In Blood we Trust

by kenny572

Marines of the Blood Angels and their successor chapters battle to preserve the sanctity of a fortress shrine of grave importance to the lineage of Snaguinus.

'Unknown aircraft, this is Captain Eulesees Vorhees, Custodian of the Shrine of the Final Blood, Commander of the Blood Guard. Identify yourself, you have ten seconds to comply.'

The small spark on the tactical radar display had been detected less than three minutes ago, already the men stationed in the Shrine had assembled in the command pod, armed and armoured. An impressive array of surface-to-air ordinance batteries and anti-aircraft laser weaponry followed the flight path of the mysterious craft as it cruised towards the small shrine.

'Captain,' the voice that responded spoke high-gothic with the lilting accent of a high-born of Jolia Primis, the Captain noted. 'This is Lord-Inquisitor Kaenech of the Ordo Hereticus. I am transmitting our clearance codes now. We will require landing coordinates.'

The Captain blanched slightly at the commanding tone of the impertinent Inquisitor. He glanced to his tech-marine, Brother Hellik, who checked the readout of his auspex unit before nodding to his Captain that the codes were genuine.

'Clearance granted,' growled the Captain, fully aware that the Inquisitor had not requested it. 'You should approach the external landing platform and wait aboard your ship until we arrive to greet you. My man is transmitting coordinates to your pilot now.'

'Acknowledged,' the nasal voice of the Inquisitor responded. 'We await your pleasure, Captain.'

Eight minutes later the black drop-ship sat idling on the ferrocrete pad constructed outside the walls of the shrine proper. Ostensibly for visiting dignitaries, the fact that it had been situated outside the solid walls of the shrine was not lost on the Inquisitor; he had yet to prove that he deserved to be allowed access to this holiest of areas.

The wait was not long, a few minutes, allowing Kaenech to realize he was at the call of the Space Marines based here, but not long enough to cause genuine insult. For creatures supposedly above such petty politicking the Captain was surprisingly good at it. A single door in the solid sandstone wall opened, barely wide enough to allow the ceramite-clad monster who strode out to pass through without turning sideways.

'And so begins the dance,' the Inquisitor smiled.

'Sorry, your lordship?' asked Vilus, his personal bodyguard.

'Nothing, old friend,' the Inquisitor shook his head. 'Let us meet the good Captain.'

The Inquisitor moved to the egress ramp, pushing the red stud to lower the hydraulic door. His bodyguard moved behind him, to the left, his right flank was covered by the cybernetic swamp-lizard, Hungry, Vilus' personal pet.

A gust of sand blew into the transport's cargo compartment as the atmospheric seals were compromised. The harsh red light caused the Inquisitor to grimace slightly until his irises contracted.

'Inquisitor,' the Captain stood alone at the base of the ramp. He wore his bolt-pistol and power sword, of course. None of his kind would be seen without his armaments. He had, however, fastened them to the mag-clamps on his upper legs and belt. The sword was ceremonially peace-strapped.

'Honoured Captain,' the Inquisitor nodded respectfully to a man he considered at best his equal, at worst an antique of a long forgotten age.

'We have granted you landing permissions,' the Captain growled, clearly unhappy that such a thing had been necessary. 'We show the proper respect, based on your Inquisitorial seal and the fact that Sergeant Cassius speaks highly of you. He knows you from the Ork Wars in the Madius Straits.'

'A long time ago indeed,' Kaenech smiled.

'We have granted this audience based on those credentials,' the Captain was clearly not used to being interrupted. 'Now, we must request that you state your business here. This is a place holy to us, we do not welcome interlopers here.'

'To business then,' Kaenech clapped his hands before him. 'I have been dispatched here by Segmentum Governor Housley to ascertain the purpose of this… facility?'

'As I have stated, this is a Shrine. A place my brothers and I keep for peace and solitude.'

'Your Brothers?' the Inquisitor's brows rose slightly. 'But Sergeant Cassius is of the Blood Angels, if I recall correctly. Yet you say he serves here under your command, a Flesh Tearer.'

'The shrine is sacred to all the Sons of Sanguinus,' the Captain folded his arms across his chest, clearly showing that the blood-drop on blade emblem of his chapter had been superimposed with a golden chalice. 'Now Inquisitor, you have fulfilled your mission. This shrine is a sacred reclusium of the Blood Angels and their successor Chapters. You should report back to your overlords, tell them also that we do not welcome these intrusions, we wish for seclusion in this place.'

