0.314.046.M41

Aboard the Cetaceus-class transport HMHM Mailed Fist

Officially, on paper, Captain Erichus Napalus of HMHM Mailed Fist was just that, a captain. In charge of one ship, and one ship only.

The only people that thought this was how it played out in practice, was one who had never seen or heard of a Cetaceus-class transport.

A Cetaceus-class transport ship is one of the largest human ships ever designed, looking like a giant rocket artillery launcher in space with armor and a plasma thruster bigger than most ships at the back. Multiple support, escort, and logistical craft, along with some merchant craft, were magnetically tethered to the outside of the ship, oftentimes around each other, giving the illusion of a small hive being built on it's bulk, in the vacuum of space. With eight large holes in it's interior, most of the ship's interior was hollow space, designed only to hold other spaceships within it's bays, with it's reccomendation being up to 24 ships of Heavy Transport-class contained within it's hull.

To give a sense of scale, each Heavy Transport-class was also a ship carrier, though not carrying ships meant for battle. Indeed, the Heavy Transport-class was not actually meant to land in the atmosphere at all. Instead, they were capable of carrying up to 450 Space-to-Atmosphere dropships of Angantyr-class or smaller. An Angantyr-class dropship was a double-decked troop and vehicle transportation twelve times larger than a B-52 High Altitude Nuclear Bomber. Weighing millions of pounds, and capable of carrying an entire armored company, composed of either 2,100 Sentinel walkers, 300 light vehicles, 80 medium tanks, 30 Heavy tanks, 3 Super-heavy tanks, or some lesser combination of the previous.

Outfitted with an entire company of men to support and drive the vehicles, a fully-stocked and rightly placed Angantyr-class dropship was a fearsome sight able to turn many battles. First, the dropship would descend onto the battlefield, dropping flares and firing lascannons at whatever ground fortifications, aircraft, or missiles that dared oppose it. The nose would open, and every vehicle would come out firing, never stopping until the landing zone was a fortress of steel, mud, corpses, and kill-zones. Then, having only used the Ion engines to slow the descent onto the ground, the dropship would use it's fuel to rocket slowly up into the air, and then fly like a plane slowly out of the atmosphere, lascannons blowing jet-fighters and missiles clean out of the sky.

Within 30 minutes, it would be back at it's mother-ship, re-fueling, re-stocking, and then after another 15-20 minutes of frenzied men, machines, and the combination of the two known as tech-priests, it would be taking off to do the whole thing over again. Yes, the only proper way for a Heavy-transport class to be sent out was with all it's dropship ports stocked, fully operational, and full of fighting men and machines. If done like so, it was no stretch to say that only the most heavily populated and well defended worlds could hold out against it's full might.

Sadly, these were not the days of the great crusade. The Imperium of Man had rarely seen a Cetaceus-Class drop all assets upon a planet. The last time such a thing had happened, was during the War of The Beast. When Orks, ORKS! Of all damnable things! Had marched onto the Sol System, humanity's home system, with artificial planets in tow, bent on crashing moons and cosmic-sized wrecking balls into humanity's birthworld.

Through great sacrifice, that had been avoided. With it, the orks were left broken. But the cost of that War was still being paid today, eight millenia later.

A price that would be paid ten times again with fervor if asked again today, if it was asked. There is no price too high to pay to avoid extinction. No price too high to pay for home. For the Savior of Mankind.

But no, these were not those days. Only one Heavy Transport-class ship, HMHM Unfortunate Sons, and two others Light Transport class-ships, HMHM Cadia Joe and HMHM Immortal Smoke was set to be unloaded onto the planet beneath him.

Captain Napalus sighed. If once, just once, he would be able to deploy every ship in his wing, every troop transport, every man, tank, and lasgun, fully stocked, he would die a happy voidsman.

Captain Napalus reminded himself that if his fellow Voidsman didn't put an end to those newfound insect xenos, he might just get his wish, so he silently reprimanded himself for thinking so vaingloriously. He wasn't a young man anymore, at 126, he was damn well getting on in years. Rejuvenat treatments would probably only give him another 30, 40 years at best. He was lucky to have earned this position in the short time he had in His galaxy.

After Auspex scans were finished (no ships, mines, or ports, but by The God-Emperor was that a lot of satellites. That couldn't be safe.) and it was determined to be safe… relatively speaking, to land, Captain Napalus turned to his petty-commodore on bridge.

"Commodore Bowus. Tell His Most Holy Majesty's ships Unfortunate Sons, Cadia Joe, and Immortal Smoke that space surrounding planet is clear, we'll be here for three days, and send them the Auspex reports. Should be enough time for them to make complete drop of infantry personell."

Commodore Bowus, a young Mordian woman with brown hair tied into a bun, gave a quick two-finger salute, "Aye-aye, Captain." before turning to her terminal and making all sorts of motions on the holo-interface.

'Unfortunate Sons, huh? I'd say you got that title when you were born. Being born Krieg is like drawing a really rotten and short lho-stick at the end of a long day. That's your life, too. Rotten and short.'

Captain Napalus shook his head and took another draw of his pipe. He scratched his scruffy white beard.

