#trivia: I got the name Dienes from Starship Troopers. He was the drill sergeant guy

[harlockauxillia30k-blog]

Old Junk part 2

OOC, kind of. This story could actually still be completely canon. Since it has Palanquin, its set somewhere near the end of the pre-heresy crusade. When I penned this the idea of the centauri and harlock himself were both completely raw and unrefined.

2nd centauri star rifles

-grenadier (life guards?)

-better armed/equipped/trained than standard

 ///

‘Still alive, Harlock?’

A portly general waddled over to the captain, bedecked in all the regalia of his station.

Harlock immediately and crisply saluted, then bowed.

“It is an honour you recall this captain’s name, lord.”

“Humpf. Come, the ball is waiting.”

 Harlock walked in and felt immediately, somehow, far too old for this venture. His newly woven fine captains uniform stood in stark contrast to the centuries etched into his gradually thinning features, appearing positively gangly now from so long in space and one too many campaigns without proper logistics. The permenant bags under his eyes chafed somewhat at the application of powders to help conceal them, and he could feel the distant throb of arthritis in the joints of his legs as he watched young officers waltz and weave through the immense ship-board ballroom.

“I order you to enjoy yourself Harlock. Your units performance on Tector IV made it even to the eyes of our Astartes legionaires.”

Harlock casually glanced over at the representative of the lords in question, an Imperial Fist captain by the name of Allonzo Ruiz; his tanned complexion standing out among a throng of spacers.

Harlock nodded at the general. “Many thanks, General Adolfus. I will do that” and in so doing, walked down the spiral staircase. Naturally, at the sight of a medal, or upon seeing him discuss with the general, a fair maiden struck like a knife towards him, glimmering in a gold dress which featured miraculously expensive ‘spirit-weave’ that appeared perpentually caught up in an astral wind as sashes and the like twirled about her slowly.

“My lady…” Harlock said, tipping an invisible hat out of reflex, but altering his course to avoid the troublesome woman.

“Good sir, a word please. I couldn’t help but notice your discussion with the general. I do say sir you appear a fine catch for one such as I. Might I offer you a dance? I have heard upon terra it is becoming popular for the women to propose…”

“I’m sure the terran ladies do have experience with such things.” Harlock grumbled, his sharp mind growing dull at the thought of dedicating more time to this harlot.

“Quite. The dance, then?”

The woman took the temporarily distracted captains hand and led him to the ballroom floor. Harlock’s mind fell into a lapse as muscle memory performed a rather adequate waltz, drilled into him by years of training at a young age.

“My name is Vermillion Rose. But you may call me Rosie, if you prefer such low-gothic vernacular.”

“Fascinating.” Harlock twirled her around, and mentally stripped and re-assembled a las-gun.

“…And what is your name, sir?”

Just then, as the song ended, a true hero of the imperium arrived. “Captain Harlock! Good to see you here! The colonel would have a word. And who might this be? What a fine dress my lady! Is it a Saturn design-“

And like that, Major Augustus Greave relieved Harlock of the first of many of tonight’s living mines that so many insisted be called ‘the fairer sex.’

Harlock muttered a not unfeeling ‘thanks for the reinforcement’ toward the charismatic major and sorted himself through the maze of figures dignitaries and officers until he came upon the Astartes captain, and Colonel Tark Palanqin. Harlock immediately saluted, his hawkish features looking every part the model inbred noble hero of the imperium.

“Harlock. Good on you for holding the rearguard. Your name came up in conversation. The Astarte here would have a brief word.” The colonel said, somewhat dismissively. Palanqin was one of several unfortunate political enemies Harlock maintained. Harlock bore no real hatred for the man- giving his company the high risk assignments out of a mission list was one thing, and intentionally trying to kill his own men was quite another thing altogether. It was almost routine at this point, that Harlock’s company would be saddled with the hard assignments. Accepted.

The Astarte nodded, and Harlock immediately saluted.

“Sir.” Harlock said, with arguably as much if not more veneration for the super-soldier than he had mustered for the general, a change noticed even in the timbre of his voice. This man was a marine. Respect was demanded.

