<strong>Commissiar Aldous Glanville, Drop Zone 3</strong><br/><br/>He is on his feet the moment the lander touches down, rising with a speed surprising to any who had seen him in his earlier, outwardly relaxed state. Drawing his bolt pistol, he stalks amongst the Guardsmen, bionic arm pulling a slacker from his seat here, chilly eyes winking confidence at veterans there, all the while repeating the orders of the officers at the top of his lungs. Only once the final squad has departed and he is certain that no coward remains cowering in the cabin does he disembark, running down the exit plank towards the barricades.<br/><br/>"3rd squad, tighten up that formation! Private Gusarro, you're firing too high, aim lower! Good shot, corporal, keep at it. Come on, my boys, you're in the Guard, and we're in it to win it! Oi, flameboy! Don't shoot till they're in range!"<br/><br/>He is everywhere, reinforcing the command chain where it wavers, correcting the mistakes of the youngbloods and guiding the efforts of the veterans. The week spent memorising names before combat is joined has served him well, and several soldiers feel a glow of inner pride at their efforts being recognised, and redouble them in response. When the Ork resurgence comes he does not pale, although within him a pang of fear bites to the heart of his gut.<br/><br/>"Please, God-Emperor, let us keep them at bay..."<br/><br/>For fear of vocalising his inner prayer, he redoubles his efforts, pushing scared men back into line and directing the shots of the marksmen.<br/><br/>"Get into line, Comyn, this is war, not a tea-party! Accurate fire, that's the key... why, those orks have gone green with fear at the sight of us! Let's show them what the Yuktobonian can do!"<br/><br/>Bionic arm drawing his power sword in a smooth movement, Glanville moves to a space in the defences, waiting until the Orks are in range before sniping at them with his bolt pistol. All the while, he is alert to the needs of the battle.<br/><br/>"Trimaine, put your plasma gun to good use and get me the head of their leader! Darien, you call that shooting? My granny could fire better than that, and she's been dead twenty years! Gentle squeeze, short bursts, make every shot count! Come on lads, you call yourselves guardsmen? Do you want to win settlement rights or don't you? Then let's see some soldiering, shall we?"<br/><br/><br/><strong>Battle Brother Telemachus, Engine Room</strong><br/><br/>It is strange, this lack of movement, of opposition, but it is not the place of a Terminator to question the way of the xeno. Whether the enemy they face is the greenskin Ork, the scuttling Tyranid or some Chaotic creature fouler still, their purpose is certain, and will not be forgotten. All those who stand between them and the objective must, and will, die.<br/><br/>Striding through the silent halls of the ship with his brethren, assualt cannon and heavy flamer covering the surroundings for any movement, Telemachus feels contented, as he fulfills the purpose of his existance. Within minutes the Terminators are nearing the engine room, precautions redoubled from the knowledge of the Orkish reinforcements.<br/><br/>"On my command, Assualt Marines advance and engage in close combat, whilst Terminator Squad and Tactical Squads secure firing positions... Attack."<br/><br/>Telemachus smiles at the sight of the opposition, far too few in number to pose any threat to the combined might of four Astartes squads. This stage of the operation should be completed without risk of casualties.<br/><br/>Assualt Cannon booming, Telemachus crashes into the chamber, directing the combined firepower of his three weapons at the Deff Dread.