'Of course, Captain,' the Inquisitor smiled. 'If I could merely take a tour of the facility I can of course report exactly that back to my superiors.'

'I am afraid that will not be possible, Inquisitor. This is sacred ground, only those of our blood may walk here.'

'Then I must insist, Captain.'

'It will not happen, Inquisitor.'

'Very well, then you force my hand.'

'Protectors of the Shrine of the Final Blood,' the voice of the Inquisitor rang clearly from every speaker and vox channel in the facility. 'Heed the words of the Emperor's Holy Inquisition. Your Captain has refused us entry to your facility, refusing the rights laid down to the Inquisition in Imperial Law by the Sigillite himself.

'The Captain's refusal means this facility is now to be classified as Ceded from the Imperium of Man. Every man within the walls of the Shrine will henceforth be declared Excommunicate Traitoris.

'I give you this one opportunity: renounce your Captain now. Open your gates and allow my retinue unfettered access to all areas of your installation. Hand the Traitor Captain to myself for censure. If all is well within the facility, within three days we will depart this world, leaving you in the peace the Captain claims is all you wish.

'Refuse me, and face the entire might of the Imperial Inquisition.'

The nine Astartes were gathered in the war-room of the facility. Eight were seated; the ninth stood behind his brother, illustrating his wish to be part of the council, though his formal tenure here was over.

'Well, cousins?' the Captain asked. 'Do any of you wish to depose me? Bow down to this snivelling Inquisitor's demands?'

The warriors smiled or chuckled slightly at the Captain's tense jest. They all knew the importance of their role here. Every one was a sergeant in their own chapter, posted here to the most honoured of positions. Every one was extensively briefed on the history and importance of the shrine. Not one of the Astartes was prepared to stand aside and let the Inquisition ransack their ancient reclusium.

'What will be the Inquisitor's next play?' asked Sergeant Cassius of the Blood Angels. 'He can't hope to get in here with merely his retinue in tow?'

The Captain glanced to Tech-Sergeant Hellik. 'The Inquisitor has signalled to Segmentum command for reinforcements,' the Angel Sanguine told them. 'Our extra-stellar jamming beacons prevented that message reaching outside system. Unfortunately, the Inquisitor has jammers of his own, while I have prevented his contacting his own people, he has in turn jammed my communiqués.'

'Did we get anything out?' Sergeant Demitrius of the Exsanguinators Chapte asked.

'I believe we may have got off part of the agreed distress code, the call sign is the opening sentence, so there is the possibility that our brothers abroad may receive our call sign. It is unlikely more than that will be readable.'

'We must hope it is enough to bring a reinforcement fleet,' the Captain laid his hands palm down on the table. 'In the mean time, we are on our own. We must prepare for an imminent attack by the Inquisitor.'

Drop-ships fell from the sky, three black ships initially, all bearing the Inquisitorial stylized 'I' and skull badge. These contained the Inquisitor's retinue and his personal guard of black clad shock-troopers, trained since birth in the schola progenium.

Behind this first wave, red drop ships fell, a handful at first, followed by more, eventually over thirty drop ships descended to the fine red sand of the desert floor.

The lead drop ship opened and Inquisitor Kaenech marched out, his bodyguard and robo-lizard stalked down the ramp behind him, closest as always. The remainder of his retinue followed, a skin-wrapped barbarian assassin of some jungle death-world, a sister-finalis of the Ordo Heriticus Sisters of Battle, a tall thin psyker and two tech adepts of the Mechanicus of Mars: one his personal aide, the other his liason to the Mechanicus forces he had brought with him to the embattled planet.

'So, slightly more than his personal retinue,' growled Cassius watching the mechanicus army disembark just outside artillery range.

'Indeed brother,' Hellik's voice clicked over the net. 'Scans report thirty plus drop ships; conservative estimates would indicate eight to ten skitarii per ship. Assuming no surprises, we should anticipate three hundred Martian war machines varying in armament from multi-lasers to plasma-cannons.'

'Just when I was thinking this posting, honoured though it obviously is, might grow boring,' Kullis, newest member of the Blood Guard joked into his comm-bead.

