The first thing I felt when I regained consciousness was the stench.
The smell of roasted and long-unwashed Ork flesh made me grimace, and it was only thanks to my enhanced body that I didn't puke up my guts. But the stench was just the beginning. Almost immediately, I felt pain—it was everywhere. My head, my torso, my limbs. Everything hurt. And if the pain wasn't enough, the dizziness and inability to focus hinted that I also had a concussion.
"Buri! Commander!" — I heard shouts in the distance, and then the corpse of a dead Ork was pulled off me. That simultaneously allowed me to breathe more freely, but each breath and exhale sparked new bursts of pain.
"He's here! Wounded. His armor is malfunctioning. Begin medical aid," — I heard the muffled voices of my soldiers through the haze, and then they injected me with stimulants and painkillers.
The pain dulled, and now all I felt was an ache. The stimulants helped clear my mind and thoughts.
"Report!" — I rasped, straining my vocal cords.
"The Orks are retreating. Allied forces are in pursuit. More reinforcements are on their way," — said one of the Space Marines, who turned out to be Lukas.
"Give me... the comms... Kha-kha," — I coughed while Lukas removed my helmet and helped put it back on.
The helmet's recognition systems immediately granted me access to the comms, and I connected with Rork.
"Rork. Respond."
"Buri! You survived!"
"Don't celebrate prematurely. I'm not a fighter right now, and who knows what the Apothecarion will say. Command is yours now. Once reinforcements arrive, take them and everyone who can still fight and provide fire support to the Eighth. Only fire support, understood? Leave just one squad here for security and to assist the surviving Auxilia forces. Answer." — I nearly rasped the last word.
"Understood. Switching to the main comms channel. Rork speaking, I am assuming command. All units..." — Rork began giving orders, but a haze started clouding my mind, and I just fell into darkness.
POV: Rork
"Take as much ammo and fuel as you can! Quickly!" — I urged all the surviving Auxilia soldiers and glanced at the comms operator. "What's the status on evacuating the wounded and the Apothecarion?"
"Sir, all available Apothecaries are already deployed. The only thing they can offer is to send a shuttle to take all the wounded to one of the Eighth's ships in orbit. The Shadow of Scosa, where one of the main Apothecarions is set up, is ready to receive the injured." — The comms operator's response made me frown. Help was needed here and now, but there was little choice.
"Call the shuttle and tell them to hurry. Lukas, what's Buri' condition?"
"He's unconscious. The armor is too damaged to even run any primary diagnostics."
"Move him to the command post as fast as possible. Administer the standard severe injury protocol, and initiate the Hypno-Membrane."
"Yes, sir!" — Hearing the confirmation, I sighed and hoped my decisions were the right ones.
But that moment of weakness and hidden fear, burdened by the weight of responsibility, lasted only a few seconds. Buri believed in me, and that's why he passed on command. I had to do everything in my power now.
"Comms! Get me through to the Eighth."
End POV
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a strange green haze. I blinked rapidly, hoping to clear it away, but it didn't go away.
"Oh, I see our patient has finally woken up." — I heard a confident voice, as though through cotton.
"Calm down. Legionnaire Buri, you're safe. You're in the Apothecarion of the strike cruiser Shadow of Scosa. I am Apothecary Erasmion Tikodar of the Eighth Legion. You were placed in an amniotic tank to speed up your recovery." — My eyes caught the shadow becoming clearer with each passing moment.
"We'll drain the amniotic fluid shortly, and you'll be able to see better." — After a short pause, the fluid began to drain, and I could see normally.
"Khrarar," — instead of words, only a strange rasp and cough came from my mouth.
"Hmm. You're recovering faster than expected, trying to speak already. An excellent result for just a few days. Oh, I forgot about the mask." — He gave a command, and the mask on my face loosened as the tube retracted above me.
"How much time has passed? What about my troops? Did the Orks retreat?" — I started asking questions immediately, ignoring the slight weakness and disorientation.
"Less than three days. Your company suffered losses but remains combat-ready and is currently assisting my brothers on the ground. And yes, the Orks retreated, although 'panicked retreat' might be more accurate, according to the latest reports." — The Apothecary answered in a measured tone, continuing to type something and observe the readouts.
"That's good news. And what about me? How long until I'm out of your care?"
"Hmm. To be honest, judging by the data and the fact that you've already regained consciousness, I'd say you're about 86-88% recovered. Just a few days ago, you were brought in unconscious, and the initial scan indicated a lengthy recovery. But now, I'm a bit puzzled. Your recovery speed is remarkable." — There was a mixture of surprise and disbelief in the Apothecary's voice.
"Surprised that I'm bigger and taller than most Astartes?" — I replied sarcastically, feeling that I had regained full control of my body, except for the fact that I was still floating up to my neck in amniotic fluid.
"Believe me, after hearing that you survived at the very epicenter of a rocket-bombardment strike, using the corpse of a dead Ork as cover, your size was far from the most surprising thing. Right. The scans and analyses show that you're healthy. But I'll do a thorough examination just to be sure. You should be able to walk now, so I'll release you from the tank and personally check everything for my own peace of mind." — With a few keystrokes, the fluid began to drain, leaving me wet and naked inside the empty tank.
A couple of seconds passed, and the tank lid rose up while the transparent walls went down, making me feel for a moment like the famous cyborg killer from the movies. It brought a slight smirk to my face.
"Is something wrong?" a Apothecary approached me, and behind him appeared a servitor assistant holding what looked like either a hospital gown or a tunic, while several others came over with towels and began wiping off the amniotic fluid from me.
