Ultramarine Librarian with Freaky Familiar
|
Operator
Dawn broke over the glistening peaks of the Hell's Edge Mountains,, the twin suns hanging lazily in the vast blue expanse of sky. Beneath the towering cliff faces, the lush equatorial jungle canopy of Theta Epsilon bloomed like an emerald sea. It stretched on for miles and miles, occasionally punctuated by a lone snow capped crest. However, this was no mere jungle. Or mountain range for that matter. This whole planet was a death trap, filled with life inimical to humans, easily capable of rending them limb from limb in a matter of seconds. This, in this inhospitable hellhole, is where Trooper Aarron Ellsworth found himself.
Sweat pouring off his ruddy, hot face, Ellsworth trudged through a knee-deep bank of snow, cursing under his breath. His thermal jacket was constricting the guardsman and he didn't like it. Grunting in exhaustion, Ellsworth fell back on his arse and, for the umpteenth time, checked his equipment. In his jacket, he withdrew his torch and map. Pulling at his heavy backpack's straps, he released the cumbersome device from his sweaty back and began to rummage through his inventory. His bedroll, 50' of rope and appropriate tackle, a months worth of dried rations, a med-kit, distress flares, a box of matches and a large drawstring bag carrying his lasrifle. Emptying it onto the icy ground, Ellsworth stripped his gun. It lay in five sections; the firing mechanism, the 2 foot barrel, a flash suppressor/silencer, stock and scope. With practised ease, he slotted the matte black components together to form his weapon. The trooper cradled the Mark VII Scout Variant Lasrifle in his arms like a baby, re-acquainting himself with the weapon. With a sigh of contempt, he replaced it in the backpack. Suddenly, a sound caught his ear. Jerking upwards, he pulled out his holstered laspistol and combat knife, his conditioned body already to attack. From behind the reflective visor of his snow specs, Ellsworth saw a Highland Canid, ready to pounce...
Aarron Ellsworth's heart leapt into his mouth. The wolfen beast before him was easily larger than two men stood atop eachother's shoulders and sported fangs the size of daggers. Raising his laspistol at his hunter, the guardsman backed away, slowly but surely.
"Nice bastard," murmured Ellsworth in a low monotone. "Stay away."
The Canid growled and started to bound towards the retreating human. A white-hot lance of las-fire struck the creature on it's scarred, blackened nose: Ellsworth had discharged his pistol. Enraged and disorientated, the wolf charged him.
"gak!" cried the trooper as he began to run away from the rampaging creature. It loped towards him, baying and barking at Ellsworth as he sprinted clear. He could feel it's rank, rancid breath in his neck but he kept running for his life. Abruptly, he stopped. A precipitous cliff edge awaited him, plunging down for a kilometre to the jagged rocks below. Behind him, the Canid leaped at Ellsworth with bloodlust in it's bestial eyes.
Time slowed for Ellsworth as the colossal beast blotted out the cold, pale suns. This, as his Guard training officer said, was fight time. Fluidly, the soldier weaved past the Canid's massive paws and plunged his knife into it's thick, furry, muscular neck. The creature roared in pain and barrelled off the mountain, Ellsworth still clinging on. Yanking hard on the leather hilt of the blade, he tried to pull it out of the snapping, snarling wolf. Suddenly, the blade came free, along with a long spurt of blood. Ellsworth kicked away from the falling Canid in mid-air, propelling his tiny body away from the brute. The guardsman's hand grabbed the string protruding from his backpack and pulled hard; a huge parachute unfurled from the pack and billowed out over Ellsworth. He looked down at the flailing creature as it met it the surface of Theta Epsilon with a resounding crack. The sound rolled over the mountains like thunder as the guardsman steered himself to the rocky cliff face.
Aarron surveyed his map with numb fingers. His detour had taken him off his projected course through the highlands. It had been generally safer than taking his chances in the death world jungle: all manner of deadly things lurked in the gloom of the shady boughs. Still, his objective, the Imperial Guard monitor station, was closer now. All he needed to do was glide over the forest canopy and drop in. Reloading his laspistol, Ellsworth jumped off into the green. He was nearly there when a flock of razorwings assailed him in the treetops.
"Damn you infernal creatures! " shouted the irate trooper. "Just let me get a bit closer!"
Squawking loudly, a lone razorwing flung itself at the gliding human and attempted to peck out his eyes. Blasting away at it with his laspistol, Ellsworth fried the oversized raptor with a pinpoint shot, sending the headless corpse pinwheeling to the sea of trees. The rest of the flock dived at the guardsman as he peppered the skies with claret las-fire. Some birds were unlucky enough to be hit, their glossy black feathers fused together by the heat and they were incinerated by the backwash. The rest of the voracious predators swooped down at the vulnerable Ellsworth as he frantically tried to cut off his parachute cord. At last, he slipped free and plummeted through the green leaves and branches. Twigs slapped him and thorny vines snagged on his face and jacket. Fresh cuts opened on his cheeks and hunks of fabric tore off, hanging in the foliage. Then his enhanced training kicked in, steroid-boosted arms latching onto a thick branch. Panting, he looked around.