'Minds on the task, brothers,' remarked Chaplain Reslo, attached to the guard from the ranks of the Knights Sanguine. 'Suggested battle plans?'

'When a snake enters your yurt there is only one reaction, Brother-Chaplain,' Kullis often reverted to the wisdom of his homeland. 'You sever the tail, generally just behind the head is favoured.'

'A surgical strike against the Inquisitor?' The captain asked. 'The idea has merit, cousin. Unfortunately, the tin-men of Mars are not simple automatons as they seem, liable to fall the second their commander is removed.'

'Exactly, Captain,' Hallik agreed. 'Those skitarii will follow their last command until it is over-written by a higher ranking Magos.'

'Add to that the fact we have nine battle brothers to hold the shrine against an army of over three hundred, we cannot spare the man-power to attack their camp,' barked Constance of the Templars of Blood.

'So we dig in?' asked the Chaplain.

'Implement plan Sigma-Pi,' confirmed the Captain.

'What do you see?' asked the Inquisitor.

'I see nobody manning the walls,' responded Sister-Ultimas Katto. 'The automated defences seem to be cycling up. I see numerous arrow slits and wall turrets activating.'

'No defenders?' Vilus raised his own magnoculars to his eyes. He scanned the walls. 'Confirmed, Lord Inquisitor. I see no living soul on the parapet.'

'Surely the Astartes cannot mean to hold this facility with just automated defences? They must know our Tech-priests will infiltrate their systems and disable them eventually.'

A burst of binaric-cant sounded from Magos Lostix, 'Eventually, of course we will, my Lord,' clarified the spider-like apparition in high-gothic. 'But these codes were programmed by their own Tech-marines, beings of superlative cognitive power, trained on holy Mars itself. These codes will be no easy crack.'

'And I must remind you, Lord,' began Katto.

'I know, I know,' Kaenech interrupted her. 'We didn't manage to interrupt their transmission completely, time is a factor.' He cast a withering glance at his tech-priest. 'Sloppy.'

'Apologies, Lord,' the glinting red lenses within the things hood did appear to look down in deference.

'Regardless,' Kaenech shrugged his shoulders, an old habit from the days that he wore carpace armour that sat awkwardly, obsolete now he sported power-armour but ingrained into his psyche. 'We have not the time to wait for the defences to be taken down technologically. We begin the assault the old fashioned way at last light.'

'Last light?' queried the Magos Xavius, commander of the Martian Army. 'I estimate setting of the primary sun in approximately eighteen minutes.'

'Eighteen minutes then,' growled the Inquisitor. 'Damn tin-men!'

'Scions of Sanguinus,' the Captains voice was calm over the vox-net, despite the impressive forces arrayed against the Shrine of the Final Blood. 'The swine of the Inquisition have pushed us beyond all reason. They site their rights, as laid down by Imperial Law, ignoring the rights granted us by the Emperor himself, rights of autonomy, rights of sovereignty. We are the direct sons of the Emperor, above the petty politicking of these pathetic wretches.

'Stand firm! They are a paultry three hundred. We will grind them into dust, then we will lead a fleet of retribution the Inquisition has never dreamed of in their wildest nightmares.'

'Sanguinus watches brothers,' the Chaplain bellowed over the entire public address system of the fortress.'

The huge sea of mechanised flesh seethed forwards on these final words. Three hundred or more living weapons, every one designed and bred to be nothing more than a killing machine. Unfortunately for them, the Astartes were bred to similar designs, and the Emperor himself had created them.

'What are our orders?' hissed Gaisha. The fur clad warrior woman stood outside the command ship where the rest of the retinue gathered around a three-dimensional representation of the valley they were currently situated in. 'We can't just send the metal-soldiers. Where would the honour be in such a battle?'

'In this case,' the Inquisitor responded. 'Patience will win us better honour.'

'This is merely a feeling out exercise,' clarified Vilus. 'We need to know what the Astartes have within their walls. Artillery? Infantry? Armour?'

Sister Katto looked up from her holo-slate. 'Your little knife and whip wont do much good against artillery, beast,' she smiled, her scorn for the other woman dripping from every syllable.

'OK ladies,' the Inquisitor adopted his usual role of intermediary. 'There will be plenty of opportunity to vent your particular brands of anger once we breach the walls.'

