The Hive City Bloodbath

"Soldiers! For the Emperor! Hold the line!"

"Hold the line! Hold the line!"

As the soldiers shouted, ranks of Lasguns fired searing beams into the Ork horde, burning small gaps that fresh green bodies instantly filled.

Heavy-weapons teams manned bolters and Laser cannons behind the battlements, trying to pick off the Orks' heavy guns. Each time they fired, fiercer return fire soon followed.

Autocannon Turrets shrieked as they poured rounds into the horde, shattering flesh and tearing through metal. They carved out pockets of death, but against the whole assault, it was nowhere near enough.

Behind the walls, the regiment's artillery crews gave everything they had.

"Fire! Fire!"

"Fuck! Reload!"

The crews slammed shells into place and unleashed the Emperor's wrath.

The Medusa Siege Guns roared, shaking the earth. Huge shells tore across the sky and plunged into distant Ork formations, throwing up fountains of dirt, severed limbs, and metal fragments.

Each successful volley briefly cleared a small patch of ground. But there were too many Orks. Their charge stretched for hundreds of kilometers, making the artillery's reach seem pitifully small.

Worse for the Imperial Army soldiers holding the city, the Orks' ranged fire was just as relentless. Their aim was poor, but sheer volume and firepower carried the occasional lucky shell or rocket over the walls and into the Hive City, or straight into the fortifications atop them, causing explosions and casualties.

"We've held for more than ten days! Over a hundred thousand of our brothers have beaten back more than a dozen full-scale assaults by these green bastards!" Colonel Wright sounded close to breaking with exhaustion, but his voice held even more grit.

"Every day, every hour, we lose good soldiers—loyal citizens of the Imperium! But we're still standing! The Imperial Army is still standing!"

He strode to the Tactical Table and slammed his fist onto the Orks' main line of attack. The hologram flickered.

On the map, the red tide marking the Orks had almost completely encircled the blue Defense Line of the Hive City and was pressing against it. A few key positions still changed hands in brutal fighting, but the line as a whole had been pushed to its limit.

"Our last orders were to hold until reinforcements arrived," said an officer beside him. Soot covered his face, and his Carapace Armour bore a technical officer's insignia. Fatigue made his voice tremble.

"But the signal... We lost contact with orbit four days ago..."

"Reinforcements?"

Wright snapped his head up. Mockery flashed in his eyes, then vanished beneath despair.

"All we have now is the Emperor's protection and our own bolter rounds! Tell every soldier and every sergeant: behind us lies the last core district of Jungle Hive City. Tens of millions of Imperial citizens are inside! Our fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters! We have nowhere to retreat!"

He drew a breath of hot, throat-scorching air, as though he could turn its despair into one last measure of fighting spirit.

"How much ammunition do we have left? Tell the logistics officer to supply the heavy-weapons teams and frontline sergeants first! Anyone too wounded to fight but still able to move helps carry ammunition and reinforce the defenses! We have to—"

An explosion shook the earth and cut him off. This blast dwarfed the earlier ones. An Ork super-heavy weapon, or some kind of suicide attack, had struck a joint in the wall.

The whole command post rocked. Dust and chunks of debris pattered from the ceiling.

The communications channel erupted with urgent, chaotic reports and shouts from sergeants across the Defense Line.

"Cracks in the outer wall of East Sector Seven!"

"We need support! There's a breach!"

"For the Emperor! Keep them out!"

Wright snatched up his helmet and locked it into place. Its built-in display lit up at once, highlighting the sectors under the heaviest pressure.

He drew the Power Sword from his waist. The blade hummed to life, wreathed in a pale blue energy field.

"All reserves! With me!" His voice rang through the helmet amplifier, cold and unquestionable, across the regiment's communications network. "894th Regiment! For the Emperor! For our home! Crush them!"

He was the first out of the command post, charging toward the breach where the shelling was fiercest and the killing thickest.

He was an iron reef against a raging green sea. He knew it would swallow him, yet he would let it break him if that bought even one more second against the tide.

The eastern Defense Line.

Repeated heavy bombardment had weakened this stretch of alloy wall from within. It was barely standing.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

After another barrage, its own weight became too much. The wall groaned and collapsed outward, leaving a rough, steep Slope.

Before the dust had settled, a huge, ugly figure clad in crude sheet-metal armour appeared atop the rubble.

It was enormous, nearly filling the breach.

Scars and crude metal implants covered the Ork's green skin. It split its jaws wide, baring uneven yellow tusks as it roared with excitement.

It gripped an enormous cleaver cobbled together from scrap metal and rivets. Dark red, congealed blood coated the blade.

The beast had just set foot on the ground humanity had sworn to defend.

But no panicked screams or wild gunfire greeted it.

Only a cold flash of steel.

"Die, Xenos!"

A hoarse roar rang out. It came not from a gene-enhanced warrior of the Astartes Chapters, nor from a battle-hardened regimental sergeant, but from an ordinary soldier of the Imperial Guard.

Scratches and soot covered his standard-issue helmet, hiding his face. Through the eyepieces, only his eyes showed, burning with naked hatred and a resolve to die fighting.

He moved with startling speed. He did not waste precious Lasgun charge on a shot that might fail to pierce the Ork's thick muscle and iron armour. Instead, he turned the bayonet thrust he had practiced countless times into a killing blow.

Squelch!

The wet, muffled sound of metal tearing through tough hide, driving through muscle, and crushing cartilage.

The bayonet beneath his Lasgun barrel—bright Imperial steel—punched into the side of the Ork's thick neck. It bypassed the hard bone plating at the front and drove deep into the softer flesh around its windpipe and major blood vessels.

The Ork's massive body went rigid. For the first time, stunned disbelief flashed in its small eyes, which had been filled with nothing but violence and the urge to destroy.

Its huge green hand tried to raise the heavy cleaver, but strength drained from it as thick, blackish blood gushed from its neck.

A gurgle rattled in its throat. It tried to roar again, but only a few thin, leaking hisses came out.