Chapter: 5.8

Chapter: Landfall

=*=

Part: 8

Landing Pod: Galley-1

Elena

The drop pod continued its descent, jolting and shaking as it navigated through the planet's atmosphere under the barrage of anti-aircraft fire. Elena exchanged quick glances with her surviving squad members, and the tension in the cramped pod was palpable.

"Well, ain't this a pleasant surprise,"

Rico grinned, her cybernetic hand flexing.

"Shut up and brace yourselves!"

Elena barked, her eyes narrowing as she tightened her grip on her weapon. This was worse than using an individual drop pod, those were better... so much better and she found herself lost in nostalgia before being jolted back into the grim reality of her situation.

As the pod descended further, the intense heat of atmospheric entry added to the discomfort. Alarms blared intermittently, warning of structural stress and potential breaches.

The Vox device crackled to life again, the pilot's voice cutting through the chaos,

"We're making an emergency landing! Behind the enemy lines!"

Elena gritted her teeth, a mixture of frustration and amazement coursing through her head... and the air as the troopers let loose a flurry of colorful words that wouldn't have looked out of place on a pirate ship.

The pod descended rapidly, and the landscape outside became a blur of green and blue as the planet's surface drew near at an alarming speed.

The company's dedicated preacher, adorned in flowing crimson robes, brandished the company's standard in one hand and a roaring chainsword in the other as he stormed to the forefront of the ranks, positioned directly in front of the boarding ramp. With a fervent curse, he sheathed his blade and withdrew a tome twice as thick as a kark grenade.

Elena let out a frustrated sigh. She had endured two sermons, enduring the droning rhetoric just to grasp the essence of the Imperium's primary religion. Yet, the experience only solidified her disdain for the preachers and their worship of the "divine emperor." The idea of a man being strapped to a golden chair even in death seemed utterly absurd to her. These fanatics were a headache she could do without.

"Alright people! The God Emperor's with us and all that aside,"

With those words, he captured the undivided attention of the troopers, save for those who were occupied with puking their guts out into large polybins wedged between their knees. It seemed to be quite rare that a preacher would finish his sermon with a single sentence, it usually lasted ten minutes!

The preacher loosened his robes, enticing a couple of whistles and catcalls from those who had either finished vomiting or were about to start emptying their stomach.

'Seriously! Isn't it standard protocol to lighten up before planetfall?'

The preacher, however, merely smirked while stuffing his loosened robe with the thick book of litanies and sermons and other religious bullshit,

"The Emperor Protects! But sometimes you need to make a couple of adjustments."

He chuckled while placing his hand on his chest, which had now become visibly swollen due to the tome he had stuffed inside.

Elena had to admit the preacher was funny... and probably not expecting to survive the battle ahead.

Eh, she wasn't either.

No one does, not when their chances of survival were that low and they lived in a religiously fanatical empire that glorified mass killing and genocide and... well, no point in thinking much about it.

But still, it was a pity she didn't get to 'do' the Inquisitor. The white-haired chick had some surprisingly nice 'assets... ah well, from what she had heard of Inquisitors, there was a good chance that she might just get another chance to do exactly that... if she survived that is.

As the drop pod continued its groundward descent, Elena braced herself against the violent shaking, her mind racing through a flurry of thoughts she had suppressed deep in her mind. Some were purely instinctive, the muscle memories of wars she never fought in and training she didn't go through... it all felt so... strange as if she was living in a stranger's body and not hers...

She glanced around at the guardswomen huddled in their seats, praying to 'their' God Emperor, placating their acquaintances, their expressions a mixture of determination and fear.

They were all clad in different uniforms, making the inside of the shuttle look like a canvas painted by a shitty artist with a crap ton of paint. Some wore the green camo that was common to most Astra Militarum regiments while others were in the whites and blues and greys and blacks... she spotted a pair with gasmasks and oxygen tanks.

