. Each step deliberate, unhurried, yet their advance was more terrifying than any frenzied charge. Elara's grip tightened on her laspistol; warm metal against the chill.

"Positions, Cadet Vorenn," crackled Hedek's voice over the vox, sharp as a honed blade. His will pressed against her, despite the distance, an unspoken weight. "No ground given. Hold this line."

The order was expected, yet it gnawed. *Hold the line.* The doctrine drilled into every Guardsman, as old as the Imperium itself. She glanced left, at the faces of her men - grim, resolute, fear masked by duty.

The first shots shattered the silence. Gauss fire, green lightning splitting the fog and night, carving through stone and flesh alike. Las-fire answered, a staccato defiance, flickering hope for a moment. Heavy bolters roared, plasma hissed, a symphony of violence.

She watched them trade blows - faces illuminated by gauss and las blasts, etched with determination, terror, desperation. The stoic bravado of those who knew their dance was with death.

"Sector Twelve is breaching, Cadet," Vorell's voice, urgency barely veiled. Auspex readings flickered on his hand-held, red dots blooming like a malignant bloom. "They're through the wall."

Elara saw it - cracks in the western parapet blossoming into fissures. Defenders overwhelmed, some crushed beneath collapsing stone. Not just holding, but surviving.

"Cadet Vorenn," Hedek again, steel in his tone. "You will hold that wall. No fallback orders authorized."

The world contracted, battle noise fading to her own pulse. She knew staying meant...knew falling back would mean career, maybe life, forfeit should Hedek make an example. Protocol's weight pressed down, demanding obedience, yet...

"Reposition to the secondary line!" she snapped, voice sharper than a lasgun crack, pushing doubt aside. "Pull back from the wall-reinforce defenses! Now."

They obeyed, disciplined even in fear, withdrawing fighting every inch, every second, but moving to where they could stand. Her heart sank as the new line formed, each Guardsman repositioning to fight again. Hedek's fury crackled through her earpiece, ice-cold. "This is not your command, Cadet Vorenn. Disobey me again..."

She ignored the brewing storm of disapproval. Behind them, artillery roared, shells arcing overhead, buying precious time - nothing more. Below, Harlok stood exposed, cadet-commissar's coat flaring as he rallied his squad. "With me, lads! Show these tin bastards what we're made of!" His grin was wild, reckless, the kind that gave others strength. His blade rose, catching lasfire, and with a roar, led them into the fray.

She watched him - sword dancing defiance against Necron metal, sparks flying. But fervor couldn't match their foe. One by one, they fell, each giving all, lives flickering out in brief acts of bravery the universe barely noticed. And Harlok? His blade sang until a glancing blow sent him sprawling, body falling amongst his men. Elara's throat tightened. No time for mourning.