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Part 1: The Traitor

“Lord General Artivace, you are charged with heresy against the Emperor divine” Commissar Scaevola said hiding a wicked smile beneath his lips, “and carried with such a charge is the punishment of death”

Scaevola was a tall, well-built man with short black hair and a war-scarred face. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken, and had been for the past several months. He wore a lavish red commissars uniform adorned with gold and silver trimmings and a slender power-sword hung from his belt. He gripped a bolt-pistol in one hand and held the other behind his back.

Behind the Commissar stood most of the once loyal general's troops. Five-hundred hardened men stood ranks as if on parade wearing red flak-vests and helmets over dark fatigues. And before all of this was the center piece of the festivities, Lord General Artivace was bound and tied against the concrete wall of the compound. Sweat ran down his body and soaked into his uniform while he stood there silent, or at least silent on the outside of his mind.

Where is it!?, the Commissar's voice screamed inside Artivaces head, Tell me where it is fool, and I'll grant you a quick death.

Despite the constant hatred bombarding his mind, the general stood silent.

“Do you have any last wishes?” Scaevola asked with his voice.

“Go plow an eldar” Artivace replied then spat onto the ground, “You lead yourself to doom”.

The Commissar tilted his head slightly and gave a look of disappointment. It was replaced by a grin with his gleaming teeth as he pulled the trigger of his pistol. The first shot blew the general's left leg off below the knee and Artivace howled from the pain. By the third shot it was obvious to the troops that their new-found leader wasn't aiming for the heretics head. The general hung from one arm tied onto the wall dead but it was not enough for Scaevola. The last round cut the bond and the generals stump of a torso splatted to the ground leaking blood and organs.

Scaevola turned to his troops and with a cold look reminded them that this was the punishment for heresy, then he dismissed them. The guardsmen saluted him and praised the emperor.

Part 2: The Astarte

“Are you certain we are going the right way?” Horatio asked with a hint of despair in his robot voice, “I suggest we return to the craft and take another lo-”

“Before we crashed I detected two imperial outposts, we are traveling towards one now”, the armored giant Caseus cut him off with his stern voice. The astarte was a mighty figure to behold, nearly two or three heads taller than a normal man and was encased in blue power armor. His pauldrons bore no indication of his chapter allegiance and we was without a helmet. Sweat glistened down his darkened face and light reflected off his bionic-eye as he glanced upwards into the sky.

The space-marines companion stopped in his path a moment to think, “it is not that I doubt you, my lord, its just that we've been trekking for two days now and there has been no signs of... anything!”

“If you do not doubt me then why do you insist on asking me these questions?”

Horatio paused again, “I apologize my lord, what would you rather talk about? I am merely trying to pass the time”.

“I would rather we do not speak at all, there is no telling what might stalk us in these dunes” Caseus motioned with his arm around, “We still have many miles before we will be in sight of the compound”.

“I am simply concerned for your well-being my lord as you have not eaten or slept for days” Horatio squawked.

Caseus turned around to face Horatio, “I will persevere, you should be more worried about yourself”.

Horatio snorted a laugh and bobbed toward the space-marine, “And why should-”

“Because when your grav-motor dies I shall not carry you” came the cold reply, “You're here because you chose to come, and I dare not shoot you for my ammo is limited, and would much rather save it for the orks which are bound to be roaming these lands.

If it were possible for a servo-skull, Horatio would have a broken heart. Fighting back tears that could not exist he sped off before Caseus and vowed to never return.

Horatio was a fickle construct though and within a day Caseus detected him with his optical-augments. The space-marine readied his bolter, for the annoying skull was not alone.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear” Horatio sputtered as he raced towards the marine. Behind him roared a pair of ork dune-buggies with several of the stinky beasts hanging off the sides of each.

“Down!” Caseus bellowed at the top of his lungs, Horatio did as he was commanded and plowed into the sands like a spinning rock.

The marine aimed his weapon and fired a single round towards the nearest of the vehicles. The ork driving the buggy sported a pair of goggles and a thick cigar between his crusted lips that was ripped backwards by the velocity of the vehicle when the bolt-round took off the top half of the drivers head.

The crude-wagon careened to the right and slammed itself into the other ork buggy. Orks flew from the wreckage like sweaty, green child-dolls. The first to recover gave out a battle-cry and charged towards Caseus with crude weapons.

Six were thrown back in gory chunks before Caseus' bolter clicked empty, the towering warrior cursed to himself as he tossed the weapon into the sand. He was not without defense though, he drew out his combat knife and readied himself.

He parried a wild swing from an ork and gave a forceful slice into the alien's side and belly, blackened blood and entrails spurted out of the wound and the beast crashed downwards. Caseus fended off another pair of orks with his blade and cut them down. After a few short minutes of battle more than a dozen aliens lay around him twitching and dead. Despite his best effort, more greenskins were crawling out from under the wrecks.

From over the dunes ahead plumes of dust and smoke could be seen rising into the sky and Caseus heard more engines looming, and again he cursed as he grabbed a inelegant machinegun from an ork corpse. The gun had considerable recoil as it chugged lead towards the approaching savages, but nothing the marine could not handle.

The other ork vehicles, several warbikes spewing black exhaust as well as trukks and a larger wagon, began to circle around the outnumbered marine and as they stopped a larger ork nob jumped out of the wagon with a grin on his ugly face. His face was painted in yellow, either that or drenched in urine and he held a looted power-axe in one had and a flamethrower in the other.

As he approached the other orks backed off from the marine, one even pulled himself off Caseus' combat-knife with guts trailing behind him as he chased after the others. “Back off lads” the nob snorted, “Dis one is mine”.

Hahaha! Love it. Servo skull is a nice touch, and less tactical at 16 points and more tactical at 40 points.

Too short though, i want to know what happens next.

Poor, poor Horatio
Great sotry is all I can say other than above comment.