Return of the THeX: The Resounding Company

  “Sarge, we might have something here,” echoed Pvt. Soizey’s voice from within the long wrecked aquilla lander.  “If we can get the power supply out of this thing and salvage some of the high tension wiring from the other pieces we may have what we need to contact the fleet.”

“Do what you can, Soizey,” said Sergeant Gannon who was obviously weary from the constant harassment from the Family.

“Sarge,” said Barrows as he lowered his monocular and pointed to the horizon, “we’ve got movement.”


“Holy God Emperor what is it this time?”

“Sir,” Barrow said with a smile, “they could be friendlies.  Not ours, but they proudly carry the aquilla.”

“Huh, we’ve traipsed all across this Emperor forsaken planet and here in the middle of this madness with the Family we find some friendlies,” rambled Soizey as he poked his head from out of the crashed lander.  “The Emperor works in mysterious ways, fellas, mysterious ways.”

“The vox still being jammed?” asked Gannon.

Soizey peered at the blinking red power light and the dim green transmission light and saw that nothing had changed since the jamming began.  “Yeah sarge, no change,” replied Soizey.

“Barrows, raise an open hand and then make the sign of the aquilla in front of your chest.  That should send the right message,” ordered Gannon.  He knelt beside the lander and pulled out his monocular to get a better view. 

Barrows made the sign as ordered.  Gannon watched intently as the other squad looked about one another until one stepped up on top of a crashed xeno vehicle wreck and signaled back.  Gannon scanned the area when he caught the faint gleam of a lasgun barrel poke out from behind the xeno wreck.  “Barrows, get…” The las shot hit Barrows squarely in the neck and set his thrermoscarf ablaze.  His body tumbled off of the lander and down to the ground without so much as a yelp.

“Fire!” ordered Gannon.  The squad opened fire without effect as the other squad ducked behind the xeno wreck for cover. 

“So much for friendlies,” said Soizey as he ducked back down into the lander to get to work on the fuel cells.

“Send up the flares and keep your eyes sharp, boys,” order Gannon as he removed his laspistol from its muddied holster.  “The rest of Echo Company will be here shortly.”

*****

Mortar shells pounded the area around the aquilla lander but none so far had hit Sgt. Gannon’s squad.  “Soizey, how’s it going?  I would really like to get out of here,” shouted Sgt. Gannon over the bursts of explosions. 

“Five minutes, sir,” Soizey said as he pounded the butt of his lasgun against his multi-tool to loosen the bolted panels covering access to the fuel cells.  The multitool bent in the most disappointing way then dropped to the ground.  Soizey amended his previous statement, “A long five minutes, sir”

“Sir, we have movement in the trees.  One, no two, squads are headed this way,” Private Moffe said with urgency to Gannon.

Gannon surveyed the situation through his monocular.  “Take cover beside the lander and next to the hill when they clear the trees we’ll lay down a firestorm.”

“Incoming!  Get down, Get down!” barked Lt. Cragg from the other side of the lander.  Instinctually, Gannon and his squad threw themselves on the ground and scurried under and into any bit of cover they could find.  The roar of heavy bolter fire poured out of Lt. Cragg’s squad as explosions were heard off in the distance.  Gannon could see the silhouettes of the enemy moving through the outcropping of trees to their south but failed to see any effect, not explosions, nor swaying branch, from Lt. Cragg’s fire.  The enemy had made it into firing range and opened up despite having to fire through the trees.  The lasfire was ineffective as it was burned scorch marks into trees and the cover they huddled beneath. 

****

6^th platoon darted through the forest adeptly navigating fallen branch and loose footing alike while trying to keep in front of the stern Lt. Marcum.  Lt. Marcum, having recently earned a field promotion, had yet to learn the subtleties of command, “Move your asses or I’ll fuck you with the fun end of your own bayonet,” he screamed.

 The soft thud of the mortar positions grew louder as the pace quickened.  Several mortar explosions caused tree tops to burst into a shower of harmless splinters in the areas that the 6^th had just moved through.  Clearly they knew they were coming and Marcum hoped that they were not prepared.  6^th platoon came through the tightly packed forest and were surprised about how quickly they were on top of the first mortar position.

