Everything went horribly wrong the minute the Mantis Warrior fired his silenced bolter into what he assumed was the huddled shadows of men in the near-dark dusk of Macharian VI.

They stood over the carcasses of other humans, silently flensing their flesh off, carrying it on their backs as they did their grim work. Unikal thought they were cannibals scavenging a fresh killing field. The minute he squeezed a round into their backs, the metal clanking against metal, he knew that what he faced was not normal. When they jerked up and stared at him with glowing green eyes, he knew what he faced was not human.

Dashing through the scrublands scorched by boiling acid rain and stunted by the march of innumerable armies, the Space Marine struggled in vain to escape his pursuit. The knife fingered abominations he easily outpaced. However, he was being hounded by the grim specters of cobra-hooded snake men, floating in silent pursuit of Unikal.

The Mantis Warrior turned to fire a muted bolter round into the trio of floating wraiths stalking him. Like the other metallic creations he fired against, his ammo plinked off their armored hides. Firing again, the round was true, but somehow passed right through their form. Cursing, he pumped his legs as hard as he could. Genetically enhanced as he was, the distance between the man and the machines was cut by inches every minute. Soon, they would be in striking distance to fleece him of his armor and his skin. As a product of the geneseed of heroes, he vowed to live on to report what he found.

Doing the calculations in his head, it would take over an hour before he got back to the closest Imperial Guard encampment on the Trampled Plains. Between his speed and the speed of his pursuit, he wouldn’t make it halfway there. He had to think. They were immune to his guns; the plain itself was perfectly flat for kilometers around. He had no way to communicate his situation. He cursed loudly again.

He had to think of something!

Looking back, his death was apparent. He wouldn’t make it!

So with grim resolve, he abruptly skidded to a halt and spun back the way he came. Out from his holster came his bolt pistol. He charged right at the lead creature, diving under swiping talons and firing into its serpentine abdomen. It screeched inhumanely, an ancient language that predated everything the Space Marine knew. A shiver of fear climbed Unikal’s spine, but he suppressed it as he scrambled from underneath the floating thing to backpedal away. Its movements jerked around in the air, as finally one or more of his bolter rounds had actually caused damage.

The other two monstrosities lazily floated into range. With all his martial skill, he fended off their claws and the swipe of their barbed tails. Up close, he noticed that they seemed to shimmer in and out of reality, their bodies not whole at times, others perfectly solid as his arm shuddered under hammer-like blows.

He fired off two more shots at close range, but with his concentration focused on defense, he could not mount a proper offense. Finally, he noticed the third and last creature entering the fray. It circled around in a wide arc to get behind him. Once it did, The Mantis Warrior knew he would die.

But the creature never got completely around him. Loud and concentrated gunfire erupted in his ear drums. He noticed in his periphery the zip of heated bullets as they riddled the jerking and spasming form of the creature.

“For the Emperor!” was the battlecry as several Space Marines charged to stand shoulder to shoulder with Unikal. The odds suddenly favored the Mantis Warrior as the combined might of five battle-tested warriors felled the two remaining hooded specters of death they faced.

With combat abated, Unikal allowed the exhaustion to overwhelm him as he finally reached his body’s absolute limit. Two of his fellow battle brothers grab his arms and helped him stagger to an ammo crate they hauled from the confines of a nearby parked rhino transport. Lead eyed, he stared up at the leader of the squad who stood flanked by his men.

He was a Son of Guilliman from the look of his checkered white and blue armor. He led a disparate group of marines that came from other chapters, some from those he knew, others that he couldn’t even vaguely recall. A cackling power sword was held defensively in his hand. The other hovered closed to a plasma pistol strapped to his belt. He stared down at Unikal with a furrowed brow, quietly sizing up the man he rescued.

“Battle brother, what are you doing this far out from your base?” he asked.

The Mantis Warrior sighed and tried his best not to sound tired. “Recon. I was attached to the Banarian V’s 332nd Regiment. I was tasked by Colonel Drakun to find and eliminate any enemy scouts that could be trying to find the remnants of their fallen comrades.

“I found these things on the field, stalking the dead and taking their flesh. These ones here pursued me,” he gestured toward where the dead metallic creatures lay. He froze in surprise.
The corpses were gone.

