Had he been any other man, Orpheus would have shivered in the cold night. The surface temperature on Praxis III had dropped to -2 Centigrade, and in turn, his implanted hypothalamus node raised his body temperature a few degrees to compensate.

Orpheus reflected quickly on what had brought him to this Emperor-forsaken world. The memory came rushing back, lucid as a piece of transparent plasteel.

"Brother-Scout Orpheus."

"You sent for me, Brother-Captain Wulfgar?"

"Indeed, I did. You have been selected above your brother Scouts for a mission of the utmost importance for the success of this campaign on Praxis III."

Orpheus did not flinch. He had stared, stock-still, his keen eyes roving over the tapestry that hung on the Temple wall behind Captain Wulfgar, depicting a glorious Ultramarine victory over the vile Tyranid during the Viktonis Infestation so many generations ago.

"What is my mission, Brother-Captain?"

"It is two-fold. Your first objective is to gather information regarding the strength, position, and movement of the Ork filth on the planet's surface." Wulfgar hesitated.

"And my second, Brother-Captain?"

"Orpheus, you are among the most skilled Scouts in the Chapter. The Emperor –praise be to His Name- has clearly favored you."

"You did not call me here to compliment me, Brother-Captain." Orpheus turned his head slightly to look upon Wulfgar's tall form.

"Too true, Brother-Scout. I only wish to impress upon you the importance of this mission."

"I am honored to be chosen, Brother-Captain."

"Your second objective is as follows: you are to kill the Orkish Warboss."

At this, Orpheus stiffened. It was almost a death sentence. That was why Wulfgar had hesitated. No single Marine could infiltrate an Ork camp, kill a Warboss, and hope to escape alive. Still, Orpheus was a Scout Marine. Expendable. His loyalty to the Chapter was unwavering.

"I will carry out this mission."

"You most certainly will, Brother-Scout, and I have faith in your capabilities. You will not dishonor the Chapter, I am sure."

"Death first, Brother-Captain."

"The Ultramarines have been the Emperor's vanguard since the creation of the Adeptus Astartes. You are His will, made manifest. In His Holy Name, you will not fail."

"When do I depart, Brother-Captain?"

Orpheus had been dropped rather unceremoniously via Thunderhawk three days before. He had made his way silently through thick forest, toward the large Ork camp identified by satellite imaging as the central command center for the xenos' offensive on Praxis.

They had come quickly and brutally, as is their wont, scorching terrain and killing every living thing in sight. The 103rd Praxian Imperial Guard Regiment put up a valiant defense, but the Horde eventually overcame them and swept across the surface of the planet. In a last desperate act of defiance, the Imperial Guard had called upon the only saviors that would answer their call. The Orkish advance was finally halted when the Ultramarines had rained down drop-pods along their front line.

It had been beautiful. Almost as if The God-Emperor himself had come down from on high to smite his foes. The ramps slammed to the ground and the Ultramarines burst forth, weapons blazing, like a sapphire dragon. Their battle armor glinted in the sun streaming through the trees, their bolters spewing forth tongues of flame and the Marines themselves issuing litanies of Glory to the Undying Emperor, and curses of Hate upon the evil that had tainted the planet.

Orpheus had been there some time before, clearing a path with his Brother Scouts for the coming onslaught. He distinctly remembered how he and his squad had ambushed and decimated a group of Ork outrunners. They had never seen him or his squad until it was too late. His bolt-pistol smoking, his chainsword and armor splattered with green blood, Orpheus had raised a cry of praise.

Orpheus smiled.

He shifted the sniper rifle in his hands, dropped to one knee, and touched the comm transmit button on his headset.

"Base, this is Viper One. Reply."

"Viper One, this is Base. Extol your status, Brother," The voice crackled back.

"Currently two thousand meters from enemy perimeter. No problems thus far. I have sighted a large armored formation some three kilometers on the enemy's left flank, and it seems these Orks are biding their time, regrouping, waiting for reinforcements."

"Roger that, Viper One."

"I would also like to report-"

A distinct snap. Orpheus immediately flicked his nightvision goggles down over his eyes. He searched, and saw three of them three hundred meters away, swaggering toward his position.

"Respond, Viper One."

"My apologies, Base. I have sighted three Orks inbound on my position. Permission to engage."

"Negative. You must remain unseen."

The thought of letting the three live did not sit well with the battle-hardened Scout, but he knew what needed to be done.

You may know mercy this day, he thought.

"Roger, Base. Moving out."

He touched the comm again, and crept slowly forward, edging away from the guards who were now snapping at each other like dogs.

Filth.

Some hours later, Orpheus had crept his way to a small rise overlooking the camp. He crouched and surveyed. Torchlight illuminated the area, throwing hundreds of ghastly shadows on the walls of their impromptu buildings. Indeed, there must have been several hundred of them, yelling, screeching, biting, infighting, the way only Orks can. They seemed to all be centralizing around a single huge figure, bionic limbs adorning his huge green trunk. He wielded a tremendous axe, and appeared to be issuing commands to the retinue that surrounded him. He paused, and addressed the chaotic group.

"Dem humies ain't neva gonna know wut hit 'em, boyz! We's gonna stomp dem into da ground! We's gonna break dere bones and drink dere blood!"

At this, the crowd erupted with an ungodly din. Orpheus winced despite himself. After several dozen battles fighting the Horde, he never did get used to it. Nevertheless, he had a mission to complete.

He prostrated himself, raised the rifle to his shoulder, opened the caps on the viewfinder, and thumbed on the laser sight. He settled the crosshair right above the Warboss's left eye. "I am the Emperor's will, made manifest," he whispered.

"WAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Orpheus started. The cry had come from behind him. He whirled his head around, and saw a very angry Ork charging, his menacing axe raised, some fifty meters away. At the speed he was moving, he would be on Orpheus in seconds. No time to waste. He turned back to the scope, moved the crosshair slightly to compensate for the raised head of the now-alerted Warboss, and squeezed the trigger. The giant Ork was dead before he hit the ground. Orpheus did not stay to watch. He turned around again to the Ork who was now only several feet away. He lifted himself up, and parried the Ork's downward stroke. He drove the butt of the rifle with all his might into the ribs of the off-balance Ork, who looked somewhat startled when he heard the sickening crunch.

No time to waste. He unsheathed his knife and thrust it into the Ork's exposed throat. Blood smacked his face, and the greenskin collapsed in a heap.

Orpheus ran.

He looked down at the anti-personnel radar on his wrist. There were too many to count, and they were chasing him relentlessly. He knew that there would be no capture. He would not surrender, given the chance, but as it were, in their bloodlust the Orks would hack him to pieces and mount his head on a spike. Bullets whizzed past his head. He slung the rifle over his back and unholstered his plasma pistol. Turning, he fired a token shot at the mob behind him, and heard a scream of pain as the white-hot plasma bolt sheared an arm from its shoulder.

He hit the comm button.

"Base, this is Viper One. Mission complete. I am on the move, and I am being pursued. Please advise."
"Viper One, please retransmit. Your signal is incomplete."

"Base! I am on the move and the entire damned Horde is on my heels! Please advise!"

"Neg- Viper- Sig- incom-"

The Orks must have had a jammer among them, because the line fell silent. Orpheus kept running, back the way he had come, toward the landing zone.

The Orks were gaining ground, but Orpheus ran on, neither stopping to think or shoot at his pursuers, his mind and body of singular vision. His genetically enhanced form allowed him to move at speeds unheard of to an average human, but still the Orks came.

Orpheus suddenly felt the ground fall away from under his feet, and he tumbled headfirst into a ravine. Something sharp, a rock outcrop, most likely, cut bitterly into his cheek. He finally slid to a stop at the bottom. Through his dazed stupor, he saw the unruly mob halt at the edge of the ravine and one of them let out a crazed yell.

"We got this bleedin' humie now, boyz!"

This was the end.

Orpheus knew it, but did not despair. He drew his plasma pistol and knife and got to his feet. He would die fighting, for the Glory of the Undying Emperor, and this knowledge bolstered his courage.

"Come and get me, SCUM!" He bellowed. I am the Emperor's will, made manifest.

They started down the steep slope. Orpheus shook the haze from his head, and readied himself. The first one reached him, swiping down with his axe. Orpheus quickly stepped to the outside, struck the Ork in the temple with a swift backfist, laid his plasma pistol against the same point, and pulled the trigger. The Ork's head disintegrated, and Orpheus turned to his next foe. The second Ork to reach him received a boot to the stomach, doubling him over. Orpheus drove his knife with all his might into the thick skull, and there it stayed. He blasted a bolt of plasma into the chest of another Ork and looked around.

He tried to back away from the mob, but it did no good. They were on all sides of him. Another leapt, his eyes burning with hatred, and tackled the hapless Scout to the ground. Orpheus could see the rest of them, now almost on top of him. He grabbed the Ork's skull with both hands and twisted. He could hear the spine of the Ork snap savagely as he threw the lifeless corpse aside and tried to stand.

It was too late. An axe-blade found its way to Orpheus, cutting through the torso of his power armor and making a cruel gash into his chest. Orpheus could feel the blood running out of him. Incensed, Orpheus crushed the face of a nearby Ork with an open hand and tried once again to stand. Another cut, then another, and yet still another drove him back to the ground. Orpheus was tiring. He would not survive much longer, and he knew it. Still, his faith in the Emperor did not waver.

He will provide… as long as I have faith…I am the Emperor's will, made manifest…

He thought he heard a familiar noise…

and blacked out.

"Brother Orpheus… heed my voice."

"It's no use, Brother Ragnar. He is dead. Retrieve his gene-seed and return to the dropship."

"Yes, Brother-Captain."

Orpheus opened his eyes. He could vaguely see the bone-white armor of Apothecary Ragnar, bending over him.

He gasped.

"Brother-Captain Wulfgar! He lives!"

"By the Emperor. I don't believe it. Very well, Ragnar. Mend him as best you can, then get him to the dropship. We must leave before the Orks mount a counterattack."

Orpheus felt the instruments closing his wounds, and instinctively knew his own body would repair them in time. He felt the Apothecary pick him up, and Orpheus looked around hazily. The bodies of the Ork mob that had chased him were strewn along the floor of the ravine, ambushed by his Brother Marines, mere seconds after Orpheus had lost consciousness. Holes riddled the bodies and bolter casings littered the ground. Others had been cut to pieces by a blood-spattered chainsword wielded by Brother-Sergeant Ajax, who was speaking now. Orpheus strained to listen.

"We thought we had lost your signal completely, Brother. We knew something was wrong. But you know as long as a Space Marine draws breath, there is always hope. Brother-Captain Wulfgar mobilized immediately. He told us that no hero would be left to die if he could help it." He clapped a gauntlet to Orpheus's shoulder. "You really gave them hell, Brother. You are truly an asset to the Chapter."

A very tired Orpheus smiled weakly.

I am the Emperor's will.