The Fall of Parlemion (Short Story)

The world was on fire. That was all that private first class Johannes could think as he fled in blind panic through the ruined streets. He could see no more than a few feet in any direction, all was smoke and dust and fire. Bodies littered the pavement in their scores as he stumbled past, civilians, soldiers, diplomats, servitors, every rank and class and role within Parlemion's dizzying social structures was displayed in this morbid tableau of death and destruction. What had happened to the rest of his squad, his company or the entire bloody regiment he had no idea. All he could think of was to flee, back towards the space port and the distant hope of evacuation. If only he could get there, maybe find some shuttle still loading refugees, he just might make it, oh Emperor if only he could make it!

A distant explosion rocked the street, the pavement under Johannes feet crumbling and shifting while all around him stone and mortar was blasted from the ravaged buildings all around. If there had been any glass left in the windows it would have shattered and spread deadly shards across the street but there was no glass left in the city that was likely still intact. Johannes managed to stumble back to his feet but before he could stumble on again his spine froze in terror as he heard that horrible sound again. 

"WAAAAAAAAGGH!" 

He spun around in time to see murky shapes looming closer, huge and hunched forward, gripping massive weapons in over-sized hands. The blasted greenskins were fast, Johannes had hoped they would have contented themselves butchering those few fools who had decided to stay behind in the trenches and sacrifice themselves as a rear guard. But Johannes hadn't hung around to watch, for all he knew everyone who could had abandoned the trenches. Before the orks could find him in the murk Johannes stumbled back into a run, the beat of his heart pounding in his ears, his blood running impossibly hot. Though he was exhausted and bleeding from a dozen minor injuries it seemed like he had never run faster in his life, every fiber of his being driving him to escape the horrible monsters that seemed ever just behind him. Streets passed by, here and there a lone survivor, staggering through the destruction in shell-shock emerged from the smoke only to vanish again as Johannes sped past, paying no heed to anyone but himself. Now and then he heard savage bellows and screaming behind him shortly after passing some survivor or other, the orks couldn't be far behind him. 

Two weeks, two frakking weeks was all it had taken for the xenos killers had taken to shatter the defenses of Parlemion city and send the defenders into total rout. Johannes was no green recruit, he had fought on half a dozen worlds in as many years and never had he seen such unstoppable force arrayed against the forces of the Emperor. 

"Impossible," he gasped to himself, stumbling to a halt for a moment to catch his breath. "Nothing can stop these things." 

Ragged breaths sawed in and out of his lungs. His eyes were bloodshot and red, irritated by the smoke and ash filling the air. For a moment Johannes stumbled around, desperately searching for some landmark or sign of where he was, terrified that he had become lost, until his eyes alighted on a sign hanging from a post above a nearby shop. One of the chains holding up the sign was broken and its illumination had gone out, the neon glass tubes dark and lifeless but their shape was nevertheless familiar. 

"Cornelius' Ihlo Bar," Johannes mumbled. "Every sailor's first stop on Parlemion, or so the owner claimed. Well, whatever he's dead now, but the star port can't be far now."

He stumbled on past the ruin of the smoking bar and down a side street he knew would take him towards the main road into the star port. More explosions rocked the city, closer than the last and each time Johannes was nearly thrown from his feet. Once or twice flying chunks of rock, glass or metal struck him and tore open a new hole in his uniform and left another bloody wound in his flesh. Johannes' strength was fleeing him, adrenaline alone could not overcome his rapidly growing list of injuries forever. He had lost his helmet and rifle early in his flight but still had some of his webbing and gear on and these he tore off, desperate to lighten his load as much as possible. After several long minutes of broken stumbling up the street Johannes reached the entrance to the star port and what he found there froze him in his tracks. 

The gates of the star port had been torn open, evidently by a massive ork dreadnought that lay slumped in the breach, killed by some lascannon or melta shot to the center mass. The loss of the dreadnought did not seem to have halted the orks for every defender before or behind the gate was dead. Several hundred corpses crowded in mounds around the defenses. Sandbags had been kicked over, emplaced weapons bent, broken and torn down. The wrecks of two Leman Russ battle tanks and a sentinel lay spread about the gate. Scores of xenos corpses mingled with the Imperial but it was immediately clear which side had suffered worse in the engagement. 