The marines surrounding their sergeant quickly snapped into action, filtering out to find out where they went. The Son of Guilliman ordered his rhino crew to turn on the searchlights.

“By the Emperor’s Might…” he began to maledict. He caught himself ahead of completing the curse and turned to Unikal, who was as wide eyed as the man who saved him.

“Vanished?” he questioned as his men barked out negatives to any hostile presence in the vicinity.

The Mantis Warrior nodded his head. “These creatures hounded me for kilometers. They can…phase out of existence. I tried hitting them with bolter rounds and physical blows. Sometimes they shimmered out of existence.”

The two men stared at each other in understanding. What just happened tonight needed to be reported, and quickly.

“Come with me into the rhino,” the sergeant bade. “We have a communication array inside. We need to report this to Chapter Master Calabeck.”

With a strong grasp, the Son of Guilliman marine lifted the tired soldier off the crate.

With a questioning stare, Unikal asked, “Wait…before we go inside, please tell me the name of my savior. I owe you a debt for my life today.”

“Son…you may call me Grimswald, a Son of Guilliman.” His stern façade softened. “And today marine, for what you found, we may have to owe you all our lives.”

Darius Stone, Scoutmaster of the Mantis Warriors strode purposefully though the halls of the Imperial Space Station “Iron Torch”, his brow furrowed and his mind half a sector away where his charges fought a savage beast of an ork called “The Gitsplitta”… whatever that was… and his mindless hordes in one of the endless “Waaaghs” that threatened the Imperium. At his side, Sergeant Inushi, a former pupil and now full brother in the chapter matched his pace… It was clear from the relaxed and confident facial expression that the young man failed to fully comprehend the complexity or peril inherent in their current circumstance. He was one of the brightest in the first crop of scouts that had been provided to the Mantis Warriors upon their return to Imperial Space. His physical prowess, mental acuity and fierce devotion to the Emperor made him a perfect candidate and he did not disappoint. Within the first week of training he had established himself as squad leader amongst the cadre of scouts, and when he at last became a full brother of the chapter, the fact that he was chosen to lead one of the newly constituted tactical squads surprised no one. Like most young men however, he was head strong with a tendency to shoot off his mouth with the same ease as his plasma pistol… never considering that the situation (or gun) could over-heat and cause a sudden crisis.

“I don’t understand why we’re here Darius, this is a waste of time!” said Inushi to the Scoutmaster.

“We are here my brother, to give a full accounting of the ork cult you found on CygnusX-328.”

“Yes, yes, I understand that!” snapped Inushi, “What I don’t understand is why we have to be here in-person. I gave a full report to the Captain and he filed it up the chain-of-command. While we waste our time in this station stuffed to overflowing with doughy, vacuous and utterly useless Imperial bureaucrats our brothers are fighting and dying without us! We are still far too few to sustain a campaign like this while key personnel are sent to satisfy the curiosity of Imperial bean counters!”

The calm and confident visage of Inushi’s countenance had now been replaced by one of fierce zeal mixed with mild disgust.

Darious answered in a calm and measured voice. “Allow me to remind you, young brother, of the reasons for our summons. The “Bug Boy” cult that you uncovered in Gitsplitta’s Bad Moon clan is unlike any other orkish entity encountered in this sector. It has used it’s contact with our chapter as a focal point for their natural ferocity and creativity. They have begun to emulate our chapter, our ways of battle, even going so far as to strip the dead of their gear or mounting raids on our supply lines and outposts for the singular purpose of equipping themselves. As a result they have become a much more effective fighting force than a typical ork mob could ever achieve. All of the ork’s natural fury and cunning combined with superior weaponry and tactics. It is nearly unprecedented in the annals of Imperial history and a cause for great concern.”

“Nearly?” asked Inushi.

“Yes, well… I remember attending an Ultramarine security briefing roughly two centuries ago while I was studying under Telion. Intelligence had come to them of an entire ork warband who dressed and were loosely organized as if they were Dark Angles. At the time the information had not be confirmed, but perhaps it was an indication that a new phase of orkish evolution has begun and the beasts have added functional mimicry to their already long list of instinctual skills.” answered Stone.

“Understood” said Inushi “but I still don’t see why they had to pull us out of the field to conduct their investigations. Everything we know is in the report. What can they possibly gain from bringing us here? Why is our report on the subject not simply accepted as fact?”

