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The title is still a working title and this is a second, partial rewrite, changes might happen as things progress.

Some background: This is more of a caricature and tongue in cheek homage to those silly things we know as Space Marines than a true balls to the wall dead serious story about how a bunch of castrated warrior monks go about their business of killing anything that doesn’t heil the overlord as they do. I want them to be over the top, legendary and epic, as most people would envision them being really: living giant gods in suits of power armour with weapons of mass destruction and zero personality. Throw in that they are serving the Deathwatch and heyo!, I get to play with Chapter stereotypes. Only I’m more or less skipping that bit, the whole “swallow your pride and serve” is something that has been done to death and is left completely to the imagination of the reader.

Anyway, serious feedback is most welcome, though any other form of comment is welcome as well.

+ + +

‘Final checks,’ Vorenus calmly called over the closed vox, the other occupants of the Drop Pod giving curt acknowledgements as they secured their weapons and checked their restraints. They worked in unison, as trained to do so a thousand times before as they rode a fiery comet down to the surface below. But underneath the calm and calculating thinking process of each operative was another, more primal thought. They had been slighted, dishonoured, made to look like fools. This could not be left unattended and it was something their honour demanded to be restored.

They were out for vengeance.

+ + +

The five operatives stood in the medical bay, their massive frames dwarfing all present staff and equipment. They surrounded a large tube filled with fluid in the middle of the chamber, the unconscious but thrashing form of their leader suspended there by over a dozen drip feeds and a fat oxygen hose forced down her throat. The fluids inside the tube were slowly turning crimson again, the wounds on the body of the inquisitor still open and bleeding. The chief surgeon was doing everything he could to keep the woman alive, pumping her full of anything to cleanse her system of the toxins all the while keeping her heavily sedated. None of the giants spoke, instead they glared at the tube, in deep thought, brooding on the coming battle.

‘We have sworn an oath to you,’ Vorenus quietly said at long last, putting his silver gauntlet against the side of the glass tube. ‘We have come a long way since, set aside our differences, our pasts, our personal pride, all so that we can serve the Emperor.’ He smiled for a moment, thinking back to how it was. The initial squabbles, petty differences, fierce arguments over dogma. He also remembered how they overcame them. How he himself learned a thing or two from other, as his brothers would derisively say, lesser Chapters. His smile vanished in a moment as Vorenus continued, a bitter tone in his voice now. ‘Yet we were bested by the alien.’

+ + +

It had been standard insertion, a routine mission really, something neither team nor inquisitor had been looking forward to, but a task that had to be performed. A simple show of force, a short visit to see if the locals were still venerating the Emperor and not doing anything too stupid. The inquisitor had been invited to a private dinner conference with the governor, waving her security detail of five off “to enjoy their selves while she got the boring stuff out of the way.” She made the done-to-death joke about them breaking the furniture anyway. And so they were brought to a small chamber where a servant girl stood in the corner with a tray of drinks. None of the Astartes had said anything since entering and to the servant girl an awkward silence settled in that seemed to last for ages. Two times she stifled a cough, afraid of angering the giants she was stuck with. After what seemed like an eternity one of them, a giant with a Wolf emblem on one shoulder guard, finally said something, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

‘Smell that?’

The others sniffed the air, looking at one another. Before the servant girl could do anything more she collapsed, letting out a bloody cough as she died choking on her own blood. The Astartes, with their enhanced physiology, simply shrugged off the lethal gasses that had covertly been pumped into their chamber.

‘Our canary expired,’ Rafen remarked dryly as he clamped his helmet over his head. ‘I think they haven’t dealt with our kind before as of yet. Mere poison? I am insulted.’

Sergeant Vorenus ignored the Blood Angel, instead turning to one with a black drake emblem. ‘Signal?’

Brother Shi’Gar checked his auspex, the device locking onto the signal of the inquisitor. ‘Same floor, hundred metres in that direction. Autosenses can lock in.’

Vorenus and the others did so, a small red “I” icon appearing on their compass display. ‘Form up on me, we’re doing this fast and hard. Sven, the door.’

‘My pleasure,’ the Space Wolf replied as he broke into a sprint and shoulder charged the door, slamming the armoured slab of steel from its hinges. The hallway beyond was filled with the personal guard of the local regent, shocked and stunned at the brutal display of force, not even reacting as the door flew across the hallway and crushed three of their number.

‘What?’ Sven snarled as he straightened himself. As if a spell was broken one of the guards let out a shriek and raised his weapon, rattling off a burst of solid slugs that harmlessly ricocheted off the obsidian armour of the Space Wolf. All hell broke loose as the other guards did likewise. But the rattle of the assault rifles was quickly blanked out by the twin-thunderclap of bolters returning fire, making short work of the guards.

