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post #1 of 44 (permalink) Old 01-23-09, 03:53 AM Thread Starter
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Hello all! This is another little fiction I've been scribbling down between the margins of my notebooks, and I've come up with another cast of characters. This one has gone through several revisions, and an entire cast change at least once, so point out anything you see as odd or not fitting; it's probably from the changes.

Enjoy!
-Dirge

Chapters:

1- F.N.G.
2- HARD LANDING
3- WELCOME TO THE 409TH
4- BLOWTORCH & NAILGUN
5- GUARDIAN ANGEL
6- H.A.L.O.
7- ARRIVAL
8- ALL IN
9- LAST RESORT
10- WORDS AND DEEDS
11- DEBRIEF
12- EPILOGUE

Dramatis Personae
----------------------

ZULU SQUAD, B COMPANY 409TH ORBITAL DROP JET JUMPERS

Capt. Damien Sable
Lt. Erica Gray
Sgt Maj. Robert Daniels
Sgt. Holden Rostock
Cpl. Sarah Lorien
Pfc. Leonard Richards
Spc. Rachel Jackson
Pvt. David "Fish" Flint

ECHO WING 409TH DROP JET SUPPORT

Valkyrie A-0227 "Angel"

Eich "Ike" Samuels- Pilot, VA-0227

INQUISITION

Inquisitor Lord Pontius Estelle

Scribener Gregor Harks

-------------------------------------

PREFACE
----------

INQUISITORIAL REPORT
Subject- Inspection (Imperial Guard Regiment)

Regiment- 409th ODJJ

World- N/A

Operational Strength- 547 Active Duty, 2,391 KIA, 42 MIA

Regiment Type: Drop Troopers

Grade (P/F): (Pass- See notes)

Any Improvments- Needs disciplinary work. Assign Commisar at first opprotunity. Fail to salute. Fail to wear uniforms correctly. Fail to display all rank insignia. Borderline Insubordination. Modification of weapons. Fail to observe correct weapons drills. Fail to respect the glorious Departmento Munitorum. Failure to mantain an appearance befitting the Imperial Guard.

RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE TRANFER TO PENAL LEGION, DISBAND REGIMENT.

-Munitorum Marshal Steven Dahw

INQUISITORIAL OVERRIDE- CODE MAGENTA

Voxcorder Active- Transcript as follows.

"Why is it every time the OD-Double J comes up for Inspection it always lands on my desk?"

"Lord Estelle, I beg you, sir. Look at their CSR."

"I have, Gregor. Now what's this about?"

"Well, the Quientan XI campaign. The 409th is expected."

"What if I refuse?"

"They need the troops, lord."

"500 men? Turn the tide of a WAR? Ha!"

"What is their combat record, Lord?"

"Let me see... 57 actions in the past two years. All objectives fulfilled, casualties running at 54%."

"And their morale?"

"High. Reports indicate willingness to fight."

"Then my lord, what might you say is the proper course of action?"

"Gregor, what would you have me do?"

"Pardon them, lord. Just like last month."

Transcript Ends.
-----------------------

"Captain, when the hell are we going to get there?"

"Shut up, Erica. We'll get there when these navy trolls kick this tub into gear."

You'll forgive me, but you must be mistaken. I've met your makers, and they don't even know your name...

GIVING CHASE- ORDO HERETICUS FIC
(Updated Mar. 19)

Hat in the Ring

Last edited by Dirge Eterna; 01-30-09 at 03:28 AM.
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post #2 of 44 (permalink) Old 01-23-09, 05:58 AM
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sounds like a good story so far Dirge waiting on your next one as usual

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Rambling since ...... hmmm now you see I cant remember but when i was a little ripper.......

Honour & Vengence: (finally has the forgotten finishing bit)https://www.heresy-online.net/forums/...ad.php?t=28272

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post #3 of 44 (permalink) Old 01-23-09, 08:58 AM
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40k's BAD COMPANY FINALLY!!!

looks good

WE HAVE COME FOR YOUR.....*necron warrior turns around to the necron behind him* Hey Bob? what did we come for?!

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post #4 of 44 (permalink) Old 01-23-09, 10:49 PM Thread Starter
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F.N.G.

Private David Flint opened the elevator. A hallway stretched out for ten feet, ending at a door with a bored-looking man in a folding chair.

"Private Flint reporting as ordered, sir." said Flint crisply, snapping off a salute.

The man looked up. He was in his late twenties, a pair of dark fatigue pants and a grey tank top with DANIELS-409 stenciled on it adorning his muscled frame. A tattoo that read DROP JET JUMPERS was burned into his right arm.