Dense, wet, fat leaves smothered his face and he subsequently pushed them away. He was hanging 30 feet in the forest canopy, legs dangling aimlessly in the void. His parachute was shredded, torn to scraps of silk and fabric by the ravenous razorwings. Below him, through the tangled mess of vines and leaves, lay the forest floor, covered in decomposing vegetation and the rotting corpses of native, otherwordly fauna. Exhaling deeply, he relinquished his iron grip on the branch. Ellsworth tucked his limbs in as he tumbled through the cobweb of thick, sturdy vines to fall heavily on the stagnant soil. Urgently, Aarron raised his head: alien calls echoed from trunk to trunk. He didn't like it. Retrieving his backpack and laspistol, Ellsworth checked his location. He was nearly half a click from the relay outpost. Relieved, he set off to the east, jogging a comfortable pace. Suddenly, Aarron felt a strange presence atop of a fallen tree. Shielding his eyes from the suns shining directly in his face, the guardsman glimpsed a shadow, flitting from one bough to the other. The jet black creature moved like quicksilver, a blur in the riot of greens. As he turned east again, he recoiled in horror as the monster appeared, as if out of thin air, in front of him. It's maw leered with a mouthful of fangs and it's face was an image of death. He was about to scream when it pounced on him.
It pinned his arms to the forest floor like a rag doll. Screaming, Ellsworth tried to fire his pistol, but the rounds struck bushes and trunks, leaving smouldering holes. The savage creature raked across the helpless guardsman's face with it's second pair of arms as it bit into his spasming shoulder. Blood and tears rolled down Aarron's face. 'This is how I'm going to die,' though the soldier with despair as the monstrosity prepared to tear out his heart. A flash engulfed the creature's head and a bullet streaked out of it's forehead. Violet ichor splashed over Ellsworth as the beast flopped over his chest. Pushing off the cadaver, Aarron sighted another similarly attired guardsman on the relay outpost's landing pad.
"Quit hanging around!" the stranger yelled. "More of them things are coming!"
Hastily, Ellsworth tore away his bloodied visor and sprinted to the outpost. Snarls and grunts roared behind him. Aarron had no doubt there were more of the xenos behind him. Glancing up, the other guardsman was making pinpoint shots at his pursuers with his Mark VII lasrifle. A fiendish pair of claws groped Ellsworth's feet. Tripping over, he fired his laspistol in the menace's face. A claret bolt seared through the creature's head, frying its animal brains with a precise lasbolt. Crawling backwards, Aarron withdrew his lasrifle from his backpack and slammed in a clip. His lasrifle flashed as he unleashed a spray of auto-fire. Swathes of the monsters fell like wheat to a scythe, the red bolts bursting through organs and limbs. With a resounding click, his gun stopped. Out of ammo! Emboldened, the beasts gathered around their prey. A ripple of las-fire tore through their ranks as Ellsworth's comrade set his weapon on auto. Under cover of the supporting fire, he scrabbled to the entry hatch of the outpost. Screeching beasts clawed towards him, loping through the hail of fire. After what seemed an eternity of 'fight time', Ellsworth reached the door. As he shut it behind him, a creature scrambled in. It tackled him to the ferrocrete floor and started to ravage his body. Hollering, Aarron pulled out his combat knife and rammed it in it's furry chest. Blood spurted over the trooper as he pushed it's lifeless body away. Fatigue washed over him as he stabbed the horror in the heart. Again. And again.
It was all practise, a training operation. Aarron Ellsworth relaxed in his bunk bed, trying to forget about his ordeal on Theta Epsilon. Him and the other guardsman had called for an extraction Valkyrie Assault Carrier to get them off world. During the flight, the other guardsman had introduced himself.
"Jerrilyn, Rex." he explained. "Pavonis 14th." Ellsworth had struggled to initially struggled to understand Jerrilyn, his unusual dialect distorting his words. Originally, Ellsworth was from the Cadian 13th regiment, nearly complete opposite sides of the galaxy.
They were both part of a heavily guarded secret, privy only to the ears of the Inquisition and the High Lords of Terra, rulers of humanity. Guardsmen and women from all over the galaxy were selected to join the Special Operations Detachment. Those who excelled in markmanship, stealth and survival were recruited and rigorously trained to become Operators. Ellsworth and Jerrilyn had earned their new ranks and had become firm friends. They were now on board the 'Dagger of Crimson', a starship en route to their next location. A voice blared out from the speakers.
"++All Operators, please head to the bridge.++"
It took Ellsworth a good fifteen minutes to find the bridge through the winding maze of corridors and sub-annexes. The sliding doors opened with barely a sound and he strode in. Assembled before him was a sheer black table, surrounded by people. Most of these men and women must have been Operators, except for another figure, clad in grey Navy overalls. This was the 'Dagger of Crimson's' captain. The last figure, Ellsworth noted, wore ornate power armour and stood as if he were made of stone. Immediately wary in the man's presence, he hurried over to a waiting chair, next to Jerrilyn. Rex smiled at Aarron as he sat down but was interrupted by the brooding, intimidating person.
"I am Inquisitor Edmund Sandos, Ordo Xenos." Whispers and murmurs went up around the room. No one expected an Inquisitor. Sandos shushed the assembled Operators. "My objective was to train and use a detachment of men to act as a quick response, hard hitting unit. We have used various tested xenos gene strains and DNA samples to make you 'superhuman'. The nine of you have been drawn from your various regiments, be they Cadian, Catachan, Elysian or any other under the Emperor's sun, because you are some of the best recon or stealth troops in the Imperium. You have been genetically conditioned to be even faster, stronger, sharper than any normal man. You have been trained to be proficient with weapons from snipers to combat knifes. The event, as you all know, on Theta Epsilon, was merely a test. Three subjects failed that test. The rest of you remain. You will be unable to join your parent regiment again. This change is permanent. Any questions?" Ellsworth looked at his fellow Operators. He noted three females amongst the guardsmen. To his left, he saw a bulky Catachan, muscles rippling. Opposite him, a pale, dark haired Tanith fidgeted in his seat. No-one said a word. The Inquisitor continued. "You are about to be deployed on Omicron III to quell a cultist insurrectionin one of the Hive Cities. We will translate outside Omicron III in one hour. Be ready."
