Please tell me what you think guys
I felt as though I wanted to say more but as of right now it's at exactly 2500 words. I feel as though it jumps around a lot and the build up is way too fast. I wanted to add a lot more but when I was at 3000 words I had to cut it down a bit.
Thanks for reading guys
Segmentum Obscurus
Dimmamar
The angel’s wings seemed to glisten against the rockrete backdrop. Its giant arms were extended, clutching a weapon that rammed itself into a beast of a thousand different faces. It was sneering at the angel, whose face replied only with a determined unemotional stare. The angel’s other hand clutched a shield of pure gold, embezzled with the imperial eagle, the words inscribed on the shield “Sed Diabolus Nullum” in high gothic.
Leta looked up at the magnificent carving and admired its grandiosity. It had to have taken hundreds of years to carve and more years to blanket with pure gold. She recognized the ancient warrior, an angel that her god created to protect her. It was these revered Astartes that protected the Imperium for tens of thousands of years. The Angel made her feel small and insignificant.
She was so caught up in her stare that she failed to notice her mentor standing next to her. Curator Jean, the man of 110 years stood next to her. His face was punctured by hundreds of wires, his throat and mouth were covered by a metal mask that rasped and clicked whenever he made a noise, and a oculus extended from one of his eye sockets that moved back in forth, focusing.
“Magnificent, is it not?” he rasped, looking up at the giant carving.
“Are there really angels?” she asked him, not turning away from the golden giant.
“Be careful when questioning the imperium’s history. You may ask whatever you want around me, Leta, but others would not be so understanding of a young girls ignorance.”
“Yes Jean.” She said looking down.
“To answer your question, there are indeed angels that protect us. It was our god who made them from his own spirit. His own divine essence fills these angels. Each and every last one has a piece of him inside them.”
“So they can do no wrong?”
“Let us talk about this another time. Come. We have to-“
“What does that say?” Leta interrupted pointing at the shield.
“If I tell you will you stop asking questions?” he offered.
She turned smiling then nodded.
“I Fear no Devil”
***********INCOMING TRANSCRIPT**********
“Are you sure it is here?”
“No”
“Vaya vey ne’sha, why are we risking this-“
“Have you any other leads, Vylas?”
“Vaya vey..”
“I did not think you did”
“This Vox is being tapped..”
************TRANSMISSION ENDED************
Ames dropped his headset and ran for his Curator, nearly knocking his chair over and running into a passing servitor, which did not budge due to its heavy metal shell.
“Master! Master Jean!” he called out squeezing past the metal zombie and through what seemed like an endless sea of consoles. The other serfs turned from their consoles to see the young man sprinting past them like someone was shooting a lasgun at him. His heart raced; finally something important had come up. This was his moment. His moment to prove to his master that he was not useless.
He made his way down a hall of monitors and to a heavy metal door with a large skull on it.
“Password.” The female voice said nonchalantly.
“Master Jean! Master Jean!”
“Incorrect.”
“Master Jean!” He called out once more.
The turret above to door activated and pointed at his face.
“Incorrect. Remain still, security has been notified.”
Suddenly, the turret went to it’s original position then the door slid open with a grinding noise and before him was his Curator. He sat behind dozens of monitors with his successor, Leta, sitting next to him reading a large book.
The curator sat up from his Chair and looked at him, the oculus adjusting itself.
“Why do you disturb-“
“Master Jean I have intercepted a transmission.”
“A transmission? Of what?”
“I don’t really know… you’d better take a look at it”
“Tell me how to act again and I will have you thrown in a penal colony.”
“Yes Master,” he said looking down.
The curator stood, whispered something to Leta, who smiled in response. Ames didn’t like the girl. How come she had such a close position to the Master and he did not? All he did was try to impress him and he never got the chance. But it was different this time, this time he would be the one reading the book, and not her.
“Show me.”
Ames bowed then brought the Curator through the long halls of serfs working on consoles, then to his station, and pulled up the recording.
“You see? This is something.” He said.
“This could be anything…”
“The words! I don’t know them”
“There are thousands of dialects throughout the stars. This could be a mining vessel transmission. This could be smugglers. This could be anything!”
