When the Eighth Legion was created, it recruited children who were born and survived in the prisons and social slums of Terra. The children of murderers, thieves, and political enemies of the rulers.
They grew up in an atmosphere of fear and pain. Even adults barely survived in the prisons of Terra, let alone children. Mortality among them was incredibly high. But this harsh selection process turned the children into silent and deadly shadows. They learned not only to hide in the darkness of the underground dungeons and cells, but also to kill. And to kill with such cruelty and efficiency that it made them dangerous and terrifying adversaries.
Even when I was training under Ra Endymion, there were already rumors that the Eighth Legion had become a true weapon of the Emperor's terror. They didn't just flood enemy cities with blood; they soaked the cities themselves in such an atmosphere of fear and horror that people went mad and killed each other just to avoid falling into the hands of the executioners that the Eighth Legion had become for the planet.
The Imperium used them against worlds that, despite their outward obedience, might hide the desire to stab a knife in the back and spark a guerrilla war. Corpses, entire mountains of corpses, and those unlucky enough to become living examples of the Eighth Legion's work long deterred rebellion, giving the Imperium time to integrate the new planet.
However, the Eighth Legion was very effective against humans, but not so effective when it came to xenos. And in the case of Orks, their effectiveness dropped even more. Orks were dumb, vicious brutes who weren't easily frightened. Sure, they might relieve themselves if they saw their kin brutally slaughtered, but when there were too many Orks and they had strong leaders, intimidating them wasn't simple. Cowards or troublemakers were executed by the Nobz, and after such decimation, Orks feared their leaders more than the unknown night killers. So, the usual method of intimidation didn't work, and it all turned into a regular meat grinder, which was common when the Imperium fought Orks.
The Eighth Legion managed to deal significant losses to the Ork fleet, almost taking them out of the game. This made ground operations easier, but the Orks still continued to resist stubbornly, regardless of losses, as there were too many of them. The Eighth had to switch to more straightforward tactics, though they still conducted terror operations. Cities were taken by storm, and field battles became enormous slaughterhouses. As dumb as Orks were, they weren't about to stand idly by and wait to be bombarded from space. Instead, they used their insane anti-aircraft defense—rockets stuffed with Gretchin, the smaller Orkoids who were slaves or servants of the Orks, or deranged Orks themselves. It wouldn't have been a problem if there weren't so many of them, and if their behavior wasn't… strange. Some rockets were just tubes filled with explosives, while others created strange energy anomalies that could inflict serious damage to starships or make targeting and communication impossible.
So, the Eighth had to go old-school. Chainswords and bolters, along with artillery. As they would say in my old world, using a microscope to hammer nails. The Eighth was an incredibly efficient weapon of terror and intimidation, but now they had to fight outside of their modus operandi. It would have been better to rotate them out and use other legions better suited for open combat, but Warp storms made that impossible. Neither we nor the Orks could escape. And freezing the conflict to wait for the Warp storms to end wasn't an option for two reasons. First, who knows, maybe only the Warp storms were preventing the Orks from getting reinforcements that could shift the balance, forcing the Imperium to retreat. Second, it was a matter of ego. The Eighth Legion didn't want to leave things as they were; they wanted victory and to prove they weren't just butchers and boogeymen, but warriors.
At first, they were even glad that we ended up with them. But once they found out we were here by accident and that we were just a single company, not part of a larger force, they didn't hide their disappointment. As I later learned, they thought they could offload some of their frontline burden and use the freed-up forces to deliver a decapitating strike followed by attacks on the disoriented Orks. A good plan, but reality turned out to be different, so they abandoned it.
My company was turned into a fire brigade and sent to the part of the front where there were few Eighth Legion Astartes, and the main burden was borne by regular infantry units of the Imperial Army.
"What a mess. This isn't a prepared defensive position; it's a half-baked excuse. They didn't even dig proper trenches, and the gun emplacements… One good artillery strike and it's all over," Rork grumbled with obvious disdain as he surveyed the trenches.
"Have a heart, Rork. For you, these positions may only be good for kneeling fire, but for them, they're just right," I joked while making notes on my tablet.
"You know what I mean. The only reason they haven't been wiped out is that the main fighting is far away, and the constant raids by the Eighth Legion. I'm tempted to shoot their discipline masters and commanders," Rork nodded toward a couple of officers arguing about something.