Stone stopped, spun and caught his young companion by the bicep… bringing him to a sudden and less than dignified halt. Inushi, surprised and somewhat irritated by this sudden assertion of force by his old mentor, tried to pull back… but Stone’s fist might as well have been made of ceramite, for Inushi could not dislodge himself from the Scoutmaster’s grip. When Inushi met his gaze, a feeling came over him that he hadn’t felt since he was a scout… deep respect, devotion tinged with love… and fear.

“Because, my son… we are Mantis Warriors." Said the Scoutmaster through a clenched jaw, lowering his voice so that only Inushi would hear. "Everything we do is suspect. We have been forgiven on paper but most of the Astartes who fought against us still live, and still view us as traitors to the Imperium. We were sent into the Maelstrom on crusade not to eliminate the Astral Claws but to be eliminated ourselves, so the Imperium would be rid of us without the embarrassment of a formal purge.”

“Yet you survived.” replied Inushi in a hushed tone.

“Aye, we survived.” Stone’s words were guttural… primal in their tone like the growl of a Fenris wolf. “But we are not forgiven… not by those who’s blood was spilt on the fields of Badab , not by the Imperial technocrats who gained power from our banishment, or by the single-minded members of the Inquisition who will seek any excuse to send us back into oblivion. Remember it is He whom we serve, but we must treat with “them” to survive for His service.

“Damn the Inquisition!” Inushi blurted out much too loudly… “Faithless bastards hiding in their citadels and passing judgment on faithful servants of the Emperor, all to preserve their own lust for power.”

“We’ve earned this fate boy!” Stone’s cold rebuke struck Inushi to the core. “And if you don’t learn to mind your tongue you will do yourself and our chapter irrevocable harm!”

Cowed for the moment, Inushi fell silent and contemplated his elder’s words. Stone released his grip and moved forward brusquely while Inushi fell in beside him. At length they came to a pair of ornate, arched doors nearly 10 meters high. “The excesses of the Inquisition never cease to amaze me.” muttered Stone almost unconsciously before deciding to take his own advice and keep his mouth shut.

As they approached they were met at the door by a woman with a blonde top-knot. “Are you ready for your de-briefing?” she asked.

“Aye” said Stone.

“Very well then, follow me.” she said and together the trio entered the vault-like room.

…

After many hours of what felt more like a trial than a debriefing, Stone and Inushi found themselves returning through the long corridors to the shuttle which would return them to the "The Green Menace", the Mantis Warrior frigate which had brought them. Considering what had transpired over the last several hours it had gone about as well as could be expected. With Stone to guide him, Inushi kept his temper in check and stuck to the facts, even amidst the veiled (and not so veiled) threats and innuendos of that golden-haired bitch of an inquisitor. Unfortunately Stone had been able to glean very little about what the Inquisition knew or was looking for during the debriefing, but he couldn’t help but feel that something wasn’t right. Considering how hostile an examiner the inquisitor was, there were areas of weakness in Inushi’s testimony which even Stone noted, yet they were not pursued. Whether the inquisitor wasn’t as smart as he thought, was blinded her clear hatred for the Mantis Warriors or had some other, hidden motive he could not be sure.

They finally arrived at the hanger doors. The security check point was designed to allow a single person entry or exit at one time. As was his nature, Stone led the way, anxious to be quit of the station before any other unfortunate circumstances occur. As he stepped into the bay he heard a loud hissing sound from the expulsion of gas followed by a resounding clang of metal on metal just behind him. Hidden bulkhead doors had dropped from pockets in the ceiling separating him from his young charge.

...

The bulkhead had come down impossibly fast. Even with his heightened speed and strength Inushi had no chance to get through before it closed. Inushi instinctively reacted to this threat as he would any other. He dropped and spun, kicking out from the bulkhead as he reached for his katana & plasma pistol and leaping into the center of the corridor where he could maneuver and fight. The hallway however, was empty… even the servitors had disappeared.

“Sergeant Tano Inushi of the Mantis Warriors” the inquisitor’s voice rang out from hidden speakers and echoed throughout the hallway. “You are here by charged with the crime of heresy for calling into question the Will of the Emperor by criticizing the just actions of the Inquistion.”