"No. I just remembered something from my life before becoming Astartes," I replied, waiting for my body to be dried before putting on the offered clothes.
"You are quite unusual. Extremely high physical indicators and retention of memories from before. From a medical point of view, you are almost an anomaly," Erazmion pondered, scratching his chin thoughtfully.
"You can run a full range of tests while you examine me. I think that way you'll be able to satisfy your research nature," I smirked in response.
"Yes. And you're not even surprised or frightened by my scientific interest." Erazmion pointed me towards a special cot surrounded by machines I recognized from my Astartes initiation.
"I had to go through a huge number of checks back on Terra. And knowing that you were most likely taught by the same people who conducted them, I'm not surprised by your interest," I answered and tried to take a comfortable position on the cot.
"Now it becomes clear why your medical file is so extensive. Well, let's start with the basic tests." For the next hour and a half, I was busy following all of Erazmion's instructions.
But everything comes to an end, and after finishing all the tests, Erazmion confirmed that I was healthy and combat-ready. Even though I had not fully recovered, I could be sent into battle, although there was currently no need for that.
"My only instruction to you as my patient is to undergo another check on the ship to dispel all my doubts about your recovery. Tomorrow we'll conduct a quick diagnosis, and if I don't see any particular contraindications, you can return to your troops," Erazmion's words lifted my spirits.
"I'm glad to hear that. Now, could you please answer a couple of my questions and then allow me to contact my people?"
"Of course. The main flow of the wounded is now going to other apothecaries, and I'm currently on reserve, so I have time to answer your questions. Go ahead," Erazmion replied with a slight smile.
"What are the losses in my company?" I asked, bracing myself for an unpleasant answer.
"Just a moment. I'll pull up the complete list," Erazmion said as he picked up a tablet connected to the cogitator and handed it to me after a brief pause.
Twenty-two dead. Fifteen seriously injured. The other members of the company were healthy enough to engage in combat.
"Accept my condolences…" I gestured to stop Erazmion.
"No need. Death always hovers around us. It's just their turn now. And no matter how painful it is for me, in order for their sacrifice not to be in vain, I must move forward and do everything so that our goal of uniting humanity is achieved. Only then can I repay them for their sacrifices," I replied to Erazmion, and he nodded in agreement.
Instead of indulging in sadness and grief, I began to analyze and find something good even in this situation. Yes, I had lost a third of my company. But the rest had survived and done so under conditions where everything was against us, gaining valuable experience that would help the company in the future. Yes, many had died, but we could extract progenoids from them, which would allow us to create new Astartes, and thanks to the fact that they contained a part of the DNA of the fallen, we could speak of yet another form of immortality.
"Legionary Buri. Do you hear me?" the Apothecary's voice brought me back from my thoughts.
"Yes. Sorry. I was lost in thought. Now, please lead me or provide a guide to the communication node. I want to check on my people."
"Sure. Follow me." Erazmion stood up and led me towards the exit from the Apothecarium.
We quickly reached the command deck, where the captain of the ship, an ordinary man and not an Astartes, helped us get the latest report. On the main hololith, it was clear that the Eighth and the auxiliaries had fully taken advantage of the Orks' mistakes. The Ork front in my sector had been breached, and now the Eighth was tearing apart all the Ork forces that encountered them, not allowing them to regroup or get a foothold while maintaining their momentum. Highly mobile auxiliary units pressed the Orks on the flanks, creating huge pockets which they then finished off using artillery or air support. The ordinary infantry units were conducting clean-up operations and when needed, helped strengthen the encirclement rings to prevent the Orks from breaking out if they became too numerous.
The air and space were under our forces' complete dominance. The Ork aviation had been destroyed piece by piece, preventing hastily redeployed forces from gathering. The air defense and anti-aircraft artillery had been suppressed after the threat from the Ork psykers, which had been a major thorn in the sailors' sides, was neutralized. Now the warships with the aquila were incinerating everything in the Ork rear. Their ugly cities, which resembled a mix of a dump and factories, burned in the fire of orbital strikes. The same fate awaited any Ork crowd whose size attracted the attention of reconnaissance and augurs.
In a few days, the last large Ork forces in this part of the front would be destroyed or pushed back. After that, there would be another encirclement, but a very large one that would gradually tighten. Orbital strikes, air superiority, and moral collapse.
"The Orks have lost. Even if their reinforcements break through the storm, it will be too late," I concluded, finishing my review of the hololith and reading the reports.
"I agree with your words. Although the Orks will fight to the end. But it's hard to expect anything else from these animals," Erazmion nodded.
"Who knows? Now I wouldn't mind resting, following your earlier advice. I want to return to my people as soon as possible." I turned to Erazmion, and he signaled for a servant to guide me to my quarters.
The next day, I was allowed to return to my company. Rork performed well enough that we managed to avoid casualties except for the wounded. Coordinating strikes and maneuvers with the Eighth, we quickly finished off the Orks on our front, and then there was the tedious and boring work, in my opinion, of completely encircling the remaining Ork forces on the planet for subsequent destruction.
Almost a month had passed since we finished the liberation, or more accurately the capture, of the planet when the warp began to calm down. Many awaited with slight trepidation to see if new Ork forces would arrive. But to the great relief of many, including mine, there were no signs of enemy reinforcements. Meanwhile, from the Imperium side, news and new orders began arriving thanks to the Astropaths.
"Hmm. Arrive in the Sol sector, where not only reinforcements await me but also new orders. Rork!" I put away the scroll in a tube and handed it back to one of the Astropaths before starting to issue orders.
Our work on this planet was complete, and it was time for a new one.