'I can't wait,' hissed the jungle-warrior.

Barely fifty of the skitarii fell before they reached the walls. Artillery shells and wall mounted las-cannons hammered the horde, but actinic blue flares of energy showed where some of the things were obviously carrying kinetic shields. Shields big enough to protect not only themselves but their brethren around them too.

'Damn them,' growled Kullis. 'Energy fields.'

'Close-quarters weapons,' barked the Captain. 'Priority targets are the shield bearers.'

Every battle brother along the line clicked his acknowledgement of the order.

'Blood and Honour!' The Captain leapt from the wall, falling the twelve metres to the mass of flesh and metal that had just reached the foundation stones. His colossal weight smashed into the right shoulder of one skitarii, shattering it's spine, the down swing of his power sword neatly severing its head and completing the first kill of the battle proper.

Eight individual war cries tore from the throats of the Blood Guard as each warrior launched himself down onto the things that had dared assault their holy keep. Every warrior crushed at least one shield bearer with his descent.

Captain Vorhees slashed left and right with the sword in his left hand, his bolt pistol firing point blank into the mechadandrite fringed faces of skitarii warriors. Every shot was a kill, every slash of his sword another decapitated foe. He rose steadily on a mountain of writhing, dying flesh.

'Recover,' he barked into the comm. He ignited his jump-pack and sored heavenward. A short burst carried him directly back to the parapet. 'Hellik, all automated weapons to target the areas we just hit. Brothers, five seconds, choose your targets.'

A spent magazine fell from the bottom of the Captains pistol as he flicked the wrist of his right hand, attempting to clear some of the gore from his blade.

'Mark,' he bellowed, throwing himself from the parapet again into the mass of machine-flesh beneath him. Eight brothers followed him in silence.

'Impossible,' barked Magos Xavius.

'Is there a problem, Magos?' asked the Inquisitor.

'It beggars belief, Commander,' the Magos replied. 'All models suggest that the numbers we fielded could not have failed in this mission.'

'But?' asked Vilus.

'It appears the force is now below eighteen per cent of what was fielded.'

'The initial sortie has been destroyed, we anticipated that,' the Inquisitor waved his hand in an off-hand manner.

'You don't understand, Commander. My entire eighth cohort has now been destroyed,' the magos finally looked up from the tactical display he had been analysing. 'But the enemy have only fielded a single squad.'

'A brief respite, brothers,' declared the Captain, entering the command centre where his men awaited him. 'Reports.'

'No casualties,' remarked Niculix, the Guards apothecary. 'Brother-Sergeant Constance has lost two fingers from his left hand.'

'Not the important ones,' the Templar growled. 'Damn thing snuck up on me.' The sergeant was obviously more abashed by the injury than actually hindered.

'The fortifications?' Capatin Vorhees looked to his Tech-Sergeant.

'Cosmetic damage only, commander,' Hellik looked up from his display. 'We lost two las-cannon installations, but that is better than we could really have hoped for. More worrying is that my security algorithms have detected an attempt to circumvent our systems. I have scheduled a new roving password system, it is uploading to your armour systems as we speak. It should keep the adept guessing, but he will crack even that given time.'

'Excellent,' the Captain clapped his hands. 'Take some rest. I predict the good Inquisitor will take at least two hours to drop the next wave. We will break them against our walls for all time if that is what is needed. Undoubtedly the pompous little grox-turd will rouse us all with a self-important speech before he deigns to attack.'

'We have attempted to be lenient,' the voice boomed over all vox-channels again. 'You have chosen to spit that leniency back in our face.

'Be aware that the single cohort you faced this evening was but a taste of what is to come. The remaining fifteen cohorts of my forces now descend to the planet.

'Your valour has been impressive. Enough to earn you my respect. I am prepared to offer you clemency.

'Lay down your arms now. We will conduct our review of the facility, then it will be destroyed along with all records of this incident. You will be allowed to return to your respective chapters.

'My forces will complete their landing in four hours, you have until then to open your gates to us.'

The forces arrayed across the valley floor were indeed daunting. Up to three thousand skitarii, supplemented by three hundred heavy weapons, artillery, armour and heavy walkers.

'Damn,' growled the Captain. 'That's a lot of big guns.'

The eight cousins chuckled.

