“Advance!” The order rang across the comm-unit like a clarion call. The battle brethren surged forward without hesitation. Bolters roaring as their bullets battered at the ruined farm ahead. Return fire from the Orks lashed at the Marines. Tracer fire and screaming shells filled the air, ricocheting off their armour and forcing them to struggle forward as if into the teeth of a storm. But the farm had to be captured, the Orks’ big guns had to be silenced.

Brother Beliasus was struck square in chest. Flecks of melted ceramite sprayed across his face plate and icons across his helmet display flickered warning orange as his armour struggled to keep him upright. It failed and he went down on one knee. Not two yards away Brother Eveay fell with two fist-sized holes through his abdomen, his bright blood mixing with the dark earth. At that instant the heavy weapons of the Devastators spoke with one voice and the perimeter buildings went rent by fiery explosions. Almost immediately the Orks’ firing slackened to sporadic bursts.

Beliasus heaved himself upright, the amour’s musculature grinding as it tried to keep up with his movements. Icons were still flashing as he leveled his bolter and blasted at a figure silhouetted in a ruined window. The greens skins disappeared under the hail of explosive bolts and Beliasus boosted the power to his legs to lope forward and regain his place in the battleline.

His armour hadn’t been the same since the insurrection on Lannis IX five years ago. The armour had never recovered it spirit since the injury and the replacement parts were weaker and slower than the old ones. The tech-priests had lost so much knowledge they simply didn’t make things like they used to. He banished the heretical thought in an instant. “Never doubt the righteousness of Man.” Brother Mortez had told them. “Though you have been elevated by the blessing of the Emperor you are still the servants of Man. It is doubt that forms the path to damnation”

Beliasus caught up with Brother Julo and Brother Varas as they prepared to assault the outer wall. Julo’s armour was scared in a dozen different places where he had been hit but calmly slammed another clip into his boltgun as if at morning firing rites. Varas gave the signal and they stormed through a breach together. To their left and right more armored brethren burst through the perimeter walls.

A Horde of Orks spilled put of the shattered buildings like a green tide, beyond them their crude artillery unleashed another salvo. At such close range it was devastating, fire and smoke exploded all about and Beliasus felt his helm ring like a bell as red-hot shrapnel ricocheted off it. Julo fell with a curse, his arm torn away at the elbow. Yells and gunshots filled the air as the Orks closed in on the battered Marines. Beliasus and the others took up firing stances and pumped bolter shots into the oncoming horde. Even Julo managed to heft his bolter in his remaining hand and open fired. Every shot punched another howling Ork off its feet but the raced forward oblivious o casualties, bloodlust twisting their bestial faces. The remaining brethren were so outnumbered that they would likely be swept away by their onslaught.

Then it happened. A section of the wall collapsed inward and a massive, hulking form crunched in over the rubble. It stood twice the height of a man and was so bulky and heavily armored that it looked more like a walking tank than an armored suit. Without breaking stride it raised the multi-barreled cannon set into the angled plates of its arm and opened fire on the Orks. Explosions ripped though their ranks like a scythe. With joy Brother Beliasus recognized the ancient heraldry which the Dreadnought displayed, and charged forward to follow the venerable Brother Mortez into the heart of the Ork horde.