:/Imperial time mark. [C. 847.07.12 M 30.]
- Compliance report from the 375th Expedition fleet.
- XIth Legiones Astartes.
\XIth Legion elements respond to calls for aid from 375th Expedition fleet army groups approaching system designated 375-13. Locally known as the Ra'Chaal system.
· Scout elements report (32 satellites. 14 planets. 3 deemed habitable.)
· Xeno's fleet elements present. Total strength (Data not found)
+Mission objectives+ ext.. Officium Legion Master.
Primus: Exterminate the native xenos species. (Biologis, and Theater command threat analysis attached.)
Secundus:
· Preserve habitability of Ra'Chaal system.
· Use of Exterminatus Protocol… Denied
· Deployment of Capital weaponry… Approved
"With the dawn brothers."
/:::::/
Thought for the day.
"Every battle is fought within. Conquer the battlefield inside you and the enemy disappears like the illusion he is." – Primarch Dorn
Mark: -18.27.16
} Final Astartes ships exit Warp at rendezvous. Tenth Echelon reports one hundred percent strength accounted and ready.
- Praetor Markus Vaurion 10th Echelon, calls for a war council aboard the Battle Barge, Brimming Rays
It felt strange having the strategium this empty.
This grand gilded room where the deaths of both our enemies and our brothers had been set out and planned in meticulous detail many times before. The room was always a hub of unending activity.
But it was empty now with the battle barge only recently dropping out of the Warp after several weeks of travel as we moved to our next warzone. Save for myself and the red robed tech priest who had and was to continue assisting me with the center piece hologram projector. I took another deep breath, smoothing down my high collared black tailcoat one more time out of habit.
This was to be my first briefing as a Captain of the Eleventh Legion.
The first my Praetor had commanded me to plan and lead since my ascension to command of the legion's seventh company. One of the youngest ever to achieve such distinction in the Dawn Stalkers. I was honored beyond words to take up such responsibility.
To be marked as one of promise in our mighty legion who had so doggedly hunted the enemies of mankind across the stars since before the crusade had even officially begun. To be found worthy enough to carry on my predecessor's duties.
Again I smoothed down the cool silk on top of my gene forged body.
"You look nervous."
The adept's voice was surprisingly natural for one of the Mehanicum. Making it all the more shocking that Enginseer Egli dared use it unbidden.
The Martian did not flinch away as I directed my attention to him. He met my piercing gaze with bright brown eyes and only smiled, pulling back the hood from his light brown crop of hair held tightly in place by a black and crimson sash. The mark of his machine cult plainly displayed on his forehead. His rebreather and binary translator hanging down around the man's throat.
Egli was young. Just like me.
But that was no excuse.
"We know no fear. Enginseer." I practically growled at him.
He chuckled, "Still, you look nervous."
"That is impossible." I replied. "We are far removed from such mundane…"
I struggled to find the words to tell him of our nature as Astartes. But one seemed appropriate.
"Feelings."
Once again Egli laughed at me and shrugged. "Yeah. So don't be nervous."
Before I could launch into a no doubt lengthy lecture on the psychology of the Space Marine Legions. Heralded by a well-oiled hiss of the strategium blast doors opening, the other finally gathered Captains of the Echelon began to arrive.
This was to be only a preliminary overview of our strategy further orders for companies would be sent out later, where they would go and whom they would fight with. We were well used to this lighting quick style of deployment.
Some were dressed as I was, light duty coats and robes of varying dull dark colors. Others arrived armed and armored for war in full plate. Light equally reflecting from the polished bronze of their power armor and devoured by the war gear's black trim.
Honor, duty, and most importantly respect was everything to our Eleventh legion. How we treated our betters was ingrained in all of our customs and culture.
I knew without a doubt that I was the least experienced officer here. So I kept my eyes down as my fellows filed in through the portal a Contemptor Dreadnought could have walked through, and found places around the projector table continuing the conversations they had begun on their way in. Egli put his red hood back in place and hitched his face mask up over his mouth, returning to the anonymity it offered. A few Captains sent a polite nod in my direction which eased my nerves somewhat.
Behind them came the commanders of the imperial army groups whom we had come to aid. Dozens of men and women in full dress uniform of the army and navy both. The guests not of the flagship speaking in quiet tones about the novelty of just where they were and what they were doing as they found seats in the larger amphitheater.