Pulling on his wingsuit and flak vest, Ellsworth grabbed his wargear from his quarters and headed to the docking bay. In his arms he carried the Mark VII lasrifle. The Mark VII was designed especially for the Special Operations Detachment. It was capable of firing like the normal lasguns Ellsworth was used to at close quarters. However, it was capable of firing devastating sniping rounds which tore through power armour with unnerving efficiency. It could atomise a man's chest with one shot and could even threaten battle tanks. Walking through yet another large set of doors, Aarron emerged in the hangar. A black Valkyrie Assault Carrier lay primed to fly, completely shorn of all insignia. In front of it, Sandos stood before the mass of Operators. He caught up with the unit. The Inquisitor was designating squads and callsigns.
"Operator Loewe - Op 1
Operator Courtenay - Op 2
Operator Alanor - Op 3
You will form Squad A."
Loewe, a Terraxian, Courtenay, a Tallarn, and Alanor, a female Valhallan, disbanded from the group and climbed into the Valkyrie, talking in low voices. No sooner had they got in than Sandos read out, "Operator Colvyr - Op 4
Operator McDowell - Op 5
Operator Galatus - Op 6
You will form Squad B."
The Catachan, Galatus, Colyvr, a Polonian female, and McDowell, the jittery Tanith, did the same as Squad A. Finally, Sandos called, "Operator Jerrilyn - Op 7
Operator Palmere - Op 8
Operator Ellsworth - Op 9
You must form Squad C."
Ellsworth was silently glad he had been stationed with Jerrilyn, especially after what happened on Theta Epsilon. The female, Palmere, was Elysian. Silently, they all boarded the transport Valkyrie and found their seats. Harshly, the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom.
"++Preparing to leave 'Dagger of Crimson'. Hold on tight. ++"
With a roar of thrusters, the aircraft took off from the hangar. Despite the shaking, sleep took Aarron quickly.
Blurred, Ellsworth's vision returned. Amongst the haze, he made out Rex Jerrilyn's face, the sandy brown hair and azure eyes of his friend. He looked concerned.
"What's wrong?"
"We just entered enemy airspace above Hive Mantua. Intel suggests that the cultist commander is here."
"We had intel?" exclaimed Ellsworth with disbelief.
"Yeah, didn't you get the briefing?"
"Stupid couriers," he cursed. "How reliable was the data anyway?"
Jerrilyn smirked at Ellsworth. "We got it via servo skull scans. It's about as useful as wipers on a grox's arse!"
Palmere rose up next to Aarron. He hasn't even realised she'd been there. Blinking her long hair from her eyes, she was about to say something when the Valkyrie heaved. All the Operators jumped up from their rest and loaded their lasrifles. Absent-mindedly, he noticed he did the same: the countless drills and doctrines honing the movement to near reflex. The Valkyrie lurched again.
Galatus, the Catachan, shouted down his microbead to the pilot,
"What the gak's going on?" as other guardsmen opened the sliding blast doors either side of the transport.
The pilot seemed frantic and strained in his answer.
"The enemy forces are using concentrated AA defences to shoot us down! You can't drop yet!"
Ellsworth slid down at a blast door and surveyed their situation. Cultist anti-air batteries had been placed on the Hive City ramparts and were firing at their Valkyrie. Most shots scattered, leaving fireballs in mid-air. Others glanced the aircraft, chipping the paint or scorching wingtips. Sighting down his lasrifle's scope, focused on an artillery commander's head. The gun made no noise as it's target's head exploded, showering the tainted uniform of his subalterns with gore. Panic engulfed the nearby cultists and the storm abated slightly. Along the wall, cultists dropped like flies as Operators fired from the speeding Valkyrie. There was a discordant wail and a huge, deep, throaty roar. The wailing continued. Ellsworth felt his soul cringe at the noise, falter at it's touch. Suddenly, Loewe cried out over the din.
"Chaos Space Marines!"
Five Space Marines, borne on winged jump packs, soared through the maelstrom of flak missiles and AA tracer rounds. Clad in baroque power armour,one of the traitors wielded a brutal chainsword and bolt pistol. Another gripped a crackling maul, writhing with daemonic energies. The third clasped two boltguns, one in either hand. Despaired, the Operators switched to rapid fire, firing their lasrifles at their assailants. Beams of red las-fire struck the Chaos Marines many times, only to see their efforts accounted for merely fresh carbon scoring. Ellsworth loaded a new power pack into his weapon and switched back to sniper mode: the rapid fire was ineffective against their massive armour. Taking aim, he struck one of the Marines in the pauldron. The high velocity shot tore the traitor's arm off at the shoulder with a sickening crunch and passed into it's jump pack. With a brilliant flash, the jet inside detonated, atomising the renegade. Milliseconds later, a horrific scream emanated from the cockpit. Aarron peeked out of the aircraft blast door. A Chaos Marine had smashed open the glass cabin and pulled out the terrified pilot. The Marine tore the man in half and threw aside the mutilated remains. Without thinking, Ellsworth pulled out his laspistol and fired at the monster. Behind him, a half a dozen other lasrifles opened up on it. A fusillade of lasbolts hit the Marine, a couple striking the exposed armour joints. One hit something important and the traitor's armour seized up. The immobilised Chaos Marine plummeted to the surface of Omicron III. Suddenly, the Valkyrie started to drop.
