The commissars had spoken only one other time before in Haylock’s remembrance. It was his sixth jump and the worst he had so far and since. Nearly ninety percent of the three thousand men that had jumped that day had died or were so severely injured that they got a red handshake retirement. Since then, the sound of mice squeaking still set Haylock off into a panic attack.
And now they are giving another motivating speech. Fixing his posture straighter, Haylock decided he would try to listen to everything the briefing entailed to the last detail. When Gourke stopped pontificating about glory and honor, the commander was given his cue to step forward and address the room.
“Gentlemen, let’s get to the point and discuss how we will destroy the Emperor’s enemies today.”
A holographic projector whirred to life the planet they were going to invade became an almost tangible reality in the center of the room. From a planetary orbit view and down, the commander magnified the hologram until it was no longer a planet they were looking at, but an island, sitting in the middle of a tranquil blue ocean. Data flickered next to the image and Haylock noted that the island was six miles long and three miles wide across, shaped like a horseshoe with two ends jutting out in almost equal distance. It was a beautiful sight, especially the white sands and turquoise waters, the kind of place the propaganda posters said men could retire to when they served their ten jumps and got out.
It was too bad that it was probably one of the most inhospitable places for human life in the universe.
The briefing was clear about that part. The waters were heavy chemicals, the kind that they used in factories, and would melt a man's lungs if he caught a whiff of it without his mask on. The sand would have felt nice in between your toes if the sun overhead was not so close and so hot that the temperature was enough to give a man heatstroke in minutes without the proper chemical cocktails that they made the soldiers drink before jumping. Before this world fell, Imperial cartographers had given this planet a suitably ironic name: Paradise.
Monsters from the void called this place home now and Imperial Command had finally decided that it was time to take it back.
“We are being joined by three other regiments today, one of which is reinforced to bring the initial force to just over ten thousand boots landing at once.” The regimental commander started his presentation. “Our regiment is going to jump on the northern side of the island, here.” A red blip appeared on the map, at the top of the horseshoe.
"The other regiments, we will refer to them as 1, 2, and 3, will assault here, here, and here." Red numbers appeared where the commander pointed. Regiments 1 and 3 were assaulting the ends of the horseshoe on the southern side of the island, while Regiment 2 was dropping straight in the middle between the peninsulas.
“Regiment 2 will be reinforced and will establish a perimeter of control near where we expect the enemy concentration to be the highest. Regiments 1 and 3 will push along their respective peninsulas, engaging any enemy forces they encounter until they regroup with Regiment 2 in the center.”
Haylock watched red arrows animate on the hologram as the numerals marched toward the center. He did not know who he felt more sorry for, the regiment that was going to have to hunker down and weather constant enemy assaults or the regiments that would have miles of harsh trekking to reach their objectives.”
“There are two regiments on standby for further reinforcement if either Regiments 1, 2, or 3 experience too much heat, but as for us, there will be no backup.”
The other officers in the briefing room started to stand up and mutter to one another, with one even going so far as to loudly ask the commander to repeat what he said. Haylock did not say anything, for he was too stunned by the revelation. Every other jump had backup just in case, so why was this one different?
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, please! Take your seats, I am not finished,” the commander gestured to the map, “Probes have indicated that the northern side of the island is uninhabited with zero enemy placements or hives. This is going to be a free jump today.”
“Once we land, we will stay in place until Regiments 1 and 3 have reinforced 2, then we will push south and crush the enemy in between a two-sided assault.”
Haylock knew it was not going to be that easy, despite how much he wanted to believe the commander. Everyone else around him was breathing a sigh of relief, buying what was being said, since to do otherwise would break the fragile façade of control that each man was trying to maintain. Haylock envied them for it, for if he despised them for trying to conceal the truth from themselves, he despised himself more for the cowardice he knew that was in his own heart that desperately wished it was true too.
The Mask had no such delusion and studied every detail of the map that it could memorize. Landmarks, troop deployments, and identified enemy positions. While Haylock wrestled with internal struggles, the Mask would handle the external ones. Luck had no part in how Haylock had survived so much death and destruction, it was the Mask that pushed when the flesh failed.
Hours passed, logistics, promotions, and fallback plans were discussed, but it was the last piece that finally woke Haylock up from his daze of intent concentration.
“And I think I would be remiss if I did not mention Comrade Haylock. Today is his last jump before retirement. I know I have not known him for long, but it's been a pleasure to serve the Empire with him these last few years. Haylock, do you have any words to pass on?”