"They're already in the port... there is no escape." Johannes breathed. 

For some reason his injuries no longer pained him, his muscles no longer ached, he no longer felt short of breath and panic had fled him. There was no escape, his fate was now all but assured. The explosions battering the city had grown more numerous, more frequent and closer but Johannes no longer noticed or cared. Slowly Johannes sank to his knees and waited to die. 

He did not have long to wait. Within a few minutes the sound of greenskin killers grew near and he became aware of the shapes of monsters looming from the smoke. As the greenskins emerged from the smoke and dust of the burning city their features came into stark relief. Their skin was the green of deep moss but rough and dull like aged leather. Underneath their skin bulged huge muscles over squat, brutal bone structures that gave them an apish and barbaric appearance. Hunched forwards with hands hanging below their knees the beasts wielded huge guns and blades in their hands as though they weighed nothing, their stunted features split in gap-toothed grins and their dark eyes glimmering with malice and blood-lust. Johannes watched them close in on him with an air of detachment he would not have believed possible before this moment. For the first time in weeks he was not afraid, he was just... tired. 

"Come on then, lets get this over with," Johannes told them. 

For some reason his lack of fear seemed to irritate the monsters. The biggest and meanest looking snarled in anger, apparently taking insult at Johannes' complete lack of fear or concern for his imminent demise. 

"Oh don't be salty about it, just kill me, I don't care anymore don't you get it?" Johannes snarled at the ork. 

The creature didn't seem to like that anymore than his previous disregard. With a howl of rage the beast reared back and swung a massive butcher's blade over it's head, ready to swing down and cut Johannes in half. 

Just before the blade could fall a terrible roar split across the plaza before the gates. The sound like ripping paper but massively loud drowned out the roar of the beasts. Johannes recognized the fire of a rotary slug thrower of some kind but far bigger than he was familiar with. The ork in front of him exploded into gory shreds as a line of automatic fire sawed through it. The rest of the mob lasted only marginally longer, blasted apart by three lines of devastating tracer fire. Spattered with gore and thoroughly deafened Johannes could only stare in utter astonishment at the huge armored figure that now filled the broken gateway of the star port. It was an armored walker but much larger than anything he had ever seen in his years of service to the guard. It was the size of a super-heavy tank but stood on legs, each arm mount ending in a huge weapon of prodigious caliber. One was a rotary cannon while the other was a fat-barreled artillery piece featuring a secondary heavy stubber. Another heavy stubber sprouted from a shoulder mount and on the back of the machine a multi-missile launcher of some kind turned slowly, tracking a targeting scanner across the ruins. As Johannes watched the launcher seemed to find a target and a single missile burst free from it's tube and sped off above the ruins. 

Almost as an after-thought the huge walker appeared to notice the solitary guardsmen kneeling before it, it's mighty armored head tilted down and scanner-eye lenses passed beams of light over his figure. 

"SOLDIER OF THE EMPEROR! YOUR SALVATION IS AT HAND!" Boomed the huge machine, it's voxmitters apparently maxed out at all times. "TAKE UP ARMS AND JOIN THE FIGHT! THE HOUR IS NIGH!"

Overwhelmed by the bombastic command of the deadly machine Johannes scrabbled about in the rubble until his hands found a discarded lasgun and he stumbled to his feet, clutching the battered weapon to his chest. This seemed to satisfy the huge combat walker for it's armored head nodded in approval before it turned and strode off down the boulevard deeper into the city. His despair of just moments ago forgotten in the wake of his miraculous survival Johannes stumbled after the walker, his steps slowly regaining some semblance of regularity and confidence the further he went. As he journeyed back into the city he was gradually joined by more and more figures emerging from the dust. Scattered guard survivors like him and civilians clutching improvised weapons alike. The fight to retake Parlemion had begun. 

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