"gak! We're gonna die!" screamed an Operator. Ellsworth's mind froze in fight time. The haunting dirge played on, accompanying the frantic screaming of the doomed guardsmen. The Chaos Space Marines hovered above, like vultures circling over carrion. Explosions still riddled the skies, leaving clouds of smoke and chordite. Everything seemed slower. Harshly, Palmere's voice brought Ellsworth out of his fugue.
She was sliding out of the open blast door, scrabbling for purchase on the latticed deck. Aarron ran over and pulled her up roughly as the Valkyrie shuddered, knocking her on top of him. Gently pushing her off him, Ellsworth ran to the empty blast door. The plummeting Valkyrie was dropping like a stone. It would hit the ground in a matter of seconds. He crouched beside the hatch and called over Jerrilyn and Palmere over the mayhem.
"We don't have much time," Ellsworth explained. "When I say jump, JUMP!"
"But..." Jerrilyn stuttered.
"JUMP!"
Three guardsmen leapt out of their descending coffin. The figures glided away in their wingsuits, arcing gracefully towards an ochre rock spire. No one noticed. All eyes were transfixed on the Valkyrie. Milliseconds before the impact, there was a lull. A calm before the storm. Then the black Special Operations Valkyrie crashed onto the yellow sands of Omicron III with a titanic thunderclap. Shockwaves rumbled like a ferocious beast and the scorching wreck skidded to halt in the wastes. Flames guttered in the steel skeleton, debris littered the crash site. The three active Chaos Marines descended from the skies and surveyed their kill. Four Operators lay dead, broken and burnt by the impact.
Ellsworth surveyed the crash site through his scope. There was nothing left to save. Just some ammo and grenades on the dead bodies. Something stirred on the ground. One of the corpses was alive, barely. It was McDowell. The traitor Astartes converged on the wounded Operator. One, the obvious leader, pulled out a ceremonial blade and prepared to slice the Tanith's head off. The knife never struck his neck: McDowell had severed the blade with his Tanith warknife. Frustrated, the leader wrenched the straight silver out of his hand and tossed it amongst the other bodies. Ellsworth could take it no longer. He trained his crosshairs on the Chaos Marine's head and prepared to pull the trigger. Sandos's barely audible voice crackled to life on Squad 3's microbead.
"++Squad 3, do you read?++"
Jerrilyn reduced the volume on his microbead. "Yes sir. We all made it."
"++Praise the Emperor others made it through.++"
"Others?" queried Palmere. " We aren't the only survivors?"
"++Operators 4 and 6 made it out.++" replied the Inquisitor. "++Just lie low until you can take out the commander.++"
"Sir, McDowell is about to die! We have to do something!" rasped Ellsworth.
"++Negative.++" demanded Sandos. "++Do not engage. They don't know you're alive.++"
"We have to..."
"++No Op 9, that is an order! You will compromise the whole mission! Op 5 knew these risks when he volunteered.++ "
Aarron reluctantly removed his finger from the trigger. Fuming, he saw as the wretched Chaos Marine pulled out a chunky bolt pistol and fired a round into McDowell's head. The Tanith's head exploded like a ripe melon, coating his executor's blue armour with blood, bone shards and ectoplasmic brain matter. Sickened, Ellsworth, Palmere and Jerrilyn regathered their kit and headed for Hive Verona.
Smoke crawled across the deserted streets. Shattered buildings loomed over the trio of Operators. Eerie silence ungulfed the humans.
"Where are the cultists?" whispered Ellsworth. "This hive should be crawling with the buggers."
"Intel suggests that they are gathering at the hive centre." Jerrilyn explained. "The leader must be gathering his men to him."
"Then that's where we'll find him." concluded Palmere.
The squad withdrew their map of the hive. They were a few kilometres away from the city centre and they had passed undetected thus far. They had scaled Hive Mantua's walls under cover of a smoke-screen and sabotaged the cultist's AA gun's ammunition dump, just in case. Squad 3 ghosted through the ruins, hugging to the cover available.
A faint clatter drew their attention. The unit drew up their lasrifles and prepared to engage the holstiles. Ellsworth held his breath in anticiption. A gruff voice whispered over the street.
"Hold fire. This is Op 6." It was Galatus. "I have Op 4 with me." A dark figure emerged out of an empty window frame. Colvyr, the Polonian. Ellsworth lowered his gun. His squadmates did the same. Colvyr ran over Squad 3, heedless of enemy guards, and embraced Palmere. The two females hugged for a few seconds before Colvyr moved onto Jerrilyn and Ellsworth. Galatus stayed back, regarding Jerrilyn and Ellsworth with a cold, dead stare.
"6, you were a little too loud back there. We all heard you." Ellsworth stated.
"We don't all get special training from birth, Cadian." Galatus spat venomously. "SOME of us have to adapt." Ellsworth knew why the Catachan was bitter. Those people born on the death world of Catachan were notorious for being scornful of non-Catachans. They had to be naturally hardy to survive on that lethal planet. Cadians were bred for war, trained to wield a lasgun by the time they could read and write. They were trained to be some of the best in the Imperial Guard. The rivalry between the two regiments had burned long. As members of the Special Operations Detachment, guardsmen were required to leave aside any regimental feuds, but Catachans were also incredibly stubborn. Instead of attacking the muscled Operator, Ellsworth retorted quietly,
"We all have to adapt out here, Galatus. Make sure you adapt to avoid my bullet in the back of your head." There was a dramatic silence as the Catachan stood down and primed his lasrifle. The ad hoc unit carried on down the foggy road.