“I watched your defense. For common men, it was sturdy.” Captain Ruiz said, sizing up the comparatively toothpick-sized figure before him.

“This humble Auxilliary would know if his battle plan could be improved upon.” Harlock said, with genuine reverence. The Fists knew more about holding ground than anyone else- living or dead. Harlock was a man ever willing to prostrate himself in order to secure knowledge.

“Your right flank lacked sufficient fortification, your soldiers aim and use of suppressive fire was undisciplined, and the formation as a whole was critically understaffed. It was why I was impressed you held. Against such weaknesses, it required good command to hold the lines.”

Ruiz shifted his eyes to the colonel. “Which was why I was curious about the manpower part of the equation.”

The colonel, surprised to be included here, blinked. “Most of it had been evacuated lord.”

Ruiz shook his head. “That particular position demanded two companies of auxillia, or about three squads of Marines to hold competently against possible threats. Had that fort fallen during your retreat into orbit, our enemies could have broken the cordon and assaulted our logistics bases and supply depots- of both the legion and your auxillia. I’ve already written the report on what I witnessed. I merely need a name to pin the possible disaster upon.

Harlock cursed within his mind.

“That would be my fault, sir. I should have requested another company assist in the defense” Harlock said quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation. Such self flaggelation was common practice. It would not due for a nobleman to pass his blame, and moreover, the marine was correct; he should have filed the request. However, doing so would have invariably been countered by Palanqin- so there had been no need to busy himself in such a fashion.

Ruiz raised an eyebrow. “It is strange not to see the both of you attempt to curb responsibility. An honourable trait.”

Ruiz nodded, and apparently satisfied with his answer, turned to leave; his part in this pageantry apparently concluded.

Palanqin stepped forward. “Whatever happens, be it demotion or transfer, I am impressed you held that position, Harlock. You have my thanks for retaining your force strength, I look forward to replacing you.”

The old flame, hate, licked at Harlock’s heart. But he suppressed it with a caustic biting ice of acceptance.

“I suppose so. I shall ready my things and await the Legion’s judgement.”

The next day, an orderly delivered Harlock’s punishment; inclusion in the first wave of the planetary assault of Kell’s Reach. Harlock was quietly puzzled by the honour.

***

 “Five minutes till landfall sir.”

“thank you tech sergeant. The latest?”

“The dropsite is presently secured sir. Astartes drop pods are destabilizing the line. With your arrivial we will be one of the first companies prepared to advance.”

Harlock nodded, and secured his breathing apparatus, covering his eyes, nose, and mouth in a whirring metal and glass contraption.

“Such readiness is naught if it is squandered, Tech-Sergeant. Have the landing force advance. We will catch up in our tardiness.”

“But your security picket sir-“

Harlock turned to regard his technical sergeant, concern and worry clouding his copper skinned brow.

“That’s what you are for, tech-sergeant. My sword.”

Harlock extended a hand to the blade, and the sergeant secured it in harlock’s mag-locked gauntlet.

“Give Lieutenant Veers the opportunity to lead. I am eager to evaluate his progress.”

“Yes, captain. Three minutes now.”

Harlock stood silently as the Sergeant secured himself to a seat harness, as G-forces rocked the vessel. Harlock’s body was only kept upright thanks to tactfully placed mag-boots and the blade of his sword which he wedged into a grate.

Behind him, were the fifteen members of his command staff.  Harlock was unsure about them; all untested and unproven, much like Lieutenant Veers. Both needed a trial by fire, and a planetary invasion was an opportune place. Should failure occur, Harlock would take direct action. Learning exercises for the Imperial Auxillia were always taught in blood.

The landing craft slammed down, and the door opened. Harlock unjammed his blade and stepped out into the crisp, foul air of Kell’s Reach. Around him were the abandoned remains of his company’s landing zone; rough rapidly dug breast works, some sandbags, and simple dirt landing pads. Harlock noted the casualties- both his and of the Kellans, and glanced at the new hole in his uniform, followed immediately by an ear splitting ‘CRACK’.

“SNIPER! ENEMY SNIPER!” Tech Sergeant Dienes screamed, throwing himself behind an embankment to suppress the shooter’s estimated position.