“You lie!” he cried to the walls and empty spaces.

“Play the tape.” said the disarticulated feminine voice.

From the hollow depths of the station his own words came back to damn him…“Damn the Inquisition!” “Faithless bastards hiding in their citadels and passing judgment on faithful servants of the Emperor, all to preserve their own lust for power.”

As the echoes of his foolish words reverberated through the empty hall, two large sections of hallway wall slid silently into the floor, revealing two full squads of Adeptus Sororitas bearing flamers and meltas… all leveled at the young marine.

“Submit to judgement or be purged where you stand... and your precious Scoutmaster with you.” echoed the Inquisitors voice.

-finis-

“Submit to judgment...”

The words rang against his ears as Sergeant Tano Inushi awoke from his disturbed sleep.

“or be purged where you stand…”

Inushi wished he choose the latter course of action now.

Fully alert and standing up again, the fallen Mantis Warrior looked around his confines. The brig he now occupied for the last several years was his home now. Gone was the days of his former existence with his fellow warriors, fighting in the Emperor’s name and delivering swift justice to those who wronged him or his mentor, Scoutmaster Darius Stone.

“We are Mantis Warriors….”

“We are not forgiven….”

“We’ve earned this fate….”

Inushi replayed the final days of his freedom day after day, every morning he awoke before the Inquisition came down to torture his mind and body, looking for any tiny crack to excuse themselves for more arbitrary punishment on his person.

Inushi dared not strike back. He knew he was valuable to them in more ways than one. His continued existence allowed his friend and teacher to still live…or so they say. The Scoutmaster could be dead by now, as years have ticked away while his pupil had been captive to the whims of the capricious Inquisition.

Sighing, he stretched his bruised muscles and began to perform basic exercises in his spartan cell. The daily routine kept his body in shape despite the minimal room, and allowed him some emotional respite as he pummeled the walls of his cell with scabbed fists. His spirit and body were hardly broken despite the strain levied on him after innumerable days locked away.

The one side of his cell where he could peer out was perpetually kept dark. A trick of magic or technology Inushi could not say. Men came and left through the darkened portal, perhaps watching him every minute of every day. He himself could not penetrate the dark depths.

He didn’t even know where he was.

Performing his final hundred stomach crunches, the space marine then sat up and assumed a cross-legged sitting position, folding his arms and closing his eyes as he began to meditate in the final minutes before the next round of punishments began.

Images flitted by in his semi-conscious state, each one copious coming into perfect crystallization in his mind’s eye.

He remembered the first day that the Mantis Warriors found the promising youth on his home planet of Nihaze III. They took him and the other recruits aboard their Battle Barge, Endless Redemption.

The months blurred by as recruit after recruit was deemed unworthy, either dying or being inducted into the serfs that would service the marines for the duration of their lives.
Finally, only Tano Inushi remained standing, alone amongst the crop of young men that had succeeded in becoming a scout.

Years then progressed as surgery, indoctrination, and training honed the reckless young Mantis Warrior into a perfect killing machine. He learned under the wing of his beloved Scoutmaster Darius Stone. He learned the tortured history of his fellow marines and the path of redemption they were imposed on, and he learned the depths to which select chapter mates succumbed to their “Battle-haze,” a flaw in the geneseed that granted them greater senses and strength, but at the cost of their will.

It all culminated into the celebration that took place where Tano Inushi stood at long last was considered a full Mantis Warrior, and placed into the Tactical Squad that he would one day lead when the prior Sergeant fell in battle.

Then the fated day came when the Inquisition took that all away from him. They overheard his heretical words against the fate they imposed upon his chapter. They took him away and sealed him in this cage. They gifted him with pain every single day. Their laughs and accusations marred the mind of Inushi, tempering his stoicism with well hidden fury he fueled in the dark pit of his mind of the day he would finally be released-

The cell door clinked, and swung away into the dark void. The sergeant opened his eyes and sighed. Standing up, he turned to face the bleak prospects of the day, the trudging trio of guards along with the Inquisitor who would mete out his daily punishment. It didn’t matter who was the Inquisitor who stepped through that door, in Inushi’s head they were all the same blurred torturer that had cast him into this hole.

