"Sometimes in life...
Where did I go from here..." I muttered as if I console myself as I learn where is my next destination...
"Hi... Is this... Recording looking thing working? I pretty sure I did my rites of appeasement working... Ah... It's green. The editor would handle the rest." I smiled with profession as the screen blared to life.
"Good morning, people of the Imperium, I am War Reporter Aaron Clarey from the Celestial Imperium Vox, Live from Planet Char. Bringing the truth in a galaxy filled with darkness."
"On the surface, we have already achieve massive progress of containing the infestation of the galaxy, With the help of Prince Valerian and the might of the Imperium we faced the every storm the supposed queen of blades had tossed against our coalition.
Live feed of our advance from our boys in green and the Angels of death have already confirmed in the background that achieve the strategic and tactical victory.
However the price of such cost have been confirmed.
340 thousand troops confirm KIA by the swarm and 4000 ships have been mauled heavily by the Swarm.
The names will be shown later in your planetary local nightime broadcast. And may the begrieved families get to your respective VA offices in your home planet, their duties didn't die in this campaign for nothing.
The high Lord gave his grievance that such massive casualties would be paid full with the blood of the swarm
50 million Zerg for a price of a single military personnel and a leviathan for every angel of death slained.
And our kill count numbered in the billions and the Swarm didn't pay the interest.
This is the moment that with the help of the Dominion, we found one solution to end the Zerg menace...
Some form of Alien artifact is confirmed to eradicate the Zerg hierarchy.
And the transport is heading to a predetermined location.
May the Emperor light be the sign of things to come. This is Aaron Clarey , Stay classy Mars Sara. Back to you, Voxnet."
The screens blared red as the message that is sent across the galaxy is mailed to headquarters.
I remember the motto of our institution.
"The first casualties of war is simply the truth. And we are the surgeon and doctors to perform triage."
We were not hired by the high lord to give some sensational broadcast to gain views, to twist the truth to our needs. We were paid more than a average tv channels.
About 50k golden thrones per hour with hazard pay in a intense battlefield.
(Us dollar conversion rate. 1950 era: 50 million usd per golden thrones gelt at the current setting.
Tldr: freaking rich more than enough to make anyone children have enough money to fool around for 20 years.)
Each of us... We have a mission, to document and record of every unsavory situation of the Imperium deeds. Like our predecessor, the remembrancers of the Imperium of mankind, our past, we are the recorders of history.
To remind the future generations of the things we had done. To prevent them to interpret the imperium deeds as evil, not to whitewash our deeds but to see the full facts without bias, the reasons why we fought..
To be a beacon of the future. That was our creed.
I was the second wave that landed on the surface of Char. I met up with the remaining war reporters that survive the first landing.
Many of us were nervous, but... It was our duty to record every grisly scene before us.
War is terrible, but a necessity for our survival... Every truth was not filtered out. The gore and the horors of what our military faced is to remind the population of the peace that had wrought by the soliders that died.
I wander in the trenches with my servitor skull that bore the recordings and a microphone in my hand.
To document and record the people that fought on the planet.
Among the trenchlines, I interviewed the soldiers of different creed.
Their reasons to fight.
Some for revenge, others for glory, and their military merits.
I found one of the volunteers from a planet that recently joined the Imperium. It was a kid that lost everything to the swarm.
While officially Celestial Imperium distain child soldiers... There were exceptions...when the children join the military in planets long before the imperium allowed their planet to join, it was still a grey loophole.
"Huh, me?" The kid spoke as he maintain his rifle.
"Yes, I want to hear your reason that you join and ended up in this... Crusade?" I spoke as my microphone held out for the kid to answer.
"I... Lost everything, just a farmer kid in the Domion, young, dumb and had ma and pa... When the swarm came, my pa join the militia .. told us that we would be saved.
My ma died to a Zerg and I was left alone...
It was tha imperial that saved me... When I 'eard that they are attacking the swarm cap- Capitol... I could find something..." The kid no older than 16 spoke.
I... Spoke with a question...
"Do you ... Hate the imperium?" I asked a question..
"No... not 'ate them, I... Understood that the Imperium answer our planet pleas a bit too late... They came and drove the bastards back..." His eyes flared up as the face filled with rage appear on the screen.
"Do...you want to go back to the Dominion?"
"No... My pa answer the Domion 'alls and I am alone now... 'ven if we gone back... They would never allowed us "traitors" back..."
"After this... What would you do after this?"
"Dunno... Never thought that far 'head, 'aybe return to my family farm... Get someone to teach me farming... Some of my seniors here gave me some pointer how to farm. Make a propa grave for ma parents..."
"Understood, what's your name?"
"Thomas... Thomas Westwood from New Kentucky colony."
"Thank you Thomas... May you find your answers in the end."
"See ya later, an' thanks fer telling ma story..." His eyes in the midst of hatred, there was a glimpse of clarity. As if they don't want to die...
Every soldiers told their stories.
Maybe to them, it was like a memoir that they existed. That perhaps in a galaxy that is so dark... They are remembered and immortalized in data and picts.