But all small talk and pleasantries ended as four final figures stepped up to the Threshold of Glory.
First was Sergeant Ryder, the standard bearer for my company and the Echelon both. His armor spotless and gleaming like the Imperial eagle on his chest plate, and the golden flagstaff in his hand. The Dawn Stalker's symbol, the golden rising sun of Terra sending out its warming rays as it crested over a horizon on a field of pure white, glowed proudly over our heads.
Ryder planted the flag down on the hard metal floor and stood motionless as a marble statue, his mark II helm showing no emotion in its red eyes. As one, all of the legionnaires present brought our clenched right fists up over our hearts in solemn salute.
Next to enter was our Master Diaconus, Bruis. The Tenth Echelon's keeper of moral, protector of the Legion's honor and fighting spirit. Dressed in deep black flowing robes thick mail gloves and a large hood, barely a few shades darker than his ebony skin. Bruis was lightly gripping the haft of his power maul, the signature weapon and staff of office for men of his kind.
Bruis took his place next to Sergeant Ryder at head of the holotable on the right from my perspective. Then turned beckoning the last two Astartes behind him into the open.
I felt it all around me and even at the back of my own mind. The little twinge of surprise and wave of confusion. I had been far too busy to pay attention to rumors that had barely even been made one circuit around the usual routes of whispers that existed even in our proud legion after we dropped out of the Warp.
But it was true. The fifteenth legion had come to join the battle.
This Captain stepped into the strategium, his intricate heraldry and marks of honor distinguishing his status of command. He was tall even for an armored Astartes easily the tallest here. But what was more surprisingly he had the arcane metal cowl of a psychic hood atop his head. The protective war gear of a librarian.
A sight I had never before seen amongst the Dawn Stalkers.
This foreign Space Marine carried an iron staff that wouldn't have looked out of place in the hands of an agri-world sheppard. A shimmering cloak of bright polished chain mail hung over his shoulders and down his back over his grey full plate armor. A volkite charger holstered on his left hip. Oath papers fluttering as he walked over to Bruis and stood quietly next to the Diaconus.
His skin was dark, as well as his hair and close trimmed beard. Almost golden eyes scanned our ranks no doubt taking notes but for what I couldn't imagine. Possibly just savoring the experience just as we were. Even during my nearing thirty years of service as a legionnaire I had only fought alongside two other legions. The Ultramarines and the fourth during different compliance operations.
Finally our Praetor walked into the dim light. Scalp and face both undoubtedly freshly shaven his masterfully worked artificer armor immaculate as usual. The legion's rising sun proudly centered on his chest plate, a death's head skull and laurels on his right pauldron eagle wings cradling his command numeration on his left. Eleventh legion. Seventh company, Tenth Echelon.
Markus Vaurion gathered a length of his black fur cape around his right forearm. But the Praetor did not take the traditional place of leadership in this hallowed hall. Observing an honored custom.
Vaurion was waiting, we all were.
Leaving the command position at our head vacant, just in case a warrior of greater rank or experience had yet to arrive.
Or, as we all dared to hope and dream. That one day it would be our Primarch himself to emerge from the shadows and take his rightful place in command of his gene sons.
Vaurion waited for three beats of his twin hearts, only we Astartes heard his quiet sigh. I noted a few of the other Captains did the same their heads dipping low again in disappointment. But there was nothing to be done now.
The Praetor took his rightful place, flicking his steely gaze over us.
"Well met brothers," He began. "War calls once again. And so we answer."
He pointed over to his left at the tall librarian of the XVth. "This is Captain Khonsu, he and his warriors have been sent to advise us in our campaign."
A small part of me suddenly began to question Khonsu's presence and my blood began to rise. Ill thoughts in my imaginations of some great shame our legion brothers had committed that now forced this oversight on us filling my head.
"And when I say advise, I mean advise." Vaurion clarified locking eyes with a few of the more pointed glances directed at Khonsu.
"You will offer him all due respect and consideration for his words. Understood?"
He knew us all too well. We nodded and gave both men another salute. Not held for nearly as long as we did with Ryder and the standard however. But Vaurion appeared satisfied.
"Skius."
I snapped to attention at the sound of my name and my Praetor's pointing gauntlet. Awaiting command.
