Thick smoke billowed in the sky over the landing site, obscuring the stars and filtering the moonlight into a dirty gray.
The constant falling dust coated everything with a smooth, greasy surface.
Campfires were scattered throughout, soldiers huddled together for warmth and bonding, and some worked hard in defensive positions, pulling destroyed Sentinels and Chimera armored vehicles back into position.
At regular intervals there are outward-facing bunkers dug for placement of autocannons, heavy bolters, and laser cannons.
If the green skins come again, they will definitely come from this direction.
But everyone knows that the greenskins will not come. They have all been wiped out in the recent orbital bombing. There are probably not many greenskins left on this satellite.
But there is no shortage of daily routine work.
Yarrick stood next to the tracks of a Chimera parked in the bunker, his eyes searching the horizon for any sign of movement.
But there was nothing but the orange fire swaying in the distance.
The hazy cold light bathed the former battlefield in black and white. Yarick sat listlessly on the side of the armored vehicle and fell into deep thought. Finally, he let out a long sigh, shook his head and touched his pockets one by one to try to find a cigarette.
Finally, he found one in his left breast pocket.
Young Zheng Shi rhythmically tapped the cigarette issued by the Ministry of Military Affairs on the armor, and then lit it.
He twisted the cigarette, took a deep breath, let the smoke fill his lungs, and tried to make a judgment on everything that happened today.
At the same time, he could hear behind him the soldiers of the 4337th Regiment working.
Most of them have recovered from the shock and are preparing for the transfer tomorrow.
Some of them were still murmuring with excitement at the arrival of the Space Marines, and occasionally exclaimed at the incredible feats these legendary warriors had accomplished.
Rumors and legends swept through the camp like a contagion, leaving everyone refreshed and shaking with excitement.
But strictly speaking, not everyone.
For example, Captain Miller sat alone, looking at the corpse in front of him.
These soldiers were still lying on the place where they died in battle, and there was no time to collect their bodies all day long, because the green-skinned corpses were mixed in with them, and the mixed blood soaked the ground - the best case scenario is that a fire would destroy everyone's bodies. The bodies were burned.
In just one afternoon, more than half of the 4337th regiment was killed, and Miller's company was reduced by two-thirds.
Alec sighed.
These are also his warriors, good people who have been through life and death.
But because of his duty, he had to call some of them cowards.
Taking another breath, Alex exhaled a thin line of smoke into the night sky.
For a moment, he thought he tasted blood seeping into the soil.
coward.
The word stuck in his mind like a circle of hot coals.
Something did happen, some soldiers did turn around and run away, and he took care of them all himself - it made his head hurt.
Glancing at the defense line, Yarrick also saw a few people sitting alone in silence.
They were obviously worried so they temporarily left their comrades and stared at the scene of the daytime massacre.
The glorious stories about the Space Marines were of no use to them. The tiny flames of the cigarettes in the hands of these men marked them out in the night like fireflies on the defense lines.
Yarrick didn't want to punish them by stopping work.
Most worked enthusiastically, driven by optimism, and he was happy that his men had the autonomy to deal with whatever was happening - the last thing they needed was political blame shouting about their cowardice and treachery.
Everyone knows what happened.
Some choose to forget to erase the fear of the coming battle.
Others rely on themselves to discover the last bit of tenacious will in their bodies.
Suddenly, a voice came from the bunker behind him.
"Sir? Is everything okay?"
It's his orderly again, probably still holding a cup of tanner tea with a silly smile.
"All's well, soldier."
Alex turned his head and forced a smile on his tired face.
“Everything is fine”
"Do you want more tanner tea?"
Yarick laughed out loud. As he expected, the soldiers were also worried about him.
"No thank you, I'm fine."
When the orderly crawled back into the bunker to rejoin his comrades, Yarrick shook his head again, threw the cigarette to the ground, stamped it with his boot, and suppressed his previous uneasiness.
A gift from the Emperor, the Space Marines are the Imperium's most powerful warriors, handpicked from thousands of planets and trained for decades.
If it weren't for the Space Marines, the position would definitely have fallen. Compared to these legendary warriors, it seems understandable for mortals to have such shortcomings.
He believed that their performance today would never leave the impression of cowards in the hearts of the Space Marines. Some soldiers were afraid, but most of them were brave and good people.
No need to nitpick everyone.
Just when the fighting on Foren 5 stopped, the Astral Knights also reunited with the Ascetic Chapter, which had been fighting for a long time. The latter invited the former to be a guest on the Chapter's flagship, the Evernight.
The two battle groups met again at a banquet.
The Evernight is a large battle barge with a separate assembly hall, which is full of primitive flavor-the flames leap between the stone stairs, the incense splashes with sparks, and the curling smoke clouds are sent up to the high arches. Wooden ceiling.
Rolls of long scarlet silk hang from the top of the iron flagpole, telling the story of the chapter's great achievements in formal poetry.
The waiters brought a large plate of food and drink, each of them dressed in various national costumes from the Chapter's home planet of Supole, and the music from the ancient piano floated among the noise of conversation.
"ha!"
The two Chapter Leaders sat down on the high platform, flanked by the command levels of the two Chapters.
In front of everyone is an open space paved with stone slabs. Each stone slab is taken from the ancient mountains of Supole.
Warriors in ceremonial robes stood on three sides of the field, their faces showing bronze in the firelight, and trays on the tables were piled with almost unprocessed raw meat.
In the clearing, the two fighters circled each other, each holding a dull cast-iron blade.
One wore a tight black leather jacket, the other a silvery gray one.
Their faces were fixed with pure concentration.
The silver-gray warrior is slightly shorter, and the one with a jet-black upper body is slightly taller, but in other aspects, they are almost the same.
Soshyan studied them carefully, leaning on the flat chair and chewing.
The Magyar lord was sitting next to him, throwing an empty wine glass in his hand and motioning to the waiter to get more.
"snort!"
The silver-gray warrior struck first, swinging and striking.
The man in black responded immediately, distancing himself and launching counterattacks.
They collided with each other, their limbs were blurred, and the blade was hazy, like two pieces of ceramic shards with different colors under the swinging blood-red light.
The fight lasted a little longer, the warriors' conversations gradually subsided, and the music ended.
Soon, the only sounds were the panting after exertion, the sliding of leather-covered feet across the floor, and the whistling of blades intersecting.
Sweat splattered everywhere, and the heavy blade clanked for a while.
The purpose of the competition is only to deepen the friendship between the two chapters. It is a test of concentration and agility, not a fight to the death of brute force.