"Look Fish. I'm not the god-damned Emperor. So shut that salute up. Captain's inside."

Flint's hand dropped, his expression surprised horror.

"Am I in the right place, Sergeant? 409th Drop Jet?"

"Oh, sorry Fish. Thought you were another newbie straight out of Basic. Yep. B Company Zulu squad. Best unit in the Guard."

"Stop calling me Fish. My name's Flint. David Flint."

"Whatever Fish. You survive your third drop, we'll learn your name. Until then, you're "Fish"."

Flint sighed. He walked past the man and opened the door. A soldier in full drop armor knocked into him, spilling a crate of ammo and ration packs onto the floor.

"Damn it all!" the soldier shouted, removing the full-faced helmet. Brown hair spilled out of it, revealing a woman's features twisted in frustration.

"Want to watch who you're stepping on?!" she said, stooping over to pick up the dropped items. Flint stared in confusion.

"You're a..." he began.

"Oh, Emperor. Every green-assed Fish that comes in here thinks it's insane that there are actually women in the 409th. Guess what, Fish? I can bench more then you can get crushed by, so frak off."

"Ah. OK." said Flint, stepping around the woman, who was still cursing lowly. He stepped across the atrium, noticing a half-dozen rooms leading off into the walls. The far wall had one door in it, with another woman in a low-cut tank top sitting next to it, cleaning a long rifle with a brush. Her shirt read JACKSON-409.

"Um. Hi. I'm Private Flint, here to see Captain Sable?" said Flint catiously. The woman looked up, then her face broke into a smile. She stood up, wiping the cleaning oil off onto her fatigues, and shook his hand.

"Specialist Rachel Jackson." said the woman. She indicated the door. "Captain's in there."

The door opened and a man in his middle thirties stared for a second at Flint. He indicated his room, and David stepped inside. The place was spartan, a desk covered in data-slates and maps dominating the room. A cot was set into the wall, and a neat stack of books sat next to it, under a lamp. A menacing suit of carapace Drop Armor hung on the wall, and a matching Hellgun rested against the desk.

"So you're the new Fish." said Sable, sitting behind his desk. He placed his hands together, rubbing his palms.

"Flint, let me be honest with you. The 409th has the highest casualty rate short of the Penal Legions and the Death Korps. It's entirely volunteer. Now I've got a nice posting to the 32nd Cadian. Garrison duty. Running water. Easy street."

Flint looked at the opened data slate, and pushed it back towards the Captain.

"No thanks, sir. With respect I've been trained as a Drop Jet trooper. It's what I've dreamed of being ever since the recruiters came to my homeworld."

Sable smiled slowly, scratching his beard stubble. "Glad to hear it, Private. Welcome to Zulu."


"Thank you sir."

"Report to Arms for your gear, Private. I'll send Rostock with you, he knows the ship."

"Rostock, sir?"

"Your immediate superior, private. Sergeant Holden Rostock."

"Very good, sir."

"Dismissed."

David nodded and opened the door.

"And private?"

He turned. "Yes, Captain?"

"You're rooming with Richards. Pack your gear there."

"Very good, Captain."

He closed the door, walking to the door marked RICHARDS. A second name had been recently removed. Flint could still see the marking LOSKINS where the glue had stuck to the metal.

Richards was a very young man, perhaps twenty two at oldest. He was sitting on his bunk with a battered dataslate opened. He shut it off quickly as Flint opened the door.

"What? Oh, Fish. Alright. Thought it might be Lieutenant Gray. She keeps taking the pics off."

"What's the slate for?"

"What's it for, or what do I use it for?"

Flint dropped his kitbag onto the other bed. "Do I want to know?"

"Well, Fish, since you asked so nicely, this is a MAJCOM slate used for op planning and high storage capacity. I use it to organize a large amount of rather salacious holopics."

Flint held up a hand to stop him.

"Whatever. I don't want to know anymore."

A knock sounded on the door. Lieutenant Gray and a man with ROSTOCK on his fatigues opened the door.

"You." said Gray, pointing to Richards. "Give me that."

He reluctantly handed her the slate. A few pics popped up as she turned it on. A mem-stick appeared in her hand and she tapped a few keys, then handed the device back to Richards. She placed the mem-stick in the breast pocket of her shirt, buttoning it.

"And you. With him." she said, pointing first to Flint, then to Rostock. The Sergeant nodded.

"Come on, Fish."

Flint followed Rostock down the hallway, past Daniels, who was now asleep with a holoslate across his chest. Rostock caught the leg of his chair with a booted foot and Daniels collapsed to the floor, staring murder into the Sergeant's back.