Harlock exhaled, and ducked behind a slab of concrete.

“Tech-sergeant, organize your squad.” Harlock patiently reminded his subordinate, checking the status of his plasma gun. It was a sickness of the immature or stupid not to do so; one risked spontaneous destruction of the gun and the user should simple mechanical adjustments not be made from time to time.

Dienes physically grabbed his corporal, F. Lauzanne, and screamed for accurate rifle fire on grid hilltop 270. The dropship also complimented the present wave of fire by shooting its defense guns at the hill in question, before taking off again; on to another Auxillia unit.

“Tech-sergeant. Don’t abuse the corporal.” Harlock said, and gestured for a vox net caster. Quickly and easily Harlock cycled imperial data net codes, until at last he reached the fleet.

“This is Harlock actual, of the Second Centauri Star Rifles, requesting fire mission, Gunship, over hilltop 270 in sector C, fire for effect.”

A moment passed, and an inhuman voice replied back. “fire mission accepted, the Mechanicum serves in competence.”

Harlock glanced at his command staff and evaluated them. The security members were doing their job rather well. Evidently that hilltop had a number of hostiles upon it, in a bunker perhaps, hidden so as to attack an unwary landing force. Many of the fresh riflemen appeared dreadfully nervous as they fired upon their targets.

“Troop. Remember this feeling- the fear and the exhilaration. That is what the job is all about. Put your fears to rest, and suppress the target, but do conserve your ammunition. Steady alternating accurate rifle fire. I do not want to see long bursts wasted upon dirt.”

Harlock looked directly at Sergeant Dienes, who blinked and offered a slight shrug.

It was around this time the gunship arrived, blasting the hilltop with rocket and bolter fire.

“Now, troop!” Harlock shouted, over the din of the aircraft. “As the emperor did on Terra, we advance into contact. On me. Tech Sergeant, stay close.”

Harlock adopted a brisk jog through the mire of Kell’s Reach. The tracks left by his lieutenant were easy enough to follow. Time to find his company, Harlock thought cooly.

The party of warriors moved through the blasted terrain. On their way, Harlock’s heads up visor spotted several poorly concealed mines.

“No sweepers.” Harlock said under his breath, ticking his tongue in annoyance.

Further along, he discovered the sight of an ambush. It seemed his company had turned it around, but he counted 11 dead warriors of the 2nd Centauri, while only 4 dead Kellans remained. Awful conduct.

It was not long after that the din of rifle fire alerted Harlock and his companions to the remainder of the Company, arrayed behind light cover in a rough battle line, firing against a hidden force behind the ruins of trees.

“Tech-sergeant, the vox amp.”

Dienes handed it while breaking out his magnoculars to get a visual on the enemy as he ducked behind a mud wall.

“Cease fire on the line.”

The company did as ordered, recognizing the voice instantly.

“First Platoon, affix Bayonets!”

A sloppy thirty seconds later this was accomplished. Mentally, Harlock assigned a week of drilling to the entire company as penance.

“First platoon on me. Second and Third, watch the flanks, and await my signal!”

With that, Harlock bounded over the ruins of what was once a muddy retaining wall and dashed toward the shattered trees, first platoon in tow, lead by a certain Lieutenant Veers.

 Harlock nodded at what he found; mostly nothing. In time, a trooper discovered the body of a single sniper.

Immediately he ordered the platoon fan out to search for ambushers, and grabbed Veers by the collar.

“Ive given you the Centauri 2nd’s best, crack rifle unit, and led them into an ambush, then wasted multiple engagements worth of munitions on a single sniper, you ignoramus. I’m taking the first personally. You will be attached as a rifleman under Tech Sergeant Dienes for the duration of this deployment.”

The Lieutenant stammered, then grimaced. “Fething Harlock. House Galm will never forget what you did-“

Harlock lost composure, and violently slapped Veers with the back of his hand, then signalled for a trooper to come over.

“This man is now Corporal Veers, for the duration of this deployment. Take him to Tech Sergeant Dienes, and order a general advance. Congratulate Tech Sergeant Dienes on his field promotion to acting lieutenant of my command staff.”