Chapter
1
Aboard the Vessel
The battery pack for my Lasgun finally gives, and, thankful I grabbed another one earlier; I take the old one out and slam the new one home. With renewed vigor, I charge the ranks of Tau just ahead of me. I snap out a shot as I run, the las-bolt scoring a direct hit on a fire warrior, the laser powered projectile searing through the helmet of the soldier. -Graphic content to follow- I dart by a man screaming something to the emperor; his entrails sitting in a steaming pile at his side, ignoring a strange pinkish-red substance that I assume came from the headless guardsman to his left splattered across his face. I watch as a squad of Conscripts charge blindly into the fray, a Commissar leading the charge.
A squad of Tau is opening up on me, and I crouch behind some rubble. I glance around; the buildings are either destroyed or burning, and there aren't very many of them taller than a few stories high. The screams of dying men ring through air, accompanied by the bark of the commissars as they bellow their litanies, executing those not serving the emperor. I snap back into reality as a beam of energy roars over my head. I pop up from behind cover and fire again at the squad supplying the suppressive fire. I notice a new squad sneaking around to my position, and I know that if I don't react quickly, they'll pounce, and I'll be little more then another dead guardsman. Not Today.
The defining shriek of a salvo of Basilisk tanks sounds overhead, and I fire with my Lasgun as I charge blindly into the enemy ranks. A building explodes to my left and some Tau pathfinder sniper go flying from a few stories up. I stumble for a moment from the large explosion, still running, and I suddenly find myself face to face with a kroot, Carnivorous mercenaries for the Tau. The wicked blade at the end of his crude gun digs into my chest, nearly skewering my heart.
I can already feel the poison from the blade working through my body as I react by smashing the bayonet on the end of my gun up through the kroot's neck into his head, his black blood running down my lasgun. He goes limp, and I pull the knife from my chest. I start feeling dizzy, my vision blurred. The cacophony of battle returns to my ears after the defining sound of the Ordnance blasts. Just as sound returns, I fall to the ground; the poison of the kroot working it's way through my body. I black out.
My vision returns for flitting moments. I'm inside some sort of large transport vehicle, too big to be a chimera, packed with large soldiers. My vision recedes. It returns, and I look at large soldiers, their armor bulky and heavy, some of them sporting craters from bullet impacts. The driver is in haste, the transport bumping up and down, throwing my stomach for a loop. My vision once again eludes me. I wake a third time, the bumping and rocking of the vehicle making me nauseas. One of the soldiers, his armor a bold white, stands near me, his eyes burning red in my sickened haze. He has a terrifying looking needle, and I feel an acute pain in my leg as the needle punctures my skin, injecting some fluid unknown into my artery. It's not more than a few seconds until I'm out again.
When I wake up again, I am no longer in the shaking confines of the large transport, but in fact in a large infirmary, it seems. The nausea is no longer there, but I remember wanting to throw up. I look down at my flak jacket, still clung tight to my body, vomit splattered across the front. I guess I did throw up. Everything is deafly quiet, and I appear to be the only one in here. I glance around; large beds, much to big for the average guardsman, are in a neat order around the room. The medical stations sit unmanned. I feel fine enough, and ponder what it was that the man in the tank had injected me with. Something strong, cause I was out cold. Sitting in my thoughts, I am amazed to see the large wall behind me is in fact not a wall, evident by the fact that it starts sliding apart, revealing open space, black beyond the immaculate window. So I'm in orbit. It really throws me for a loop, the irony of it all. I pass out after having just been in combat, and then in a matter of short minutes (or, so it seems to me) I'm aboard this large ship. Then it occurs, I was stabbed! I don't feel any pain in my chest, though I am sure that I was gouged. I'm pondering my wounds when a door slides open on the far end of the chamber, to my right. What I see is amazing.
In full power armor, still pocked with bullet holes and burn marks from battle, strides in five Space Marines, their armor stunning red, insignias of a drop of blood with wings emblazoned across the chest, and along various points on their armor. They are of reasonable rank, I can see. The purity seals waving slowly off of their body tell of years of dedicated service. The one in the front, the highest in authority, marches toward me, his stride massive. In step behind him, I see what I assume is an Apothecary, his armor a crisp white, detailed in red. As the leader nears, his power armor adourned with all kinds of details, from long flowing seals to elaborate cloths painstakingly detailed with the chapter's vows and oaths, I notice a long scar along the top of his head. He stops by the end of my bed, his pace suddenly ending; the other Space marines behind him never losing composure, even after his sudden halt. Amazing. I start on the battlefield, and end up within the very confines of a space marine Chapter Warship, one of one hundred in the galaxy.
"Private Steven Maverick, 67th Cadian regiment!" booms the space marine, his voice resounding through the otherwise silent chamber.
"Yes, Sir!" I yell back, astonished by the volume of his voice, "Reporting, sir!"