'But Emperor damn me if I've seen any braver men. Farewell, you unlucky sons of bitches. I better be seeing you again sometime.'

Aboard the HMHM Unfortunate Sons, a small headquarters tent was pitched. Full of large desks, tables, and blackboards. It was exceedingly cramped, hot, humid, and sweaty. The only thing that it was not, was disorganized. The men either stood in rows, sat in wooden pews dragged from the reclusiam, or sat in foldable, angular wooden chairs around a table with a large geographical map on it, showing Six large landmasses, some of which were connected by land, others divided by water masses that were not rivers, and not lakes, but not quite oceans. There were a smattering of red, blue, and green pins dotted around the map. Every fifteen minutes more files, books, and maps were brought in. A few officers would inspect them, and then file them away in boxes, or in bookshelves, respectively. The men in the pews were each reading books, turning pages at a steady pace. The only sound that could be heard were the many "Sssssssssssst… puhhhhhhh" of men breathing filtered air through a mask.

One might question why they were using such antiquated methods of information gathering when they had access to holo-feeds, cogitators, vox-casts, and other more advanced resources for recording & communication. As with many questions of this nature, there were many answers. But the most important one was this: It was foolish to rely on something you wouldn't have for the next however many odd years.

Thirty minutes after they were given the book, they were done reading it.

Grenadier-General Hans Ulbrecht, also known as G-1638, or Serial Number 739011638 nodded his head in approval. Three pages a minute was not not bad. It was not savant-level, but it was efficient. And that was what he wanted.

"I want all of you to review all the information you have just read and process it's implications in your head. You have three minutes."

The Grenadier-General reached into his trench coat and pulled out a timepiece. He clicked the top, and the brass covering the glass popped open. He took a look at the time, and put it back.

'Traitors, humans serving xenos, sterilizing resistance, bio-engineered xeno servitor-castes, blasphemous technology, worshipping witch-aliens. This has tau stink all over it.'

Though no one could see it, his nose wrinkled in disgust and his frown was very strongly felt by his neck muscles.

'At least, Krieg will finally have the honor of introducing a planet into the Holy Imperial Empire. It won't make up for what we've done. But… if we can prevent one more loss... One more planet, even a dung-heap like this one, from being lost to damnation, like Krieg... That's worth spilling blood over.'

The General reached into his interior breast-pocket again and pulled out the timepiece. Sure enough, three minutes was almost up. On the dot, starting… Now.

"Alright. Individual review is over. Anyone have questions?"

A few hands raised up.

"General, if this planet is not in the Imperium, how did they send out the distress call or this information to us? This intelligence seems too detailed to have been collected by scattered militias."

General G-1638 put his hands behind his back.

"The Inquisition both made the distress call and got us this intelligence. Further questions, LG-1138?"

The hand went down. "None further, General."

G-1638 called on the next nearest hand.

"Speak, LG-6290."

"General, if the enemy has strongholds throughout the entire world, how are we going to siege it?"

"That will be answered momentarily. Other questions, LG-6290?"

"Only one, general. How will we resupply?"

General G-1638 set his hands onto the table. "This is a warzone. We conscript the civilians if need be, put them to work otherwise. We requisition anything that we need. There are more materials and industrial goods than can be made effective use of down there...By human hands, at least. Other questions?"

LG-6290 lowered his hand. "None further, general."

General G-1638 nodded. Satisifed there were no other questions, he took a riding crop from out of the loop in his belt.

"This plan was a collaboration between Naval Intelligence, myself, and logistical staff. If any of you have questions, concerns, or doubts, do not hesitate to speak up."

He surveyed the gasmask-clad men. Then, he hit the riding crop on island off a particularly scraggly big of a continent that had two islands on it. "We will be air-dropping here first. It's an enemy stronghold on the nearby continent. It's small enough to be taken easily, but unfortunately it's quasi-urban, so we cannot build many trenches. Once we take out the air-base and suppression field, we will fortify this place, make it a base of operations, putting civilians to work, then expand into the nearby island, purge it, then set up agricultae fields. Once this is done, we initiate the next phase of the plan. We use whatever boats we find and land on the nearby continent."

The general pointed his riding crop at what, unknown to him, was called Normandy beach.

"We create a trench-line along the coast until we have enough men for a push. Once we do, we expand the line eastwards. Eventually, we'll reach right around here."

He pointed a riding crop at something called 'Germany'.

"This area has the most dense amount of railway line. It covers roughly around-" He waved his riding crop around the entirety of Europe. "This portion of the continent. We purge any aliens, traitors, or traitor infrastructure we find as fast and far as the rail-lines go, then bunker down, consolidate the civilians, and get the industry running again. Once we have a reliable source of transportation, and our foothold is solid, we start expanding over to here." He pointed it at Turkey, moving down into Israel, then Egypt, and over to Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and Eastern Iran. "There are two objectives in this area. Objective number one is enemy strongholds. We get rid of them, and the ones over here-" He drew a line across North Africa. "-Will be much easier to take on. We'll be pushing towards that area with naval assets from the island once we consolidate our hold on this region. Our second objective here is fuel. There's plenty of it, but we'll need civilians to do it."

