Agrinax VI: An agri-world in the corner of Imperial space, quietly cultivating for the various hive-worlds within it’s own sector. Vast underground farms provide fungi and animals, whilst a swirling network of waterways and fields, tilled by land crawlers and guarded by a measly force of around 10,000 PDF members armed with a few autoguns and some reinforced trucks.
The midwife looked worried as the mother screamed again. She was wary to give her more medicine, especially with the amount that she had already given her, but at this rate she might pass out of pain. The father crouched next to her, his brown uniform open and loose, showing a ratty white shirt underneath, his autogun tossed to the side of the house.
He gripped her hand tightly as she pushed again, and finally another screaming voice joined the mother’s. The midwife let out a sigh of relief and picked up the baby, before snipping the umbilical cord with precision. She gently washed the baby and nodded to the father, the mother having collapsed on the bed. “Let her sleep, and show her the baby when she wakes up. I’ll need forty campas, but you can give that to the doctor later. Good luck!” She flashed a smile and started to pack up around the father, who was cradling the young girl in his arms. He smiled softly, and muttered the name they had pre-picked; “Cammidile Lidlen Price, welcome to the world.”
Cam stood nervously on the ship as it took off from the planet surface. The white uniform was stiff, the autogun polished to a sheen, and across the troop transport others from her world sat, each of them nervously looking at the planet that had nurtured them from birth. One of her friends shot her a smile, which she returned, before almost everyone’s faces were marred with surprise as the ship shuddered on it's ascent. They had no clue where the Agranix 3rd would be sent, but they sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint the planet they were deposited on.
The cracks of autoguns and stink of the dying mingled with shit and gunpowder was everywhere. She raised her gun and snapped of a few shots, the xenos in front of her snapping back, a spray of blood hitting her in the face and chest, adding to the mixed dirtiness of her uniform. She spat out and lowered her head as a fusillade of fire returned on their positions, and groaned as a strange tank rumbled across the square, it’s turret firmly fixed upon the makeshift defences they had constructed. It fired, a deafening roar of plasma washing over her, and she scrambled to open her explosives pouch. What had they been taught about the krak grenades? The end of them… There would be a metal cap that you needed to twist off, then there would be…” She fumbled the grenade, watching as the head squelched in the gravelly mud below them, before picking it up again. She yanked the pin out and grasped the wooden handle, before lobbing the device at the tank. There was a whirring sound as the magnetic cap activated, before it rotated towards the turret of the tank. Her eyes widened, and a xenos turned to look at it for a split second before the world turned white with a brilliant flash of blue, and she felt pain wrack her side as she collapsed onto the mud.
“Fuckin’ hell, the sarg is alive boy’s and girls.” There was a strange, off-planet drawl to the surgeon as he looked down at the half-comatose body. “Honestly, luv, I’m fuckin’ surprised that you aren’t dead from the fuckin’ modifications, Christ almighty!”
The girl croaked, her throat seemingly in more pain than what she knew would be her lower body, which throbbed with heat. “M….modif…ications?”
“Oh yeah. You’re real lucky that pretty li’l face of yours was protected by your arm, or you would be in a mass grave right about now. High command gave you a modification grant for ‘valliant duty’ or some such bullshit though, and I ransacked your pay box, so you’ve got the best modifications money can buy. Well, mostly. Your left arm and leg are literally top of the range. That’s where all the grant cash went. Your shoulders and hip have also been implanted, but nonetheless, I reckon you should be practising left hooks from now on. I left off the fleshy skin bullshit for now, it’s just raw metal, but if ‘ya want, I’ll put it back on. Otherwise, you get some cash back.”
“Talking about your cash, it’s pretty much all gone. I used it on getting you some synth skin. Tough as flak armour that thing, and it covers most of… Well…” The medic leaned down and pulled off her flimsy hospital gown, baring her naked body to the rest of the ward. She yelped, and the doc just looked at her, before indicating to the mess of bandages that stretched from just below her breast all the way down to her hip. “Yeah. You got fuuucked by that explosion. Still, it’s much better. The only think that is worse would be your lung. It got blown out, and by the time the rest was ordered, I had to resort to basic, sergeant level modifications. It’s literally nothing flashy, just a synth-skin and metal replacement. No better than what you had really.”