In a matter of hours, the Operators had reached the edges of the hive centre. A horde of cultists surrounded the planetary governor's building. Silently, the guardsmen burst into an abandoned hab block overlooking the plaza. Peering through a top floor window, Ellsworth watched the proceedings. Crowding around the building, the cultists were cheering and shouting at four Chaos Space Marines standing tall at the base of the grand entrance. The one immobilised must have survived. This was the first time Ellsworth got a proper look at the renegades. They stood 8 foot high and wore dark blue power armour, almost purple. Green and silver detailing adorned their power armour and mounted upon the left pauldron was a triple-headed snake. They no longer wore their bulky jump packs. Purposefully, a robed figure almost as tall as the Astartes strode up to a podium at the front of the building. His robes were dirty and threadbare. Clearing its throat, the figure began to make a speech.
"Brothers and sisters! Today we rise above the hopeless Imperium and throw down the shackles of our oppressors! Our liberators, these Space Marines, will destroy the last vestiges of pitiful Imperial resistance in this fair hive!" As he shouted this to a roaring crowd, four figures were dragged to the feet of the Chaos Marines. Through his scope, Ellsworth saw an Ecclesiarchy Cardinal, a Planetary Defence Force commander, a commissar and the planetary governor. All were wearing sackcloth robes daubed in sigils of blood that hurt the eyes. Ellsworth glanced away from the grim symbols and hissed,
"Which Marine is our target then?"
Colvyr looked up from her scope. "You didn't get the briefing?" Jerrilyn shook his head in confirmation. "None of the Marines are targets. That man in the centre is." The Cadian turned to watch as the Astartes executed the prisoners with a controlled bolt round in front of an ecstatic mob. The leader bathed in the adulation of the cultists and cried out,
"Worship me! I, Dark Apostle Hun'ana, of the Alpha Legion, have seen what this false Emperor means to do with you! Join Chaos, and the Alpha Legion, and I shall usher in the rebirth of this cursed world in the eyes of the Chaos Gods!"
Along the walkway, Ellsworth caught Jerrilyn muttering a curse under his breath.
"Gak."
It was midnight. The ocean of cultists stood all through the night, chanting tainted verses and accursed litanies to their bastardised gods. The Operators lay in their bedrolls, trying to get some rest after the Valkyrie's crash. Palmere was on watch, her lasrifle resting against the whitewashed walls of the hab block. Ellsworth couldn't sleep: McDowell's death had affected him profoundly. He could've stopped him dying, if it wasn't for the Inquisitor. Carefully, he crawled out of his bedroll. Palmere turned around and grinned at the Cadian. Moonlight wreathed her head, her brown hair shining in the silvered beams. Getting up, he checked his lasrifle. He still had most of his power packs left and his laspistol was in a good condition. His Mark VII had a large scratch in it from the drop. He admired his weapon. It was fresh from the forges of Mars itself, designed specifically for sniper work behind enemy lines. It was silenced, flash-suppressed and featured a highly accurate scope. The perfect weapon for the predicament they were in.
Palmere sat down beside Ellsworth.
"Do you think we can do it?" she whispered.
Ellsworth paused. They had been trained to be deadly snipers, but they were still human. The Alpha Legionnaires were more than mortal. They were Space Marines, near invincible warriors of peerless skill. Worse still, thousands upon thousands of cultists stood between the hidden Operators and Hun'ana. If they didn't terminate him, Omicron III would become a hellish, daemonic pandemonium. Ellsworth lied.
"With your aim, of course." he joked. She giggled quietly and slumped on him. He missed other human contact. As a Cadian, he was expected to be resolute and firm. Such trivial things were a rarity in the guard. He smiled slightly as she laid her head on his shoulder. "We'll make it out. Just you see."
"Sure," she murmured. "By the way, I'm Lexie. Lexie Palmere, Elysian 63rd."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Aarron Ellsworth, Cadian 13th."
The sun's cold rays burst through the empty windows o to the slumbering Operators. Blinking at the harsh light, Ellsworth awoke. Palmere's arms were still wrapped around him, so he tenderly removed himself from her clutches. Retrieving the Mark VII, Ellsworth crept to the window. The cultists had been incanting all night long and had daubed themselves in the blood of the murdered officials. They wore rags instead of clothes, being barely able to feed themselves, let alone dress properly. It was hardly surprising these once-manufactory workers and PDF forces had fallen to Chaos. Most cultists wielded heavy, disused autopistols and improvised melee weapons, such as kitchen knives and wrenches. The former PDF traitors and luckier cultists had rusted, bulky autoguns. Ellsworth also saw Hun'ana. He had now donned his suit of power armour and now he loomed over everyone assembled. A large silver Chaos star hung upon his back and intricate silvered strands weaved through his azure armour. In his right gauntlet, he gripped a defiled Crozius Arcanum, the hallmark weapon of the loyalist Space Marine Chaplains. The maul was tipped by another Chaos star, but this one glowed ominously in the foggy morning light. His retinue had disappeared, leaving no trace of their whereabouts. Ellsworth assumed they were in the massive governor's palace. Hun'ana started to withdraw a tattered book maglocked to his thigh. As he raised it above his pale white face, Ellsworth noticed that the tome was encircled by swirling energies, writhing with dark shadows. This was the artefact that would curse the planet.
