[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220721/b3ad813a52f27f61721f0477afb3ed75.png[/img][/center] [center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhqWHIq-aZw]Theme[/url][/center] [hr] [i]Ultima Segmentum[/i] [i]999.M41[/i] [i]Planet Iax: Agri World of Ultramar[/i] [i]1800 Hours[/i] [hr] Zeb had done this three times in his career, and he still wasn't used to it. His skin felt like it was peeling off his bones, and his helmet pulled at his chin by the strap, almost as if it wished to strangle him through some warp infused spirit. He opened his eyes, sweeping his gaze around the two thousand odd guardsmen now with him in the drop. Every last one of them strapped into a compartment like an old terran roller-coaster, only far more tightly and marginally more secured. Above him, the speakers blared their descent in low gothic. [b]Twenty thousand meters...eighteen thousand meters...fifteen thousand meters...[/b] The reinforced steel of the drop-shuttle's hull was layered with three inches of ceramite, easily able to shrug off any small arms fire and some lower yield missiles, but still dangerously vulnerable to anti-orbital guns, lascannon or kinetic. Even past the howling of the wind and the murmering and coughing of his fellow troops, gunfire from the planet could be heard roaring and screeching past their shuttle. He was glad he didn't have a view of the outside, he could imagine what it was like out there, even with his experience. [b]Twelve thousand meters...ninety five hundred meters... seven thousand meters...[/b] Something rocked the drop-shuttle as an explosion tore into the trooper's eardrums. For one horrifying moment, Zeb thought apart of their hull had been breached, but a moment later he realized the distance of the sound and the fading rumble leaving his ears. Another shuttle had been obliterated, likely within a thousand meters of their own. Emperor, he hoped it wouldn't happen to them, and it was a small relief to know the explosion had only now knocked them slightly off course. Not that they were usually sent to the ground with a high expectation of accuracy. After a moment, he thought for a minute and prayed Katia hadn't been in that shuttle, either. He had never heard of a guardsman making "friends" with a commissar, or even the bureaucrats keeping them together as a team because of "the Emperor's Luck." But somehow it had happened to him. If any of the troops with him knew they were a pair without hearing of their exploits on Pavonis, they would assume the two of them were 'fraternizing,' or worse, that he received his Sergeant rank by nepotism. Of course it was bullshit. Katia was pretty, maybe even beautiful, but he wasn't going to risk losing his head over it. And he had faced too many horrors to have his promotion questioned. As the distance was listed again, he made sure to pull his tongue behind his teeth and gently shut his jaw behind his closed lips. Many guardsmen had lost their tongues and senses from one of these landings. There would be more than a few casualties. There always was. [i](Two weeks earlier...) "Judging by the maps, there's a small village northeast of your drop point. Meet me there, and we'll coordinate with the colonel." Katia said in her moderately smoothed valhallan accent. "Isn't the entire planet filled with small villages?" He asked, a bit less formal to the Commissar whilst they were in private. Iax's climate and verdancy made it one of the most naturally agriculturally productive worlds in the Imperium. In fact it was the breadbasket of all of Ultramar. The inhabitants harnessed the planet's inherent fertility, covering its surface with well-ordered farms and cultivated woodlands. Other than a few stretches of mountains and a various collection of shallow seas, it was all green. "Yes," she said, flashing a grim smile. "But this village will be called Du-retour, a few hundred miles from the only city on the planet, First Landing. We'll need to reinforce the troops stations there and hold out until the Ultramarines can return from their crusade." "How long?" he asked, betraying no emotion. "Two hundred Terran days. Not too bad." "Yes ma'am." was all Zeb said, saluting her. They might have begun working together less antagonistically, but he still treated her by her rank when needed. His refined jaw squared and his blue eyes stamped forward when his hand raised out of respect, before turning tail and marching out. She stopped him at the door by barking his name. He turned to her. "Commissar?" "Get there alive." She said. "You too."[/i] The thrusters activated, a low rumbling that sounded like waves crashing against rocks erupted from beneath them. Now they could hear the 'pings' from small wartrukk shootahs ricocheting off the hulls of the shuttle. One large bullet even penetrated the hull, making a small hole in the far wall. The bullet sprang against steel in flashing sparks, but the primitive slug hit no one, luckily. The hole it made whistled with a gale-force pressurized wind, like a hellish stean train. [b]Three thousand meters....one thousand meters...[/b] They had slowed down, but not enough to make the abrupt, concussive landing any less jarring. If Zeb had not been strapped in, he would have been flung to the ground and broken a bone or three. When he regained his vision, blood was pooling on the steel girders below his feet. Three men down from his position, one man had crimson pouring out of his nose and mouth, his body unresponsive. Alarms blared and lights flashed, and the buckles were automated to release every man simultaneously. One buckle had malfunctioned, the trooper scratching at the straps wildly. Zeb stepped out without issue, adjusting his helmet. The cries of "WAAAAAGH" could be heard just as the doors were rolling open. "Grab your guns! Left wall!" Zebulon cried, pointing over the men as the imperial guardsmen began yelling in confusion. A few saw him, followed by dozens more, becoming hundreds as they stampeded to the gun rack. Zebulon remembered that rush. A few men wouldn't survive the charging press of the others. As an officer, his lasgun was on the right. He needed to remember he wasn't above them, even with his newfound privileges. The other five sergeants followed him, grabbing their frag and krak grenades. Three chainswords were presented for them, and Zebulon saw two be taken by a pair of older sergeants. He looked at the third, and then shook his head. Not against Orks, he wouldn't. He didn't plan on getting close enough, and he preferred his newly acquired Cadian-modified Lasgun and the Catachan Fang he had acquired on Pavonis. The doors opened, and blissful sunlight peered through the open hull of the shuttle. The Ork Nob that stood in the opening cast a great shadow over the frightened men.