'Have we a plan, captain?' asked Cassius. He was most junior of the sergeants, barely two centuries old.

'Of course there is a plan,' barked the Castellan. 'We attack!'

'I like it,' growled Kullis.

'A plan even the wolves of Fenris could follow,' laughed Hellik.

The Inquisitor was enthroned within his command centre. His retinue were seated around his nalwood table, the hololithic of the valley this time showing far more red markers, the machine-warriors of the skitarii.

'Three thousand, six-hundred and forty-seven standard pattern skitarii lord. Ninety-six automated Alpha-class tracked armoured vehicles. Fifty-three Skystreaker surface to surface missile batteries. One hundred and seventeen Knight-pattern automated heavy armour walkers,' Magos Xavius waved a mechadendrite over the display pointing out the various formations of his troops.

'But is it enough, Lord Magos?' asked Sister Katto.

'If it is not, sister, nothing will be.' responded the mechanicus priest.

The Inquisitor looked at the force. It was indeed formidable, but the estimates of the magos had proven flawed already once today. He craved insurance.

'Magos Lostix,' the inquisitor turned to his personal aide. 'Do you share your brother priest's confidence?'

'Lord,' the red-robed man bowed from his seat, first to the inquisitor then to his fellow tech-adept. 'I believe my brother's calculations are correct for the data we have. However,' a hiss of angry binaric cant burst from the other magos. 'However, I believe the Astartes are too much of an unknown quantity.'

'Clarify,' the Inquisitor demanded.

'Can we safely assume that the entire Astartes contingent was present at the first battle?' asked the priest. 'Assuming they were, have we seen all they are capable of? What further defences can we expect once we breech the perimeter?'

'Granted, there are many unknown variables,' ground out the other tech-priest. 'Have you corrections for my work, or only criticism?'

'I believe, as I said, that your calculations are as good as can be produced,' the priest bowed his head, hoping to repair his counterparts pride. 'However, I can offer a possible alternative.'

'Speak,' demanded Kaenech.

'Seismic survey has illustrated a disused promethium mine below the surface of the planet. One tunnel passes within fifty metres of the perimeter wall.'

'Good,' the inquisitor nodded. 'Deploy what forces you feel are necessary to locate the mine, find the nearest point and begin drilling. I will lead the insertion team myself.'

'Teams are already on route, I estimate an infiltration time of four hours, Lord,' the tech adept said. 'It is possible, likely even, that the facility will detect our drilling operations once they begin.'

'Then we must keep the Astartes busy,' the other magos rose to his feet. 'I will begin combat operations in one hour.'

A flash of light to the north suddenly shattered the still of the night. Magos Xavius turned his optical sensors towards the light source as a wall of sound crashed over him.

Red lights flashed on the tactical display built into the fore-arm of the Magos. He keyed a simple access code, demanding confirmation from the command unit that was holding sector Pi-three-nine. He received no response. Frantically keying in more codes the magos finally managed to rouse an answer from the fifth semi-cohort commander he tried.

The information scrolling across his screen made for dismal reading. Over half his wall-breaker artillery had apparently been wired with demolition charges and detonated. Simultaneously, six armoured units had been infected with a direct scrap-code virus, causing them to turn their guns on their sister vehicles before initiating self destruct sequences, cooking off their ammunition hoppers. The combined destruction of over twenty armoured units and sixty artillery pieces was the explosion that had shattered the evening calm.

'Good work, brothers,' the Captain clapped his hand to the shoulders of Kallis and Hellik as they were hauled back over the wall. Out of armour, it would have taken great skill and stealth to creep into the enemy base and achieve such a massive victory undetected.

'Not my idea of fun,' growled the newest member of the guard. 'The sooner I'm back in my honoured plate the happier I will be.' These words said, the two men walked off to their arming chambers to don their power-armour.

'Launch the assault,' Magos Xavius had moved beyond his conditioning now. Every mantra he had learned in his seventeen decades as a priest of the omnisiah had failed him. Nobody but the omnisiah himself could possibly maintain their calm in the face of these infuriating meat-puppets. 'Grind them to pulp against their own walls.'

The remaining artillery units, now spread over a much wider area, opened fire on the curtain wall of the Shrine of the Final Blood. Shells the size of a grown man, weighing upwards of two hundred kilograms hammered into the wall, detonating enough high-explosive to level a small hab-block.