Hastily, he woke his comrades with his hand over their mouths and showed them what Hun'ana was doing. Jerrilyn hissed to the assembled Operators to kill the Dark Apostle. No one complained. The Operators picked up their ready lasrifles and crouched by the window. Hun'ana was in Ellsworth's sights. His intervention would not be stayed this time. As he was about to pull the trigger, Colvyr glanced up...
Kirstyn Colvyr glimpsed a flash of polished blue and green in a neighbouring window. Averting her emerald eyes from the Chaos Marine on the plaza, she trained her scope at the other building. There was nothing. Colvyr was about to return her gaze to Hun'ana when an Alpha Legionnaire stepped into the window. Her heart stopped, her blood froze.
They had been spotted!
She had just enough time to shout,
"Look out!" when the Legionnaire's boltgun flashed. A single bolter round flew threw the smoke haunted skies and struck Kirstyn Colvyr in her perfect green left eye.
Gore and bone fragments showered the shocked Operators as Colvyr's headless cadaver slumped to the ground. Ellsworth grunted as a shard of shrapnel embedded itself in his flak amour's shoulder pad. Through the window, he watched as the throng of heretics rushed to the hab block. The warriors of the Alpha Legion were dominating the rooftops, firing round after round into the Operator's room. Ellsworth looked back at his target. He was leading the sea of cultists, restraining the tide of scum. Hun'ana looked up at Ellsworth, a lupine grin spreading across his pale features. He knew about the mission. He bloody knew.
"We gotta move!" shouted Jerrilyn as he got up and ran to the door. The others followed suite, sprinting through the maze of corridors in the hab block. Soon, the snipers had reached the rooftop. They could hear the rampaging cultists below. Ellsworth primed a frag grenade and threw it down the corridor. Seconds later, a bang resonated through the building, followed by the screams of the dying. "Keep moving!" Jerrilyn screamed and he ran to the edge of the building. Before anyone knew what he was doing, he jumped off the hab block. Palmere was next, springing through the myriad of tracer rounds onto an adjacent building. Galatus yelled at Ellsworth, "Go on, I'll cover you!"
Hesitantly, Ellsworth stopped shooting at the swarm of cultists down the hallway and sprinted to the edge. As he propelled himself into the bullet-ridden air, time slowed to a crawl. Cultist commanders screamed to their men to hit him. Galatus was standing firmly at the doorway into the hab block, grasping his lasrifle in his muscular arms. Jerrilyn and Palmere were waiting on the rooftop of the second hab block, throwing grenades onto the massed cultists below. Ellsworth felt a cool breeze bluster through his brown hair. The hab block approached his boots and he landed on the rooftop. His legs buckled beneath him and rolled to a firing position. Galatus jumped after, flailing off the edge. A stray bullet from an autogun penetrated his left armpit and came out of his right shoulder. He gasped and faltered mid-air. Hopping to the ledge, Ellsworth caught his arm and arrested his fall. The Catachan roared in pain as his arm was wrenched from it's socket. Blood dripped from his wounds onto the milling crowd below. The bullet had passed right through his chest.
"Why?" stammered Galatus. "Why did you catch me?"
"We never leave a man behind. We're gonna get you out if here."
"No you won't." he croaked. "I'm no medicae, but I know I'll die soon." Galatus pulled out his laspistol with his free hand. "I won't slow you down." He raised it to his temple.
"No!" cried Ellsworth, but it was too late. He had pulled the trigger. There was nothing Ellsworth could do to stop Galatus' body falling from the 5 storey building onto the jubilant cultists. Jerrilyn pulled Ellsworth away. The look in his eyes said all: keep running.
Squad 3 collapsed in a heap, panting. They had outran the cultists. The rooftop chase had lasted half an hour and the Operators were exhausted. Colvyr and Galatus were dead, murdered in the Alpha Legion's trap. They had only evaded their pursuers by throwing their last smoke grenades and hiding in the control room of a landing tower. The Chaos Marines were leading search parties to locate the loyalists. Somehow, Hun 'ana wasn't going to terraform Omicron III yet. They still had a chance to kill him. Ellsworth, Palmere and Jerrilyn pooled their equipment together. Between them, they only had nine power packs and four frag grenades. They also had one of Palmere's demolition charges left. They still had their distress flares. Jerrilyn distributed the remaining munitions amongst the squad whilst Ellsworth scouted onto the main landing pad. It was easily thirty feet wide and long in a hexagon, more than capable of accommodating a Valkyrie to pick them up with. A mile below, over the ferrosteel crenellations, another cultist firesweep began. A blue and green figure marched at the head of the column. They were being led by Alpha Legion Astartes to ensure that the Operators would be dead. It was only a matter of time until the patrol climbed up the landing tower. Suddenly, Ellsworth was struck by an idea.
Ellsworth crouched behind the makeshift flakboard barricade they had constructed. It was only capable of stopping low calibre autogun rounds, but it would do. Beside him, Jerrilyn nestled into a better firing spot and on the other end of the structure, Palmere primed her lasrifle yet again. Grimly, Jerrilyn activated his vox.
"This is Op 7, requesting immediate extraction." They waited a full minute before a reply came through.
"++Op 7, please stand by. We will extract in fifteen standard. Pop smoke.++"
Jerrilyn nodded to the awaiting Palmere with glee. She ignited the distress flares and threw them onto the landing pad. The red gas billowed into the smoggy atmosphere, wreathing the platform in a scarlet mist. The Chaos forces, even if they hadn't been monitoring vox communications, would now know where the sheltering Operators were hiding, but it didn't matter. They just had to hold on for fifteen minutes.