She gave her gear a last check over before the meeting with the rouge trader. Guys like that only hired a merc for firepower, so she had to provide. She took out the three knives. Catchcan fang, taken when she kicked one of the fuckers into next week, and probably making him a beta for the rest of his life, check. Standard issue guardsman combat knife, check. Tiny 3” flick knife… She slipped it into the custom holder just above her ankle, and grinned, before turning to the sidearms.
Ripper pistol. Not really much to say about it, other than it was a ripper pistol. She almost gingerly picked the ammunition up, before carefully loading it. It was dangerous to her, but it fucked up anything it was shot into worse. All she needed to know. Looked flashy too, which was always a bonus. Laspistol, check. She tapped it lightly. Sure, mercs normally mocked the guard weaponry, but she found it was a reliable sidearm that could drop an Ork before it got a chance to swing their filthy huge blades at you. Lastly, she turned to the autpistol. 300 shots per minute, caseless ammunition, with a capacity of 50 bullets in the ridiculously long magazine of it. She had christened it ‘the blender,’ and the name was carved into the side, along with a tally of people who had been left a red and white mush after she had drawn it carved onto the other side.
Then, she moved onto the big guns. The first was her combat shotgun. Heavy, yet short and packed one fucking huge punch at anything within the range that she could throw the bloody thing, it was certainly a trusty weapon. Her pride and joy though…
She looked at it in awe. It didn’t look like much, just a folded lump of metal about two food long, but when extended… She would save the surprise for her employer when he really needed the firepower. She brushed a strand of her brown hair aside, and turned to the door, her boots clanking against the ground as she did so. Time to earn her a lot of fucking money, eh?
“So,” she said to the rouge trader in front of her. “Wasn’t long after that that I legged it. Got deployed to peace keep on some wretched hive world, and I left as soon as I got the chance. 20 million just in that one city, and bionics ain’t exactly uncommon in the underhive. They never found me. Got some fresh kit and hired myself out to some poncy upper hiver who wanted security, and used his cash to buy my way out of the planet. I’ve been a merc for seven years now. You need someone to carry around a shit ton of heavy weaponry, I’m not your gal. Need someone to use her gear to get shit done?” At this, she tapped the folded rifle next to her. “I admit, I got this from betraying some admech bastards. Still though, they shorted me out of payment twice, the cheap fucks, so it’s deserved. Pay me, and we’ll have no issues boss.” She stuck her hand out at the rouge trader, her bionic hand glinting in the harsh light of the ship.
The midwife looked worried as the mother screamed again. She was wary to give her more medicine, especially with the amount that she had already given her, but at this rate she might pass out of pain. The father crouched next to her, his brown uniform open and loose, showing a ratty white shirt underneath, his autogun tossed to the side of the house.
He gripped her hand tightly as she pushed again, and finally another screaming voice joined the mother’s. The midwife let out a sigh of relief and picked up the baby, before snipping the umbilical cord with precision. She gently washed the baby and nodded to the father, the mother having collapsed on the bed. “Let her sleep, and show her the baby when she wakes up. I’ll need forty campas, but you can give that to the doctor later. Good luck!” She flashed a smile and started to pack up around the father, who was cradling the young girl in his arms. He smiled softly, and muttered the name they had pre-picked; “Cammidile Lidlen Price, welcome to the world.”
Cam stood nervously on the ship as it took off from the planet surface. The white uniform was stiff, the autogun polished to a sheen, and across the troop transport others from her world sat, each of them nervously looking at the planet that had nurtured them from birth. One of her friends shot her a smile, which she returned, before almost everyone’s faces were marred with surprise as the ship shuddered on it's ascent. They had no clue where the Agranix 3rd would be sent, but they sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint the planet they were deposited on.
The cracks of autoguns and stink of the dying mingled with shit and gunpowder was everywhere. She raised her gun and snapped of a few shots, the xenos in front of her snapping back, a spray of blood hitting her in the face and chest, adding to the mixed dirtiness of her uniform. She spat out and lowered her head as a fusillade of fire returned on their positions, and groaned as a strange tank rumbled across the square, it’s turret firmly fixed upon the makeshift defences they had constructed. It fired, a deafening roar of plasma washing over her, and she scrambled to open her explosives pouch. What had they been taught about the krak grenades? The end of them… There would be a metal cap that you needed to twist off, then there would be…” She fumbled the grenade, watching as the head squelched in the gravelly mud below them, before picking it up again. She yanked the pin out and grasped the wooden handle, before lobbing the device at the tank. There was a whirring sound as the magnetic cap activated, before it rotated towards the turret of the tank. Her eyes widened, and a xenos turned to look at it for a split second before the world turned white with a brilliant flash of blue, and she felt pain wrack her side as she collapsed onto the mud.
