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Here I live, eternally in the Fortress Monastery of my Battle Brothers, yet I never feel I am one of them. The brothers fear me; I am not to join the sacred rituals of the forge, for I am only half one of us. Too long I lived on Mars, learned the ways of the Machine God, and now I cannot be trusted. I am not a member, I am a tool. The dark, warm, dry room in which I work is my own fortress, the mindless half-men who are my aids are also my only friends. The machines my only purpose. I repair, I create, but I never see the fruits of my work. What am I?

I am a Techmarine

I surveyed the inscription on the wall, as I did each day in the morning as I woke. Prayer to the Emperor and Omnissiah and honor of Vulkan followed. Only once I had finished that did I eat my morning meal; bland and tasteless, as always. Thus fed, I surveyed my work for the day: the third company had just returned from deployment in the Galactic South, and thus much of their equipment was damaged. As Salamanders, they could repair most faults on their own, but Techmarines were required for the more exquisite works. A Thunderfire cannon required the most work, the four barreled weapon torn almost in half by some exotic weapon. Longer than I was tall, the machine would require days of work before it could return to the fires of battle. Naturally, to return the most Wargear to the fray as soon as possible, I chose to work on the other damaged equipment first. A shoulder pauldron cracked by a blow from an alien weapon proved an easy weld, and was finished before an hour was done, sent to the artificers to be repainted and blessed before being returned to its owner. Several Boltguns, mostly destroyed, proved more problematic, as many of their components were shattered beyond repair. From the half dozen sent to me, I managed to rebuild three complete models,scavanging their components and mating their machine spirits. These were sent to the Chaplains to be sanctified for warfare before use. A few more pieces of weaponry took up the remaining half of my day, when it came time for my noontime meal, I had naught but the cannon to repair. The meal was finished as quickly as the last, and was just as bland. Once finished, I stood and prepared to return to work, when something happened that had not happened for a very long time.

The door to my chamber was opened. Orange light cast itself into the room, and in this light I found the shadow of an armored figure. Turning about, I found someone I had not expected to see, well, ever.

He wore the deep green armor of our chapter, covered by a cloak of what looked like scaled hide. He was about a hand taller than me, his helm held at his side in an inordinately large gauntlet. I instantly saw that everything he wore was of exquisite make, and realized who he was a moment before he spoke; Forgefather Vulkan He'Stan, the man tasked with hunting down the relics of our chapter. Beyond that I knew nothing.

“Techmarine Granius Lestra” He said. I nodded in response. He strode towards the cannon, carrying himself with the assured confidence of a true hero of our chapter. “I will require the use of this cannon. The fourth company shall be setting out soon. Can it be ready by the day after tomorrow?” I nodded, respectfully, although distracted by the sheer quality of his armor, feeling the machine spirit within his glove. “Excellent. And I shall need a Techmarine to carry it into battle.” He turned around, looked at me again. “Can you be ready on the same day?”

“Yes Forgefather” I said, my voice just barely keeping itself from trembling. Vulkan turned and walked out the door, not rudely, but as if he had much to do. As soon as he was gone, I picked up my welder and set to work on the cannon.

There was much to do.


I did not sleep that night, stopping only to rotate my tired servitors out for fresh ones, pray to the Emperor and the Omnissiah, and eat a quick meal. I found no advantage would come from sleep, and while I was aware that wherever the fourth company would be setting out to would certainly be far away enough I would have more time, the Forgefather had requested it be ready tomorrow. So it was.

Three hours before the noontime meal was to be had, I stepped back to examine my work; two of the cannon's barrels had been replaced entirely, as well as one track that had melted. The casing, which had only been split down the side, was welded quite quickly. The receiving mechanism, a difficult load, had taken up much of the time, being an extremely intricate piece of machinery. It had taken nearly a full day's work, but it was done. Sighing, I made to sit down on a chair, perhaps have a moment's rest.

My chair was not where it should have been. One of the arms of my servo-harness caught me, but I was completely unaware when the shaft of a spear struck me across the head. It clanged on my helmet, knocking me sideways. Years of training do not wear away, and decades of continuing that training helped. Though a servant of the Omnissiah, I was still a Salamander. I caught myself, landing on two feet and one servo arm, and saw the same imposing figure as yesterday, but this time staring grimly at me, a spear in his hand but not sheathed in the blue glowing field that should have accompanied such a weapon ready for battle. A moment later, I understood: he wished to spar with me.

I had landed quite close to the rack which housed most of my tools, and among them was a tool that was on one side a wrench, but the other end of the same head was bladed, a heavy battle ax. Taking it in one hand and pulling my bolt pistol with the other, I brandished all six of my weapons, were you to count the four separate arms of my servo harness. Not at all confident of my ability to defeat our Forgefather, the most honored combatant in the chapter, I nevertheless pushed onward when he retreated into the large, open area of my workshop. Taking an advantage, I jabbed forward with one of my servo arms, fire belching from the limb. The flames seemed to have no effect, simply washing over Vulkan's armor. Almost casually, he lifted his gauntlet, and a far, far hotter stream of flame issued forth. I covered my body with all six of my arms, letting the blessed flames wash over my armor. My second servo arm reached forward, this one brandishing a plasma welder. The bolt of sunlight poured forward, only to splash on the scaled cloak that Vulkan had worn earlier. Not relenting at all, I charged. He was ready for me, and struck first with his spear, a long, heavy sweep from his left to right. I ducked under it, to find his gauntlet waiting to meet my face. I nearly fell to the ground from the blow, but caught myself with the shaft of my ax. A downward swipe from the spear however, caught by shoulder pauldron, thankfully sliding off as the rounded surface was intended to do. I made two swings with my ax(the disruption field off, of course) one of them was stopped by Vulkan's armor, the other he ducked entirely.