The elevator deposited them onto the Arms floor of the 409th's level on the Imperical, a large Troopship en route to Quientan XI. A major behind the armory counter looked at Rostock with weary resignation.

"Zulu, right?" he asked, checking off a list. "Here you go, Fish."

He pushed a heavy duffel bag across the counter. Rostock unzipped it, and ran a practiced eye over the contents.

"Where's the rest?" he asked, zipping the bag back up.

The arms master sighed.

"Come on, Guns, if Fish survives, we get to learn his name."

The man looked at Rostock. "What an experience. Another New Fish."

He pushed a box containing a half-dozen grenades, a melta bomb, and a Hellpistol across the counter.

"Thank you." said Rostock, tossing the box on top of the duffel bag, then handing the whole assortment over to Flint.

"Come again, by all means." said the Arms Master, throwing an arm to indicate the near-empty armory.

-------------------------------------------

"And that part goes there."

Richards tightened something. A small click sounded inside the hot, uncomfortable armor. A white light blinded him, then resolved into a blue-tinged heads-up-display. The armor's interior suddenly loosened, allowing him to move, and a breath of air moved across his face.

"There you go." said Richards, similarly clad in full armor. Flint's was the standard dark grey camoflague of the 409th, but Richards had customized his with a second combat knife, and daubs of blue paint supplementing the camo.

"Grab your kit, we're leaving." said Gray, standing against the door. Her armor was more complex, a dozen pouches adorning her bulkier chest plate. A light was attached to her shoulderpad, and an auspex hung from her belt.

The trio met the rest of the team in the elevator. Captain Sable's armor was customized with red slashes across his face, chest, and shoulders. He gave a polite nod to the three as they walked in.

"Nice day." he said. Gray nodded.

"It is. Shame we've got to spoil it."

Sable took a small holoslate from his fatigue pocket. The elevator deposited them into a narrow hallway. Sable took the first right, into an octagonal room with restraints along the walls.

"Alright team." he said, deploying the slate. A city flashed into existance.

"This is Donovan. Largest city on the planet. Civies started rioting a few months ago, turned into a full-scale rebellion. Not Chaotic, supposedly, but we'll see about that. Our objective is to drop onto the main water and power stations to Donovan, and knock them out. Daniels, you got the demo charges from Procurement?"

"Of course."

"Very good. Plan is to enter at any level, work our way to the sluices. Jackson, you're on cover, with Rostock. Gray and Richards, you're on point. Lorien and Daniels are tail. I'm with Fish in the center."

Gray nodded, and the team dispersed, strapping themselves into the curious restraints against the wall.

"What is this?" asked Flint, as Lorien tightened her harness next to him.

"It's an.... elevator. Yeah." she replied.

"Are we going to the hanger deck?"

"A little lower, Fish." she said, clamping her Hellgun to the webbing across her chest.

"The hangar deck's the lowest part of the ship... Oh, shi-"

The drop-pod blasted from the Imperical's belly at over two thousand klicks per hour.

You'll forgive me, but you must be mistaken. I've met your makers, and they don't even know your name...

GIVING CHASE- ORDO HERETICUS FIC
(Updated Mar. 19)

Hat in the Ring
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post #5 of 44 (permalink) Old 01-23-09, 10:52 PM
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Reminds me of the opening slightly of 15 Hours - not least from Fish, and the naming procedure.

Dirge, you spoil us =)))) Goody, a new story. =D



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post #6 of 44 (permalink) Old 01-23-09, 11:51 PM
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he never saw it coming...poor fishie, fish fingers anyone? liking it dirge, my ork/ alter ego is screaming "WEZE WANTZ MORE HUMIE!"

Cheers,

Zboy234

WE HAVE COME FOR YOUR.....*necron warrior turns around to the necron behind him* Hey Bob? what did we come for?!

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post #7 of 44 (permalink) Old 01-24-09, 05:05 AM Thread Starter
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Thanks. I took the time to skim over 15 Hours, trying to get a feel for veterans. "Fish" is also blatantly stolen from that book.

HARD LANDING

The pod shook wildly as the atmosphere buffeted it from all sides. The squad sat calmly, all except Flint, who was looking around wildly, his HUD displaying a frightening series of altimeter readings.

"Emperor..." he moaned, the shaking of the pod making him sick. Lorien looked at him, her face blank behind the visor of her helmet.

"Don't throw up in that suit, Fish. Not good. Not good at all."

He groaned slightly. The pod shook slightly as a pocket of dense air smashed into it. The altimeter read 2823. He leaned forward, feeling the immense pressure on the back of his neck. The altimeter read 1128.