The corners of his mouth curled ever so slightly in amusement. "Show us our prey."
I looked over and nodded to Egli. The Techpriest took up his data slate and the lights around us dimmed.
A biologis diagram appeared before us. The floating images of a dissected humanoid being. Measurements showing it was bigger than an average human but still nothing compared to an Astartes. Close up picts displayed its scaly reptilian skin. A fish lipped mouth full of omnivorous teeth. A single strand of jet black hair unbound from its top knot and an array of sharp spikes down its back.
"Sometimes it is not the arm that swings a weapon which is the greatest threat. But the one that offers the blade." I began.
The gathered Dawn Stalkers looked at me in confusion. I reached down to the lip of the holotable and picked up another data slate which I offered to the Captain on my right.
"Species designated Delta Nine Four Four Eight Epsilon. Preliminary translations of their dialect seized from their… Customers, say they know themselves as the Ra'Chaal."
Captain Rameus, the old pan-pacifican commander of the thirty fourth heavy support spoke in question, "Customers?"
I flicked my index and middle finger at Egli. He promptly switched to the next set of displays. Scrolling technical specifications of hundreds of different weapon types, ranging from small arms to laser batteries capable of decimating a battleship.
"Most species survived the long night by making war." I said, "This species survived by arming those that did."
Rameus nodded in understanding. Mutters and whispered discussions filtered over us from the naval and army officers.
I continued, "As I said the Ra'Chaal been supplying weapons to almost every other species they can reason with for quite some time now. All across this expanse, every time one being killed another in war. Or has stood against our Imperium's manifest destiny. Odds are it was with a weapon supplied by an alliance with the Ra'Chaal."
The display switched again. And the voices around me reached a new height as they realized what they were looking at.
"But even if they do not take the field with their customers in some fashion." I said. "The Ra'Chaal have sold and deployed many legions of synthetic infantry. Independent thinking fighting machines, ranging in size from standard human to larger rarer heavy support forms that would make one of us seem small."
The Mechanicus reports on salvaged machines appeared on the holoscreens showing various models of wedge headed mechanical men. Absent a true machine spirit, just abominations of virtual coding. Their sole purpose to fight and kill according to their master's program. Unthinking, and utterly in-human.
Egli had been most vexed about this facet of our enemy's technology. The machine cult's taboos against artificial minds ingrained deep into his beliefs. While the other revelations had sparked conversations, this laid a heavy cloud of silence across the strategium. The implications of this practice well known to all.
I continued. "Aside from their larger synthetics, physically they aren't much more of a threat than your average human male. But their cunning and technical prowess is not to be underestimated."
I looked down again at my own data slate for reference. "Page five of the analysis. Twelfth legion forces are pushed back from the capital citadel of Eighty Four- Ninety Two by timely reinforcements and resupply from a Ra'Chaal convoy. Fighting is dragged on for another eight months before Warhound reinforcements arrived."
Now intrigued by what could send back that legion of mad men. Captains flicked through the extensive lists of conflicts that had been prolonged or nearly thwarted by the arrival of arms and munitions from this species. Luna Wolves losing half a company to the aliens' guns. The Hrafnkel, the flagship of the sixth legion damaged as it came into low orbit to provide fire support.
One too many honor stains upon the pride and glory of our crusade. Insults and injury done to the legions and our brothers in arms.
Which we had been called to correct.
Now a planetary display shimmered into being on the holo projector. I quickly recounted the system's satellites, fourteen worlds, five gas giants, and six poisonous rocks. But three worlds relatively clean human breathable atmospheres and Terra normal gravity. Lastly the thirty two planetoids. Basically floating mineral deposits which fueled the Xeno's war machine.
I pointed up to the planets "Here is our battle ground. The soon to be graveyard of this pestilent species. As I am sure you are all well aware, there must be some finesse employed in this conquest. We are to preserve their worlds for humankind. Rather than just phosphex and virus bomb them into oblivion."
Dots appeared on the system display. The last known positions of the Imperial Navy's forward elements securing the transition points and skirmishing with the Ra'Chaal vessels in system. Securing the way for our main force.
I had prepared this opening strategy myself. Calling back on years of strategic tendencies favored by the Dawn Stalkers. Our honored ways gave me comfort, knowing how well these strategies had served the legion before.