This, however, led him right into the path of my servo-arm, which grabbed him by the upper arm. He attempted to wrench free, but I thanked the machine spirit of my harness, the arm held. The second servo arm caught his fist in mid blow, leaving both his arms trapped. My plasma welder, flamer, and bolt pistol, however, were free, and all pointed into his faceplate. I spoke, a single word following the custom of sparring matches.

“Dead.”

Good stuff.

Cool!

WOW that was awsome

This is why I like techmarines, their servo harness. I enjoyed the read.

Second chapter. Quite a bit longer than the first.

Oh yeah did I mention this was a multi-chapter thing?

---

I couldn't say Vulkan surprised me, for I barely knew him, but he did startle me. He laughed. Long and loud. The laughter was almost infectious. I actually found myself chuckling, oddly enough. Years of practicing to be only the machine, learning to remove my emotions and praise the Emperor and the Omnissiah with my every thought. I hadn't laughed since... A long, long time. After what felt like an eternity but was only a short while according to my helm's chrono, he stood up and clasped my on the shoulder with that holy gauntlet. It clanged dully against my shoulder pauldron.

"That, my friend" (friend? really?) "Was a better fight than I've had in many a year." He seemed to be grinning under his helm. "Well, then. I'll want your help; I'm confident you can hold your own on the battlefield. Fix your armor up and meet me again in two hours.” And with that, Vulkan spun on his heel and was gone.

To be honest, it was strange. I had always heard of heroes of the chapter as dauntless figures of pure wrath and power, and here was one, light and happy as a neophyte who's just been told that he shall be a Salamander. The contradiction fascinated me, but it was none of my business. Vulkan had said to fix my armor up; I looked down to see the entire ceramite surface of my armor scorched black by the holy flames of his gauntlet. A quick brush of my fingers revealed it to be nothing more than soot.

I quickly removed my Artificer armor, leaving the body-forming underskin that keeps my body temperature constant and whisks away the stains of battle. By hand, I brushed the char off my armor, repainting a few streaks and replacing a few molten fragments. It was surprisingly painstaking, time consuming work. Not too long passed before my armor was intact once again, the long, thick beak of my helm as imposing as before. Seems a bit plain. I thought. Maybe an icon of heraldry or some artistic pattern would help the look.

While contemplating a design, I realized that almost an hour and a half had passed since Vulkan and I had sparred; I had only a half hour to prepare for whatever it was he had in mind. I decided to leave my armor behind; only a few Salamanders habitually wear their armor, I was one of them due to the inherit dangers of working with plasma cutters and other forging equipment, but I had an odd feeling that this would be a social event.

After a short while, I creaked open the heavy door to my Forge to find Vulkan there as well; it seemed I'd guessed shrewdly, he bore no armor either.

“Come.” He said, gesturing. “We shall soon meet with the Chapter Council.” I inhaled sharply; to meet one figure of our chapter was rare enough, but the entire Council? Quite unusual. I followed, silently, through the winding corridors of our fortress monastery. Eventually we came to a room with high set doors, inscribed upon them iconography of Vulkan, twin hammers in hand, slaying the Tainted Eldar which tormented our homeworld. The doors parted to reveal a room with a long stone table, ten chairs wide on either side and one at the head. Only about two thirds of the chairs were occupied; I counted their number and matched it to the Captains deployed away from duty, plus Lecta He'ruk, our Master Of The Forge, and the Forgefather, who stood beside me. At the head of the table sat a familiar figure; a man with the characteristic charcoal skin and ember eyes of our chapter. He was also characterized by his square set chin and long, robust nose, which allowed even humans unfamiliar with our chapter to pick him out from the rest of us. Master Tu'Shan was, at that moment, apparently sketching something on a dataslate with a stylus; what it was I had no idea. At our entrance, however, he looked up.

“Ah, Forgefather. We are all arrived, then. Come and sit down, we have much to discuss.” He set his dataslate on the table.

“Stand behind me.” Vulkan whispered as he sat, and I did so. A holoprojector, well hidden in the ceiling, hummed to life somewhere above me; I would have searched for it, but the glare threw me off, and I was distracted by the projector casting its first image, a globe of a planet, roughly three-fifths ocean, with two long continents, one snaking about the upper hemisphere, one the lower. Vulkan struck me out of my fascination with the planet by speaking up.

“This is Scheherazade IV, a planet in the Eastern Fringe on the border of the Tau Empire. We have two reasons to go there.” Vulkan tapped a button on the table, and the globe shrunk, to focus attention better on the speaker. “The first is that an Inquisitor, one Aldaeus Varain, has requested that Imperial Forces be sent to protect the planet's civilian population from the Tau Empire.” There was a general murmur of assent; it is the natural justice of our chapter that we fight for the people of the Imperium. “The second is that I have meditated for many weeks in the Tome Of Fire, and this name has been brought to me out of Vulkan's will.” Only respectful silence met Vulkan here; even Master Tu'Shan would lend his aid to recover a relic of our chapter without a second thought. He'Stan continued“I know not whether a relic will be found or merely a fragment of direction, but I request aid.” The Forgefather glanced at Captain Cal'ek, who headed a reserve company, the 6th, in fact. Cal'ek seemed to get the message.

“The forces of the Sixth Company are at your disposal, Forgefather.” Vulkan nodded appreciatively. “I will be setting out for Scheherazade as soon as possible. Techmarine Lestra will be accompanying me.” I sensed all eyes in the room fall on me for the briefest moment.

