Bachmus sat in a black seat, strapped in by a metal bar. The shuttle was packed with thirty other men. Near the head towards the cockpit sat Centerus Zarn. Varsorus sat across from him, a frown on his face. 

Outside the shuttle, the battle raged all around. Capital ships spat fire like warring dragons raging across the night sky,  while fighters engaged in deadly duels for survival. The shuttle suddenly descended towards the planet, the super heated atmosphere blazing across the hull. As they made entry the clouds parted, revealing a vast blue ocean below.

After a moment a voice came over the intercom, “ETA ten minutes.” 

“Alright men.” Zarn snapped, “final weapons check!” 

The rest of the unit unslung their rifles, checked mags, chambered rounds, and flipped safeties off, just like they had many times before.

As they continued to make last preparations Zarn continued, “Once we hit the beach, our objective is to move up and strikethrough into the enemy's trenches. From there we’ll move through their fortifications taking out as many bunkers as we can.” 

“Sir, do you know the state of the first wave?” One man asked, his grey eyes tinted with worry. 

“Initial reports from intel suggest they got hit hard, however there’s still fighting on the beach.” 

The man, who had completely lost his composure from the news, swallowed nervously and nodded

Varsorus opened his mouth to say something but was stopped as incoming flak detonated all around the shuttle, jerking the men in their harnesses. As the shuttle came upon the beach and began its final descent, it took a direct hit. An explosive shell slammed into the right side of the cockpit and blossomed into a fireball. 

The men inside the shuttle were knocked to the left as the shuttle reeled from the hit, the metal bars of their harnesses being the only thing keeping them from being hurled onto the deck. The shuttle then pitched downward continuing its descent. It slammed into the beach and slid forward throwing sand into the air. 

Some metal bars holding the men in place snapped, sending those men crashing into others or the side of the shuttle. Bachmus was thrown to the side and blacked out for a second as his head hit something hard. 

His eyes snapped open to see the inside of the shuttle in chaos, bodies lay strewn across the floor of the shuttle, or across other men. Some sat slumped in their seats, unconscious or dead.  

Zarn jumped out of his seat and began issuing orders, “ If you can move, get up! Don't worry about those who are unconscious or dead. Varsorus hit the emergency door release and have your squad secure the outside, Cork check the pilots.” 

Cork scrambled over to the cockpit, almost tripping over a body as Varosrus moved to the back of the shuttle, followed by his men. They stopped at the shuttle door and Varsorus turned to look at them. Bachmus, standing at the front of them, nodded and readied his weapon. Varsorus flashed him a grim smile, then slammed his fist into a red button next to the door. There was a hiss as it depressurized, then blew off of the frame. 

Bachmus charged through the opening and into hell. The air was filled with the smell of burned flesh and screams of the dying. Broken and battered bodies littered the beach which itself was stained in blood.

“By Viritus,” Bartnis whispered as he surveyed the carnage.

Xanes stepped back, dropped to his knees, and heaved, but kept from throwing up. 

Cortin’s face darkened as he scanned his surroundings, looking for signs of trouble. 

Varsorus stepped through the hole, looked at the sight and sighed, shaking his head. He then yelled, “Clear!” to those back in the shuttle. 

 

Shortly after, Zarn stepped out of the shuttle and scowled. A little ways away from them, a man in Imperial armor peaked his head out from a hole that had been blown in the ground. He waved to them, then ducked as a spray of blaster fire slammed into the sand in front of him. A second later three men popped out of the hole and fired in the direction the shots had come from, while the man who waved scrambled out of the ditch and sprinted over to them. 

“Sir!” The man shouted at Zarn, his voice shaky, “Dakenis Noverin.” 

“Where is your Centerus?” Zarn asked.

“Dead sir!” Noverin replied. 

“Optis?”

“Also dead.” He answered, his face bleak. 

“The rest of the first wave?” Zarn asked as his scowl deepened. 

“Sir! Our momentum stalled shortly after we hit the beach. Most of the survivors are scattered in ditches or hunkered down behind rocks or barricades across the beach.”

In the distance they could hear a high pitch whine. They looked up to see a swarm of Imperial fighters flying overhead, followed by hundreds of shuttles.  Zarn smiled, “The rest of the second wave is here.”