Today what strode through the door was one man who stepped through the blackness into the metal cell. He held in one hand something long and thin wrapped in cloth. The other hand rested on a holstered plasma pistol.

“Sergeant Tano Inushi of the Mantis Warriors,” the Inquisitor stated. “You are free.”

All the emotions drained out of the stunned marine as he gaped at this man. Looking more closely at his features and power armor, he noticed for the first time that this weathered and seasoned servant of the Emperor was not one he had seen before. Composing himself quickly, he narrowed his eyes and scoffed.

“Free? You’re mocking me. This must be yet another penitence I am being tested with now. Am I right?”

The Inquisitor shook his head and tossed the wrapped cloth to the marine, who caught the item gingerly. Still eyeing the man, he undid the cloth covering...

And felt the touch of familiar steel to his hands. Inushi jerked his eyes downward.

His katana was once again reunited with him.

Inushi slumped to his knees, reverently holding his favored weapon. With tears in his eyes, he looked to the Inquisitor questioningly.

“Your imprisonment has been hereby revoked by me, Heth Fernix. You are now taken under my wing for the duration of this Crusade. Here, you may need this. It’s not your original weapon, but I hear you liked to use plasma pistols.

The Inquisitor unholstered his weapon and handed it to the kneeling Inushi, who accepted it as he rose, his mind racing with the sudden turn of events. One question did sprout in his thoughts that he had to state.

“Deathwatch?” queried the young marine.

Again Heth shook his head no. “I am afraid we don’t have the time to go through all the pomp and ceremony for you to be inducted. Suffice to say, you were brought to Macharian VI for a different purpose. Take my hand, as you may get dizzy from passing through the null light barrier.”

Inushi took the man’s hand and stepped into the blackness after him. A wave of nausea passed through him, but he clenched his teeth and overcame the momentary sickness.

A great hanger loomed all around him as he came out of the depths of his cell. Something was not right. He was marched down a corridor to his enclosed room all those years ago when he last saw the outsides of his imprisonment. A few steps more and he spun quickly to see where he was entombed for four years.

His cell was nothing more than a giant metal crate.

“How…” Inushi began to question, but was cut off by the Inquisitor.

“Gyro-stabilizers kept you from knowing when we moved your cell around. You’ve been in over a dozen different prisons over your tenure in that cage. Rather ingenious as we have had problems keeping space marines captive for long periods of time, especially when those said marines were actually threats to the Imperium rather than misguided or misled souls. You I judged were one of those souls.”

The Inquisitor swept his hand across the length of the giant chamber. Flying transports flew about and running Imperial Naval men ran across the deck of the mile long hanger. Over a dozen massive doors were bare and open to the recesses of space. All the hanger doors that Inushi could see were positioned in orbit to view the massive planet below.

“I was brought here…” questioned the Mantis Warrior. “This is Macharian VI I assume? Why was I brought here to Macharian VI?”

Fernix turned to meet the taller man eye to eye. His look was one of determination and resolve. “I brought you here because you deserved a second chance. The Inquisition is not always right in who they condemn as heretics. Thankfully, I learned of your imprisonment before embarking on the Crusade. I pulled up your files and found your record impressive. Thus I called in some favors from within the organization and got you stored aboard the first wave of transports that came to this planet.”

The Inquisitor never broke his stare, keeping Inushi pinned in place. “You skills are needed. You were a fine scout within the Mantis Warriors, and a far better marine once you were inducted into their ranks. The Scoutmaster I talked to personally gave you a high recommendation despite your mouth…”

Inushi drowned out the Inquisitor. His mind tunneled as he conjured up an image of the man that was his mentor, his friend, and in everything but the biological sense, his father.

He still lived. And with that one final doubt cast aside, Inushi knew what he had to do.

“…so that is why we need you…”

The marine snapped back to reality. “Heth Fernix,” interrupted Inushi.

The Inquisitor closed his mouth. He nodded for the sergeant to continue.

Inushi kneeled. “I solemnly swear under the light of the Emperor’s grace, and upon the honor of my chapter, I pledge myself now and forever to serve you in any capacity you command. Task me with whatever you may desire to do to me, so long as I continue to serve the Emperor I will not falter nor fail.”