“Very well then.” Tu'Shan said. “Proceed as you will, Forgefather, and may you lead Vulkan to his return.” Beyond that, the meeting went on for almost an hour; the singular topic of conversation seemed to be the deployment of the Fourth Company in the Galactic South; a war between a group of Eldar and one of the billions of Ork Empires had caught several Imperial worlds in its crossfire. Apparently forces from the Raven Guard and the White Scars had joined Captain La'nuk. I listened with a vague interest, but eventually the meeting was dismissed. The Captains and other assorted ranks in the chapter filed out. Vulkan walked beside me.

“Well, then, brother. It seems we'll soon be setting out. Call it a week, maybe two.” I glanced at him. He'd addressed me with a level of familiarity, and I did the same.

“Tell me, Forgefather, why did you ask the cannon be repaired today? Surely you knew we would not be able to set out so quickly.” Vulkan smiled, his teeth glinting white against his charcoal face.

“It was a test, to see how well you work under pressure. You seem to do well enough for my tastes.” I filed this under the mental dossier of Vulkan's personality that I was building, and decided to change the subject. “So, fighting the Tau, you say.”

“Most likely. The Tau are usually receptive to negotiation, but occasionally they claim something for their own and refuse to release it. Usually planets, sometimes samples of technology. I'm hoping neither happens in this case, a war against the Tau could be rather tedious.”

“How do they fight, tactics-wise?”

“Hit and run attacks at long ranges for the most part, they're poor at close combat. To this end, though, they hire members of alien races better suited for the melee.”

“Have you fought against the Tau before?” I am rather curious about our Forgefather's history; I suppose I can look it up in the Archives, but this is better.

“Once, when I was but a sergeant. They were easy enough to grasp; weak creatures at heart, utterly dependent on their technology, but their technology is terrifying. Their dreadnoughts move with the grace of Eldar war machines, but carry firepower to rival a battle tank.”

“Perhaps I ought to study their techno-sorcery.”

“Perhaps.” By now, we'd come to my chamber yet again. “Prep yourself for war, and have what you need transferred to the Serpentine" I smiled, turned on my heel, and returned to my forge.

I look forward to seeing more.

Same very good man thumbs up

Awesome story mate. Subscribed lol

Soon we would move to war.

It had been too many years since I had plied the stars in one of our greater craft; the Chalice of Fire I had visited occasionally, but it still truly lay in slumber, as it had for ten thousand years. The Serpentine, though; I could feel its machine spirit coursing through the ship, the living fragment of the Omnissiah itself, eager to leap through the stars, to roar its mighty cannon at its enemies and throw our troops screaming onto the battlefield. The feeling was contagious; where I'd been slightly reluctant to take to battle beforehand, now I was ready to leap from the ship, screaming glory to the name of the Emperor and reaping unholy blood in His name.

Two weeks we had spent in the warp; now we had transitioned into normal space on the edge of a star system, and we were meeting on the ship's bridge; myself, He'Stan, Cal'ek, and ten sergeants from the sixth company; six Tactical Squads, two Devastator Squads, and two Scout Squads(these being seconded from the eighth company). Also present was a Librarian, Sali'vren, and a Dreadnought, Alt're. All but Vulkan and the Dreadnought sat, and everyone was wearing full armor, although I had forgone my Servo-Harness for the sake of comfort.

“This planet was once known as Schezerade IV.” Vulkan said. “Originally taken during the Great Crusade, it has always been sparsely populated, and unfortunately close to the Tau Empire when they first arose; during the period they call “The Third Expansion” it was taken and settled by the Tau; the human population was never heard from again. I received a message from Aldaeus Varain, and it appears the message was scrambled; he said we were to protect the civilians, but it seems there are none at all. An unreliable Astropath, perhaps.” Vulkan, despite his armor and helmet, radiated his dissatisfaction at this explanation of his. “Nevertheless, somewhere on this planet lies the Obsidian Chariot. Vulkan's relic shall be recovered. The Tau are famously receptive to negotiation, and I do hope there will be no reason to fight at all, but I doubt that will be the case. That is all. Dismissed.” The meeting began to file down the large open hallway, letting Alt're proceed first. I began going over what I had read about the Tau Techno-sorcery along the journey; standard weapons stronger than the Bolter, skimmer technology being near ubiquitous, dreadnoughts faster than that of the Imperium. Armor equivalent to Carapace.

I would not be enjoying myself on Scheherazade IV.


“Lestra” Vulkan began. “I want you to accompany me to our negotiations with the Tau.” I stared for a moment.

“Why, Forgefather?” I asked in disbelief. I was not a diplomat, nor was I experienced with negotiations in any way.

“You've been studying the Tau since we set off from Nocturne. Not just their tactics and techno-sorcery, but their culture as well. Tell me what you've learned.” I took a deep breath, and began.

“From what I know, the Tau are unified in philosophy by a concept known as “The Greater Good” where they work for seemingly the benefit of every species in the galaxy; even bestial ones such as the Fallen Eldar and the Orks. Generally, if they are winning a campaign, they will repeatedly offer to let their enemies surrender and join their Empire. Human colonies do this quite frequently, and are known to them as “Gue Ve'Sa” My artificial throat struggled with the inhuman syllables. “The Tau are divided into social groups known as “Castes” not unlike some Human worlds. These casts are named after the primal elements; the Fire caste are the warriors, the Earth caste are the builders, the Air caste are the pilots, and the Water caste are the traders. There's a fifth caste, known as the Ethereals, who are the leaders. They're far fewer in number than the others, of course, and reportedly have a mind-control like effect on other Tau.” Vulkan looked very displeased at that, but he interrupted just there.