‘Auspex is picking up a lot of heat signatures all around. Readings indicate that they are mostly in our way.’

‘Sven, time to use that thick head of yours again.’ Aradiel joked as he reloaded his bolter, running a finger along the winged sword motif for good luck.

‘Good! All this talking is boring me to no end. How do we proceed?’

Vorenus pointed down the hall, towards a pair of gilded doors with a nod. With a roar Sven ran full pelt towards those, the next door and the one after that, slamming aside any foolish enough to stand in his way. The rest of the squad swiftly followed in his wake, their bolters barking as they scythed down any straying in their path. They found Sven standing in front of another pair of double doors, the emblem of the governor emblazoned upon it.

‘Behind these doors, form up.’

Rafen and Aradiel took the left side, Vorenus and Shi’Gar took the right while Sven stood in the middle, his bolter now in his hands. He cycled the shot selector, letting the weapon feed from a smaller magazine attached to the side. Vorenus gave a single nod to the Space Wolf, who in quick succession blew away the hinges at either side of the doors. Rafen and Vorenus shoved the doors inwards and charged in, their brothers filing in behind them.

The chamber occupants stood there dazed for a moment, clustered around a table. At one end stood the governor, shock and surprise clearly visible on his face. At the other end stood two figures. One was a deformed monstrosity that looked sewn together, its hands shaped like claws, the head bald with needle like teeth and sickly yellow eyes. The other was tall and thin, clad in sleek and wickedly barbed armour with an eerie helmet with two curved horns sprouting from it. Its purple lenses burned with a cold malevolence.

‘Xenos,’ Aradiel hissed as he brought his weapon up.

The tall alien let out a hiss as he turned on his heel, darting for the window and leaping through it, onto the deck of a waiting craft of alien design. The alien torturer on the other hand was swiftly dealt with, leaving only the weeping governor and a naked, bleeding form strapped to the table.

‘Emperor preserve her,’ Vorenus muttered under his breath as he reached the table, seeing the inquisitor strapped down, nicks and cuts crisscrossing her body, he could taste the poisons on the blades that lay discarded besides her. It was only thanks to the rapid extraction via Thunderhawk that they were able to keep her alive. While the inquisitor was flown back into orbit and received emergency treatment the squad went to work, methodically wiping out the ruling elite, their personal guard and any Eldar straggler they could find. Yet the strange alien, who turned out to be a leader, had escaped. They had saved the governor until last, interrogating the traitor for every last drop of information. Aradiel had proven most proficient at this task with his combat knife.

They learned that the aliens had visited the locals for centuries now, in exchange for slaves and other vile acts they would leave the majority of the people alone. They had established an embassy at the site of a rebellion against the aliens. It was said that people were herded there and never seen or heard of again again.

‘The alien taints this world,’ Vorenus said with disgust after the interrogation was over and the governor was silenced.

This was.. unacceptable.

+ + +

‘Hereby we all swear that we will not return before this..’ he spat out the word ‘blemish upon our honour has been rectified and that the alien who did this to you lies broken at our feet, his warriors eradicated from existence and their threat exterminated from the world below, so that loyal subjects of the Emperor can live freely again.’ Vorenus produced a purity seal from a pouch and pressed it against the glass. ‘You have my word and that of my brothers that we will see this through to the end and avenge your honour, my lady.’

One by one they pressed a purity seal of their own against the glass, wordlessly swearing their own oath of vengeance, each putting on their own helmet afterwards.

‘Let it be known,’ Vorenus said grimly as he put on his own helmet. The gentle voice was gone, replaced by the inhuman and slightly distorted boom of a vox amplified voice. ‘Brothers, let us make war once more.’

+ + +

The retros screamed into life a moment before impact in an attempt to stop the craft from slamming into the ground, while it helped decelerating the craft it was not by much, yet it was enough so that the suits of battle plate worn by each operative could absorb the shock. Doors were blown open and restraints were thrown free. The five Astartes stomped out of their one-way transport with bolters blazing, gunning down any aliens within sight.

‘Perimeter secured,’ Shi’Gar calmly called out as he put down a trio of fleeing foes with a precise shot to each back. The others reported likewise, forming a defensive circle around the Drop Pod. They had picked the old resistance headquarters as their landing site. Bones littered the ground and were strewn up along the walls of the ruins, in all likeliness placed there as a grim reminder of what happened to those who opposed the aliens. The Astartes were not impressed.

‘Form up on me, advance to first waypoint.’

+ + +

“Upon insertion we are to make our way to the entrance, which leads into to some sort of underground warren. We must gain entry to the enemy structure. Expect heavy resistance when we get there. Cover is minimal and surrounding it could very well be a veritable killing ground, making the approach a hazardous prospect.”