Lt. Marcum’s pupils dilated and his pulse raced when he saw large geysers of flame erupt from behind the grassy knoll that separated them from the mortar team. Promethium fueled flames sprayed the ground in front 6-1 who tried to stop but the crush of bodies from behind forced a few into the flames.  The screams of agony focused Lt. Marcum to quickly redirect the platoon to flank around the knoll only to be met with withering lasfire. His platoon started to waiver one by one as the fierce burn wounds bore through their flak armor and the concussive blasts of the grenades left many dazed and confused.  Lt. Marcum’s instincts were sharp and resolute; his weathered but reliable laspistol hit the mark more often than not; and his deft direction saved more lives than most could.  When the time came to muster heroics from his platoon the words of inspiration that he had rehearsed so many times vanished from his mind, “For the love of your mother’s tit, charge!”

***

Gannon briefly peeked his head above the cover and saw the two squads moving toward them were almost clear of the trees.  Gannon readied his laspistol and his chainsword ready to spring form the cover.  “Soizey, get your ass in gear and pull it out now! And I mean now, damn it!”

“Keep your head down.  Incoming, incoming,” Cragg’s fading voice yelled. Gannon glanced back to see Lt. Cragg begin to move up field as if he had no idea of the apparent threat of the tree born squads. Gannon couldn’t believe his ears.  He thought to himself that nobody could be that stupid but the training provided by his proud corps would force him to hold his tongue even though his curled lip and piercing stare betrayed his thoughts.

“Craggs’s fucking us again, isn’t he?” said Private Moffe. 

“Shut your mouth soldier! Ready on my command.” Gannon pulled from his kit a shaving mirror which he used to spy the squads moving through the trees.  The first of the squads had just emerged from the tree line.  The sergeant of the opposing squad raised his sword and let out a ferocious scream.  They closed the ground between the treeline and Gannon’s squad quickly when three flak grenades burst among the advancing squad.  The gushing blood from the opened wounds splashed the ground in contrast to the steadfast trees that merely shed some leaves.  Gannon saw the opposing sergeant knocked backward onto the ground. He laid for just a brief moment as he gathered himself and the rest of the squad.  He stood only to put his chest in the way of burst of plasma.  The plasma melted straight through his torso and left nothing more than a serene face as he joined oblivion.

Gannon rotated the mirror to see Lt. Ulricht’s smoking plasma pistol and her command squad crouched behind the small rocky bluff.  He could see that she was trying to send him a hand signal when the mirror was shot out of his hand.  The heat of the lasshot burned his hand once again and he couldn’t help but wonder about the fate of Beeson and his burn cream.

**

The crush of bodies in the swirling melee ravaged one another as THeX and enemy scored blow after blow and kept the tide even and no one dared give an inch.   Lt. Marcum’s chainsword churned its teeth through the flak armor of one and then another.  The gory arcs of arterial splatter from his dismembered adversaries soaked his tattered thermoscarves as another caught a burning shot in the thigh from his trusty laspistol.    He charged at an opposing officer with a spread of fire from his laspistol to clear the way.  The opposing officer fired twice with the first missing wide while the other singed off the entirety of Marcum’s beard on the left side of his face and caused his eye to water uncontrollably.  The near kill shot caused him to stumble just enough in the blood soaked ground to accidently duck the path of the crackling power sword wielded by his opponent.  Marcum regained his footing and spun on his heel just in time to whip his chainsword swiftly across his body and decapitate the opposing officer.  The backsplash of blood from his chainsword caught him in the face and temporarily blinded him.

As he grabbed a bit of thermoscarf to wipe the blood from his face he was tackled to the ground by two burly bastards who were intent on reveling in the savagery of the melee.  The two men ditched their lasguns in favor of their combat knives.  As he fell Marcum’s laspistol was knocked from his hands and his chainsword fell quiet when it buried itself into a groaning, wounded Thexian private next to him.  He looked down the length of his horizontal body as one of the burly knife wielders growled, “I am going to cut you up right, freak.”

Marcum groped for what was around and clutched whatever he could with each hand and snapped to his feet.  He let out a roar more akin to a beast than a man that was fueled by adrenaline and fear.  He slung the severed head of the officer in his right hand at one which caught the rabid soldier by complete surprise as the draining blood spattered into his gaping mouth and caused him to choke.  The other soldier slashed wildly and caught Marcum once across his outstretched right arm and then again squarely in his right shoulder. The knife wielding soldier smiled brazenly when Marcum reeled backward then dropped down to a knee because of the stinging pain.  The cleansing power of pain uncluttered his mind and he came to the realization of what he held in his left hand.  He glanced up with his eyes just barely peering out from behind the brim of his helmet. “Just like a bitch to bring a knife to a plasma fight,” Marcum said as he pulled the trigger and left a pair of smoldering and dissolving boots in front of him. 