As our fighting ships blockaded the system ensuring there would be no escape. Every available Astartes would make for Ra'Chaal prime and begin our cascading conquest. Landing in the capital hives with armored, and close orbit support as we waded through…
Vaurion held up his hand and spoke. "Brothers. I am sure you can picture and are anticipating what our working tactical plan will be."
My hearts froze. Questioning why the Praetor had chosen to intercede. His brown eyes shifted over to my green ones. I knew he sensed my sudden concern.
"This is a credit to you Skius." He continued. "Anyone else would have suggested the same strategy."
"Techpriest." Vaurion commanded. "Bring up the system chart."
Egli obeyed and returned to the larger tactical display. Vaurion pointed up to the farthest planet. The system's primary export station Ra'Chaal three.
"While the Xenos undoubtedly have their homeworld well defended, the majority of their martial strength is focused on this world. Their first line of defense, from where they send chaos out into the galaxy."
He paused for a moment to gather his breath and thoughts. "Our methods are to be redirected in this campaign brothers. A Vanguard will seize the orbital elevators on this world with support from our comrades of the Solar Auxilia and sunder their armies. While the rest of the legion and navy scour the planetoids of the Xeno's filth."
The Praetor had spoken and so we would obey. All the Captains accepted this without a second thought. Our legion had always deployed to shatter an enemies at the weakest point of their greatest strength. But my eyes couldn't help but be drawn to Captain Khonsu. Wondering if he was the reason for our change of plans on this eve of battle.
A voice broke through the silence that had befallen us.
"My Lord Vaurion."
It was Captain Arminger, commander of the sixty first assault company. Unsurprisingly to myself, he had come in his full armor. His short brown hair neatly combed and lacquered back. The raging thunder bolts crossed on his chest signifying how he had commanded one of our Vanguard strikes in place of the Praetor or another of the legion's lords.
Diaconus Bruis shifted a little, even with Arminger's slightly bowed head and careful tone. Vaurion raised a hand to him. "Speak."
"Who is to lead the Vanguard Praetor?"
I could see the hunger for glory in his brown eyes. Muted out of respect for Vaurion but still there. Everyone knew of Arminger's rather blunt reputation in the legion. He was a skilled warrior. I had watched him draw first blood in a duel on Sergeant Alexander, our legion's champion.
But that duel was swiftly finished as Alexander recognized Arminger's prowess with a laugh then proceeded to cut first, second, and third blood in as many seconds.
Still, whispers painted Arminger as rather lacking in tactical vision. It was also no surprise that he had broached this subject. The man was probably hoping for the honor himself. Obviously I knew it would be Vaurion. A campaign of this measure and importance, no one else would be fit to…
"Captain Skius shall lead the Vanguard."
Everyone froze.
I even found myself paralyzed by surprise. I had no idea Vaurion had planned this. The armor and robes of captains around me rustled. Captains looking to each other to confirm what just happened. This was unprecedented. My first command as a captain, also as a Vanguard leader. The field commander of potentially several thousand legionnaires. Brothers had waited decades for this privilege.
"I didn't deserve this."
"Was I ready?"
Before any true voice of objection could be given Vaurion spoke again.
"The command is given," The Praetor let his cape fall from his arm. "We shall strike within twenty four hours. Skius attend, we shall finalize the details in my chambers."
"My lord…" I tried to begin.
He ignored me, "The rest of you, return to your companies. Tomorrow we conquer."
Without another word Vaurion turned to leave the room, Bruis and Khonsu following close behind him. I felt the withering gaze of my brothers upon me, I shifted my gaze nervously between them. None of them spoke. And I could only guess what they were thinking.
Running the same question that I was through their heads.
"Why me?"
While normally our captains were barracked with the rest of their Astartes in mid decks. Some were offered the privilege of separate lodgings. The Praetor was quartered in a small suite of three rooms high on the back of the Brimming Rays. His legend and proven might granting him such luxury, as it was.
There was his sleeping chamber. Furnished with only his cot and a few wooden storage modules for his robes. This doubled as his office, with a monstrous slab of metal he called a desk centered like an ancient Terran pyramid. Plus a single cogitator station for all of the information he might require. The second room was Vaurion's armory and arming chamber. Storing his collection of weapons, armor and trophies ready for his selection whenever war called.