The walls of the shrine barely shook, shrugging off ordinance that would level an imperial city in minutes. The Shrine had been constructed on the orders of fifteen chapter masters of the Adeptus Astartes, crafted by the minds of over fifty tech-marines, constructed over a century from thousands of tonnes of ferrocrete and the finest grade of reinforcement bar the forges of a dozen worlds could create. The shrine was designed to withstand the worst the galaxy could spew forth. Today would mark its truest test.

'Tactical satellites are on line,' Hellik smiled. 'We'll only get one shot before the Inquisitor's Frigate detects them, but, by the Angel, I'll make it count.'

Captain Vorhees smiled at the eagerness in the young Tech-Sergeant's face. 'Target their ordinance, brother,' he ordered. 'We can break their forces against the wall, but only if the wall is standing.'

'Artillery is priority. Yes, sir,' the Angel Sanguine smiled as he relayed the information through his data feed to the satellite system in orbit. The artillery pieces were easy to identify, even from orbit, given the huge muzzle flashes that every round produced. Assigning targets according to how closely packed they were, reasoning that cooking off ammunition might cripple more than one system if the magos had erred in his calculations, the tech-marine issued the order to fire.

Standing outside his command vehicle, Kaenech surveyed his forces. The infantry-analogous skitarii had begun their advance in earnest. Thirty units wide and ten ranks deep, the cohorts marched forward. All weapons fired towards the sandstone curtain wall. A constant barrage of laser bolts and heavy bolter shells peppered the stone surface, causing even less damage than the surface to surface missile systems did.

'Damn them,' the inquisitor whispered to himself. 'How can they hope to stand?' Unfortunately, he had been toe-to-toe with Space Marines before and he knew their obstinacy, worse, he knew how tenacious they could be in the face of seemingly overwhelming odds.

As he looked on a high pitched whine began to the south. He turned his head in time to see a sun-fire bright laser line descend from the sky to strike a single artillery piece. He hurriedly turned his head away, ducking behind the nearest cover he could see. The motion saved his life, at best the intense beam of light would have burned out his retinas, at worst he would have been flash fried by the orbital laser bombardment. As he watched the last remaining units of his artillery were targeted by orbital weaponry and reduced to little more than slag.

He opened an emergency channel to the commander of his fleet in orbit. 'What the hell was that?' he screamed at the unsuspecting vox-operator aboard the bridge.

'Sire,' the lieutenant replied. 'We are showing massive energy spikes on a number of formerly inert articles fo space debris.'

'Powered down satellites you fool,' Kaenech's ears still rang from the explosion. 'Eliminate them immediately, I do not want another salvo such as that one.'

'Of course, Inquisitor,' the vox channel clicked to dead.

'Xavius, report,' the Inquisitor was less than optimistic.

'Loss of all Artillery, sire,' responded the tech-priest. 'We still have enough armour to breach the wall, but it will take longer than anticipated. I have slowed the advance of my skitarii to allow the armour to force entry.'

'Negative,' the Inquisitor responded. 'The Astartes must be kept busy to prevent them detecting our ruse. March the skitarii to their walls, their sacrifice is a worthwhile distraction.'

Tracked battle-tanks rolled across the desert, secreted among the ranks of skitarii. Captain Vorhees had armed Sergeants Augus and Kullis with missile launcher arrays and a near inexhaustible ammunition supply. Their instructions were simple; target any heavy vehicle coming within range. So far the two devastator-trained sergeants had racked up twelve kills between them. The tanks were now within cannon range of the walls though; their barrels spewed forth flames as they launched a constant fusillade of destruction against the walls.

'Good work, cousins,' barked Chaplain Reslo. 'Maintain your vigilance against their heavy weapons arrays.'

'Assault marines,' the Captain spoke to all the members of the Guard not already engaging the army. 'Launch amongst them, fell their shield bearers then pull back and allow the automated defences to pick off the undefended enemy. In and out as the ash-viper strikes.'

From the left flank of the wall a column of fire launched the first of the warriors from the wall. Brother-Sergeant Demitrius fell from the sky, directly onto the shoulders of a four legged machine bearing a power-field generator mounted between its shoulder blades. He crushed the specimen under his considerable weight, slamming his power-hammer into the field generator for good measure.

