|Submitted By: Date: February 21, 2007, 12:00:00 AM Views: 1815
|Summary: Chapter One: My Home The wind was blowing that afternoon. It sent the wheat tops rolling in long, golden waves as far as the eye could see; the hills stretched toward eternity. The warmth of the second sun felt good against my burnt, sweat-soaked skin. It was a beautiful shade of red as it fell lower in the darkening sky.
My hands ached from the toil of the day’s labor and my back was none the better. Horsemen of the ever-vigilant Ridoran Equestrianas galloped past in a billowing cloud of dust, their long golden lances shining brightly in the star’s failing light. I looked past the whimsical clouds blanketing the sky into the pink-purple of the binding storms of the warp far off in space.
The fields ran along the surface in great oceans of land mass. The Pangaean continent segmented by the great rivers which ran like huge bands across it. The blue of the rivers was as astounding as the sky. From the fields we were given food and horses. From these we survived for millennia with little Imperial support.
In the failing light, I saw the huge flames falling from space. At first I thought they were chunks of the space station. Years later the Imperial investigators told us they were Ork Roks. They were trapped in the warp, until the storms spit them out upon our world. They flew past the Starlight, though she was firing everything she had at them. I could only imagine what the Captain was screaming over the communicators at our generals as her missiles hopelessly scratched at the fire balls.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me to the gravitational platform that would carry me up into the safety of the cliffs. Below the rising platform, the golden waves of wheat were replaced with dark, sorrowful fields waiting for the upcoming battles.
Chapter Two: Invasion
The metal seat was cold from being unused for years. The last time I sat there was when I turned 16, the age at which all males must receive military training. A whole decade passed before I had to sit there again. I hoped, prayed, to the Emperor that I wouldn’t have to sit there, clutching my lasgun against the chest armor I wore. My knees clicked together in nervous anticipation. I used my grav-chute everyday to get to work but to drop into combat was a different matter. My squad and I sat in silence; the roaring engines of the dropship were the only sounds in the bay. The sergeant by the name of Minlid, was a good friend of mine. We worked in the fields together as each squad member came from the same area. Each man in the ship I knew. I knew their wives and their children; I knew their pets and frequently visited their apartments, and partied late into the night. Deep inside of me I knew at the end, I wouldn’t be seeing some of them again. Sergeant First Class Minlid told us the enemies were Orks. The tension among the soldiers increased as we were told the adversaries. We have known them as killing machines but still, we were run-of-the-mill farmers.
The training we received was rudimentary, a compulsory for all field workers. The Administratum felt we needed no more training as the regulars were adequate in number. The warp-storms, encasing us in false protection, added to the feeling that we were safe. As the ship shook violently, I wished we trained a little harder. Several men by the bay door vomited when they looked outside the tiny, fogging windows. I could hear muffled pops followed by sounds of small pieces of metal hitting the outside of the ship’s hull. A small red light shone in the darkness of the dimly lit space. Sergeant Minlid stood up, remembering the routine; I stood up as well and faced the rear of the ship. Some men forgot their training and when seeing the others, they stood up as well. In anticipation to jump, I strapped my silvered helmet onto my head. It was silvered to signify I was a reservist, the foundation and shining symbol of our planet’s resiliency. Although I was not a conscript, they had green helmets, I was under-trained for a man about to go to war. Normally, we would have trained months before being shipped out, but the attack caught us off-guard.
It was like flying, flying with metal shooting past you. As we fell several men were hit by the sprays of flak. I heard a loud metal on metal sound near my ear. Reaching up, it felt wet. The adrenaline pumped so hard that I hadn’t noticed the pain. Despite the noise, my pulse throbbed loudly in my ears. I looked at my altitude meter. “Little more, little more” .An Ork fighter screamed past, fire spilling from its engines. The rush of air from our trailing fighter caused dizzying turbulence. In the confusion of the fighter fiasco, I engaged my grav-chute too late, but not late enough to cause me trouble. The rush of wind lessened as the chute slowed my descent. ”I will soon be on the field below”. So I thought.
The ground began to spin and the wind picked up. The left side of my chute shot off my back. Flak must have damaged it. My stomach tied into a knot and a lump formed in my throat. My wife and my son were now in my mind. The ground was quickly catching up with me. The blackness of the night grew darker.
Chapter Three: The Dawn
The dawn was fast approaching when I opened my eyes, the massive debris cloud hung in the atmosphere, blocking out the beautiful sunrise Ridora was once known to possess. My heart sunk, as I knew the cloud would remain for the rest of my lifetime, and my child’s. Those damned Orks would pay if I had anything to do with it. I got up from the pool of dried blood, the tall grass stained underneath me. I grabbed my weapon and started to run for a small shack on the other side of the small desolate field. I kept my head down. For what reason I can not say, the field was being prepared for planting and was barren. Due to phenomena of the twin stars rotating about our planet, the growing season was year-round. Our planet was perfectly placed to sustain life in between those stars.
My foot falls were noisy on that quiet morning, boots crunched on the tilled vegetation. I reached the shack, cautiously I approached. The windows were dark. I pushed the squeaky door open. A few over-turned chairs, a small bed, and a short wooden table adorned the humble field watchers building. These were a constant sight in the fields farther away from the hives. Here a couple stayed to watch over the fields at night. A lonely, quiet life that was most humble.
A cold pressure was pushing on the back of my neck. My eyes popped open. My palms sweated as I tightened my grip on my weapon.
The sight in the valley beyond was astonishing. Thick, black smoke filled the air. Hideous dreadnaughts were smashing into ranks of men. Tens of thousands of Greenskins moved in a living tide from their Rok located miles away. They slaughtered the militias that retreated from the ground they were defending. In their wake the ones with flamethrowers burned our beautiful fields. The hills were ablaze in hatred and mourned for vengeance. I could hear the cries of the dying on the breeze.
Rating: This article has not been rated yet.