"These are second-line troops. The better ones are tied up elsewhere. So, I'm not surprised. We'll have to take command and make them do things right," I quickly finished writing my report and sent it to the command center.
"Then I'll go cheer up our guys with the news that they'll have to play babysitters. I bet the local infirmary will soon be filled with idiots who don't understand that orders must be followed precisely and quickly," Rork's words made me smile.
"Ammo supply won't be a problem, so we'll be busy not only strengthening the defensive line but also training this cannon fodder," I replied. Rork grimaced even more.
Yes, we're usually not supposed to work with the Imperial Army on THIS level, but we don't have much choice. Plus, a bit of pragmatism: the better trained our allies are, the fewer losses our company will suffer.
"Is this definitely a Fifth Legion position?" an Eighth Legionnaire asked.
"Judging by the armor, it's definitely the Fifth. Although, seeing these hangmen, I have my doubts too," his companion replied, casting a quick glance at several hanged officers of the local Imperial Army regiment.
They walked through several lines of trenches where soldiers and officers worked diligently, eventually reaching a bunker guarded by a few Fifth Legion Astartes.
"You must be the coordinators from the Eighth? Come on in," they were allowed through, descending into the local defense command center.
"Greetings. I'm Sergeant Buri, company commander of the Fifth Legion," I said, turning to greet the new guests in the bunker.
"I'm Shor. This is Frir. We've arrived to coordinate forces in this defense sector, but after seeing things with my own eyes, I can confidently say you've done an excellent job. Quite surprising, especially given the quality of the auxiliary forces," one of the Astartes introduced himself, ending his words with a smirk.
"They just needed the right motivation and the right commanders," I returned the smirk.
"And what motivation is that?" Frir asked.
"Survival. If they work poorly, shoot poorly, and follow orders poorly, they'll die. Either the Orks will kill them, or I will, sending them to the gallows. So, by executing a few especially stupid officers with inflated egos, I managed to turn them into soldiers. And it worked," my answer made them smile, "Now, can you tell me what's expected of me here?"
"Hold the line. The Orks are preparing for another assault, and while your sector isn't the focus of the attack, the Orks might still try to hit you," Shor handed one of the officers an info crystal, which, once connected, displayed a map with reconnaissance data and the approximate locations of the enemy's attack directions.
"There will be a lot of them. Do you plan to grind them down on the defensive line or create a kind of kill box?" I asked Shor, who seemed to have more authority, despite being equal in rank with Frir.
"We're hoping for the former, but we'll likely need to prepare for a breakthrough. As I said earlier, the quality of the auxiliaries isn't the best, and we don't have much faith that they'll show the necessary resolve," Shor cast a contemptuous glance at the map where the Imperial Army forces were marked.
"So, just hold the line. That's good. We've got Rhinos and Predators, but no highly mobile equipment. Can't even conduct proper recon," I replied to Shor and sighed.
"We can help with that. Frir and I specialize in deep reconnaissance and sabotage."
"Like your entire legion," I responded.
"Yes. So, working in shifts, Frir and I can conduct reconnaissance while keeping your company and the local auxiliary forces connected and coordinated with the main headquarters," his words made me sigh, but this time with relief.
"Excellent. Now, let's get started." But at that moment, the urgent call signal sounded. "What's going on, Rork?"
"Orks. Lots of them. We've managed to lure a big bunch of green bastards. You wanted to train our soldiers in shooting, right? Well, rejoice. A bunch of live targets is heading our way," Rork remarked cheerfully.
"You have a way of solving problems in unorthodox ways. We're waiting for you. Over and out." After disconnecting, I turned to one of the officers and ordered them to prepare for the enemy attack.
"We'll have to postpone our conversation. A massive horde of Orks is heading our way."
"No problem, Sergeant Buri. I'm quite curious to see the results of your efforts."
"You're not the only one." I issued the final orders and headed out with my command team from the bunker toward the forward command post for a better view and to be able to react quickly to changes on the battlefield.
In the distance, the engines of our Rhinos roared, kicking up clouds of dust as they led a large group of Orks on their ugly machines, like matadors taunting a bull.
"Time to draw the first blood in this campaign. Everyone, open fire!"
The roar of bolters, the scream of las cannons, and the hiss of missiles filled the trenches. And then, it was a one-sided slaughter.
Another Chat GPT translated chapter. Enjoy!