Haylock had nothing more to say than passing pleasantries and thanks to the men whose names he did not even know. After all, what was the point in memorizing the names of men about to die?
_____
The portal in the jump room was heating up, the coils between a giant arch of titanium whirled into motion and began making the necessary folds in space for three thousand men to march across its invisible wall and onto an alien planet. Many of the Ones were fixated on the portal, fascinated to see this wonder machine for the first time, but Haylock was otherwise preoccupied.
The memories of the past haunted him, specters of foes that he had hardly escaped from and dreamt of every night. The enemy preferred their soldiers tall, usually three meters or so, and strong as a team of oxen. Their skin was thick, resistant to bludgeoning and stabbing from most mortal weapons, and the fire did little good against the mucous that coated them. They usually walked on two legs, but given that they had six limbs total, it was not unusual to see one crawling at a chase speed that could outrun the fastest man. There were no claws, but grasping hands that could either rip a man apart with sheer strength or otherwise crush his head beneath the jagged teeth of the maws they used for mouths.
They could flood a field with thousands of baying bodies in seconds if they wanted to and cost the enemy almost nothing to produce, as ammo was not needed for one of these beasts to kill a man. Red eyes had glared down at Haylock enough times that he could still see them when he closed his own. Those eyes knew no fear and felt no pain, but they reflected the intent of the inhuman minds that set legions of void spawn loose on the galaxy at large. They were hungry.
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They were the Yabanchi and they would take no prisoners.
“From sea to sea, black and blue, our flag has flown true!”
The music of the Imperial Anthem picked Haylock out of his imaginary prison. Someone back at command must have figured that playing music right before a jump was better than letting the soldiers in the jump bay stew in silent anticipation. Yet to veterans like Haylock, the sound of those sonorous notes had the opposite effect.
“When you push through, remember your training, rifles up and ready.” The wave leader was looking back from his place at the front of the line and giving reminders to the men under his command. Save for Haylock and him, every single other man was a One. It was not bad advice and honestly, it was what Haylock was planning on doing too. Yet the reminder of where he was at was setting a stone in his gut.
They had probably been planning this operation for years back at high command, but most of the men here probably had no idea what was going on, other than the name of the planet they were about to jump to. It made sense in a sick way and prevented the Ones from getting too deep in their minds like Haylock.
“Steady your legs, bare your teeth, on towards victory!”
“I’m going to kill one first,” a voice whispered from behind Haylock. He glanced back and saw a pair of Ones giggling to each other like school girls. The fools were placing bets on who would kill a Yabanchi first or who would kill the most. The Mask Haylock was wearing temporarily fell off and he was shocked at the banality of most of the others' attitudes. They were skittish, sure, but only as much as a schoolboy would be asking a girl out on a date. They had no idea.
“You are the Emperor’s finest!” Gourke’s voice boomed over the room and the fat cretin had the audacity to sound happy. “The enemy will fall before you as they have fallen before. Look to your brothers in arms, your comrades, and draw strength from them!”
“Forward, forward! Into the glorious future!”
Oh no. Gourke was singing along with the anthem and it seemed like half the other men were doing so too.
"Forward, forward! Look not backward!"
Back was all Haylock wanted, but there were three thousand pressed bodies behind him preventing that.
“Our song will sound for eternal time to come!”
It was coming, Haylock knew all too well.
“So gather your strength, gather your arms and”
Haylock took a breath at the drawn-out last note and disappeared, the Mask stepped forward.
“March to victory!”
The song ended in a loud buzz of screeching and flashing red lights that were meant to rile up the flesh and invigorate the senses. Squad leaders added their voices to the mix, their shouts filling the noise between the sound of running boots.
“GO, GO, GO!”
Haylock ran with the men of the first wave, the pressure of the men behind him leaving him little choice. Going through the space of the arch was a strange feeling, but even stranger still was the sudden darkness that took him as he did. A familiar blue line appeared in the horizon and the running momentum of Haylock’s feet carried him toward it. After an eternity passed in the blink of an eye, Haylock was one of the first men on the beach of Paradise and the first to witness the tranquil sand dunes in front of him explode in a frenzy of motion.
“Open fire, open fire!” The squad leader started shouting orders immediately, and Haylock's training kicked in.
Haylock and the hundred or so that had come in first obeyed and their IM-3s spat liquid metal death at such high velocities that the Yabanchi screamers that met their fusillade were thrown off their feet and cast back several meters from where they had come. Yet the enemy fired back.