“See, I'll never remember all that. That's why I want you along; you'll spot things I won't, know things about them that I won't and plenty more besides. And--” Vulkan was cut off by a voice only he could hear inside his helmet. He listened for a moment, then turned back to me. “Well, it seems the Tau really are interested in talking; they've just sent a message requesting parley with us.” I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. “They're sending a party to meet us.”


The Serpentine was flying on a fuel-efficient burn towards Scheherazade IV, a slow, looping line that took advantage of two separate planet's gravity wells on the way there. Her captain was careful; there was no telling when the ship would be able to re-fuel, so they used as little as possible. This did, however, make interception by a Tau ship quite tricky, as the ship had to map where Serpentine would be, the soonest point the two could meet, and then it would have to match velocities with the Strike Cruiser, no easy task for a Manta Ray Destroyer that came from the opposite direction. The Destroyer, whose name was utterly unpronounceable to me, was nonetheless worthy of his admiration and disgust, at the same time; it was a perverted distortion of the will of the Machine God, but in that it was so elegant, far more so than the cobbled-together space hulks Orks attempted to fly, or the monstrous bio-ships used by Tyranids. It's design was elegant and deadly, to say the least. It was certainly stood little chance at destroying a Strike Cruiser, but in a straight up duel it could certainly do a bit of damage before it went out. That the Tau sent it to (hopefully) do naught but carry a diplomatic party is impressive, to say the least.

Docking was difficult; each ship had docking clamps for attaching other craft, but the two systems were wholly incompatible. Instead, two airlocks on the sides of the ship were chosen, and a ladder and airtight seal extended between the two. Shortly, three Tau diplomats and one Ethereal were aboard a Salamanders' Strike Cruiser.

They were met by a full squad of Scouts, in case any of the lesser crew misunderstood the Xenos' presence. The short walk from the airlock to the nearest briefing room went without incident.

“Greetings” the Ethereal(I assumed by his robe, rather than a light armor as the other three wore) said to us in Gothic. “I am Ethereal Aun'lok. Welcome to our system, and the Tau Empire.” Vulkan and I were alone in the room with the Xenos, our helms off as a sign of respect. How our jet black skin and glowing red eyes looked to them, I had no idea, but I think they thought us only slightly different from other Humans, the way I could only tell the slightest of differences between them.

“I am Forgefather Vulkan He'Stan, of the Salamanders Astartes, and your hospitality is appreciated.” He looked like he meant to clear his throat, but decided against it in case they took it as a predatory growl. “I'll go straight to my purposes here. Firstly, there is an ancient relic of my people, known to us as the Obsidian Chariot, which I am here to recover. Do you know of anything that could match that description?”

“No.” The diplomat said. Vulkan scowled but moved on.

“Now, recently, the world of Scheherazade IV was a Human world. We received a message not too long ago informing us that the “civilians were being killed” exactly as the message put it.”

The Diplomat tilted his head to the side slightly, although I'm still not sure what that expression means. “When we first took this planet, the entire population was given a choice; give up the world, or have it taken. The Defense Force put up an admirable fight, but were mostly eliminated. After that occurred, the Planetary government was again asked to surrender. This time, the government did. But the smaller continent, known to humans as “Scheherazade Secundus” refused. We recently moved to take the continent, which resulted in a good deal of collateral damage.”

Collateral Damage meant civilian lives. His People. I did my best not to glare at the Ethereal as Vulkan spoke.

“The murder of Human lives, and the repression of those not killed, is not to be done lightly.” He was glaring, though. “Had you not come under the flag of truce, I would kill you where you stand. As you are, I simply ask you to leave my ship.” Quite quickly, the four Xenos stood up, and were escorted back to their destroyer

“Should we not kill them, while their backs are turned?” I asked Vulkan once they'd left.

“It would be dishonorable to do so, and more to the point, that would bring the local Tau Navy bearing down on Serpentine, which is our most valuable asset right now. I have a better idea, though.” He keyed his helmet Vox. “Captain, we're in orbit around the fifth planet now, right?”

“Yes Forgefather” I heard the captain reply as I keyed into the command channel.

“Adjust our orbit from slingshot to Aerobrake-stable, and order the Storm Ravens and Thunderhawks prepped. We're heading down.”

Very nice. Good to see that you're still working on this. MORE MORE MORE!

Time for some simple Battle Scenes.

Tau in system detection couldn't possibly miss a Strike Cruiser. Gunships like the Thunderhawk and Storm Raven were an entirely different matter. Once the Manta Ray was out of detection range, we set about to launching our attacks. One of the Thunderhawks was dedicated to my Thunderfire Cannon, along with the two squads of Scouts. The Scouts (Scoots, as I remember calling them back in my days as a Tactical Marine) gave me a wide birth.

Once the two Thunderhawks and three Storm Ravens were loaded up, Vulkan spoke to us.

“Brothers. The Tau have held this planet under their oppression for decades now. There are humans here; slaves, conscripts, and puppets, all held by the Tau. So we break the Tau. The largest city on the human held continent is still mostly Human, aside from a Tau Barracks and assorted buildings. We crash into the Barracks, and take it, and we free the city. Now, Brothers, we ride. Into the Fires of Battle, Unto The Anvil of War!” Vulkan cried. The assembled Astartes repeated the cry, and I found myself yelling as well, before I climbed back into the Thunderhawk.

Soon enough, our point in the orbit was right, and we launched, each ship launched at a slightly different time, to account for it's weight and thrust, so that all five would land together. The flight was spent in prayer, and in a customary meal before a battle. This one was better than usual, actual meat rather than bland nutrition; I always make meals before a battle good ones, in case it's my last. The Scouts looked calm, but I knew from when I was a Scout that each one of them was slightly scared. Moreso for the youngest looking one, who my files said had never had a live battle before.