"Very well then… Brother Allond, see to it that this man is outfitted to the fullest extent, and brother Assiduas, tend to his wounds. You are a brave man, Private Maverick. When you have been tended to, come to my quarters aboard the ship. I will expect nothing less than full formal wear… Am I clear!" He says, his voice rising, exploding in my ears.
"Yes, sir. It would be an honor, sir!" I snap back, once again gaining my senses, pain slowly growing across my chest.
With this, he strides out, his flowing robes waving with his massive steps. The entire time he never glanced at me once, and yet I can feel his authority. Two of the men under his command stay, still facing forward; the Apothecary and a Marine with various details I assume are not present on normal marines armor, showing his status. Just as the Commander leaves the room, the two bellow in unison, "The emperor be with you!"
"And also with you." The high-ranking officer says, not breaking his pace for a moment. And then, he leaves. The two marines left pivot on heel, facing me now, and I can see their shoulders drop, their massive shoulder pads adorned with various details, now at ease. The Apothecary glances at me before lifting a few latches at the back and sides of his helmet, and lifting it off with a hiss of decompressing air.
"Greetings, my guardsman friend." He declares, his voice deep, yet soft. His fellow Marine takes off his helmet now. "I do believe that you have suffered a wound, grievous, and it has been wished of me to tend to it."
In sudden realization that maybe I should be taking off my helmet, I quickly un-strap it. "Yes, I was stabbed, by one of the, uh, kroot," I remark, various cruel names for the alien rushing through my mind.
"And I," says the second marine, "I am the Brother-captain's personal armourer. I have been told to outfit you to the highest of Imperial standards. I hope my services are to your liking." He says, with a slight nod.
Now, I am thoroughly enjoying myself, aboard a space marine chapter ship, wounds being tended to by the best of the galaxy, already thinking of my new armor, when a thought occurs. Why? Why in emperors name am I so special? All I did was get stabbed on the field of battle and nearly die, if not for having been saved by these people. I don't entirely think it would be the wisest move on my part to question my feats, so I save it for later.
"Now, Private, lie back. I must see the extent of your injuries." With that, I set my helmet on the table next to me from its spot under my arm. I stare at the dull glow globes, wondering how many of them there are on this massive ship. I feel pain around my wound as the Apothecary quickly jabs a needle into it.
"What was that for!"? I question through my gritted teeth.
"I am afraid this Xeno poison is fairly strong, and it may be a painful process disinfecting your wound. Hold still, please." He says.
"I am holding still." I reply calmly, through gritted teeth, despite the needle dug deep into my wound. He yanks the needle out sharply and places deftly a clamp to hold my wound open. I writhe at the pain. Oh.
My wound doesn't hurt that bad, actually, for all of the poking and prodding that the Apothecary had done earlier. My Dress Uniform is nice, real nice, much nicer than my old ratty one. The frill draped along my chest in two thick cords is of a golden cloth, and it matches well with the Cadian green cloth of which the uniform is made, a nice soft material that feels good on my skin. My whole attire, from my peaked top hat to my shiny combat boots, is crisp, the arm and leg lengths perfectly tailored, gold and tan picked out on the various details of the Imperial eagle across the outfit. My new bolt pistol, nicer than any laspistol I've fired, is holstered calmly at my side. As I stride with an heir of confidence behind my Marine escort to the Chapter Master's chambers, I notice the intricacy of everything the Space marines do, as evident by the detail along the walls of the ship.
We come to a large door, with two guards in full power armor on either side, heavy bolters locked and loaded, and my escort shows a card that he has produced from one of his side pouches. The guards both nod slightly, and the one to the left turns and punches in a few keys on the keypad behind him. The door slides apart, revealing a spacious chamber. My escort nods slightly toward the open door, telling me to go inside. He turns on his heel and walks off down the corridor we had just strode through, completing some task or mission on another section of the ship. I walk in to the quarters and I hear the door hiss closed behind be. Well then, no escaping this room. Now that I am inside, I can see the room much better. Old-fashioned lamps light the lavishly furnitured room, Red cloth lining all of the rich wood chairs and couches and other items around the chamber, a nice, and obviously requested, change from the rest of the metal ship, and an obvious show of power. I'm trying to determine if the wood is real or fake when another door to my left opens up, and I see the chapter leader stride in with the same heir of authority I sensed earlier. He walks over to his desk, situated in front of me, and sits down, not even glancing at me as he walks in, a servo skull hovering above his left shoulder, humming slightly as it floats next to him. The desk is lit by a red lamp, which I assume has an older style bulb, and has various stacks of papers, what I also assume to be battle rights and death records, and a few pens sticking up neatly in their holders.
"Greetings, once again, private Maverick." He says, his voice considerably lower than in the infirmary, "I am glad to see you are up, and Brother Allond has outfitted you well."
