The rockets were heading straight for us, so the only option was to give the order to retreat to the next line of defense. Even with the help of the space marines, everything was on the verge of the retreat turning into a panic. But at least two-thirds of the forces managed to fall back without suffering too many losses. The remaining third, however, lost most of their strength and were too demoralized. We had to send them to the last defense point, the command bunker, where they would be reorganized and pulled together.
Ork stormboyz wanted to break through our new defensive line on the heels of the retreating troops, but we had already taken up new positions, so their brazen attempt was repelled. I had read a lot about ork stormtroopers, who, unlike others of their kind, understand what discipline is and why it's important. After their initial losses, they decided to fall back and regroup.
Meanwhile, we were busy replenishing ammunition and reorganizing the auxiliary forces. Everyone understood that the silence wouldn't last long, and soon the orks would try to hit us with full force again.
"Ork Infantry and armor!" came the voice of one of my space marines, serving as a forward observer, through the earpiece.
"How many? What type of armor?" I asked.
"Large infantry numbers. A few trucks and buggies. Wait. I see a couple of tanks too," his answer made me tense up.
"Return to base. Sappers! Plant as many mines as possible. Sergeants, distribute krak grenades to the best fighters. Heavy weapon teams, assign targets—priority on tanks and ork infantry. Snipers and space marines, focus on buggy crews and commanders. The rest, engage regular infantry. Execute!" I barked orders, noticing Rork coming over, hauling boxes of ammunition.
"It's getting pretty hot, Buri. We're having to drag out everything, even breaking into the quartermasters' emergency stockpiles," he said, dropping a crate full of frag missiles.
"The orks are serious about us. So grab a launcher and get ready to take down ork nobs and any heavily armed orks. Any news on reinforcements or air support?"
"They promise the first reinforcements by nightfall. The Eighth Legion is urgently redeploying all available forces to support us, but even with thunderbirds, it'll take time. Air support can't break through the ork anti-air defenses yet."
"Dammit."
"Absolutely."
We shared a grim smile and nodded at each other, silently acknowledging that today might be our last battle.
"Then we have to make it easier for those who come after us. So, take your positions. I have a feeling I'll be commanding from the trenches—orks will hit us in waves, and any hesitation could be the last." I hefted my heavy bolter and headed with Rork toward the center of our defenses.
The space marines became the pillars around which the entire defense crystallized. Regular soldiers and officers instinctively gravitated toward them. Along with better communication, this enhanced the coordination of all forces, but it also made the defense more vulnerable. If a space marine were to fall, the humans might panic, and everything could collapse. If we had more time or better-trained auxiliary troops, like those who fought during the Unification of Terra, things wouldn't be so dire. But we had to work with what we had.
The sound of drums and the roar of thousands of orks echoed over the battlefield, making many soldiers nervous, while the space marines gripped their weapons tighter. The noise steadily grew, and the atmosphere grew heavier, as if the very air resonated with the roars and drumbeats, weighing down on us like lead.
This psychological attack allowed the orks to fray our nerves. Just a little more, and the weakest soldiers would start trembling. Something had to be done.
"All space marines, turn up your vox-casters and relay my words. Soldiers! Right now, the scales are tipping toward the enemy. The enemy believes that their numbers and weapons will break us. The enemy already sees themselves as victors, feasting on our corpses. But that is a lie! How many times has humanity bowed its head and drunk from the bitter cup of defeat? How many times has it seemed like everything was in vain, with no hope left? How many times has humanity faced extinction and the threat of being forgotten? But every time, humanity rose from its knees, like a phoenix from the ashes. Even during the Long Night, when everything was against us, we did not give up. We never surrendered or lowered our hands. We always returned to bring vengeance upon those who thought themselves our conquerors and made them pay in full. So, grip your weapons tighter and make these beasts pay for everything! Shoot, stab, slash! Kill them all! Vengeance! Vengeance! Vengeance!"
At first, the soldiers' heads lowered further and further. But then, as they heard the words about humanity's resilience in the face of adversity, their shoulders filled with pride, like the wings of a bird unfurling. And when the call for vengeance rang out, a fire of inspiration lit up in their eyes.
"Vengeance... Vengeance... Vengeance! VENGEANCE!" The soldiers and officers began to chant, at first hesitantly, then louder and louder.
With each passing second, their cries grew more powerful. At some point, the call for vengeance became so loud that even the booming drums and guttural roars of the orks began to fade. The raw emotions of hatred and rage pouring from the soldiers' mouths drowned out the orks' wild savagery.
Then, a series of massive green lightning bolts erupted from the orks' side, halting both forces momentarily. But now, the atmosphere over the battlefield was entirely different. The oppressive feeling was gone, replaced by a grim determination.
"They tried to scare us, but they failed. Now, Rork, it's time to execute the order."
"Hmm? Shoot, stab, slash, and kill?"
"Yes."
"Heh. Buri, you know, I'm starting to have my doubts."
"What doubts?"
"Maybe we are the orks?"
"Hahaha!" We both burst out laughing, and like a chain reaction, the other space marines, who had heard our words, joined in. Soon, the rest of the soldiers followed, laughing because I hadn't canceled the order to relay my words.
The laughter was the final straw—the orks took it as mockery and charged.
A mob of screaming green-skins with axes and pistols hurled themselves at us in a savage frenzy. But they were met with a barrage of firepower, and the first few waves were cut down in moments. Ork infantry kept advancing, but the bodies began to pile up, slowing their progress. Then the buggies rolled forward, attempting to provide fire support and break through our defenses.
"Fire at my mark!" I aimed my heavy bolter at a large group of orks led by a massive brute who was almost my height.
A hail of heavy rounds turned him into a bloody mist. Then it was the turn of the rest. After finishing them off, I shifted my fire to another group of orks, this one several times larger. I barely managed to fire a couple of shots before a buggy barreled through their ranks like bowling pins. The driver and gunner didn't care about trampling their own; their focus was solely on me and my squad.
The heavy bolter spat a long burst, hitting the front wheels and causing the buggy to bounce and swerve wildly. The driver somehow managed to keep control, but his efforts were erased when a rocket hit the vehicle.
"Nice shot, Rork. Now take out those bastards with the heavy machine guns on the flank." I fired a few shots at the ork gunners who had managed to get closer while my squad was occupied with the buggies and regular orks.
We butchered the orks by the dozens, hundreds, and even thousands, and they couldn't advance past the minefields. This infuriated the ork commander, who launched a full-scale assault with tanks and Stormboyz.
I quickly raised my heavy bolter and began firing at the Stormboyz. Regular ork infantry isn't nearly as dangerous as these brutes with rockets strapped to their backs. My first long burst took down several orks—one's rocket motor failed, sending him plummeting to the ground, while another's jetpack detonated, adding to the ork casualties. I spun the bolter like an anti-aircraft gun, trying to kill as many as possible before they reached us.
But there were too many, and even with my squad's support, the Stormboyz kept getting closer. My heavy bolter clicked empty just as I was about to give the order to reload when, out of the dust cloud behind the ork horde, a tank appeared like a phantom. Its barrel was pointed right at me.
"Take cov—" I barely managed to shout before a deafening shot rang out, and the tank's shell exploded near me.
The blast was so powerful that it threw me like a ragdoll. The impact against the trench wall was so hard that it momentarily knocked the wind out of me. Behind me, I heard the clatter of metal and the splintering of wooden boards that reinforced the trench due to a lack of proper materials. To make matters worse, the blast somehow damaged my helmet. The lenses were cracked, and the information displayed on them became a jumble of pixels and static.