He then turned to look back into the shuttle and yelled, “Everyone pile out.” 

Twenty-three men streamed out from the shuttle and stood packed together behind the shuttle. Some stared off into the distance, while some shifted nervously. Others just stared at Zarn. 

“Alright, Noverin, order the first wave to transfer to our frequency.” Noverin nodded and snatched a radio from his belt and hurriedly issued the order into it, while Zarn grabbed his, and waited to receive an acknowledgement from Noverin before speaking, “Listen up! This is Centerus Zarn. I'm taking command of the assault. Those fighters are going to provide bombing support while the shuttles dump their men. Once you hit the beach keep moving, DO NOT STOP until you get to the enemy trenches. Anyone left from the first wave will join us.” Zarn finished and released a button on his radio before clipping it back to his belt. 

Zarn looked to Cork, who shook his head. Zarn nodded, then glanced over at the rest of his men, “As soon as we hear the bombs drop, run.” 

The men formed up on either side of the shuttle. Bachmus gripped his rifle tighter as he waited for what felt like an eternity for the whine of bombs being dropped. Shortly after, the air roared with the sounds of destruction and the sun was bloated out by the aircraft flying overhead.

 Zarn yelled, “For the Empire!” and rushed forward.

Then they ran. Bachmus sprinted out from cover and headed straight toward the enemy fortifications. Shuttles landed all around them using their guns to spray suppressive fire in the enemies direction while men streamed from them joining the charge. Ahead one man stood up from a ditch and was immediately cut down as angry red bolts of fire punched holes in his chest. Men screamed as they got hit or roared in anger as they ran toward death. 

Ahead of Bachmus, a fighter came crashing down and slammed into the sand, exploding in a brilliant fireball and sending sand into his face. He then continued to run on and on while around him men collapsed as their enemies desperately fired at them, trying in vain to halt the advance. A man directly in front of Bachmus was hit with an explosive. The man’s chest blew apart, sending chunks flying in all directions and splattering blood across Bachmus’s face while filling his nostrils with the smell of burnt flesh.

Finally, Bachmus could see the trench. As he neared the it, he tripped, skidding across the sand. He cursed and looked up at a bunker above to see a Bowin soldier’s machine gun swivel down to face him. He flinched and closed his eyes, preparing to face the end, then suddenly, he felt himself being lifted. His eyes snapped open to see Varsorus lifting him up by the back of his chest plate. Varsorus heaved him off the ground and hurled him straight into the trench, quickly jumping in after him.

Bachmus heard a shout of surprise as he slammed into the ground. He looked to the right to see the barrel of a rifle pointing at him, and a startled Bowin soldier preparing to squeeze the trigger. Bachmus swung his rifle up in a hurry and snapped off a quick shot. The blast caught the man in the chest and staggered him, however the man's chest plate held. As the man regained his balance a red bolt caught him in the face. He screamed and collapsed to the ground. Bachmus looked to his left to see Varsorus standing there, his rifle barrel still smoking. 

Varsorus grinned and helped Bachmus to his feet, “You need to be better on your feet. Gregis.” 

Bachmus flashed him a sheepish grin. 

Suddenly there was shouting close by. The two turned to see Xanes come crashing into the trench followed by Cortin. Bartnis appeared a second later but stopped just at the lip of the trench and raised his rifle. Cotrin turned to glare at him and grabbed his leg yanking him into the trench, “Get down you fool” he snapped. Just as Bartnis tumbled in, a spray of fire hit the spot where he’d been standing causing the men to duck out of reflex. 

“I never want to do that again sir.” Bartnis said looking at Varsorus. 

The older man chuckled, “You and me both.” 

All of a sudden another man leaped into the trench. The five others looked over and their eyes widened and they shouted, “Sir!” 

Zarn stood up and looked around, then glanced back the way he’d come and frowned, “I appear to have lost my squad.” Then he looked to the five men standing next to him, “I suppose I’ll just stick with you.”

“Yes sir.” Varsorus replied. 

Zarn turned and over towards the direction of the enemy fortifications, “We need to move through these trenches and take out those bunkers, once we secure the beach the Praetorux can start sending in the armor.” 