He turned the pistol on the soldier he stunned with the gore from the officer’s head only to see Specialist Wesson’s bayonet raised just over the enemy combatant’s shoulder.  Wesson stabbed the bayonet into the soldiers back which had him slumped on the ground in an instant.  Wesson quipped to the wounded Lt. Marcum, “I’d prefer to do the bayonet fucking, sir, not getting fucked by it.”

*

“Cragg,” barked Lt. Ulricht, “Halt your advance.  Immediately, Cragg!”

“We are out in the open ma’am. The mortars will get us,” Cragg refuted. 

“Cragg, fire on my target on my command,” Lt. Ulricht ordered as she gestured at the second squad that broke through the trees.  The scream of several falling mortar shells preceded Lt. Ulricht’s order, “Fire!”

Cragg yelped, “incoming, everyone get down,” as his squad dove to the ground and under another section of aquilla wreckage.

Lt. Ulricht, seeing that Cragg was a lost cause, quickly turned her attention to Gannon’s squad.  She and her squad climbed then stood tall on the bluff to give a quick diversion to the second squad that emerged from the trees.  Quickly, sooner than she expected, the lasguns shots ionized the air about her head. One of her grenade launcher specialists screamed as his face caught fire from an adeptly aimed shot and her plasma gunner was knocked off balance by a graze and fell off the bluff.  Even she took a shot that found its way through the refractor field and seared her right hip.  She stood tall nonetheless and with the fire firmly directed at her squad she gave the order, “Gannon, fire, fire, fire!”

Gannon and his squad emerged from the forced shelter and let loose a barrage of lasgun fire accompanied with a spurt of rolling flames.  Clothes burst into flames and armor melted onto skin.  Screams of agony and defeat emerged from the squad but yet those that remained charged as if possessed by the fiercest demons of the warp.  They screamed a blood curdling wail as the final smattering of soldiers who made it through the barrage crashed into Gannon’s surprised squad. 

Gannon brought his chainsword around in a looping arc that easily cut through the first of those that approached him.  To his left two had overwhelmed Private Moffe who guarded near the hatch to the broken aquilla lander where Soizey was still working and another was about to drop a grenade into the open hatch to the crashed lander.  Gannon reacted quickly and rushed the grenade wielding guardsman. Just as the pin was pulled Gannon swung his chainsword but instead of lopping off a body part he used the flat side of the casing on the chainsword to knock the grenade from the hand of the bewildered guardsmen.  Gannon, who relinquished his chainsword, and the enemy private dove to the ground and covered their heads as they were unsure were the grenade had landed.

The well placed whack knocked the grenade at the feet of the two others who had overwhelmed Private Moffe.  The two men started to run but each had the cuff of their pants grabbed by the bloodied and dying Private Moffe.  The men stumbled to the ground while Private Moffe retained his grip.  Blood bubbled then poured from Moffe’s mouth as he gargled out a single word, “Boom.”

After the explosion Gannon was the first to his feet and lunged at the formerly grenade wielding guardsman who was now weaponless.  Gannon caught his opponent off balance and the force of the two men colliding lifted him off the ground and then slammed into the side of the wrecked lander. While Gannon followed through with the tackle his pistol wielding hand was emptied when it was crushed between his opponent and the lander.  Gannon now was in the awkward position of having his back exposed and perpendicular to his enemy. 

A double fisted blow landed squarely in the center of Gannon’s back and sent him to lay prone with his face planted on the ground.  The enemy soldier quickly pounced onto his back and grabbed a tuft of Gannon’s own thermoscarves and wrapped it around his neck.  He pulled with such force that Gannon’s back arced painfully and unnaturally backward as the life was slowly choked out of him.  Gannon’s vision darkened and sounds of the battlefield faded out of existence when his face slammed into the dirt. 

When he came to he was covered in the viscous gore of entrails and blood.  He rolled over and saw a pair of legs to his left and heard the garbled cries of his attacker to his right.  He raised his head just enough to see Lt. Ulricht’s back moving away from him as she slashed with her powersword and chased down the handful of retreating enemy. 

The traitor guardsmen were in full retreat when Private Soizey popped up from the crashed aquilla lander hatch with the fuel cells tied together by THeXian thremoscarves that were slung over his shoulders. As he surveyed the field he took note of the blasted remains of Moffe, the battered remnants of his squad, Lt. Ulricht’s shouting out orders, and Sgt. Gannon lying on the ground befuddled and covered in the slimy afterbirth of battle. With a blank expression he said simply, “I’m ready to move out, sir.”