The landing was jarring, to say the least. The five gunships came in screaming at a high angle, lascannons firing on small buildings and a set of docked Tau transports. The scouts jumped at two thousand meters, and deployed Grav-chutes. They would land first, and I'd be grateful for sniper support already being in place when I landed.

The Thunderfire Cannon was launched from the cargo bay at fifteen hundred meters. I jumped at one thousand, with a one-use landing pack attached to my Servo-Harness. I made a landing on one fist and both feet, partially smashing the domed steel roof I landed on. The Thunderfire cannon drifted lightly on a grav-chute, then unfolded its support limbs and begun turning its turret. It would fire automatically for now; it's Machine Spirit knew friend from foe. If I needed to take manual control of it, I could, as well. I drew my Bolt Pistol in one hand, my Power Ax in the other, and waited. A few moments later, the cannon opened up; a squad of Tau warriors had been foolish enough to try firing at my cannon from behind cover. At first the gun used explosive bolts, but when they proved ineffective against their tight cover, it switched to airburst rounds. Each blast sent out a gout of flame that the Primarch himself would have approved of, and the Tau squad was annihilated quickly.

I was not to be left alone for long. A pack of odd looking creatures, chitinous winged insectoids that I recognized as Vespid, attacked my gun and I by leaping into the air. I blew one apart with my Bolt Pistol and fried the other with the Plasma Cutter, while the gun poured a set of explosive shells into the creatures. Four of them survived to fire back. Odd yellow waves of energy burst through the aperture of their guns; two missed me outright, while the third and fourth crashed into my armor, rocking me but leaving me alive. I fired my plasma cutter again, annihilating one of them, and would have dueled the others to death were it not for the Scout Snipers taking their heads off with a well placed shot. I uttered a silent thanks to them, and returned to attending my artillery. It mostly laid down suppressing fire, keeping the Tau's heads down to let other Marines kill them. I only occasionally took control of it manually with a device called a Wrangler. I got too complacent, and for too long, though. A blue-white streak of power cracked by me, and I could feel, through my armor, the air compression from it as it streaked by, missing my gun. The second shot, though, was better aimed, and tore through my gun in an instant. I cursed the firer for wasting an entire night, and looked to see if I could spot it.

The being responsible was clearly a Tau Dreadnought. I realized with an element of horror that this was one of their anti-tank models, an XV88 Broadside, as the Ordo Xenos had dubbed it(the Tau word had far too many syllables for battlefield use-how do they manage?) It was slightly wasted in this battle, as we were yet to deploy any tanks, but it was no less deadly when turned against Battle Brothers. Deciding it was time to abandon my position, I found the lowest roof from the building and leapt.

It was a twenty meter fall. Could have maimed or killed a human, but I landed gracefully, bending my knees and Servo Arms to absorb the fall. Seeing nothing better to do, I darted around a building, planning to ambush the Broadside from behind. My run, however, was rudely interrupted; I ran into three suits of Tau Stealth Armor; Stealthsuits, the word translated to. They carried an assortment of weapons, usually one that was almost equal to a Multi-Melta, and via techno-sorcery, they were nearly as strong as Power Armor, but had stealth capabilities that outdid Scouts. Of course, like all Tau, they weren't much for close combat. I dodged most of the shots they fired, the rest impacted my armor and did little more than slow me down. I responded in kind with my Bolt Pistol and suit Flamer, killing two of them. The third died to my Power Axe, screaming. I hope its Comms were open.

After running through them, I returned to heading towards the Broadside, and had soon rounded behind it.

Correction; them. There were three. Three Broadsides, pouring fire into our Marines, killing at least two with each volley. I charged, my pistol forgotten on my hip. My Plasma Cutter attempts to fire, but a red warning light in my vision signals an overheat. My flamer washed over their armor, apparently doing nothing. Screaming glory to the Emperor, I charged. My power axe chopped one Dreadnought in half at the hip, leaving its legs standing in place. The second turned to look at me, and I chopped the barrels from its weapons. I was about to go for the killing blow when the third kicked me in the back, knocking me headlong into the first. We both went tumbling to the ground, and though the Dreadnought was easily stronger than me, and almost twice my height, I managed to work my way out of its hold quickly. A blow from my ax finished the one on the ground, tearing into the pilot's hold, showering the ground in blue blood. I rushed at the second one, deflecting a poorly aimed strike from its huge, lumbering arm with the head of my ax, which of course tore right through the arm, making it useless. After that, I gave it another swipe; this one tore straight through the dreadnought itself. Sparks and blood flew as the gigantic construct fell to the ground, almost torn in half. I took a moment to kill the still-living pilot of the Broadsides I'd bisected before looking around for another target.

I knew that Tau hated close combat; nearly everyone knew that. I'd just killed three of their most valuable war machines in hand to hand combat. Of all the things I expected, a Tau suit barreling towards me was not on the list. I was stunned for a critical moment, and in that moment, the suit reached me. It took a running jump, raised its leg, and kicked me square in the chest. A human would have been crushed instantly. I went flying along the same trajectory as the Tau suit, so when we came to a rest I was on the concrete city street, and it was standing on top of me.

“Who fails at close combat now?” The suit said, in amplified, thickly accented Gothic. I responded.

“You. Alien.” My breathing was heavy and quick, and I could feel both my hearts beating. “You speak our language. You speak the language of the Immortal Emperor! How dare you defile our tongue with-” I was cut off by a loud band, bright flash, and rush of pain. The suit's Plasma Gun was venting steam.