+ + +

The squad had hunkered down behind a few low walls, the ruins of what once was a bunker of sorts before the aliens swooped in. The enemy fire was dense, while the return fire was nothing but the odd snapshot as one of the Astartes popped up from cover, took a quick shot at an exposed enemy before dropping back into cover.

‘This is taking too long,’ Vorenus said as he slammed a new mag into his bolter. If they waited any longer they might be attacked from the rear by any forces still outside. This had to end now. ‘Bolter charge!’ he ordered, easily vaulting the wall and opening fire on the defenders.

‘Into the fires of battle!’ Shi’Gar roared as he too vaulted the wall and opened fire.

‘Unto the anvil of war!’ The others shouted, having heard the battle cry of the Salamander many times before by now. The rest of the squad followed suit, joining their sergeant in the charge against the dug in enemy. The defenders opened up with everything they had, blazing away at the five charging Astartes. A full frontal assault against such heavy would have been suicide. But not for Astartes, the Emperor’s chosen shock troops. As the squad advanced they raked the wall with full-auto fire, blowing away the defenders. Aradiel suppressed the entire left flank with his heavy bolter, the Dark Angel easily keeping up with his brothers thanks to the suspensor plates installed onto the massive weapon.

‘Sven! Rafen! Sweep and clear! Aradiel! Cover the back! Shi’Gar, take down that door now!’ Vorenus barked the orders as easily as it was to breathe, his battle brothers instantly doing as they were told. Sven was the first to reach the wall and leap across it, quickly followed by Rafen, who both set to work butchering the last remaining survivors in a furious assault of bolter and blade.

‘Incoming attack, threat level omega.’ Aradiel calmly reported as he opened fire with his heavy bolter. The enemy reinforcements were quick to arrive. It mattered little.

‘Sven, Rafen, provide support to Aradiel.’ Vorenus turned to Shi’Gar. ‘Status?’

‘Charges placed and primed.’

‘Squad, break off and back to the door, prep shield for immediate deployment.’

The door was blown away and the squad charged in, swiftly taking care of any opposition on the other side. Once inside Shi’Gar pulled a device from his belt, which deployed a spike from the bottom upon activation. He flicked it at the door, nodding to himself in satisfaction as the device powered into life, projecting a protective barrier against the door opening. It would take the opponent a lot of ordnance to take it down, or if they were patient enough, about thirty minutes before the internal power supply ran out.

Vorenus loaded a clip of Metal Storm into his bolter and racked the slide. The autosenses of his helmet immediately adjusted to the gloomy interior.

‘Form up on me, keep the channel clear and your eyes open, this could get nasty.’

Every operative clicked their vox once in acknowledgment as they followed the Ultramarine deeper into the bowels of the enemy outpost.

+ + +

“Once we breach the entrance we’re going in blind. We were unable to scan anything underground, they have probably shielded it somehow. It doesn’t matter, this stage remains the same: infiltrate the enemy stronghold and do as much damage as possible while searching for the enemy leader.”

+ + +

Conclusion to follow soon.

Looking forward to reading more.

Nice, I like it

+ + +

Enemy encounters had been sporadic at best, with nothing but token rearguard defence teams taking pot shots at them before falling back deeper under the ground. The kill team progressed slowly and methodically, taking no chances with the traitorous aliens.

‘We are being herded,’ Rafen observed after their latest hit and run encounter. The others grunted in agreement, that much was expected from the Eldar.

‘We really need to-’ Sven was cut off by a burst of shards impacting against his helmet. He saw his assailant, a lithe figure with a pistol, who was quickly darting off into the darkness again. Sven let out a roar and broke rank, his bolter barking at full-auto as he gave chase.

‘That’s it! I’m coming to get you!’

‘Brother, it is a trap!’

‘I know!’ Sven shouted back with barely contained laughter, giddy at the prospect of what might be awaiting them at the end of the tunnel. Anything was better than the slow advance he had to endure. He laughed as he exited the tunnel, tearing his helmet off with a relish. He started to laugh like a man who couldn’t be more happier in his whole life.

The rest of the squad doubletimed after the Space Wolf, bursting out of the tunnel into some sort of fighting pit, with several packs of lightly armoured gladiators streaming in from every side. Sven let out a long wolf cry as he charged into their midst like a madman, backhanding one, her skull exploding under the force of the impact. His bolter dropped and forgotten he tore his axe and chainsword free, fighting like a man possessed. Already he was being swarmed from all sides and would not last long.

With a cry of his own Vorenus joined the melee, his bolter clamped to his thigh, in his hands his bolt pistol and gladius as he fought to join the maddened Space Wolf. Rafen and Shi’Gar were at his side with pistols and blades of their own, forming a phalanx of ceramite and steel that fought their way towards Sven.