At last, Inushi understood what his mentor had spoken of as the Mantis Warrior’s duty to absolve themselves of the taint of suspicion. Their traitorous actions during the Badab War had forever marred the chapter in the eyes of his fellow man. Each one of the marines would always stand on a precipice of doubt and insecurity so long as others viewed them differently. The chapter as a whole continued not only to fight for the honor of the Emperor, but also to earn the respect of others who didn’t see them in the same way.

Inushi swore to himself he would prove his loyalty to the Imperium, even if it meant doing it one person at a time.

Heth took a moment to judge the marine. “Very well. I accept your oath of loyalty. It wasn’t needed, but I thank you for speaking what I saw in your heart. You were misguided…but now it is time to bring you back into the Emperor’s light.

“Sergeant Tano Inushi. You were naked with nothing but a loincloth and your resolve for such a long time. Now you have your weapons to carry in the Emperor’s name. I will also give upon you a suit of power armor. I will also restore your status as a sergeant once more. You will be given your own squad of men and command over them.

“Now then…” the Inquisitor said, motioning for Inushi to rise. “Enough of the pretty words. We have a task to perform in service to the Emperor. What would you like to know?”

Sergeant Tano rose. With his mind clear and his doubt and fury dissolved into mist, he began to question the Inquisitor about the nature of the Crusade…

The Doom Eagle tactical squad rent the Tyranid line with bolter fire. Anareas Colaster marched with his silvered comrades, lending his own fire to the mass ripping apart the swarm of extragalactic horrors.

Claws and talons bristled to move past the wall of fire as the creatures attempted to breach the choke point of the narrow crevice in the rock wall. The Frostdepth Mountains had already claimed the Cadian 1024th, and several other tactical squads had fallen within the winding valleys, shattered stone outcroppings, and frigid highlands of this especially nasty stretch of Tyranid infested land.

Only one marine managed to return and tell the tale of the encroaching Tyranid menace. The call came up for the scouring of the Imperial flank high in these forsaken mountains. Brother Anareas along with his brethren were the first to answer; their dour countenance not once flinching or despairing at the duty that other failed marines had paid for with their lives. Inside, they already counted themselves dead, their lives forfeit to the greater glory of the Emperor.

And now they found themselves cornered in a twisting labyrinth of high, impassible stone walls, obscured from reconnaissance craft desperately trying to find them and extract the beleaguered soldiers. Not like cornered rats did they issue forth their heated ammunition into alien hide, but with the stern and precise strokes of a dour surgeon going about his grim practice.

The sergeant ordered several men to retract from the front line and reload; it had to be done. Already the ammo was dwindling to almost nothing, and soon close combat would ensue. Brother Anareas kept up his fire with the other five men holding the line.

The screeching hormagaunts finally began to press in. With a muted prayer to the Emperor, Anareas watched as his sergeant delve right into the throng of Tyranid monsters, laying about himself with his smaller bolt pistol and chainsword. Knowing he was buying time and attention for his men to continue their volume of fire, Anareas and the line continued to shoot, aiming as carefully away as they could in gutting any creature that passed their commanding officer.

A minute passed and the other Doom Eagles rejoined the line, their fire helping with each passing second in pushing the swarm back. Like a tempest born of metal and silver, the sergeant held against his lesser foes. Slowly, the Doom Eagles advanced, attempting to clear the crevice and the shadow of the looming canyon wall.

But their advance ended abruptly as a monstrously large Tyranid form pushed its way forward, battering and stomping the smaller bioforms away. It bellowed an unearthly cry as the Tyranid swarm surrounding the Doom Eagles slackened, clearing a path for the solitary space marine defiantly standing in its way. With sword and pistol in hand, Anareas watched as their leader took his stance and accepted the charging carnifex directly. The creature’s massive jaws snapped forward as the chainsword connected uselessly against its armored hide. Up the Doom Eagle was lifted as the creature broke through the crevice walls and slammed its power armored foe into the canyon wall. Cracks and fissures broke the solid stone and the ground shook in protest as the carnifex’s rampage abated with its sudden stoppage.

It reared back to reveal the sergeant’s mangled and crushed form still embedded in the wall, his blood and gore staining the impact. Without a moment to contemplate, Anareas and his battle brothers drew their fire at the creature in a resolute attempt to avenge their fallen leader. The creature turned and reared itself up high, bringing its impossibly sharp and man sized talons to bear. It began scything the marines as it began harvesting, cleaving in twain the power armor protecting the marines.