A bang echoed through the pod, throwing everything not bolted down around the cramped space. An ammo box clanked off the wall next to Flint's head, leaving a fist-sized dent in the metal.

"Thrusters in three...two...one." said Sable, and Flint felt the deceleration through his boots. The pod rattled, and a second bang made the pod shudder. The entire structure rolled over.

"That's not good." said Captain Sable. A fat yellow handle extended from the wall above his head. He grabbed it and pulled hard. A screech that made Flint's teeth hurt sounded, and the pod righted suddenly, the feeling of deceleration increased tenfold. The altimeter read 209.

The pod slammed into the ground, sending all the loose detrius flying againt. The ammo box returned to Flint's side of the compartment, smashing into the same dent it had made before and doubling the size of the bent metal. Lorien grunted softly as a powerpack hit her in the stomach. After what seemed like an eternity, the pod finally stopped shaking.

"Pod down! Report!" yelled Gray, pulling her Hellgun from the straps. The troopers in the bay sounded off.

Sable unstrapped himself from the pod and crossed the space to a wall with nothing but a red handle on it. He pulled the handle, and a double line of bolts fired along the wall. The pod's side fell away, revealing the smoke-blenched city of Donovan. The city was built of tasteful tan stone and glass. A pall of clouds lay above the city, punctured by the pods' descent. A blackened crater lay around their pod, filled with rubble and broken rebar. A streetlamp near their crash site flickered. The Aquila emblazoned on it was untouched.

"Well, not Chaos." said Gray, pointing at the Aquila.

Sable nodded at the sign. Flint walked around the pod, looking for extra weapons and ammo. He picked up a set of enlongated clips.

"What are these-" he began. Rachel appeared next to him, cradling the sniper rifle, and snatched the bullets out of his hand.

"Thanks Fish." she said. She snapped the bullets to her pack.

One side of the pod was broken, a length of metal cable trailing from it. A thick piece of metal was hanging on the end of the cable.

"Airbrakes failed." said Richards, nudging the cable. "Damned thing."

"Where's the water plant sarge?" asked Rachel, cocking the sniper.

Sable answered as Daniels began to.

"Two klicks due west. We landed a bit off-course."

"A bit." replied Daniels, heaving a dented demolition charge from the wreck.

"Yes. Now let's get moving. We've only got a few hours until the Guard start their assault."

You'll forgive me, but you must be mistaken. I've met your makers, and they don't even know your name...

GIVING CHASE- ORDO HERETICUS FIC
(Updated Mar. 19)

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post #8 of 44 (permalink) Old 01-24-09, 05:55 AM
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Awesome stuff Dirge, can't wait to read more!
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post #9 of 44 (permalink) Old 01-25-09, 02:17 AM Thread Starter
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WELCOME TO THE 409TH

Gray and Richards threw their backs against the door. Flint ran forward and kicked it in, sending splinters flying.

Sable, Lorien, and Rachel all ran inside, their Hellguns aimed and ready.

The pub was empty. Richards walked inside, opening the preservor behind the bar.

"Well, they've still got electricity." he said, removing his helmet to grab a sandwich from the fridge. He took a bite.

"Salt grox and cheese." he said. "Delicious."

A shout rose from outside.

"Might want to finish your snack." said Rachel, staring down the sights of her rifle.

Richards set the food down on a table, cocking his hellgun. Sable leaned out from cover, looking at the shouter.

"Civvies, five. Melee weapons three, firearms two. Grab some cover, fire for effect."

Rachel's weapon bucked and a massive blam! echoed through the pub. A man holding a battered autogun fell, most of his chest gone. A second shot rang out, and a woman clutching a laspistol fell, her legs blown away. The remaining three looked around.

Sable and Daniels opened up with short bursts of hellgun fire, killing two. The third broke and ran as his friends died, and Rachel caught him high in the back with a third shot.

"Nice one, Candy." said Rostock, without looking up from his auspex.

"Don't call me Candy, jackass." said Rachel, reloading the massive rifle.

"Oh, little touchy today, Candy?"

"I swear to god, Rostock."

Richards broke up the arguement by interposing himself between the two, and taking a massive bite of the sandwich. Crumbs fell down his front.

"Wehl, I jus thin we all need to cahm dohn." said Richards, spilling more crumbs onto his chestplate.

Sable nodded in wry amusement. "You kill people for a living, son. Calming down isn't in your vocabulary."

Daniels gave Richards a light shove. "True, Captain. Budge up, soldier. Let's get moving."

Richards pushed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and put his helmet back on. Sable patted the trooper on the shoulder and Zulu moved out, crossing the street to the water plant.

"Who's taking out the power station?" asked Gray.