“But master.. It’s something..” Ames tried to hold back the tears.
“You idiot. I had to call off security because of your insolence. I was in the middle of teaching my successor an important lesson on history and you have the nerve to bang on my door and scream for me? What is wrong with you boy? Are you stupid? That turret could have shot you!”
Ames didn’t know what to say, his eyes searched for words. His golden chance, his chance to help the Imperium like Angels do and he was wrong. He was wrong, he was always wrong.
“You should be a servitor!” he said then slapped the boy who fell on the ground.
“Never disturb me again! Never! Or I swear by the Emperor I will make you one!”
Leta had followed them in silence and was watching the boy weeping on the ground. The look on her face was something of confusion. He could barely make her out due to the tears in his eyes. Then as he lay there, she started giggling.
“Leta, I’m sorry you had to see that. What were we talking about again? Ah yes, the 9 Primarchs…”
The duo walked off and left him on the floor, alone. The other serfs didn’t even look at him. He wiped the tears away then made his way back to the chair and put his headset back on.
******INCOMING TRANSMISSION******
“Where is it located in the palace?”
“The lower part of the palace, according to the Curator we captured”
“Dunther said he screamed like a child when he was injected with a fake plague virus, which was actually just recycled water”
“He believed that? That’s what made him talk?”
“Believe it or not yes”
“Well I’d believe Dunther too with all the puss he has coming out of his face.”
“The Curator spoke of a large blast door of rockcrete, and we don’t have any melta charges”
“An issue.”
“I’ve been fighting for ten thousand years, never once had we run out of melta-charges, why? We never used them”
An angel? A real angel? Ames knew this was important when they started talking. What were they talking about? Probably playing a prank on the mean curator. He started shaking. Real angels. The one from the big books! It was amazing.
He typed into the console, too quick for eyes to follow his fingers. Instantly he had a vox line to their channel.
He looked to his left and right suspiciously then when he felt comfortable enough, he whispered into the headset.
“Are you… Angels?” he asked just softly enough so that no one would hear him.
“It’s being tapped.”
*******END TRANSMISSION*******
Ames would not give up that easily. He began typing and searching. Listening to other whispers of the void. He sat at his console for nearly five hours before he found the two voices again. And it took him another hour to decrypt the transmission to understandable levels.
*****INCOMING TRANSMISSION*****
“That’s the idea..”
“Angels, I am your friend” Ames whispered.
“Who else is on this channel?”
“I haven’t been called that in a long time.”
“How did you get on this channel?”
“I decrypted it” he replied proudly.
“Where are you?”
“The Palace.” He said.
“Shrilla la lerril”
“Forfallia dal sur shissis…”
“Where in the Palace?”
“The big room with consoles. I work here. Is it true you protect us from evil?”
“Haha. Yes. We protect you.”
“You are really angels? You have the emperor inside you?”
“We all do child. What do you do for your work?”
“I decrypt messages and tell my Curator if there is trouble. But he doesn’t listen to me.”
“What level of the palace is the console room in?”
“Is there a large door?”
“What kind of console room?”
“I’m on primis negative 116. And yes there is a big door.”
“We would like to meet you and your Curator.”
“This could be a trap. Who else is listening to this conversation?”
“No one, just me.”
“Do you want to see an angel?”
“Yes I do”
“Give us the codes for the palace. All of the security codes for doors. Transmit them here. Deactivate the defense systems as well. You wouldn't want your turrets to shoot the angels of the emperor?”
“Are you sure? I don't know if I’m allowed to.”
“Do you want to see an angel or not?”
“Ok. I will transmit them.”
“Good.”
*****END TRANSMISSION****
Ames put the headset down and started hacking all the codes for the palace. Then he transmitted the data to the decrypted line he was previously on. He never was so excited in his entire life. He was going to meet a real angel. Leta would be so jealous. Finally, he would have a place next to the master. And he will prove his message was important.
Leta was walking down the large hall with the carving when she first heard an ear-shattering explosion. The next thing she knew she was on her back. She could not see anything due to the dust that had overtaken the hallway. She heard screams of people who were running away and did her best to stand up, but couldn’t. Her heart was racing and then she finally noticed the scorching pain in her leg. She felt blood trickling down her leg and saw a piece of metal in it.