The first cultists emerged from the doorway minutes later. Charging out onto the landing pad, they were caught in a crossfire and shot down before they could react. More waves burst out, meeting the same fate. Beams of las-fire struck poorly armoured flesh and the cultists went down as if they were dominoes. Abruptly, the cultist wave stopped. Behind the safety of the barricade, Ellsworth reloaded. They had defeated one wave of cultists and it wouldn't be long until another wave assaulted them. Jerrilyn ran across to the bodies and relieved them of their dilapidated weapons. Tossing an autogun to both Aarron and Palmere, he looted their munitions and stocked them against the barricade. They were starting to run low on lasrifle power packs. Moments after Rex had returned to his post, more worthless scum descended upon the entrenched Operators. Ellsworth knew what the Chaos Space Marines were trying to do. The cultists were merely a bullet shield, only to force the guardsmen to waste their depleting ammo. Two more patrols assaulted the landing pad, both teams being slaughtered to a man. Ellsworth had now switched to his plundered autogun, being reduced to one last power pack. The bulky weapon spat out brass casings as it fired at the encroaching horde and soon the ground was strewn with spent rounds. Palmere checked her chronometer. They only had a few minutes until they could escape. Ellsworth ran to the door and picked out autogun magazines from the growing pile of dead cultists. Peering over the bloodied mound, he caught a glimpse of regal blue armour at the bottom of the mile-high stairwell. The Alpha Legion was attacking.
"Brace!" he cried out to his comrades. They automatically covered their ears and unclenched their jaws to prepare Aarron's plan. From his pocket, he withdrew a small device. It winked green lights at him. Ellsworth backed away from the door and pressed the button. A huge explosion rocked the building as the demolition charge went off, igniting on a ruptured gas line, erupting into a huge, incandescent fireball and searing anything in the stairwell. Ellsworth grinned as he heard cultists cry out in agony as their mortal bodies were wreathed in flame. Smoke breathed out of the doorway as if from a dragon's snout. Handiwork complete, Ellsworth walked to the edge of the landing pad and gazed into the sky.
A whine of vector engines screamed across the skies. The Valkyrie was arriving. As it hovered above the landing pad, the rear hatch opened. Inquisitor Sandos emerged and offered his hand out to the relived Operators.
"Come on, we don't have much time!" he exclaimed. No sooner had the words left his lips than autogun fire peppered the underbelly of the aircraft. Two Inquisitorial troopers rushed to the waiting heavy bolters on the sides of the Valkyrie and proceeded to fire mass explosive bolts into the massed mob below. Ellsworth didn't look down at the carnage below and was about to jump onto the awaiting platform when a hulking figure emerged from the acrid smoke of the doorway. He caught a flash of the blue and green livery displayed on it's scorched, burning power armour. An Alpha Legionnaire! It was armed only with a chipped chainsword and a ceremonial blade. With a wordless roar, it raised the knife to it's ceramite armoured pauldron and threw it. Ellsworth's heart stopped as Rex Jerrilyn collapsed, the blade embedded up to the hilt in his shoulder.
Time slowed as the Chaos Marine barrelled towards the stricken Operators. It's glaring red eyes penetrated into Ellsworth's soul, freezing him on the spot. The 8 foot high monstrosity was clad in huge, blazing, armoured plates, warped to accompany leering daemonic faces. The more Ellsworth looked, he was convinced they were twisting and moving, jesting and mocking his weakness. Ellsworth snarled and lifted his autogun to waist height.
"Go to hell, bastard," growled the Cadian as he blasted indiscriminately at his foe. A spray of bullets deflected off it's impermeable armour, leaving little more than tiny dents and chips. Palmere fired as well, adding to the rain of iron. The charging Alpha Legionnaire waded through the bullet wall, unaffected by the autogun fire striking him. Ellsworth could feel the heat from the Legionnaire's flaming armour as it got closer across the landing pad. He was about to dodge out of the way as a searing beam of actinic blue plasma struck it in the torso. The brute slowed down as the ceramite on it's chestplate melted and it fell face down on the ground, cooking the unfortunate Space Marine inside. Ellsworth looked to see his saviour. Sandos stood on the Valkyrie ramp, plasma pistol in hand.
"Op 8," shouted the Inquisitor to Palmere. "Get him on board!" gesturing to the wounded Jerrilyn. Despite blood oozing out of the knife wound, the tenacious Pavonis still hung onto life. His flak jacket had absorbed the worst of the damage. Ellsworth slammed another clip into the autogun and covered the female as she dragged Rex's limp body into the Valkyrie. Suddenly, a streaking rocket whistled past the hovering transport, nearly striking the left tail boom. The Valkyrie pilot jinked the aircraft away from the landing pad, isolating Ellsworth. "I'm sorry," apologised Sandos. "The pilot won't hover any longer. We have to take out that RPG first. Just hold on!" The guardsman grimaced and hunkered down behind his barricade.
"Affirmative!" Ellsworth retorted.