Elena groaned, she had read this particular regiment's history... which pretty much consisted of transfer reports and casualty figures. It was the garbage bin or the store room maybe? Regiments looking to go single gender from mixed ones would send their surviving guardswomen or the handful of survivors from decimated regiments looking to be disbanded.

The Administratum saw it as a fitting place to dump the unwanted extras... not like anyone would be missing a couple of meat bags, such was the truth of the 'Imperium.' 

With a sigh, Elena detached the belts keeping her in place and stood up... with 'some' difficulty but her armor bore the brunt of the pressure,

"Alright, listen up!"

She shouted over the din of alarms and rattling metal, and the retching of those who stuffed their stomach, having already decided on their last meal,

"We're landing behind enemy lines, so expect heavy resistance as soon as that ramp drops. Stay close and watch each other's back,"

That was all, not like anything she said would bolster the spirits of this rag-tag bunch, but...

"The Emperor Protects?"

At once two hundred pairs of eyes stared at her, determination kindling in orbs of colors she never thought existed. Some even nodded in agreement while the others gripped their weapons tighter, preparing for the chaos to come. 

'Fuckin' fanatics.'

At least she boosted the morale of the guardswomen.

Elena couldn't make herself even look at the Sororitas, they looked like someone kicked their puppies... scratch that, they could have burned that someone but you get the general gist of it. They looked depressed to Terra and back, looked like it since they abandoned Elena, her squad, and Inquisitor nice ass... Greybrand! Inquisitor Greybrand back at the Space Station. Probably cause all of them were going to join the Repentias... the glorified cannon fodder.

Before she could strap herself back on her seat, the pilot's voice crackled over the Vox again, his words barely audible over the cacophony of noise within the pod,

"Brace for impact!"

With a deafening roar and a thunderous impact, the drop pod slammed into the ground with bone-jarring force, sending shockwaves rippling through the cramped interior and throwing everyone inside against their restraints. Metal screeched, and sparks flew as the pod skidded across the uneven terrain.

Elena gritted her teeth against the impact, feeling her bones rattle in her armor as the pod skidded across the ground, kicking up clouds of dust and debris in its wake. Thankfully, one of the SPARTANs had grabbed hold of her, or she might have more than just a bruised shoulder.

She let out a relieved gasp as she felt her stomach settling in her body, the jarring impact finally ended with one last thud as the Pod flipped on its back. With a growl she flipped and dropped down on her feet, glancing up at the rest of the troopers, seeing them shaken and distraught but still breathing... mostly.

"Everyone alright?"

She barked, checking for any serious injuries among her squad mates as the rest of the pod filled with the sound of retching and groans. Rico was a bit shaken but she had survived worse, Lynx looked as though she had had just about enough shuttle-faring for the day and Katerina looked like she could take on an Ork with a boomerang now that she was finally on solid ground.

The SPARTANs wore helmets so she didn't quite get their expression but seeing as they were busy unclipping their harness and landing down one by one, they should be just fine.

The preacher, however, was a sorry corpse against the boarding ramp. Poor bastard impaled himself on the company's banner and got pinned to the wall... if she was as superstitious as the rest of the company, Elena would have thought this to be an ill omen... Thankfully she was not.

Her otherwise transparent helmet's HUD displayed warning signs, indicating potential injuries and structural damage. Of the roughly two hundred guardswomen and three Chimera APCs, fifteen were dead, seven were heavily injured, another thirty were lightly injured and two APCs were out of commission, one of which was missing from the pod.

The Sororitas struggled to their feet, checking their gear and assessing their sisters... Elena had to admit, the Sister Hospitaller was something, she was hanging upside down and yet was busy cauterizing a guardswoman's arm, the idiot left her bayonet strap open and paid heavily for it.

Things weren't looking too good... not for her or anyone else inside the pod, so she made a decision she believed to be appropriate,

"Alright ladies, get the fuck down from the damned roof!"

=*=