Heavy Bolter roared like a wild beast in my hands. Its steel maw was heated to the limit but continued spewing round after round. These tiny heralds of imminent death tore into their victims' bodies, exploding within, drenching everything around in a mixture of blood and shredded flesh. Some might be lucky, losing only a limb or staunching a bloody gash, but what one bolter round failed to do, another would finish, as the leaden rain showed no signs of stopping.
"Six percent. Ammo box change needed," came the curt order, and several regular soldiers rushed toward my position, pushing a cart full of munitions.
I kept firing, paying no attention to the clicks behind me. I could see the ammo indicator rise from five percent, then jump to 28, and finally to the satisfying number of 100. A light, almost imperceptible tap on my back signaled that the auxilia soldiers had done their job and were returning to their position.
That small, fleeting gesture made me smirk. When we first trained them, regular soldiers were terrified of us, and couldn't even think about touching us. Some were horrified by the brutal punishment my Astartes meted out to their officers, while others were simply afraid of the giant, power-armored figures that resembled merciless angels of death.
"Not what I should be thinking about right now," I shook my head and smirked again. "Now, the priority is to kill as many orks as possible and hold off this attack."
No longer worrying about running out of ammo, I set about wreaking havoc on the enemy. A long burst from the bolter, like the swing of the Reaper's scythe, cut down several dozen orks. A shift in direction and another burst decimated another group. In the distance, I saw a dusty trail left by an approaching ork buggy trying to break through to our position. Soon, I could make out the heavily armored vehicles, reinforced with metal plates in the front, with rocket boosters mounted on the back.
"Suicide attack. Rocket teams, focus on them," I sent the order along with the coordinates.
It wasn't the first time the orks tried to breach our defenses with vehicles packed with explosives and driven by crazed maniacs.
"Understood," came the quick response, and within seconds, rockets shot out from the second line, homing in on the ork buggies.
One rocket struck the front of a buggy, burning through its armor with a cumulative charge and reaching the explosives inside, setting off a hellish firework. When they first tried to attack us with these suicide buggies, one burst from a heavy bolter or a few shots from a stubber was enough to destroy all of them. But the orks got smarter and stopped charging in large clusters, spreading out—if you could even call their chaotic formation a "formation." This resulted in higher ammo consumption, though the scrap on wheels still had weak armor.
Thus began a local death race- competition between armor and firepower. The orks started adding more armor, and the first few attempts showed that only heavy metal sheets provided any real protection. The buggies became tougher, and a simple burst from a stubber or a couple of heavy bolter rounds could no longer destroy these twisted creations of ork ingenuity. But this also increased their weight so much that the buggies crawled forward at a snail's pace. What did the orks decide to do? Use lighter materials? Add more power to the engine? Use higher-quality fuel? No, that was too boring and slow. Just slap some ork rockets onto the buggies. The speed would increase, and so would the explosive force, since it's still a rocket, not just a simple powder charge. The modified buggies showed decent speed and managed to nearly reach the minefields and barbed wire in front of our trenches. And when some of the rockets exploded from shrapnel or direct hits, that just meant they needed to be mounted behind the armor.
This forced us to use more rockets, and the most frustrating part was the increased consumption of krak missiles, which we had been saving for more heavily armored targets like tanks and dreadnoughts.
The rocket teams managed to take out almost all the buggies except one. A missile aimed at the last buggy struck a green energy field and exploded without causing any damage.
"Damn it. Heavy bolters, concentrate fire on it," I ordered as I aimed my own heavy bolter at the buggy and started firing.
The green energy shield absorbed all the bolter rounds, which stuck to it like glue and exploded without harming the orks. Gritting my teeth in frustration, I kept firing, and soon enough, the other heavy bolters joined in. The infantry and their stubbers needed to buy us time by holding off the regular orks.
Three heavy bolters emptied their magazines, slowly but surely yielding results. The enemy's shield began to crack, until it finally shattered. Stripped of its protection, the buggy was hit by a missile, creating another hellish firework.
That seemed to be the final straw, and the orks decided to retreat. Roaring something insulting, they began pulling back.
I sighed and lowered my heavy bolter, its barrel glowing red-hot, then removed my helmet.
"Rork, status report."
"Reinforcements are delayed. All forces were committed to exploiting the orks' weakness on the main front. But there's good news."
"What is it? Did the fleet finally neutralize their orbital defenses?"
"No. They've sent us a couple of squads from the Eighth Legion. Regular tactical marines, though—no heavy weaponry, unfortunately."
"Shame. But thirty Astartes are definitely not going to hurt. What about our casualties?"
"Light losses among the auxilia. Just a few scratches on our side, that's all. But we're burning through our ammunition."
"I know. Send all available trucks. I have a feeling the orks will launch a full-scale assault today or tomorrow. You've noticed they're using more heavily armed units in their recent attacks, even bringing energy weapons. If there's no attack by sundown, prepare Freer and Shor. They'll need to give them a nightmare tonight."
"Understood."
But before I could finish speaking, a loud roar came from the direction of the orks.
"WAAAAAAGH! WAAAAAGH! WAAAAAAAGH!"
"Shit," I cursed loudly. "Rork, get ready. I think it's starting."
"What makes you say that? How many times have we heard this today?"
"I don't know, Rork. But I feel like this time, the orks' chant sounds different. More determined and bloodthirsty."
"Hmm. Alright. I'm sending all reserves to the trenches. I'll be there shortly. Over and out."
The orks' roar grew louder until I could almost feel the ground beneath me vibrating faintly.
Then I saw a massive wave of rockets launched into the air. The worst part was that among those rockets, I could make out pieces of ork bodies.
"Stormboyz. It's begun."