Last was the stateroom I currently found myself in. A comfortable space, covered with a thick brown rug insulating the cold deck plating, plus a low table and floor seating for guests. Along with many touches and mementos scattered around that marked it out as Vaurion's home.
Old oath papers fulfilled and laid out on an onyx slab and oaken bench table. Tokens of gratitude from our cousins in several other legions. A pict of himself with Legion Master Antinous, triumphant on some distant world.
But the things that most drew eyes towards them were the grand crystals and striking geodes from every world Vaurion had set foot on. They were reminders he once told me, reminders of the family he left behind as a very young boy when the legion came. His mother had been a geologist. And these rocks gave him some measure of comfort.
I saluted as I stepped through the door. Vaurion returned it in kind at the threshold of his arming chamber.
Master Bruis was kneeling down at the low table pouring himself a measure of the tea before him into a small jade glass. Captain Khonsu had not ventured far into the suite. Keeping close to the right hand side of the door.
I patiently waited with my hands clasped behind my back. Vaurion spoke as he entered his armory.
"Apologies, Captain. But time was in short supply."
The sounds of leather hissing away from edged metal reached my ears. I knew the Praetor was selecting a weapon for the coming battle.
"Your will be done, Praetor." I said without moving an inch. "My life and my death are yours to command."
"We all know who truly holds that right Skius." He solemnly replied.
Master Bruis looked up to me, "You appeared troubled earlier Captain."
He didn't say it like a question, our Diaconus stated it as fact. I grit my teeth and steeled my heart. Of course the man knew, it had been his job for the last fifty years to observe stoic space marines and offer counsel. At my silence Khonsu spoke.
"No one need be a mind reader to see Master Bruis speaks the truth."
I shifted my head to bring the Librarian into my periphery vision.
"If you don't mind, Captain." I asked Khonsu, putting emphasis on his title. "Why exactly are you here. The Dawn Stalkers need no council on how to kill aliens."
"I am here to offer guidance on… Other matters."
I did not like his pause at all. We know no fear, but unknowns were dangerous. And could get good men killed.
So I pressed the issue. "What other matters?"
Khonsu paused looking down at his armored feet. Vaurion returned from his arming chamber.
"I trust Skius," The Praetor said. "Tell him."
The Librarian nodded and finally spoke clear. "Your intelligence list was not entirely complete Captain."
"How so?" I asked. I had read all of the compliance reports and encounter debriefings provided by our direct Crusade commanders. Reports even penned by several Primarchs personally. Why would anything have been omitted?
"My legion has faced the Ra'Chaal as well," Khonsu answered. "Their technological prowess is not the only weapon of the mind they wield."
"Explain."
"World one zero one two, zero nine, we had driven the last of these beings back to their landing ships after crushing the humans who had bought a multitude of weapons and synthetics to combat us. As our army auxiliaries encircled them…"
He paused, deep in memories. His voice was quiet when he resumed. "I find myself searching for the right words, forgive me."
I had an inkling on what the librarian was about to tell me. Khonsu carried on.
"Lashes of psychic power suddenly decimated our comrades. Killing eight of my brothers including two more librarians who had attempted to contain this... Psychic blast."
"You are here for vengeance then?" I asked him.
"I am here to rid the imperium of a dangerous, and very real threat," Khonsu sighed. Remembering brothers fallen was never painless. "Our legion Masters fear the xenos are on the verge of something that they are unprepared for. And could have dire consequences for the galaxy."
The noise of Master Bruis taking a deep draught interrupted the librarian. He turned the glass in his fingers. "And now thrice damned they are."
Bruis looked to me and uttered a single word. "Psykers. Bloody bunch of Psykers gone to ground somewhere in this wretched system."
Of all the things we could have expected to battle here, witch-minds were one of the last things I would have thought of. But suddenly I came to an epiphany.
"Then why aren't we striking at their homeworld? We should burn the whole planet before the creatures can…"
Vaurion stopped me, "Think Skius. All the times the xenos have opposed us and only once have they fought us with psychics."
"My lord. Why does that matter?"
"Captain Khonsu believes this is a merely small sect practicing these skills and I agree. They will be well hidden. I don't want us walking into a potential trap which we have no tactical plan to counter. I spoke truth about the position of their forces, you know this. We have only a small inkling of where they could be hiding. And the more time we waste searching is more time that the witches have to use their powers against us."