“Prisoners do best when not questioning their captors.” I looked over at my arm; what was left of it, at least. The blast had vaporized my Bolt Pistol, and my forearm along with it. Then I looked back at the Tau commander and laughed.

“How, exactly, do you expect to take me prisoner?” I asked him, watching the heat meter on my Plasma cutter's readout; it was still to hot to fire. All I had to do was stall the commander,. Another burst, and the meter disappeared. He'd shot off my plasma cuttter. My flamer was next, then one of my servo arms. He was repositioning his aim on my last mechanical arm when he screamed. The next thing I knew, his plasma gun burst, and the helmet's faceplate opened up. Inside his suit, he was on fire. With a gut twisting wrench, he fell to the side. Vulkan stood over me, spear glowing orange-hot and sizzling with alien metal and guts.

“Will you live, brother?” He asked. I nodded, standing up. I had nothing but my ax and a single servo-arm left. And the stump of my regular arm, which had been severed at the elbow. “My arm needs replacing.” I declared, as if it was a simple component to be worn away and replaced. In a way, it was.

“The battle is won.” Vulkan replied. “Serpentine will send down a replacement when the supply drop comes.” He helped me up, and I glanced at my broken servo-harness. There weren't any of those on the ship.

I really like this story, Good good! Subbed!

I'm just writing this whenever I feel like it, so updates will be erratic. I have a few chapter's worth written out ahead of time, though.

The Humans were responsive, to say the very least. The people of Scheherazade were of fair skin and either yellow or orange eyes. Freed of their Tau oppressors, they very quickly established a city militia, using captured Tau hand weapons, but human vehicles. (Tau use a biological lock on their vehicles so that only Tau can use them. Why they don't apply the same to their handguns is anyone's guess.) The city governor was added to our councils of war. His name was Calain Varris, and he was a simple man, blunt and brutally honest. He was clearly spooked at being the only human at our table, but did enough to hide it that a human wouldn't have noticed. However, there was another, far more unexpected result of our taking the city so swiftly.

It came unarmed, and bringing the white flag of peace. Cal'ek and Sali'vren wanted to end its existence immediately. Vulkan and Alt'vre were in favor of hearing what it had to say. I cleared my throat, and said “It may be well to hear it out. They could be useful creatures, after all. Varris nodded in agreement.

So we allowed a Kroot Shaper to meet our council of war.

It entered, and dropped to one knee. It introduced itself, and gave its name, which I couldn't pronounce, being an odd series of clicks, chips, and whistles. These avian creatures were strange, to say the least. “I offer you the service of sixty five warriors.” It said bluntly, in Gothic. Cal'ek eyed it suspiciously.

“And what would you have in return?”

“A world, or an island or continent to call our own. Perhaps Scheherazade Secundus.” Even in it's mangled Gothic, I was impressed with how well it had thought this out for such a blunt request, using the human name of the continent. Cal'ek glanced at Vulkan, who nodded and spoke.

“If you offer your services in exchange for land, then land you shall have. Shaper, you may attend our war councils from now on, or else pick another to speak with the voice of the Kroot.”

“I shall speak for my people,” it declared.

The rest of the war council went simply; Vulkan and Cal'ek debated our next move while Varrin and I saw to the city's defenses. Tau do not build Hive Cities as we do. The Air Caste and Water Caste live in tall towers, better to launch aircraft and starships, but the Fire Caste and Earth Caste expand outward onto the plains, as do the Kroot and Humans, meaning the city is generally just as wide as it is tall. We decided to ignore the suburbs and concentrate on the towers. The last of the Vespid and Tau were exterminated before the meeting was done.

Three hours later, precisely on schedule, a flight of Drop Pods and Supply Carriers impacted on the surface. From the supply carriers were deployed three tanks; a Whirlwind Artillery tank, a Vindicator Seige tank, and a Predator Annihilator. Four Rhino APCs followed. From the Drop Pods came supplies of ammunition and chain-blades to replace what we'd expended in taking the planet and supply us for the next few weeks of fighting, along with several pods filled with nothing but Prometheum tanks, for fueling the tanks, flamers, and Dropships, and a replacement arm for me. Most important, though, were a set of automated Heavy Bolter turrets. These we fitted all along the towers we had chosen as our defensive bases. Anti-vehicle defense I thought would be a problem, until the Humans came to me with an ingenious solution. The weapons mounted on the shoulders of Tau Dreadnoughts. Railguns, they're called. The Humans could rig automated turrets to use them, complimenting our Heavy Bolters. I wasn't concerned about their techno-sorcery. It might very well have changed the war, and as the leading Mechanicus officer on the planet, I decided what was Heresy against the Omnissiah.

The defenses took all night to organize, which was six hours on this planet. I managed to sneak two hours of full sleep in between duties. I had a meal of compressed food and was heading to speak to Vulkan when he found me.

“Just who I wanted to talk to.” I said. “The defenses are finished in design, and the human menials will have them built in days.”

“Excellent work. I have something you'll want to hear about, though. Up in space, when the Tau told us they had heard nothing of the Obsidian Chariot? They lied. The humans say the Tau have a fortified dig site not thirty kilometers outside the city, and that they've made repeated references to there being ancient, even pre-heresy technology present. I'm heading there, and I want you with me. We'll take two squads, plus Alt'vre and a Thunderhawk. We ride in an hour.