‘No Pity! No Remorse!’ Aradiel shouted as he blasted away ambushers who had tried to sneak up on the team from behind, his heavy bolter making short work of them in the tight confines of the tunnel.

‘Ah, brothers!’ Sven narrowly dodged a wickedly barbed spear and returned the favour with his whirring chainsword. ‘Good of you to join me! I’m at twelve Rafen, beat me if you can!’

Vorenus suppressed a smile and bit back an angry retort as both Sven and Rafen started their little game again of trying to one-up one another. The Codex Astartes frowned upon such rivalry but Vorenus long ago learned to let such petty things slip. He would punish Sven for breaking rank later though.

Back to back the four fought, slowly expanding outwards as the enemy ranks thinned. Aradiel was still at the door, gunning down any who strayed too close to him. Soon the arena was filled with bleeding and broken bodies, the last remaining few fleeing the way they came through. Sven made to follow them but Vorenus called him back.

‘Enough, we move.’

The squad formed up once more, reloading their weapons as they did.

‘Not far now,’ Vorenus said as he pointed to a balcony overlooking the arena, decorated with alien skulls and other foreign objects. Standing at the edge disdainfully was the alien leader, beckoning them on with a curled finger. ‘He’s mine.’ 
+ + +

‘Fear us,’ the alien hissed.

‘We know no fear alien,’ Vorenus barked as if on autopilot, raising his bolter. ‘We are fear incarnate!’

The alien let out a laugh, as if unconcerned by the five super-humans standing before him and his retinue of daemon-horned bodyguards. Did they not fight through an arena of murderers? Did they not slaughter their selves a way through a strange laboratory of sorts, killing all monstrosities along the way?

‘Let me, educate you.’ The leader snarled as he leapt forward, dodging the hail of bolter fire. His bodyguard did likewise, surging forward with an unnatural speed and agility.

Rafen punched one of the bodyguards in the gut, the fist coming out the back grasping a spine. Sven eviscerated another with his screaming chainblade, Shi’Gar cursed as he blasted away at his foes, his gauntlet missing two digits and red from his own blood. Vorenus took a blade to the shoulder but shrugged it off, rewarding the alien bodyguard with a thrust of his gladius in the eye. As his retinue was slaughtered the alien leader turned to run.

‘No more running.’ Vorunes murmured as he flicked his thumb across the shot selector, one of the side magazines slotting into place. His weapon coughed once, the Stalker shell hitting the alien in the lower back, severing the spine and making a mess of the internal organs. The alien screamed in rage and tore his helmet off, a cruel face looking up at his killer.

‘Know that others will come and prey upon your worlds, know that I will be avenged, know that my name is-’

Vorenus raised his gladius and brought it down in a powerful blow, severing the head of the alien.

‘They always talk too much before they die. Place the beacon, I want to see this place light up from orbit.’

+ + +

Vorenus approached the tube, pleased to see that the inquisitor had finally regained consciousness. The bulging purple veins all over her body showed that she was still wracked by the poisons and the many cuts were still open, but thankfully no longer bleeding. It would a lot of skill and time before the poisons would be fully removed. Yet despite this she looked up, her eyes as sharp and intelligent as ever. A crude vox speaker installed at the base of the tube rasped into life.

‘You return,’ she simply said as she crossed her arms, trying her best to still look the part. Vorenus lifted the helmet from his head and placed it on the operating table, then took a plastec sack from a serf. From it he pulled the severed head of the alien leader.

Something resembling laughter issued forth from the vox.

‘We are supposed to be above such petty notions such as vengeance, but thank you sergeant, I can rest easy now knowing that this vile devil has been put down. You!’ She pointed at the serf, who cringed under her unflinching gaze. ‘Have the head preserved and put in a jar. It will make for a suitable desk ornament.’

The serf quickly took the head and bag from Vorenus and ran off, glad to be away from his mistress.

‘What now my lady?’ Vorenus knelt down in front of the tube, his head bowed. The inquisitor put a hand against the glass, pretending it was on his head, as if trying to pat him like a favoured son.

‘Now? There is still work to be done. They are still out there, always must we be vigilant. But first we return to the Keep, we are long overdue for a refit. Our vessel needs repairs, your armour and wargear need seeing to and it should give me some more time to recover. Then,’ the vox again let out an odd grating sound, which sounded like a giggle or chuckle.

‘We hunt,’ Vorenus conluded.

‘Yes sergeant, we will hunt. Now leave me be, I must rest and I am certain you have other things to attend to yourself.’

Vorenus straightened himself and slammed his fist across his plastron in salute. As he strode off the inquisitor closed her eyes and pulled herself into a foetal position. If it wasn’t for the hose jammed down her throat she would smile, for vengeance was hers. Her only regret being that she was not there when the alien was killed.

I'm honestly rather surprised that there are so few responses to this story back when it was first posted.