"Indeed he has, sir" I reply, cautious of my tone, trying dearly not to upset this powerful man.
"Do you know why my Retinue and I rescued you from your deathbed?" he questions, seemingly feeding on my thoughts.
"No, sir, I do not." I reply firmly, though I am sure that was not the answer he had wanted.
"As I thought." He says, his motives concealed to me for the moment, "It is because you saw an opportunity, and you took it without thinking for your own well-being. The order to retreat was called, was it not? You did hear this call?" Then it all comes back to me. Tired from battle, deafened by the salvo of Earthshakers, I didn't even hear the order to retreat! My mind begins to race. Do I tell him the truth? Do I lie? Emperor knows what this man will do if I do not answer to his liking.
"Yes sir, I did." I'm cringing at in my mind at my sudden choice.
"Did you then?" he says hotly. He knows something. "were you aware that the Xeno you encountered was the one orchestrating forward movement at that particular battle?" he asks scrutinizingly.
"No, sir. I was not aware of this information. It was merely that I believed the battle was lost. If I was to die for the Emperor, then I figured I could kill a few for him before I went down."
"well then, Private Maverick, it seems we have been good to save you. Devoted to the emperor, and a tide turner of battles. It was your killing of that Alien that allowed us to fight on. I was informed before you entered that we have won the battle, in fact, there are no longer enemies upon the surface." His voice is much less intense than it was moment ago.
"Well, then, I thank you for saving me, sir. I also thank you for the wargear that you have bestowed upon me. However, I do wish to contact my squad, or at least the platoon command, so that I am not presumed dead."
At this remark, the Master sighs heavily, his chest drooping. I begin to worry. Has something gone wrong, have they been killed, captured? The Chapter leader jots down something on the paper on the top of his desk.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Private." He says, waiting for my reply.
"Why not, sir?" I ask, my worries growing with each passing second, a horrible feeling growing at the pit of my stomach.
"I am sorry to say that the planet had been overrun. All space marine units were evacuated, and a few of the Guard regiments as well. The planet was cleansed as of 0900 hours. Your squad, your platoon, your regiment is… dead." He spins around the paper he had signed and slides it toward me. I assume the parchment offers some condolence, but I can't be bothered with it right now.
"Begging the Chapter master's Pardon, but this… is unbelievable." I say, suddenly short of breath. I can feel it coming. There is no stopping it. " How the frag could you do that!" I bellow, "Why not just leave me to die on that Emperor forsaken planet! I'm not just some no feeling space marine. When someone dies in my squad, I don't just take his seed and move on!" I bellow, my anger filling the room.
"Private, you must understa-" he tries, but I cut him short. I might as well be the Emperor himself for my authority at the moment..
"They were my friends! My brothers! And they all died! You could have fought for the planet, but no! You had to blow the whole fraggin thing up! You could have sent in more guard, a few of your space marines! Not just fragging sacrifice the unknowing guards!" I yell, my voice filling the chamber. I'm sure I'm about to get a bolt in the back from one of the sentries outside the door, but the time ticks by, second by second, the Chapter master choosing his words wisely.
"They were doomed anyway." He says at length, calmly. "The planet was overrun. It is written in the Adeptus Astartes that the planet must be cleansed, regardless of friendly casualties. I am sorry for your loss. You are to be transferred to 8th Regiment, Cadian 7th regiment, 412th platoon as commanding sergeant of squad 312. You and any of your possessions are to be shipped to the planet of Sintridge in preparation of the purging of Carcatha. I have the papers ready, right here. If it is your will, you may join the Commanding squad for 8th company, should you survive landfall on Carcatha, and meet with and are approved by Senior Officer Alatar. Emperor be with you, Sergeant Maverick." He says at length. I am outraged. I am happy. I am so completely fragged up I can't even stand it.
"And… also with you, sir." I say, cooled down. I slide the paper off the desk and make my leave, feeling the hot stare of the Chapter Master across my back. The doors to the chamber slide open, and the cool, dark of the glow-globe lit corridor is soothing. I walk directly to my chamber, not glancing back for even a moment. The detailed form in my hand with high gothic scribbled all over it is beginning to crumple under my extreme grip. I remember all of the men in my platoon. Rallington, Umen, Harry, Benny, Lisa, Mark, Alan. All dead.
I quicken my pace, anger slowly taking over me. I can feel tears rushing to my face, and I fight to keep them back. The paper in my hand continues to crumple. I could see the charred bodies of all of them, still smoking, splayed out across the burnt landscape. The hundreds of lives slaughtered to make it easier for the Fraggin' Space Marines. The tears roll down my face as I stride into my chamber, new Carapace armor laid out with my autogun, along with various other things. All of the men and women I knew. They had lives, personalities. Now they were dead. And I died with them.