Not once did any marine flinch. As the smaller swarm of creatures began to leap up and pull down the Doom Eagles not fated to die by the carnifex, a bloodied brother Anareas noted the last thing he thought of was the fact that everything he cared for was already dead, left behind on a cindered Imperial world where the Doom Eagles adopted him.

It struck him as curious that that was his last thought.

Sergeant Tano Inushi cursed. A rather withering pox, he directed it at the genestealer trying to get within his defense, its four arms darting in and out looking for the quick kill. Inushi denied it with three quick swings of his katana, slicing two arms off with an equal number of strikes, and the third impaling the creature in its chest. Gurgling purplish blood, it slid off his blade as he assessed the combat within the transport.

Everyone on the transport was fighting for their lives. Their intent was to get the aircraft to the awaiting command ship above. Mercy’s Redoubt however was nominally an oversized but slow Imperial Guard Valkyrie. Inushi and his tactical squad commandeered the space vessel to transport vital info held by three Imperial agents. Unfortunately, they didn’t account for the cargo crates holding a three score count of genestealers waiting to ambush them.

Inushi was supposed to be guarding with his life the three Imperial agents. All three were all rushing towards the beleaguered cockpit pilots who were swarmed with a host of the vile invading creatures. Taking charge was the Inquisitor Heth Fernrix himself. He fought with sword and pistol, deftly sidestepping genestealer attacks and pushing them into the path of his two more formidable comrades.

The first man Inushi recognized as Watch-Captain Alexander smashed his powerfist against the swirling storm of claws and talons attempting to rend him. The other he knew as Rocus Qalu, a Blood Dragon marine reknown for his ability to wield two thunderhammers at the same time. His twin hammers crushed any xenos combatant that was pushed his way by the Inquisitor.

As for Inushi’s ten man squad, only three remained. Two thirds of the genestealers were dead, but the rest still pressed in undeterred. Inushi ran towards his remaining three soldiers, all of whom were veteran marines in their own right. The Dust Devil marine he knew as Brother Lenxicus had only his boltgun remaining. He fought with determined zeal, trying to keep his fellow marine the young scout Flesh Tearer Ziolus from getting ripped apart by a trio of talon tipped terrors. Both men fought along with a third comrade who suddenly got pulled down before Inushi joined their defensive stance.

“Flaming slag piles!” shouted Inushi as he leaped into the fray in an attempt to save the falling marine. His plasma pistol smoked as his shot three rapid fire rounds into their chitinous backsides. Two fell to smoking holes that penetrated into right their spinal cords, but the third turned from his gored victim, claws glistening with freshly coated blood. Inushi calmly stepped into its reach, dodged the first swipe of its talon, and did a quick and clean cut from side to side, causing the startled creature’s torso to slide right off its legs and tumble dead to the ground before it even knew what killed it.

Inushi silently prayed for the dead marine he could not save and turned to help his last two comrades, who now had gained room to fire forth their boltguns, causing the remaining five genestealers to face them to finally break their assault, scattering towards the empty crates that they previously hid in. Brothers Lenxicus and Ziolus merely reached for their krak grenades and hurled them into the cover the aliens took, the resulting explosions causing wailing screeches and tattered limbs to fly about.

Waiting to make sure the aliens were truly dead, Inushi and his men searched the containers to find that the final alien attackers were dead or dying, finishing off the few that weakly clung to life with bolter rounds the size of fat fingers. Clearing the back of the transport, the last three survivors of Inushi’s tactical squad moved forth to meet the carnage that surrounded the other two marines, who stood vigil over the doorway leading to the cockpit.

“Everything is clear at this end,” announced Sergeant Inushi as he approached the two Captains. They were busy cleaning their weapons off, the bodies of dozens of genestealers surrounding them not fazing them in the least.

“Good work Sergeant Inushi,” said Watch-Captain Alexander as he appraised his gun one final time before sheathing it. “We will pay respects for the fallen once we finally get into the hanger bay.”

“And double check to make sure that all presence of the Tyranids is cleaned from this ship,” added Captain Rocus as he laid his thunderhammers to rest on the wall. “The ship will have to cleanest from bow to stern.“

Tano nodded. He looked around. “Where is the Inquisitor?” he asked.