Zarn looked over each of them, “well, we will move through this trench, and make our way up into the cliff face above us. The enemy's HQ should be somewhere up there.” 

 

Then Zarn pulled his radio from his belt, “Optis Melvin are you still alive?” He almost shouted trying to be heard over the sound of screams, gunfire, and explosions. 

A gruff voice came back a second later. “Affirm Sir!, I’ve made it to the trenches with several of the men.”

“Good get those men moving through the trenches, we’ll meet up at that giant flag we saw waving on the cliffs when we dropped in.” 

“Yes sir!”

Zarn clipped the radio back on his belt and nodded in satisfaction, “Alright men we have some traitors to kill.”

 

They moved to the right heading further down the trench. The men moved cautiously, taking light steps and keeping their rifles up and ready to fire at a moment's notice. The trench floor was covered in stagnant dirty water that puddled beneath the rotting boards they walked on. As they moved they came across numerous dead Bowin soldiers, their green armor with red highlights contrasting with the dull browns of the trench. 

Eventually they came across an Imperial soldier slumped against the side of the trench. He had a gaping hole burned into his chest that was trickling blood. His rifle lay in the mud beside him. Xanes knelt down beside him and reached for the man's neck. 

Varsorus put a hand on Xanes shoulder, stopping him from further action, “He’s clearly dead son.” 

“It never hurts to check,” Xanes replied mournfully, “Some have survived horrific injuries.” 

“Yes but there’s nothing we can do for him now.”

Zarn glanced down at the body, “Take his spare ammo and grenades they might prove useful.”

“Id Tags?” Xanes asked.

Zarn shook his head, “If we win this battle there’ll be time later, if not” He paused and his voice darkened, “We’ll be too dead to care.”

Xanes nodded and ruffled through the man’s backpack and belt pouches pulling the item out and passed them out to the other members of the group. 

 

They continued on eventually coming to a section of the trench that led further in towards the cliff to their left. Cortin, as pointman, stopped just before the sections and hugged the wall, staying invisible to anyone that might be further in. The others quieted and they could hear voices coming from further in.

“We ssshould go check on the frontlinesss.” One voice said drawing the s’ out into a hiss.

 

“The fighting at the beach hasss ssstoped, it appearsss the enemy troops have moved into our defensssesss.” Another, deeper voice responded. 

“But the Praetorux hasssn’t given usss the command to fall back.” The first added.

As they talked Cortin peaked around the corner to see two Bowin soldiers standing further down the trench. After making sure they weren't looking, motioned for Bachmus to move to the other side of the opening. 

Bachmus sprinted over to the other side and hugged the corner on the opposite side of Cortin. After a moment he looked at Cortin and nodded. Cortin then took something metal out of his belt and tossed it to the floor below. It hit the wooden planks with a loud Clang!. 

The two Bowins jumped at the sound then brought their rifles up and went dead silent. They inched forward toward where Cortin and Bachmus were waiting. Cortin slung his rifle over his back and pulled a long serrated knife from a sheath on his chest plate. He flashed it to Bachmus who did the same and together they waited.

Once they saw the barrel of the Bowin’s rifles peek out from around the corner the Imperials pounced. Bachmus grabbed his enemy's gun by the front end and swung it down and to the side, at the same time he came forward with the knife. The knife made a sickening Schunk as it plunged into the man's neck. The soldier’s cries of pain only came out as gurlges as dark green blood poured from the wound. The snake-like slits in man's eyes grew larger as the light in them faded and slumped on the ground. 

Bachmus turned to see Cortin’s enemy pressed up against the side of the trench. Cortin had one hand over the man's mouth while the other was repeatedly plunging a knife into the slit between the man's chest plates. Cortin kept his hand on the man's mouth as he slid down the wall and onto the ground. After that Cortin straightened up and ficked the blood off his knife before resheathing it. 

Varsorus poked his head around the corner and looked to see if anyone was heading towards them from further in the trench. The trench however stood empty, without a soul in sight. 

“You boys handled that nicely,” Varsorus said after a moment. 

Zarn peered around the corner a second later, “And without alerting anyone in the area to us, nicely done.” 