---

I'd removed my Servo-harness, leaving me with a single servo-arm, and had attached the bionic forearm with the help of the 6th company's Apothecary. A replacement Bolt Pistol came easily. I would be sticking with Alt'vre through the battle, if there was one, to field repair any critical damage to his Dreadnought armor. The flight was peacefully uneventful, until the end. The Thunderhawk came screaming in low to the ground(a flat field of knee-high grass) and all at once opened up with its Lascannons and Heavy Bolters, destroying a mammoth Tau digging vehicle. It occurred to me that we might need it to unearth whatever was buried, but I shrugged it off. Small arms fire pattered uselessly against the Thunderhawk's hull, and the area seemed clear of any Anti-vehicle defenses. The dropship pulled to a stop and we all took the ten meter jump from the hovering craft to the ground. Slides on Bolters racked and the Marines opened up fire on the Tau. Fire more literal with the Melta and Flamer each squad carried, along with Alt'vre's Multi-Melta and Heavy Flamer.

We made short work of the Tau Defenders, and before too long Vulkan, Alt'vre and I stood at the mouth of an enormous cave.

“This would be the dig site.” I said. Alt'vre, Vulkan and I stepped forward, walking into a cave, when I heard it. The high, shrill whine I didn't recognize but had heard described. My reflexes kicked in, and I sprinted forward. Vulkan and Alt'vre hesitated for a moment, and it cost them. I couldn't see what happened, but another marine described it; a Tau fighter-bomber swooped in, and fired a missile at the roof of the cave. It collapsed, of course, dropping several tons of stone on Vulkan and Alt'vre and sealing me inside.

“Are you hurt, brothers?” I asked over the channel. I heard but didn't care about the reports from our Thunderhawk Pilot, who was moving to engage the Tau aircraft.

“No.” Vulkan responded. “It'll take me a while to work my way out of here, though, and what's worse, my armor will need repainting.” Rather than the rough humor Vulkan tried(and to me, failed) to get across, Alt'vre responded with a simple “No damage. I am trapped, however.”

“I'll find a way to dig you out-” I began, but Vulkan cut me off.

“No, keep searching; find what the Tau are digging for. The Marines can get us out.” I nodded uselessly, since he couldn't see it, and, ax and pistol in hand, headed down the tunnel.

---

The Tau were plain and simple about their digging, but it was clear they'd been unearthing a grand imperial structure. Smooth carved walls gave way to gothic arches, stone to rockcrete and adamantine. Before long, I couldn't have told whether I was deep in a cave or deep in a hive city. The tunnels were large enough to drive a Baneblade through, and half-again tall enough for a Dreadnought. I soon found a gigantic door, almost the size of the hall, with the Salamanders' Draconic symbol formed over it in brass.

“This would be the place.” I said to myself. There was a data-port on the far right side of the door. On a whim, I inserted my interface probe, and wouldn't you know it, it fit. Something's to be said for not changing a ten-thousand year old design. I expected a very complex, thought out sealant code, or a puzzle of some sort. What I got was a simple statement.

“Into The Fires Of Battle.” It sent to my brain. Without even thinking, I responded.

“Unto the Anvil of War.” Anyone with rudimentary knowledge of our chapter would know that, and I realized that the keypad wasn't meant to be a defense. But there were sure to be defenses. Ax in hand, I watched as the door swung slowly open. I stepped aside to get a better view, and saw the most beautiful construct I had ever seen.

I am eager for more, and it is well thought out, but how could Vulkan, arguably one of the most trained marines in the chapter not of heard the tau ship that fired at them?

Because plot.

Seriously though, he heard the noise, but didn't recognize it.

Ahh okay, thanks for the explanation, loving it all by the way.

Rangler? Someone's been playing too much TF2.

Love it! Awesome story going!

Mr Nobody wrote:Rangler? Someone's been playing too much TF2.

I knew someone would pick up on that.

The Obsidian Chariot was a Land Raider in design. It was black, glossy as the material that was its namesake, and bristled with weapons. I easily recognized the pintle mounted weapon; a Multi-Melta. On the sides were etched Gothic arches, and the Chapter's-no, the Legion's symbol was inlaid in brass, perfectly, down to the tiniest bristle on the dragon's head. The sponson guns were no weapon I recognized, but they resembled an upsized Meltagun of some sort. A Flamestorm Cannon protruded from the front. The entire vehicle was beautifully designed, its track wheels inlaid with brass leaf. The name of our Chapter was etched upon the front, along with our chapter's battle cry. Most amazingly, Vulkan's personal heraldry was painted on the very fore of the tank, a Dragon standing over a Dark Eldar raider, and the black silhouette of a man raising a hammer to the sky behind them, all standing on an Imperial Aquilla. I stood in reverence; it was all I could do not to burst into prayer. Slowly, I stepped forward and approached the side hatch of the Land Raider. It had a hand shaped depression next to it, which I palmed. The hatch unfolded outward, and I stepped backward to allow it to open, before reverently stepping inside.

The inside was dark, and smelled of ash and machine oil. A moment after I stepped inside, the control panels suddenly started glowing, and lights came on, bathing me in a smooth orange glow. It was still active, and awake, after all these millennium of idleness.

“IDENTIFY YOURSELF!” A harsh, loud, female voice barked in a Nocturne accent. I looked around for the source of the voice. I found none, but the temperature in the Chariot had spiked. “IDENTIFY YOURSELF, NOW, OR BE DESTROYED!”

“Techmarine Granius Lestra, of The Salamanders, Adeptus Astartes.” I said, nervously. “Who are you?”

“I am the Obsidian Chariot, personal Land Raider to your Primarch, Salamander. Tell me, where is Vulkan, and why has he neglected me for so long?” I swallowed. Was I speaking to a machine? There didn't seem to be another explanation, but no Machine Spirit, not even that of a Battleship, was strong enough to think and respond.

“Vulkan disappeared, eight thousand standard years ago. I am part of an ongoing mission to return him.” The Chariot sat in silence for a moment, but the temperature in the tank fell to normal again. “If I may,” I began “Are you an artificial intelligence?”