I arrive at a lounge that was raised for our group.
It was not lavish, but pragmatic and simplified enough, the pillows were soft.
And there was some replicator that make food and drink.
Many of my peers simply compiled and tired, many from different sections of the army.
"Damm it's hell to even get a Interview from a Astartes." One of them groaned as they held very few pict of the famed Angel of death
I peeked beside him.
It was a Angel of death that was littered with a Caution stripes. He was leading a squad of shield bearers as they march towards a strategic point.
I pity them... Because the chosen Astartes never want to talk to them, and it was Iron warriors, not the Emperor children.
He was lucky it was them, not the World Eater or the night lords , last time I heard, one of us was tossed off the building because the reporter poke around too much.
Many of us, tired as we compiled the recordings.
Interview of soldiers, the picts of heroism that is fresh from the battlefields before us.
We were given a few hours in advance on location that we are marching forward and now we were reassigned to different positions.
I looked up my assignments post in the dataslate. Many of my peers held different emotion's, some were regulated in the artillery elements or the rear, others groan that they are with some of the rowdier battle groups like the chem dog regiment.
I found my designation.
BT- 86th platoon of the Fourth mechanized company. Real-time live feed.
I read about this... New designation.
Before, I heard different designation for different mechs... Or god engines.
Ms for Mobile suits
Ac for armored core.
God engine for Titans
And now... Bt .. or they called it Battletech.
This designation have been formed officially after the Brood war. My seniors were the first ones that witness their squad tactics as they formed into regiments. Now they are officially recognized by the Imperium.
Rifleman, King crab, Cyclops, Atlas, Marauder, Dire wolf, Urbie, Conquerer.. These are more... Adaptable than armored core... And cheaper too.
The public first heard about it from a tabletop game that Wondertainment produced and they loved it.
Ironic that the public heard about the war machines from a game long before it was introduced.
As we slept, we heard the rumbling of artillery despite we had soundproof walls. It was shown how hard the world outside was harsh to us. Making us understood that we are the archivist of a living history.
By the next day, each of us went to our respective group.
I met my group
It was a makeshift hangar that held several mechs. Catwalks that were bound by steel chains and the air was filled with coolant and bullet smells. I found a roster nearby.
A 6 Squad of Highlander, 4 squad of Rifleman's, 4 marauders, 4 dire wolves and a Atlas that is supposed to be the command vehicle.
It was imposing, it eerily looked similar to a Astartes.
Perhaps to encourage the soldier that even in such a mechanical might... The Angels of death image is personified?
"Oi! Ya the newcomer?" A Scottish accent spoke behind me.
And I found a man wearing kilt watching me.
"Umm, yes, I am the War reporter for this platoon."
"Aye, the buggers managed to get us a war reporter eh?" The Scot man leered as he waved as he headed to his Highlander.
"Apologies, War reporter... It's been a while since we were first seen." A voice boomed from the atlas head..
And a man walked out and the atlas hand held up to let the man land to the catwalk..
I could see his facial features.
He was a man in his late thirties.
Gruff and scarred wearing a imperial guard flak jacket, hold a worn cigarette in his mouth.
His gaze upon me was like a hawk to a prey.
He simply gave a smile of a hunter.
"What's your name war reporter?"
"I... I am Aaron Clarey from Imperial Voxnet, I am here to record your actions in the battlefield.
"A routine recording huh? Glad to have you aboard in our group of misfits."
"Ex- excuse me, Misfits sir??" I stammer.
The Scottish man spoke as he clamber to his mech.
"You heard that right, we are a bunch of misfits. We are not the Princeps of a god engine, a valiant pilots of a Armor core, or the mass produced Mobile suits...
Just us grunts from different positions that were tossed from different branches to make up this organization branch. Each of us failed our entrance exams or something we focked up and ended up here." The Scot gruffly spoke.
"Mine's from the Armor Core Land Branch, sole survivor again the Zerg first contact on Mars Sara, ma partner 'ver there is from the Mobile Suit Land Branch, an' Our leader that is on tha catwalk is from tha Armored core ace, He was a progeny of some Princeps house, but he unable to activate his family titan and after a screw up that lost in Mars Sara, he ended up leading us ragtag misfits."
"So... In a way..." I ponder.
"It's to show the People of the Imperium, that even if we failed in our path, there's a second chance in life. Care to tell the people back home...our story?" The Leader spoke.
I glance at the leader of this platoon. He was filled with something in me that understood his words.
The klaxon horns sounded and every one tense for a brief moment and rushed to their mechs.
Many of them blared to life as their stride trembled the land.
The Scottish man yelled.
"Laddie! there's a Locust waitin fer ya, just a stone throw away for our recording. Git to the locust quick, Zerg is coming fast." He pointed directions as he reached inside as the Highlander mech eyes blare to life.
I rush to the locust in question and found it.
It was small among the Giants before me... But bigger than a Imperial Sentinel.