“Thank you sir.” Cortin and Bachmus replied as they readied their rifles again. 

The group set off again moving this time toward the enemy fortifications. It was slow going as they hand checked around every corner or hole for enemy soldiers. Eventually they reached a position just below the cliffs and overlooking the trenches. They turned to look out at the beach. It stood mostly empty save for the bodies of the dead. They could see some light flashes and hear gunfire in the distance but mostly the scene stood silent. 

Zarn grabbed his radio again and pressed the button on its side, “Optius, what's your status?” 

 

“Sir! We moved up to a position just below the cliffs, we’ve had minimal enemy resistance so far.” 

Zarn quickly glanced around again, “It appears most have pulled back into the tunnels leading into the cliff side.”

“That's going to be tough to get into sir” The disdain clearly evident in the man's voice even with the radio distortion. 

“Agreed, We’ll hole up just outside the entrances and wait for the third wave to land.” 

“Understood sir!” 

After that Zarn switched to a different radio frequency, “Second Wave to control.”

After a moment a stern sounding voice came back, “Go ahead second wave.”

“We’ve breached the trenches and are holed up just below the cliffs. Enemy resistance has moved into the tunnels in the cliff face, requesting third and fourth waves be rushed so we can begin the final assault.” 

“Understood Centerus, third wave released moments ago, ETA twenty minutes, Fourth wave releasing now.”

“Understood Control, Second wave out.” Zarn said then changed frequencies one last time, “Attention all units, Third and fourth waves are incoming, find a position below the cliff face, once the third wave arrives we’ll begin our final assault.”

Bachmus stood looking around as they waited. Above him, he could see concrete boxes jutting out of the cliff face. He stared at them thoughtfully, then his eyes widened with realization. He turned to where Varsorus and Zarn were standing and yelled, “Sirs!” 

The two men looked at him curiously, “What is Gregis?” Varsorus asked. 

“I have an idea, what if we use our cables to scale the cliff face and take the HQ at the top, while the third wave hits them from below.” 

Zarn’s face crinkled with thought for a few seconds before a smile blossomed on his face, “We could box them in and catch any survivors before they have a chance of escape.” 

‘And while we go about reaching the top we can chuck grenades into the bunkers we pass and clear them out so people hitting the beach have a better chance of getting here. “ Varsorus added. 

“I like it.” Zarn stated as he grabbed his radio, “Everyone listen up!” He bellowed, “Change of plans, we’re going to use our cables to climb to the top of the cliff. Once there we’re going to take the enemy fortifications at the top, while the third wave hits ‘em from below.” 

A chorus of acknowledgements sounded over the radio. Once they finished Zarn hooked the radio back on his belt and walked up to the side of the cliff face.  The others followed suit, lining up one by one. They reached for their belts and unclipped a cylinder with a small hook at one end.  As they brought them up the barrel end of their rifles it trailed a line of cable from their belts. They then screwed the cylinders onto the end of their rifles and flipped a switch near the hand grip. 

They pointed their rifles up towards the top of the cliff and fired. The cable shot out from their rifles and flung itself up towards the top of the cliff. The hook struck the rocky face with a chink and slid down across it before biting into the rock and stopping. 

They tugged hard on the line, making sure it wouldn’t come free easily. After checking, they detached the cylinder from their guns and the line, leaving the cable  just attached to them from their belts. They then slung their rifles over their backs and began to climb the cliff face.

Bachmus grunted as he heaved himself over the edge of the cliff and onto the top of it. He stopped for a second to catch his breath, then turned around and helped Xanes climb over the edge as well.

 

He glanced down at the blood soaked beach below to see more men streaming across it and entered the trenches and tunnel system that led up to them.

 

The group glanced around at the empty fortifications and trenches before them.

 

“That’s odd” Cortin stated, “Where’d the soldiers go.”

 

Zarn grabbed his radio, “Melvin, how are the tunnels? Do you see any enemies?”

 

“Negative sir! They appear to have cleared out.”

 

Varsorus cursed in frustration, “That means they all moved back to their fortress.”

 

Bachmus’ eyes filled with dread as they wandered back to the shattered and bloody beach below.