"They are strong," Captain Khonsu said. "But I can sense them when they begin their craft. Most likely they will be on their home world. My frigate shall be in high orbit running silent over Ra'Chaal prime. Once we have a location we shall rain fire upon them."
Vaurion held up his empty hands "We draw them."
Then brought them back to his chest. "To us."
I shook my head, "I do not believe this to be a wise decision Praetor. You should lead the echelon to Ra'Chaal prime."
"Noted Captain. But we are not versed in these battle arts. We lack the means."
Khonsu cleared his throat, "So I've heard. I am curious Praetor, is it true? Five thousand Astartes and not a single librarian among you?"
Bruis stood and slowly lumbered up to the taller captain, half a grin on his ebony lips.
"Tell me, twenty Astartes and not a warrior among you?" The Diaconus whispered in riposte.
"Twenty Astartes?" That number turned my stomach. Only twenty to carry out a campaign of xenocide? Even with our numbers and the human armies following us in it seemed a paltry force, bordering on insulting.
Vaurion chuckled, "Leave the poor man be Bruis. But no that's not true."
"Truly?" Khonsu said, evidently surprised. "I thought…"
"It's fifty thousand actually. No Psykers."
Khonsu chose not to answer that. Many outside of the legions could not understand our lack of librarians. Neither did many of our commanding lords. But they had long ago wisely chosen not to second guess our Emperor's grand design. If he had deigned to have our legion bare of any individuals with the gift then so be it. Who were we to question the Master of Mankind?
Despite the rumors.
All signs of humor faded from Vaurion, "I believe it might be prudent to return to your ship Captain Khonsu. Time grows ever shorter."
The librarian bowed deeply to both men, reading the subtle signs that there was nothing else required of him, "Indeed my lord. Might I leave one of my Sergeants with the vanguard, just in case."
"Very well."
Bringing a fist to his armored chest Khonsu bowed, "Captain, Diaconus, Praetor, tomorrow we conquer."
Vaurion graciously returned the salute. "With the Dawn."
Once Khonsu left we at last busied ourselves with the invasion's final preparation. Vaurion called us into his office chamber and brought up a tactical scan of Ra'Chaal three. We spent two hours selecting the best place to land and strike, what objectives we would focus on first. Conquering a planet was no small task.
The factories and their never ending stream of munitions. What as far as we could tell were the barracks for the potentially millions strong garrison. Dry-docks, administrative buildings, orbital defense arrays, power distribution centers, air fields. The world was rich in potential targets just as any war world would be.
Vaurion assured me we did not have to restrain ourselves in the slightest during the ground campaign. The Xenos would neither give nor ask for quarter and would we give them none. Some of our brother legions had questioned our rather direct methods in the past, but the Eleventh had never been partial to the path of least resistance.
We finally came to a consensus.
The central export zone on Ra'Chaal three was a continent spanning industrial complex. Six orbital elevators took the fruits of their vile labors and sent them afar. Those were the primary targets that we needed to seize. The Mechanicum would work something useful from their skeletons after we had picked them clean.
I pointed out our ships would be busy dueling their own during the first stages of the battle, fire support would be limited to interceptor strikes. So Vaurion tasked a cruiser and three light cruisers for dedicated bombardment operations. Lances would scour a landing zone clear for the Vanguard, then we would storm the most isolated elevator and secure it as a beach head for the Imperial army following us in.
It would be a tough battle. But one worth remembering.
"I wished I felt worthy enough to lead it."
Vaurion pinched the tip of his chin between his right thumb and fore finger, observing the battle lines one last time.
"Your strategy is superb as always my lord," I told him as he faced away from Bruis and myself.
"Our strategy Skius," He replied. "I will not diminish your contribution for my own vanity."
I bowed my head in gratitude even though he could not see it, "Thank you Praetor. May I take my leave to ready the seventh?"
"Of course. But before you go."
He turned and stepped over to his desk, taking up a scrap of folded oil cloth. I heard a small clink of metal as he took it in gloved hand.
He held up the parcel, "It will not do for the Vanguard to not see who their commander is."
"Kneel."
Immediately my left knee hit the deck plating in one smooth motion. Listening to Vaurion speak as he unfolded the cloth.