A massive sand dune suddenly grew feet and underneath the falling sand, Haylock could see a myriad of green eyes staring at the Imperial Soldiers. The beast those eyes belonged to, lifted four meaty limbs, easily the size of trees, and aimed them at the soldiers, each of its limbs bearing an array of wicked-looking guns grafted on the end.
Rather than meeting his end in a hail of death, Haylock ducked behind one of the corpses of the Yabanchi and hid. The enemy's return fire sounded more like a sudden gust of wind than the rattle of machine guns, but the screams of the men around him told Haylock all too much of their deadly reality.
The deadly orchestra silenced, perhaps because its weapons needed cooling, but Haylock saw his chance and ran from the fallen bodies of his comrades and enemy alike and around another dune, hoping that this one would not come to life too.
Haylock’s fears were only half-realized, as the sand dune did not rise up, yet a nightmare greeted him nevertheless. The red eyes of a Yabanchi came up from the dirt beneath him and several strong hands made to grasp at his feet. Unable to get away in time, the soldier aimed his rifle at the gaping maw of the beast and pulled the trigger, yet his weapon did not discharge. It had jammed at the least opportune moment. Screaming with all the rage and fear that he had let stay pent up, Haylock charged the enemy with his bayonet raised.
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Similar scenes took place all over the chaotic battlefield as more Imperial soldiers poured out and organized a counterattack. The Yabanchi beast with its belching chain guns killed men almost as fast as they were arriving, on top of the endless waves of four armed drones that were burrowing out of the ground and onto the hapless soldiers above them.
Several grenadiers had jumped into the fray at the tail end of the third wave's arrival, and with a series of well-thrown homing dart grenades, the giant Yabanchi gunner went down in a smoking heap of metal and flesh, leaking a shimmering fluid that was a cross between oil and blood. Yet the drones kept coming, crawling over their dead and reaching for the soldiers who had not expected a fight so soon after their arrival.
A squad commander had stepped up when he realized that the company commander was already dead and rallied a few dozen of the men closest to him in a triple-ranked firing line like the academy had drilled into them with incessant practice. The first rank fired, cutting down a handful of the attackers, but not doing much to slow their charge, but the second rank's fire took down a handful more, and the enemy had more bodies acting as obstacles to their momentum. Then the third rank, first rank, second, and so on the men fired, reloaded, aimed, and fired again, thoughtless of what they were doing and just letting their hands go through the familiar motions.
More dart grenades and rifles joined the carnage, exacting their fury into the quickly dwindling ranks of Yabanchi screamers until the screaming stopped and the surviving soldiers were left standing victorious in the smoke and silence. Among them were Tanlon and his friend, Ones now made veterans by their first skirmish with the enemy. Orders were given, quick, merciless. “Scavenge what you can from the dead and reform”. Tanlon acted more on instinct than thought and obeyed immediately, rolling over his fallen comrades to retrieve their unspent ammo. Among the corpses that he looted was a familiar one, the marking on his chest indicating that this was his last jump. Tanlon spared no thought for the irony of the situation and rifled through the ammo packs of the soldier whose name he never knew. Yet in his looting, the corpse suddenly breathed and grabbed the young soldier’s arms.
“AHHH!”
Tanlon fell back on his haunches and scooted from the screaming soldier. When Haylock had stopped his cry of terror from the near death of his encounter with the Yabanchi, he looked over at the One and thought he looked familiar despite the masks they both wore.
“You, your name is Tanlon right?”
“Yes, sir, older brother, sir. I’m sorry for looting you, I thought you were dead.”
Haylock did not begrudge the necessity of robbing from those who did not need their ammo, he had to do it plenty of times too, but a new sense of wonder started dawning on him as he looked around at the dead. He had survived the initial jump. He was not doomed. There was a chance!
“Older brother, are you hurt? Are you ok?”
Brought back to the moment, he replied, “Knock it off with the older brother stuff, kid, call me Haylock. And yeah, I’m ok, just got a little knock on the head.”
Tanlon saluted Haylock, though they were both the same rank. Haylock shook his head. “We’ve got a lot of polishing to do on you if you’re to survive with me, Tanlon. First thing, I’m calling you Tan, it’s easier to shout in an emergency.” The younger man easily agreed to the nickname and Haylock decided he liked the younger man, there was something in him that remembered that youthful optimism he also used to share.
A whistle blew and their conversation was cut short for the moment. Haylock and Tanlon jogged back to their mates where everyone was forming into a formation. It blew again and they marched. The dead were left behind, but it was the living who envied them their sleep.