The Black Hulk: Fiction

Dawn Bombardment

Colonel Terensky eased back into his chair. The morning air was cool, he thought. He might as well enjoy it now, because for the next few weeks it would be ablaze with the inferno of war. It was still dark outside of the flimsy command tent, but then again Terensky was an early riser. It had won him a few battles, that trait. Once he woke up just before a raid was launched against his camp, and woke up the dozing sentries who then noticed the advancing horde and alerted the base in the nick of time. Today it was his army that would be the advancing horde. His company had been bogged down on this planet long enough. Today him and the regiment he was a member of, the Vladivan XII would launch the fiercest attack since the heresy.
His quiet thoughts were interrupted by some tired officers, some still putting on their jackets and glove, stumbling into the tent. "G-good mornin' sir. Sorry we're late" said one of them, before loudly yawning. "Late? It's bloody early." Said another. A third added, "What's it to be today then Colonel sir" before he himself yawned. The five officers lined up in front of the colonel. They were a very scruffy sight. "Look at you. The lot of you! You're a disgrace to the Imperium you are. Tucks, straighten you're flak armour! Heimson, get a shave, and quickly. Innsbruck, why are your shoes on the wrong feet? I warned you all last night we would be up early!" The Colonel told them, in his usual half-strict half-playful tone. "With all due respect sir, not even the Emperor could've gotten up this early after what happened last night at the-" Innsbruck felt a sharp kick the his shin before he could finish. "You idiot!" whispered Heimson. "Ohhh, I see. What did happen then?" inquired the colonel. "Well sir," began Hostinski, a rather tall officer, "there was a accident at the water tanker, and large amounts of-" the colonel interrupted "Bullshit. You all got pissed at the officer's mess didn't you? I knew it had something to do with all the loud noises at midnight." The officers made no reply, each only hanging their head grimly in mock guilt.
"Well I will not dwindle on it now, I and you five have more important matters to deal with at the moment. Look at this map." The colonel span round a large sheet of paper on the desk in front, and weighed each corner down with a small statuette, one being of Centaurius. "And what's this sir?" asked Tucks, still reeling from the cheap swill consumed the night before. "It's a map, unsurprisingly. Before you ask, it's a map of the offensive we will embark on the moment the sun is up." All five of the officers suddenly sobered up on hearing the Colonel. This was what they had been waiting for in months. They were going over the top, so to speak. "For six months we have been caught in a war of attrition against the renegade lord of this planet. He ahs done everything short of selling his to Chaos, and Imperial Intelligence, well the Brothers of Light anyway tell us that he might've. Anyway, that is the Inquisitions business, not mine. At sunrise, or 5:45 today, we will commence an hour-long artillery bombardment of the rebel's front positions. Then we will advance. But midday I hope to have made it to Arkham City. Any questions?" After a brief pause, Heimson spoke up "How big a bombardment?" The Colonel let a wide grin glide across his mouth, and replied "take a look for yourself". It was as if fate had intervened, because at that very moment Captain Ordanix of the Artillery Company stepped in, and spoke "All artillery ready and in position SIR!" "Excellent," said the Colonel, "you will give the signal when to bombard." A few minutes later, Innsbruck and Heimson were out by the artillery pieces having a look at them. "That's a lot of artillery. I reckon about five hundred Basilisks at least." Began Heimson. "Not to mention the Manticores and Griffons. There's enough firepower there to destroy the planet. Uh oh, it's 5:40. Better get back to our platoons. Best of luck mate, I'll 'ave a drink with you when we're done with this!" "Yeah, see you then. Remember, aim for the head!" They parted. Heimson would never see Innsbruck again, or anyone else for that matter. Some people always die in battles. It's inevitable.
Meanwhile, Captain Ordanix affixed his anti-noise ear protectors. He was thrity feet away from the massed guns of the artillery, and wanted eardrums and took the proper precautions. There was a slight mist in the air. A nice touch, he thought. Gave the place character. He glanced at his chronometer. 5:45 it read in carved numerals. He was to signal the bombardment begin by raising his hand, and then dropping it. He felt proud to have such responsibility. He know the bombardment would begin at 5:45 even if he failed to signal, but he would keep the crews on their toes and begin it a few seconds early. In a way, the fate of the entire offensive was down to his action. But enough of his daydreaming, he thought and he raised his gloved hand into the air. The sun's rays glinted on its golden thread. All eyes were on it. Nervous and trembling fingers lay on fire buttons and targeters. Barely a centimeter had Ordanix's hand dropped did the gun immediately roar into action. At once around five thousand guns roared into action. The rebels had no idea what was coming and five thousand shells began their descent….

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