A titanic shadow lurked out of the smoke. It moved like a lumbering behemoth in the gloom and shook the very platform with it's massive footfalls. Ellsworth braced for the inevitable. Two Chaos Marines strode out of the doorway. One was McDowell's executioner; the other was Dark Apostle Hun'ana. The Apostle still gripped the arcane book and his spiked Crozius mace. His face had been burned and his right cheek was a scorched mass of incinerated flesh. He looked like had walked through hell and back. Pure hatred was writ upon his ruined features and both Alpha Legionnaires rampaged towards the lone Operator. Ellsworth sighted down the autogun and fired at the other Space Marine. The round shattered one of its helmet's piercing red lenses and gouged a deep wound into it's eye. Claret blood splattered out and the traitor dropped to it's knees, clutching it's face. Hun'ana kept running, smashing into Ellsworth. The puny human was bowled out of the way and his autogun was smacked out of his grasp off the edge of the landing pad. Ellsworth lay gasping: his lungs were crushed. Hun'ana stepped over to the downed guardsman and kicked him in the leg. The bone shattered under the impact and Ellsworth hollered in pain. Hun'ana lifted the feeble guardsman up by the scruff of the neck and brought him up to his mouth.
"Did you ever think you could kill me?" taunted the Dark Apostle. "We knew about your little plan ever since the Inquisitor selected his recruits. We've had Legionnaires watching you ever since." Ellsworth struggled in the Astartes' iron grip. "Don't struggle, Aarron. I could've ended your life seconds ago. Your purity and devotion to your corpse Emperor has merely disrupted my plans. This world will be transmogrified and daemons will walk the streets! Madness will reign, and I shall be rewarded by the Dark Gods themselves for my righteous works! You are but a mere human."
Ellsworth drew his head back and headbutted Hun'ana in his ruined face. Hun'ana dropped Aarron, grabbing his tortured face, and Ellsworth crawled towards the first Chaos Marine's chainsword.
He tentatively stood up and lifted the weapon. It was slightly larger than the ones he had trained with on the 'Dagger of Crimson', but was still familiar. In essence, it was a sword fitted with a whirring chainsaw's teeth and given a pommel and guard to stabilise it. Ellsworth was no slouch in combat and his genetically enhanced body had further augmented his speed and skill. However, Hun'ana had already recovered and lunged at Ellsworth. Activating the weapon, the Operator raised the spinning blade over his head to block the fatal blow. The mace deflected off the chainsword's spinning teeth. The Alpha Legionnaire swung the weapon again, forcing Ellsworth to go on the defensive. The combatants duelled for what seemed like minutes to Ellsworth; only four seconds had passed since the Chaos Marine had tried to crush Ellsworth's skull. The warriors struck with blows too fast for the eye to catch, Hun'ana relentlessly hammering at Ellsworth, whilst the guardsman parried with a desperate fury. With a snap, Ellsworth's chainsword burst apart under another hit. He ducked under the swinging Crozius and jammed the severed hilt in the Apostle's arm joint. Hun'ana grunted in annoyance as his servo-motors seized up. Ellsworth ran to the barricade and retrieved his lasrifle. Wrenching the chainsword out of his armour, the Dark Apostle charged towards the Operator. Desperately, Ellsworth fumbled for the trigger and pulled. A white-hot energy round struck Hun'ana in the throat and flung the Dark Apostle onto the ferrocrete ground. Sparks jumped away from the Astartes as it skidded to a halt. Hun'ana lay on the floor, a perfect las-round in his neck.
"How..." stammered Hun'ana. "You... foolish mortal..." Rapidly clotting blood spilled from his mouth. "I am the... chosen... of the Chaos... gods... I am... Alpharius..."
Ellsworth pulled out his holstered laspistol and aimed at the dying traitor's face.
"For the Emperor." He pulled the trigger. A las-bolt fried Dark Apostle Hun'ana's brain and the Chaos Space Marine fell limp. The daemons embedded in his armour screamed in despair as they faded into the dead man's power armour.
He reached down and retrieved the unholy tome Hun'ana had been guarding. As he picked it up, daemonic whispers pervaded his thoughts and polluted his mind. He immediately placed the article in his backpack, afraid of the unfathomable energies residing within it's skin-bound covers. A cry of anguish brought Ellsworth to his senses. The Alpha Legionnaire whose eye was shot by the guardsman rose up and unsheathed his power sword. He seemed to be quivering in rage, charging the very smoke-ridden air with Chaotic energy. Before Ellsworth could bring his lasrifle to bear, the Chaos Marine was upon him, driving him to the bloodstained floor.
"You killed my brothers!" roared the traitor at Ellsworth. "You murdered our Chosen One! In the name of the Chaos Gods, I shall take this feeble human's soul!" He lifted the electrically charged blade above the restrained guardsman's head. Ellsworth looked up just in time to see a ruby-coloured beam hit the Legionnaire in the head. Molten metal spat over the area. Ellsworth rolled aside from the cadaver. The headless corpse teetered over, falling onto the landing pad. Confused, Ellsworth turned around. The sheer black Valkyrie faced him, the lascannon smoking. The aircraft was still under fire from the barrage of autogun rounds, but now the threat of RPG's had been neutralised, Ellsworth was free to escape. Leaping off the battle-scarred landing pad, Ellsworth jumped into the Valkyrie. Palmere and the unconsious Jerrilyn awaited him, as well as Inquisitor Sandos and his bodyguards. The three Operators looked haggard and worn, their skin muddied and blackened with soot. Striding over to the open rear hatch, Ellsworth looked out over the corrupt hive. A smoke plume stood tall over the city, bursting from the landing tower. Too many Operators had fallen in the assault, many buried in the wreckage of the first Valkyrie. Colvyr and Galatus, too, had perished in the ruins of Hive Mantua. He looked over his shoulder. Palmere was walking over to him and she sat down with him. They had done it though. Hun'ana was dead, but that wasn't the missions objective. Omicron III, like Theta Epsilon, had been a test. A test the members of Squad 3 had passed. Aarron Ellsworth smiled.
|
" -KingCracker