"Eric's lot." replied Sable, kneeling to place a thin stripe of what looked like red tape along the doorhinge.

"Oh, great. Angel's going to be picking them up first then?"

"You guessed it."

Sable leaned back, letting Gray attach a little metal stripe to the end of the tape.

"What's that?" asked Flint.

"Thermal tape." said Rachel. "Cuts at fourty-five hundred feet per second. Rapid entry doesn't get much more rapid then this."

"Clear!" yelled Sable, turning from the tape. Flint's antiblast visor kicked in as the tape melted right through the three-inch thick plasteel door. The door fell inwards, and Zulu spread out into the room. A massive pipe fed through to a warehouse-sized vat of water, out of which a multitude of pipes exited into the ceiling. Catwalks were draped seemingly at random, except for a large concrete gateway which was devoid of the walkways.

"That's the sluice." said Sable, pointing. "We're going to knock on the door."

Daniels unclipped the demo charge from his pack. The team spread out, Lorien and Rachel heading up the the catwalks, while Gray and Richards took the other side of the tank. Flint, Daniels, Rostock, and Sable took the other side, the three troopers surrounding Daniels, who was carrying the demo charge.

They reached the edge of the warhouse without difficulty. Daniels knelt to set the charges.

"Contact." said Rachel, high above them on the catwalk.

"How many?"

"Ten. Nine firearms, one chainsword."

"PDF weapons?"

"Affirmative, sir. Permission to engage?"

"Negative. Gray, Richards, flanking maneuvers. Cover the approaches. If they get within one hunded paces of the charge, fire at will."

"Twenty seconds, sir." said Daniels.

"You've got fifteen, trooper." responded Sable. He leveled his hellgun and moved to a concrete barrier overlooking the main approach to the sluice. Flint followed him, leaving Rostock to look after Daniels.

"Sir, they're closing fast. Repeat request."

"Permission granted, Specialist. Waste them."

A series of shots and subsequent screaming indicated Rachel and Lorien had entered the fight. A second later, two hellguns opened up as Gray and Richards joined in.

"Captain! Three closing on your position! They've got a flamer, sir!"

Two men and a woman rounded the corner, the first heaving a canister and a massive barreled flamethrower.

"Shit!" yelled Sable, ducking. A roaring sheet of fire passed over their heads.

Flint raised his hellgun over the lip of the barrier, firing blind. For a moment, the Emperor gave him his eye, and the front man caught a bolt to the stomach, doubling over. The flamer tripped over his friend. Sable stood up with his sidearm in one hand and hellgun in the other. He put a shot into the flamer's fuel tank, immolating both men. The woman howled in fury and raised a lasgun. Flint was faster, shooting the woman between the eyes. Her head exploded, and she collapsed backwards.

"Done, boss. Ready to go." Daniels voxed. He and Rostock rounded the corner, Daniels holding the detonator in one hand.

"To the roof. Gray, Richards, disengage! Get to the roof! Rachel, Lorien, you're rearguard."

"Copy that."

The squad ran to a metal ladder leading up to the catwalks. Rachel gave them a nod as they passed, meeting Gray and Richards at the base of the staircase to the roof.

"Ready to go, sarge?" she said to Daniels.

"You betcha." he said. Rostock nodded at Rachel, who sported a red splatter of blood across her front.

"Didja get to knife one, Candy?"

"As a matter of fact I did." she snarled.

Daniels hit the red button on the top of the detonator. A thunder grew beneath the squad's feet as thousands of gallons of water blew out the side of the warehouse, flooding nearly a quarter of Donovan before hitting the city walls. The tank imploded, falling in great sheets of metal. The walkways were dragged down as the tank collapsed. Rostock pulled Flint onto the roof.

"Alpha two-seven this is Zulu, come in, over." voxed Gray, her hand pressed against her helmet.

"Zulu this is two-seven. Nice work. Saw that one from altitude."

"Thanks two-seven. We could use some E & E, over."

"Negative, Zulu. Gotta pick up Delta first."

Gray cursed lowly. "Eric's lot."

"Copy that, Zulu. Two-seven out."

Rachel was looking over the edge of the warehouse.

"Uh, captain?" she said.

"We've got people coming. They don't look friendly."

You'll forgive me, but you must be mistaken. I've met your makers, and they don't even know your name...

GIVING CHASE- ORDO HERETICUS FIC
(Updated Mar. 19)

Hat in the Ring

Last edited by Dirge Eterna; 01-25-09 at 04:45 PM.
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post #10 of 44 (permalink) Old 01-25-09, 09:09 AM
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awesome, cliffhanger much. This is the kinda story I like!
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