“Fuckin’ hell, the sarg is alive boy’s and girls.” There was a strange, off-planet drawl to the surgeon as he looked down at the half-comatose body. “Honestly, luv, I’m fuckin’ surprised that you aren’t dead from the fuckin’ modifications, Christ almighty!”
The girl croaked, her throat seemingly in more pain than what she knew would be her lower body, which throbbed with heat. “M….modif…ications?”
“Oh yeah. You’re real lucky that pretty li’l face of yours was protected by your arm, or you would be in a mass grave right about now. High command gave you a modification grant for ‘valliant duty’ or some such bullshit though, and I ransacked your pay box, so you’ve got the best modifications money can buy. Well, mostly. Your left arm and leg are literally top of the range. That’s where all the grant cash went. Your shoulders and hip have also been implanted, but nonetheless, I reckon you should be practising left hooks from now on. I left off the fleshy skin bullshit for now, it’s just raw metal, but if ‘ya want, I’ll put it back on. Otherwise, you get some cash back.”
“Talking about your cash, it’s pretty much all gone. I used it on getting you some synth skin. Tough as flak armour that thing, and it covers most of… Well…” The medic leaned down and pulled off her flimsy hospital gown, baring her naked body to the rest of the ward. She yelped, and the doc just looked at her, before indicating to the mess of bandages that stretched from just below her breast all the way down to her hip. “Yeah. You got fuuucked by that explosion. Still, it’s much better. The only think that is worse would be your lung. It got blown out, and by the time the rest was ordered, I had to resort to basic, sergeant level modifications. It’s literally nothing flashy, just a synth-skin and metal replacement. No better than what you had really.”
She gave her gear a last check over before the meeting with the rouge trader. Guys like that only hired a merc for firepower, so she had to provide. She took out the three knives. Catchcan fang, taken when she kicked one of the fuckers into next week, and probably making him a beta for the rest of his life, check. Standard issue guardsman combat knife, check. Tiny 3” flick knife… She slipped it into the custom holder just above her ankle, and grinned, before turning to the sidearms.
Ripper pistol. Not really much to say about it, other than it was a ripper pistol. She almost gingerly picked the ammunition up, before carefully loading it. It was dangerous to her, but it fucked up anything it was shot into worse. All she needed to know. Looked flashy too, which was always a bonus. Laspistol, check. She tapped it lightly. Sure, mercs normally mocked the guard weaponry, but she found it was a reliable sidearm that could drop an Ork before it got a chance to swing their filthy huge blades at you. Lastly, she turned to the autpistol. 300 shots per minute, caseless ammunition, with a capacity of 50 bullets in the ridiculously long magazine of it. She had christened it ‘the blender,’ and the name was carved into the side, along with a tally of people who had been left a red and white mush after she had drawn it carved onto the other side.
Then, she moved onto the big guns. The first was her combat shotgun. Heavy, yet short and packed one fucking huge punch at anything within the range that she could throw the bloody thing, it was certainly a trusty weapon. Her pride and joy though…
She looked at it in awe. It didn’t look like much, just a folded lump of metal about two food long, but when extended… She would save the surprise for her employer when he really needed the firepower. She brushed a strand of her brown hair aside, and turned to the door, her boots clanking against the ground as she did so. Time to earn her a lot of fucking money, eh?
“So,” she said to the rouge trader in front of her. “Wasn’t long after that that I legged it. Got deployed to peace keep on some wretched hive world, and I left as soon as I got the chance. 20 million just in that one city, and bionics ain’t exactly uncommon in the underhive. They never found me. Got some fresh kit and hired myself out to some poncy upper hiver who wanted security, and used his cash to buy my way out of the planet. I’ve been a merc for seven years now. You need someone to carry around a shit ton of heavy weaponry, I’m not your gal. Need someone to use her gear to get shit done?” At this, she tapped the folded rifle next to her. “I admit, I got this from betraying some admech bastards. Still though, they shorted me out of payment twice, the cheap fucks, so it’s deserved. Pay me, and we’ll have no issues boss.” She stuck her hand out at the rouge trader, her bionic hand glinting in the harsh light of the ship.
This is taken from a Rouge Trader RP. Imagine that she got the message after the rouge trader turned her down.