“Almost.” It said. “Once I was Amandine Lia'nak, of Nocturne.” I digested this. It was once human? “I was a close friend of Vulkan's, and occasionally accompanied him to war. In one such instance, a Dark Eldar Raider killed me, destroying several internal organs of mine. There was no time to replace them, so I was taken to the Apothecaries and Techmarines. Vulkan demanded they save me, and they did the best they could. I was taken to a Princeps Throne from a recently destroyed Titan, and in my dying moments hooked into it. My body died, but I lived on in the form of a Machine Spirit. Vulkan was distraught, to say the least, but they had my mind transferred to a Land Raider. Vulkan customized it himself, and now you see the Obsidian Chariot before you. We lived on together, for far longer than a mortal woman such as myself should have. Even denied pleasures of the flesh, Vulkan and I remained close. Until he left me here, and parted with me.” I thought about this for a while. Such experience with Vulkan, it was insane to hear of it firsthand. A woman of his? Madness. But if I could return the Chariot to Prometheus, there would be much she had to say. I made the decision quickly.

“This world has been taken by Xenos.” I said. “A newly risen breed known as the Tau.” The Obsidian Chariot revved her engine, and the ambient temperature jumped again.

“Take me to them. I would burn the foul creatures to ash and bone, were they in my reach.” I smiled, and sat down in the Control Throne of the ship, hooking the cables into my armor. Amandine's consciousness flooded over mine, and for a brief moment, I felt as if I was the Land Raider. Epochs of boredom and, oddly enough, melancholy. The woman seemed quite sad to have been left here for so long, and eager to leap into the fray. What was that saying about a woman scorned?

I keyed the throttle, and the tank surged forward. “Tell me,” I began, speaking out loud even though the Chariot could hear my thoughts through the link. “What are you armed with?”

“My primary weapons are my sponson guns, a pair of Prometheus pattern Melta Cannons, which you'll find quite a bit more destructive than an average Melta weapon.” Amandine thought with a touch of pride. “I am also armed with a Flamestorm Cannon at the front, and a Multi Melta on the pintle. I trust both of those are still in use? What year is it, anyway?” Amandine thought at me through the link cables, rather than use the vocalizer she had spoken through earlier. I switched to merely thinking through the link, as well.

“Both in use, though Flamestorm Cannons are rare, and the year is 999.M41”

“Eight thousand years.” She thought, reverently. The rest of the ride was done in silence, and soon we came to the collapsed mouth of the cave. I listened through the Vox, and passed the sounds along to Amandine.

”My brothers fight outside the mouth of the cave.” I heard both Vulkan and the Dreadnought who'd come with us fighting, and knew they'd cleared themselves of the rubble. Working with an odd synergy, Amandine and I brought the Melta Cannons to bear on the rock fall, and fired. Solid granite glowed orange-hot, brighter and brighter, until nothing was left but a pool of lava. We surged forward and came down on the other side, molten rock splaying down the front of the Obsidian Chariot's hull. The Melta Cannons fired again, vaporizing a pair of Tau Battlesuits. I saw Space Marines staring in awe through the view cameras, and yelled at them over the Vox to return to the fight. Even Vulkan took a moment from gutting Vespid to stare.

I saw three tanks, which I identified as Tau Hammerheads. Railguns were mounted atop them, and they opened fire at us. Shots which would have annihilated a Rhino or Predator simply panged off the hull.

”No Damage.” Amandine thought. She opened up with the Cannons, barreling towards the tanks at high speed .One was gutted, through and through, to explode a moment later. The other took a minor hit, and the heat roasted the crew within alive. The final tank, Amandine simply rammed through, crushing the Hammerhead under her treads.

Their armor gone, the Tau were an easy mop-up. Before too long, the entire force, which had apparently been a counterattack launched from orbit, was either fleeing or annihilated. When the battle was done, Vulkan stepped aboard, and Amandine went through the same introduction and explanation that she had with me, substituting the death threats for confusion at Vulkan's taken name. She took to calling him “He'Stan”, presumably to avoid confusing herself. I disengaged myself from the Control Throne, and stepped outside of the Obsidian Chariot.

“Wonderful, my friend.” Vulkan began. “Well done. You will go down in history; I'll personally see to having your name inscribed into the Tome Of Fire, among the Forgefathers. You have done the Chapter a great service. We must return to Nocturne, though.” I looked at him oddly.

“Are we not to liberate all of Scheherazade IV?” I had resigned myself to campaigning on this world for a while, getting used to the conditions here.

“The Salamanders will, but you and I will not. The Serpentine has sent word to the nearest Imperial Battlefleet. They'll be waging a full scale war against the Tau, over this whole Subsector, not simply Scheherazade. But the Obsidian Chariot is too valuable to risk.” I could have sworn that the tank's engine turned to a contented purr at that. “The sixth company will remain here, with the Militia and the Guard that will soon arrive. We will ride back with us to Nocturne.

“Yes, Forgefather.” I said, swallowing. He spotted what I was thinking, even past my helmet.

“You would rather stay and fight?” I nodded. “As would I. But the war here will be long and dirty. We'd best get out of here while we can.”

Still great, but (and this is probably just me) I don't like the idea of the Obsidian Chariot (a severely revered relic of the Salamanders and a beacon of hope for mankind) being found just like that

Or maybe you do have a trick up your sleeve... Here's to hoping the Chariot will never reach its destination

I'm really enjoying this story you are making, I have to say I lol'd at this bit

I stood in reverence; it was all I could do not to burst into prayer.

I'm rewriting what I had planned for next chapter, so it's going to be a while longer than I'd thought before I update.