He paused and looked at his Lieutenant-Generals. "Is everyone keeping up? Does anyone have questions?" He waited fifteen seconds, and then continued. He hit Afghanistan with his riding crop. "This is a mountainous region. Easily fortified. We will be using this as a major command center and FOB for what comes next." He started dragging his riding crop south-east, over through India, Myanmar, Bangladesh, then through Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, and Southern China. "Most of this is forested area. Which means we harvest what we can, and burn what we can't. Once again, I emphasize, siege, consolidate, conscript, fortify, advance, and siege. It has a high alien, traitor, and human population. We will get many Korpsman from here, Emperor willing. But it's nothing compared to what comes next."

General G-1638 circled a big circle around China and Japan.

"This area. Memorize it well. There are more people living in this area than out of this area. Supposedly, all of this Island-" He pointed at Japan. "-Is under control of the xenos. With most of the - and there's a lot of it- infrastructure intact. And most of the traitors-" He pointed at China- "-Are coming from here. Expect near-peer resistance every mile of the way, intel is scarce here."

General G-1638 finally looked away from the map, and rested his riding crop in his hands. He looked over his men. None seemed lost. They were all attentive. Eager to get their hobnailed boots into the mud. He gave them a once over, turning his head to look at all of them.

"Last chance for questions."

Only two raised their hands.

"Go ahead."

"General, what about those other three continents? And that big northern part? How are we gonna purge them?"

He dusted his shoulder off.

"Those areas are assigned to other regiments. If they need assistance, we'll crucify that heretic once we get to it. Next question."

"Excuse me general, but if those eastern lands have the most equipment left intact, why aren't we going after them first?"

The General felt a bit frustrated, thinking this was obvious, but took a deep breath, and explained it anyways.

"We cannot start at the east. It would be a waste of manpower and time to start there. We cannot siege an island. Not without boats. And if we tried to get out boats from the lands near the island, then they would simply come over to us. They would have complete mobility and range advantage through their naval assets. We would be sitting ducks. We do not know the number of their air assets, but we know they have a large amount of both seacraft and missiles. If we tried to airdrop into the island, we lose too many men before they even reach the ground. If we airdrop into the east, we have to fight a large amount of aliens and traitors with no supply lines. Does this answer your question, LG-3825?"

LG-3825 lowered his hand and bowed his head towards him. "Yes, general. I still have much to learn. Forgive me."

G-1638 brushed it off. "There is no shame in being vigilant or eager to slay the heretic, CO-3825. If anyone has the chance to kill a heretic, but doesn't, he is a heretic as well, is he not?"

Murmurs of agreement rumbled through the room.

LG-3825 looked him straight in the gas-mask. "It is as you say, general."

G-1638 clicked his boots together. "This reminds me of a favorite passage of mine. Sanguinus VI; Verse CCXXXV: It is not peace I have brought unto you, my sons, to suffer the degradation of the alien, the mutant, the heretic. But it is war I have brought unto you, my sons, war so you may grow strong. So you may no longer live in fear, in sin, in shame, but cast down all the unholy and impure things into the pits of fire, so you may feel the holy hatred running through your veins as it runs through mine. This is my gift to you, sons of mine. A galaxy free of fear, and sin, and shame. Become my instrument, do my will instead of thy own, and all these will I give unto you, and all your descendants. This covenant I make with you, become my instrument, and you will outnumber the stars themselves."

A union of over twenty peoeple made the sign of the aquila, both hands clasped over their breast, and whispered as one, "Praise The God-Emperor."

"Praise The God-Emperor." G-1638 agreed solemnly, nodding.

He let a few minutes of silence hang, to let others pray, but mostly so he himself could pray.

'Emperor, I hold dominion over so many lives I cannot hope to ever know them all. Please, though I am just a worm in the dirt, hear my prayer. I cast all the lives I hold dominion over down into this earth. Let them fight for you. Let them kill for you. The enemy without has enslaved our people, as in the times of Old Night. Give me the strength to lead, so my men may cast off their chains. Give my men the strength to fight, so this world may be yours. But most of all, may all the lives we end in your name, our enemies and our own, earn but a scrap of your forgiveness. For you are all powerful, and all that is righteous, and we are unworthy in total, unloyal dogs, traitors in perpetuity.

Emperor, forgive us. Emperor, forgive us all.

Eventually, the prayers ended.

The General studied his men. Twenty-Five Lieutenant-Generals. The cream of the crop he had. Damn fine men.

"We're dismounting for airdrop at-" He took his brass timepiece out of his breast pocket. "-1800 hours tomorrow on the dot. That gives you enough time to tell your subordinates what I told you, get your men and armor ready, and make a plan. You all know your roles. Maps and books are in the cabinets with your serial numbers on them. I want all 14 million men to start dropping at that time exactly. I don't expect it all to happen at once, but I expect it to happen and not slow down until they're all there. Am I made clear?"

"SONS OF VERDUN! HIS WILL BE DONE!"

"Then get busy. Tomorrow we may die, but the day after that we dig our graves."