Warhammer: The Worst Start There Is (40k)

On the airborne deck of Macragge’s Honour.

One hundred Space Marines awaited the airborne orders amidst the buzzing noise of the surrounding machinery.

The battle to eradicate the plague fleet continued.

From time to time, one could see the brilliant beams cutting through the cold and silent void of space, truly magnificent.

On the battlefield, some plague ships cracked and disintegrated in flames, a silent and awe-inspiring sight.

With the flagship destroyed, the combat strength of the plague fleet plummeted, and they were reaped like wheat by the Imperial fleet.

Other warships were still pursuing the plague ships that attempted to resist or flee, adding another glorious record to their own.

The Macragge’s Honour relinquished the opportunity to gain glory.

Compared to ephemeral glory, Guilliman was more concerned about what was happening on the surface.

Those Plague Marines were certainly planning some dreadful and evil ritual again.

Stopping them as soon as possible would undoubtedly be beneficial.

These one hundred Space Marines came from two different Chapters, forming a unique spearhead force.

Guilliman tried to get different Space Marine Chapters to fight together, no longer adhering to the old model of independent and lone-wolf Chapters.

He intended to adopt a new system where these Chapters could fight separately during guerrilla warfare and come together like organized troops during the Great Crusade.

This way, he could deploy several thousand well-coordinated Space Marines in a single large battle, crushing all enemies. At the same time, he could let Chapters fight separately on specific battlefields to increase efficiency.

Among the one hundred Space Marines, fifty of them were from the Ultramarines Chapter, dressed in the distinctive deep blue armor of the Ultramarines. The front row of these veterans even wore Terminator Armor.

The other fifty came from the Dawn Guardian Chapter, a subsidiary of the Ultramarines, with gray-painted armor adorned with blue.

This Chapter was not as affluent as the Ultramarines; only two or three veteran Space Marines wore Terminator Armor, while the others wore standard armor.

On the deck, hundreds of technical experts and machine slaves were busy preparing for the Space Marines’ landing and combat.

Space Marines who were wearing Terminator Armor were conducting self-checks with the assistance of the Tech-Priests to ensure that their armor was in good operational condition, guaranteeing that their terrifying combat capabilities wouldn’t be compromised due to poor maintenance.

Space Marines wearing standard powered armor, with the help of Battle Servitors, equipped themselves with large assault shields.

Standard powered armor lacked the absolute thickness of Terminator Armor, and in the upcoming aerial assault operation, the hefty assault shields would enhance their survivability in close-quarters combat.

Amidst the rumbling noise, the elevators raised the stored munitions from the lower levels to the deck.

Members of the Chapter’s retinue, clad in neat uniforms, with the assistance of Servitors, distributed the ammunition to each soldier.

Meanwhile, all Space Marines conducted a final pre-battle inspection of their armor and weapons.

The Chapter’s Chaplain strode purposefully through the ranks, listening to the soldiers’ oaths and affixing oath paper to their armor with wax.

With a hiss, the sacred and scorching iron seal was stamped on the wax.

Thanks to years of training, every member, be it a soldier or a retinue, worked with perfect efficiency.

“Macragge’s Honour has entered planetary orbit, and the airborne operation will commence in ten minutes.”

This announcement was drowned out by the bustling and noisy preparations underway, but it was not repeated.

The hearing of the Space Marines was enhanced, and they all clearly heard this command.

Immediately, the deck resounded with a deafening horn.

All Space Marines and their retinues ceased what they were doing, stood at attention, and gazed with fervent eyes in the direction of the arch.

In the eager eyes, a grand giant dressed in azure coloured Armor of Fate, accompanied by the Honour Guard, strode forth amidst the triumphant sound of horns.

The newcomer was the Imperial Regent, Lord Otramah, the genefather of the Ultramarines’ gene, and the thirteenth legitimate child of the Emperor – Guilliman.

Guilliman wore the Hand of Dominion on his left hand and the silent Emperor’s Sword at his waist.

The power and will exuded in every gesture and movement left mortals holding their breath.

“Are you ready?” Guilliman looked at the multitude of Space Marines, his voice resonating deeply.

“My Lord! everything is prepared!” said the Captain of the Dawn Guardian Chapter loudly.

“Ready for your orders, my Lord,” said Sicarius, the Second Captain of the Ultramarines Chapter.

All the Space Marines stood at attention, their eyes on Guilliman filled with awe and admiration.

Admiration shone on their faces like a radiant glow; they were prepared to lay down their lives at any moment for this great figure.

“Very well,” Guilliman stared firmly at all the Space Marines. “It’s time to show these rebels the fate of those who oppose the Imperium, those who rebel against humanity. The Imperium will prevail.”

“Victory.”

“Victory.”

The Space Marines roared with voices louder than all the commotion.

Sicarius, along with some Space Marines, was loaded into the drop pods, and, like a celestial rain of blossoms, they were launched towards the surface of Sara-II, turning into streaks of fire as they descended.

This was the most common method of Space Marine deployment. It was fast, and upon landing, the intense impact from the high-altitude drop could provide a first strike advantage, dealing initial damage to the enemy.

Guilliman and another group of soldiers boarded the Thunderhawk Transporter for the landing operation.

The body of a Primarch and Terminator frames were too large to fit into drop pods, so heavy aerial transports were used instead.

Sara-II was already enveloped by the sickly green plague gas, and the ejected drop pods looked like shells, plunging into the swirling cloud of the plague.

“Forty seconds, prepare for battle!” Sicarius shouted as the drop pods rapidly entered Sara-II’s atmosphere.

The high-speed descent produced an incredibly intense rushing sound, sharp and piercing. Even though the drop pods had thick walls, they couldn’t completely isolate this harsh noise.

The other soldiers did not respond; they maintained silence, readying themselves at all times.

As the atmosphere thickened further, the rocket thrusters at the bottom of the drop pods started, releasing a powerful jet of flames to accelerate the descent.

The high-speed plummeting drop pods shook violently, and the interior gradually heated up. The enormous friction transformed into noise and extreme heat.

The entire airdrop process would not take more than five minutes, including the time the drop pods spent in space. Once they made contact with the target planet’s atmosphere, the thrusters would be ignited to further accelerate the descent, landing on the surface within a matter of seconds.

Landing from a height of thousands of meters within a few seconds was a method certain to spell doom for other forces; their bodies simply couldn’t withstand it.

However, for the Space Marines, this kind of airdrop posed no significant obstacles.

This airdrop method also indirectly showcased the strength of the Space Marines.

Sicarius made an effort to control his emotions. Around him, there was nothing but noise. He couldn’t see the enemies he was about to engage, nor could he see his fellow soldiers within the same drop pod.

Before the drop pod completely touched down, there was nothing he could do.

Compared to this sky-high entry, he preferred the precise deployment and swift assault of the Stormbirds.

Guilliman had a valid reason for deploying the troops using drop pods.

Dropping what was known as the Emperor’s Angels – the Space Marines – without warning behind enemy lines could create a more devastating psychological impact and significantly overshadow the enemy’s presence.

With a thunderous sound, the drop pod’s hatch burst outward, and the restraining straps holding the Space Marines were simultaneously released.

They landed with great precision on a traitor’s artillery position.

The cultists, marked with various profane symbols on their faces and bodies, had barely reacted to what was happening when they were already thrown by the massive shockwave caused by the drop pod’s landing. Some of the cultists who were closer were directly torn apart, their flesh scattered.

“For Guilliman!” Sicarius, wielding his power sword and holding a grenade launcher, let out a battle cry.