She began crawling, to which direction she did not know.
“Jean!” she called for help, but her curator was nowhere to be found. She started weeping on the floor in fear. Then she remembered when she giggled at the poor young man who just wanted some attention. She wiped the tears and told herself she would not act like a stupid serf.
As the dust cleared away she looked up to find a large metal object. It was painted dark blue and had lightning strikes coursing down its edges. On the side was an emblem of a skull with bat wings. She remembered the Curator and his teachings. It was a drop-pod, used by Adeptus Astartes. Angels. Angels who could do no wrong!
“The Angels are here!” she called out in relief, “The Emperor’s sons are here!”
Her heart rate slowed and she smiled. As the door opened she saw 3 pairs of red eyes staring at her and she felt the low moan of power. The dark figures slowly made their way out and what she saw was the opposite of what she expected.
There were bloodied skins draped over their armor. Fresh heads were slammed into spikes on their shoulders. Blood seemed to drip out of their eyes. The demi-gods were not angels at all. They were devils.
Their boots thundered across the floor as they approached her.
“Midas, cover front, Thurgon cover the rear.”
One of the monsters moved past her with a weapon that was the size of two of her. A face had been stretched on his power pack, it seemed to move and contort at her mouthing the words “help me”.
The leader eyed the massive carving and laughed.
“Sanginuis, you look better than the last time I saw you” then he slowly turned his skull white helmet to her.
The leader picked her up by the throat and then she heard screams of the dying from his vox caster. It made her shutter. His red eyes glowed into hers as her heart started to race.
His helmet hissed as he unclipped it with his free hand, then removed it to reveal he had no irises. His long dark hair fell just shy of his eyes. His teeth were sharp like a predator and his face was covered in scars that told of centuries of war.
“What are you..?” she could barely make out the words with the gauntlet around her throat.
“It is said, when Angels fall they become devils.”
“I… Fear… no… devil”
“Yes you do.”
He spit into her eyes. She screamed as the acid burned its way through her retinas and into her skull. She bellowed at the top of her lungs as the devil dropped her and continued, putting his helmet back on.
She heard gunfire as the acid made its way through her lungs. She stopped screaming. Then she stopped living.
Jean never ran faster in his life. His respirator moaned and clicked with every stride he took. He had to get back to his control room. He had to delete the transmission he received from the Ultramarines. He had to make it there before whoever was attacking got to it first.
It couldn’t be a traitor legion. It couldn’t be. That simpleton couldn't have been right. It couldn’t be Astartes.
When he arrived. His fears became reality. The blast door was open and before him stood the simpleton, Ames. Behind him were the bloodied corpses of the serfs who worked late. Ames was smiling at him.
“The Angels came and killed all the bad people! The ones who hated me! They’re dead!”
“What have you done?”
“I let them in! I let them come and rid us of evil! Angels can do no wrong!”
“They are devils!”
Then he saw the Astartes come out from the shadows of the dark room. They were covered in blood.
“They are our friends! Now I get to read the books with you!”
“Ames..” Rasped the one with skull white helm.
“Yes angel?”
“Activate the turrets to kill everyone who isn’t wearing power armor, and you of course. We might need you on Arkhona, to kill those who are evil.”
“Okay!” he got patted on the head by one then ran to a console and started typing.
“You… you found the transmission?”
“We didn’t… Your serf did.” The one with a scoped bolter replied.
Suddenly he felt metal arms restrain him. He twisted and turned to escape but it was entirely feeble.
“What else did this traitor tell you?!” Jean screamed.
“We now know the Ultramarines fleet position. The Dark Angels fleet position. We know their coordinated attack plans for Arkhona. It’s that simple. And the best part is, they don’t know we do.”
“Emperor smite them!” Jean called out.
“Angel,” Ames inquired.
“Yes, child.”
“The turrets are activated.”
“Let’s find out… Duriel, throw him through the door.”
As he tossed him, he was immediately shredded by turret fire.