I noticed that it held a 360° Cameras and a twin linked Stubber for protection at below the cockpit. The pilot below waved at me.
"Oi! Hurry up ya missin a big scoop!" He handed me a helmet and as I wear it the unwanted sounds were filtered out. He dragged me to the cockpit of the machine.
It was a two seater. Modified for war reporters.
As I clambered aboard, I could practically see the world around me. Panoramic Screen appeared around us, as if I was floating in the air than just in a living mech.
The pilot laugh.
"Ya get used to it. Saved my life a couple of times." The pilot laughter sounded in my feed.
As the machine came to life, I felt like I was flying, my servitor skull recorder was relaying all the information back home.
I saw the group of misfits... Or they called themselves fought hard.
The Scottish man earlier fought as a tanker.
His squad delayed the Zerg from overflowing their position until the Dire wolves and Marauder rained auto cannon, rockets and positron beams at the horde.
The rifleman took the the skies as to swat any Zerg fliers as if to not disturb the stage of destruction.
The Atlas was seemingly majestic in nature.
It held a Bastard Power sword and stood with the frontliners. Swinging its sword as it cleaved hundreds of Zerg in a blow.
My recording show in the depth of brutality, there was certain regality in that mech...
A thunderous roar sounded and a Zerg Ultralisk burst out of the ground and took us by surprise.
"Oi, git ya arse movin! Zerg behind!" The Scottish yelled in the comms, me and my pilot companion found that we were almost crept by a dozens of Zerglings. I felt the machine moved as the Stubber fired behind.
I found a trail of smoke flew up in the air and found that the Scottish Highlander and his team flew up and landed in the horde behind us , the shockwaves sent any of the surviving Swarm scattered and those that were under its boots... Were splattered blotch of colors.
"Come and taste ma steel!" The highlanders fired in a burst of firepower that it eradicated the monsters, I breathe a sighed of relief as I found the leader of this platoon fighting in the distance that is fighting the Ultralisk.
The atlas despite its bulky look, swept past the stunned defenders like a dancer and stabbed the beast in the skull.
The power sword ignored the hardened carapace as it burned the Brain matter of the Ultralisk, but it didn't died instantly as its monarch blades swung down as if to pierced the mech that sully it's body.
The atlas swung down deeper until the skull split apart long before it could do so, cauterized the wounds with the sheer heat of the sword in it's hand.
I heard the Command spoke.
++Get to Position Delta, Ms teams in charge of that location are being overwhelmed by the Zerg, 6th Armored Element of the Imperial Guard would now guard that position.++
Everyone agreed with a simple yes as they left the battlefield with a mountain of corpses. The first live recording were... Explosive.
I saw a baneblades column that is escorted by leman Russ, rolled up past our group that plugged the gap we left.
Soldiers marched like lines of ants rushed forth as prefabricated defenses rained down to ensure their territory.
One of them in a center had a open hatch and a Officer saluted our group...
As we headed to the next battlelines that were contracting.
We found the Ms teams that were about to be defeated by some strange Zerg, the last mobile suit was almost destroyed by the strange Ultralisk about to destroy it. Its last hands held a flickering heat axe as it sole defense.
The Atlas fired upon it. Causing it to back off in such a quick reaction.
I tried to verify Its database, It looked like a Ultralisk, only red.
But it moved three times as fast and the heat emitted from it's body is absurd.
++Careful! That bastard is bloody fast before we could lock on, it took out my platoon! My infantry support is wiped out by the sheer bloody heat!++ The mech before us yelled in the comms.
The monster roared as it trample on the dead and the husk of the remains of our men... The biological heat was absurd, it was as if it was burning it's body frame to squeeze out any potential of its flesh.
Beams of positron lights and rockets flared upon the beast.
It didn't halt, but it made it angry.
As it the adrenaline is what kept it alive.
The monster roared once more as it began its absurd speed as a Lance strike rained on the beast.
I looked up and saw a Acclamator floating above, whose turrets that was below its hulls still had steam coming from it. Flak still emitted above the surface of the ship. Fighting on both fronts still trying to assist in every way it could.
I am glad that it was a timely assistance.
The command ordered this platoon.
To replenish, recover and wait once more.
The experience... Was enlightening.
As I returned to the lounge, I found many of my peers, tired and Alive still busy giving their videos and the scenario how the battlefield was like.
To some, it was gory, hell even, to prevent the adventurers with dreams thinking that the military is a dream job, to remind the consequences for their peace and security is bound by blood... While people like me... It's to show how much humanity we still had left in this bones of ours.
As I turned to my dataslate and make my piece for the evening news...
That each and every story I saw, every valiant moments would be encased for future generations... No censorship, not even a bit of editing as my piece shown the true brutality of war, but within it held some semblance of hope.
Tomorrow is the day that we... Would be headed to the final phase of the operation.
And this time, we all get to see the High Lord in action.
Many of us felt tired and waited as the final minutes clock ticked in the room.
I smiled as I slept as the moment I shared to the wider galaxy...
That we are the harbinger of truth. Not salesman that pander to false hope...