Rocus pointed with his thumb to the cockpit door. “The pilots were all dead. Luckily, one of them set the machine spirit to keep ascending. He is now attending the machine spirit with rituals and prayers in order to keep us on target.”

The sergeant nodded again, and then frowned. “Do we know how these blasted heaps of Ork midden get aboard our ship, or why they were here in the first place?”

Captain Rocus was about to answer before the Watch-Captain held up a hand and interjected. “We don’t know exactly why. It could have been a random infestation of this ship while it was in the warzone against the Tyranids to the west.”

Inushi knew first hand after months of campaigning that the Tyranid swarm was advancing inexorably and was using unconventional means to ambush and demoralize the average Imperial soldier. While it was uncommon for Imperial vehicles to be infested, nonetheless several nasty outbreaks of genestealers and ripper swarms lying in ambush until the crews returned to base had occurred. The results were particularly brutal.


Yet Inushi could not believe that entirely. The Deathwatch marine stopped Rocus from his explanation. Perhaps he was hiding something.

“But you don’t think that was it random?” pried Inushi as he directed the question towards the Inquisitorial marine.

Watch-Captain Alexander shrugged. “It is possible they were waiting in secret to ambush the next ship leaving for the capital ships above. As far as I know, the Tyranids have been unable to get any forces outside the atmosphere.”

“That’s still speculative. Don’t you find it unusual that the Tyranids knew what vehicle to infest in order to get into the atmosphere?”

The Watch-Captain frowned. “Tyranids are known for their adaptability. They’ve been at war with us for decades, and have proven adaptable to our technology and tactics. It shouldn’t be a surprise that they could target a specific ship, especially if this ship was in a recent warzone and know it is capable of space to ground transportation.”

Inushi knew instantly where the Captain’s logic faulted him. He looked around at the cargo bay once more before turning his attention back again to the two Captains. “I don’t buy any of that. This ship is a cargo transporter primarily. If you look at the outside, the paint is still relatively new. If you see inside here, it is clean and free of any marks, especially ones that would be made by armed guards coming and going with the shipments. This ship hardly looks like it saw any use at all.”

Inushi mentally held his breath. He knew he walked a fine line now. “The Mercy’s Redoubt was a bloody trap meant specifically for you three. You three were the targets. You know something that they didn’t want coming back to our superiors.” The sergeant narrowed his eyes. “What is so important that you three were marked for death, which caused seven of my men to die here defending you? For their honor, we must know why.”

The tension became palpable. Brothers Lenxicus and Ziolus tightened the grip on their shouldered gun. Captain Rocus inched his hand closer to one of his resting hammers.

Suddenly, the cockpit door hissed opened. Inquisitor Heth stepped out, watching the scene unfold before him.

“Stand down everyone,” he commanded, glaring at all the marines in turn, watching as muscles relaxed and fingers eased off triggers. “I’ll tell you what is going on here.”

Watch Captain Alexander began to protest, but the Inquisitor held up his hand. “I trust the Sergeant and his men as much as I trust any Deathwatch. Remember, I personally command him like I do you. And the Blood Dragon here has also sworn to me as well.”

Captain Rocus Qalu nodded, but said nothing else. Satisfied that order was restored, Heth nodded.

“We three have walked different paths until now,” the Inquisitor began. “Each of us has uncovered a portion of the reason as to why the Crusade is an utter disaster. We have information that could possibly change the course of events here. And maybe, just maybe if the Emperor wills it, could grant us victory upon this planet.

“But we couldn’t tell anyone. The transmissions and reports being sent over Imperial communications are being monitored. I could not chance any of this information to leak. We needed the utmost secrecy and subterfuge to get this far already. If I didn’t track down these two men here, their lives could have been forfeit.”

Inushi still did not understand. “So who are we hiding from then? Are there traitors amongst our ranks? Perhaps there is a genestealer cult amongst the Guard, or even Chaos worshippers infesting our brethren?”

Heth shook his head. “Worse. The ones behind our misfortunes and possible demise are none other than the Necrotyr. We are facing the ancient horror that once almost destroyed our galaxy. We are facing the Necrons.”