2. Echoes of the Star Marines (cont)
Hours passed, and the tension in the camp grew heavier with each moment. The Star Marines had fortified their positions as much as possible, but the plateau’s rocky terrain offered little natural protection. Every Marine knew that when the Grunts attacked, it would be a brutal, drawn-out fight.
Kael stood at the forward barricade, his eyes scanning the distant ridges through his helmet’s enhanced optics. The ridges loomed like jagged teeth against the night sky, their shadows deep and impenetrable. Somewhere out there, Gorvak’s horde was waiting. Kael could feel it in his bones, the same way he had felt it countless times before. Like some sacred message being sent from deep within his intuition, almost like the psychers…
“Alpha”, Velasquez’s voice crackled over the comms. “Scouts have picked up faint heat signatures on the eastern ridge. Too far to confirm, but…”
“They’re coming”, Kael finished, his voice steady. “Prepare the men.”
Velasquez didn’t argue. She relayed his orders with the same precision that defined her leadership, her sharp voice cutting through the comms chatter. Within moments, the camp was a hive of activity. Marines moved into position, plasma rifles primed, and turrets adjusted to cover the approach routes. The air was heavy with anticipation, every sound amplified by the oppressive quiet.
Kael’s mind drifted back to the first time he had encountered the Grunts. He had been a junior officer then, fresh out of training and full of confidence. His squad had been sent to defend an agricultural colony on the edge of human space. What they thought would be a routine engagement turned into a nightmare. The Grunts had come in waves, their sheer ferocity overwhelming even the most disciplined lines. Kael had watched comrades fall, their screams drowned out by the guttural war cries of the horde.
The colony had burned that night, its fields reduced to ash. Kael had escaped with barely a handful of survivors, his armour scorched, his blade stained with blood. The memory of that failure had haunted him ever since. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way: the Grunts were not mindless beasts. They were relentless, cunning, and utterly without mercy.
A faint vibration beneath his boots pulled Kael back to the present. He focused on the ridges, his HUD flickering as it picked up faint movement. Red blips began to cluster on the tactical display, growing steadily larger.
“Contact”, Kael said into the comms. “Positions.”
The Marines moved like clockwork, their training kicking in as they took cover behind the barricades. Plasma rifles were raised, fingers hovering over triggers. The faint vibration grew into a low rumble, joined by guttural roars and the heavy thud of boots on rock. Kael’s grip tightened on his plasma blade, its hum faint but steady.
The first Grunts crested the ridge, their massive forms silhouetted against the moonlight. Their green skin glistened with sweat, their crude weapons glinting wickedly. They moved as one, their war cries echoing across the plateau as they charged.
“Hold”, Kael ordered, his voice calm. “Wait for my mark.”
The Grunts thundered closer, their heavy footfalls shaking the ground. The Marines held their fire, their discipline unbroken even as the horde closed the distance. Kael waited, his gaze locked on the charging enemy. He could feel the tension in his men, the anticipation building to a breaking point.
“Fire”, Kael said.
The night erupted into chaos as plasma fire lit up the battlefield. Grunts fell in waves, their thick hides no match for the Marines’ precision. But the horde didn’t falter. They pressed forward, leaping over the bodies of their fallen comrades with terrifying determination.
Kael activated his blade, the weapon’s glow cutting through the darkness. He leapt into the fray, every swing calculated, every strike lethal. Around him, the Marines fought with practised efficiency, their movements precise and coordinated.
Despite their efforts, the Grunts’ sheer numbers began to tell. The left flank wavered under the relentless assault, Velasquez’s voice crackling over the comms. “Left flank’s taking heavy fire! I need reinforcements!”
Kael turned, his blade slicing through a charging Grunt as he barked orders. “Hold your position. I’m on my way.”
He sprinted toward the embattled line, his blade cutting a path through the chaos. The Marines rallied around him, their confidence renewed by his presence. Together, they pushed back the horde, driving the creatures into a temporary retreat.
Kael stood amidst the carnage, his armour splattered with blood. The battle was far from over, but for now, they held the line.