"For valor in battle. For honor in service. Let all who look upon you know. You wear this in service, you earned this through sacrifice."
Light caught the edges of polished metal, and I knew what he held. The golden thunderbolts of the Vanguard.
My thunderbolts.
I held out my cupped palms and Vaurion placed the mark in my hands. It was heavier than I expected, the long sharpened points looked fit for knives.
"Now, rise Captain," Vaurion commanded. "Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."
Footsteps followed me down the harshly lit corridor. I knew exactly who they belonged to. And I was grateful to have a moment to talk with Bruis away from the Praetor.
I slowed and allowed him to catch up at one of the many transit elevators reserved exclusively for Astartes.
"Chin up Skius," He said as we waited for the carriage to ascend to our deck, "Your meteoric ascension continues to amaze and inspire."
"Thank you sir," I managed to mutter.
"So why are you so ashamed?
The man was nothing if not direct, but I was nothing of the sort. Bruis's words stung.
"I am not ashamed. I am honored beyond words," I told him.
"Meaning you don't want to talk about it."
"No, just…" Finally it felt like a river unblocked in my chest. Bruis had never born any legionnaire ill will and I was not about to let myself fall into the trap of hubris and silence with the Diaconus. That would only make things worse.
I took a deep breath, "I have doubts brother."
"Of the mission? Of our purpose?" He asked.
"Never. Just… Maybe the other Captains are right, I know they think I am wanting in experience. And I just find myself constantly asking if I'm ready for this."
Bruis shook his head and began to laugh. A quiet sound of genuine humor.
His armored gauntlet landed on my right shoulder, "No this is good. Asking of yourself. Skius, you look at everything and consider all possibilities. You have the meticulous mind of a planner and a leader."
Bruis' mailed grip tightened, "So all that remains is to act. Ignore your naysayers. If you lack the experience to do a thing that you can only gain the experience for, by doing that which you are not experienced enough for what of it?"
As the elevator finally arrived Bruis gave me one last pat on my shoulder, "The Praetor trusts you, more importantly I trust you. You will do our legion, and our Primarch proud."
His words gave me comfort. And the hope of seeing our long lost father standing proud and tall before his sons would never fail to lift the spirits of even the most embittered Astartes.
If all that remained was to act then by the Emperor I would act.
I stepped inside. "Thank you sir."
Bruis nodded, however he still had parting words to offer.
Every battle brother knew this cadence call and response by heart. We woke with it in the mornings and ended the days with it in our minds and on our lips. And we knew someday we would die with it there to.
The Dawn Stalker's litany of courage.
"Should darkness, be my fate." Bruis almost sang.
"Then let me fall, among the brave." I echoed in return.
"In battle I shall die."
"In righteous glory, I abide."
/
/
/
- Dramatis Personae -
The XIth Legion, Dawn Stalkers.
Skius Centermerius - Captain Seventh Company
Markus Vaurion - Praetor Tenth Echelon XIth Legion
Bruis Le'Scot - Legion Diaconus
John Arminger - Captain Sixty First Company
Tyr Rameus - Captain Thirty Fourth Company
Decius Ryder - Sergeant Seventh Company, Echelon Standard Bearer
Medrad Naylor - Sergeant Seventh Company Terminator Wing
Pasanius - Dreadnought One Hundred Eighty Ninth Company
The XVth Legion
Khonsu - Librarian Captain Twentieth Company
Vallo - Sergeant Twentieth Company
Imperial Personae
Egli - Techpriest
Arteme Read - Shipmistress of the Brimming Rays
Bryan Kenneth - Imperial Army Major
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A/N Well hello again internet.
(I'm here shamelessly fishing for followers for my other story which this is spun off from.)
Readers wanted Space Marines, I got you Space Marines. Do you love me again?
To the uninitiated or informed, it's a long story. This will definitely not be as long as my other project. Which hasn't been cancelled but has just been a little slow. For a multitude of reasons.
This spin off is set in the warhammer half of my other crossover story, about this legion's primarch. And well I just didn't think it would fit over there. Plus like I said. Shamelessly fishing.
Any who, I hope you'll stick around. Drop a review if you feel it in your heart. Maybe I can get his done faster as the bulk will probably be violence.
Anyway, you have a good day regardless of what you do next. And I shall see you all again, relatively soon