He ignited his jump pack again, leaning forward so the thrust pushed him along the ground towards another skitarii. Men between him and his target were crushed or thrown clear as he tore at sub-sonic speed through the sand. As he struck his target, he felt it's ribs crack, his hammer swung once more, decapitating the mechanical-man with a blue electrical discharge.

A flashing red icon on his war-gear's lenses display warned him his jetpack was heating beyond its recommended parameters. Growling a curse in his native tongue, he keyed the thrusters once more, rising into the air on columns of smoke that drove him back to the curtain wall.

He landed behind the waist high parapet wall, picked up his bolter and began picking of enemy where he saw a gap between shield bearing skitarii. The warning icon faded to yellow, he decided to wait for it to go green before attempting another assault.

Vorhees stood amongst a field of smashed flesh and scrap metal. Dozens of the things has fallen to him already, dozens more pressed in on his location. He continued to lay about him with his power-sword, his bolt pistol blasting fist sized holes in anything his blade could not reach.

He looked to the skies, striding across the desert floor he saw the great silhouette of a loyal titan, the beast marched forward, coming to grips with a traitor machine. He raised his sword in salute-

The Captain shook his head. There were no titans here. He took firm grip of his senses.

The momentary loss of focus almost cost him his life as a sizzling power blade slipped through his guard, only a last second impulse to duck his head saved him from being decapitated. The axe slammed into the vents of his jetpack, detonating the propulsion fuel reserves as the electrical impulse discharged.

Vorhees grimaced. He slammed his fist to the release stud of his now useless jump-pack.

He spun his sword around him, removing the arm from the axe-wielding mechanicus warrior. It was small comfort. Devoid of his jump-pack the captain was at the mercy of the horde now, all he could hope for was to sell his life at as high a cost as possible. He silently swore that at least a hundred of these tin-things would carry him to the halls of his father.

A voice crackled over the vox. 'Brothers, the Primarch is fallen. The traitor Horus has killed the Angel. We must drive these dogs for-'

Damn it, not now, thought the Captain. He continued to lay about him with his weapons, the mountain of cooling meat and smashed machine parts building around him.

He glanced around himself; a small opening had developed before him, into which dropped a black clad Astartes warrior.

'Brother Captain,' shouted Reslo. 'Take my hand.'

The captain grabbed the other warrior's wrist. His arm was almost ripped from its socket as the Chaplain engaged his assault pack, rocketing the two men vertically towards the relative safety of the curtain wall.

'A close call, Captain,' laughed the Chaplain.

'Closer than you know,' murmured the Captain. He turned imploring eyes on his brother. 'I saw things.'

'Captain?' the Chaplain removed his skull-faced helm. His ice-blue eyes bored into the older warriors eyes. 'Is it the curse? Do you need me to assume command?'

'I am in control, brother,' Vorhees smiled. 'The spell has passed. I have faced this trial before. I will overcome it again.'

The Chaplain looked unconvinced. 'If you are unfit, Lord,' he began.

'Worry not about me, brother,' insisted the Captain. 'If I begin speaking to our forefathers you have my permission to strip me of my command and paint my armour black. Until then I will continue my duties.'

'Very well,' the Chaplain looked once more into the eyes of his superior. All signs of madness seemed absent, for now. 'There are more jump packs within the armoury.'

'No time for that priest,' growled the Captain. 'I believe I will stand the wall, it appears some of these things are beginning to make the ramparts anyway.' He gestured thirty metres to the left where a single skitarii had managed to ascend the wall on crab-like steel legs. It now hauled itself over the parapet.

'Brothers,' he clicked over the vox. 'Fall back to the wall.'

Magos Xavius indicated the display on the nalwood table.

'Our forces have reached the wall, Inquisitor,' smiled the tech-priest. 'We have absorbed fifty-three point two per cent casualties. Our remaining forces will be more than enough to clear the installation. I believe it is now safe to assume that only this single unit of Astartes stand against us.'

'So it would appear,' the Inquisitor nodded. 'I will continue with the plan as decided on though. The second front is still most secure as it is unknown to the enemy.'

He looked at the holographic model of the shrine his tech-adepts had managed to assemble from orbital reconnaissance sweeps. 'What could be so important to bring together so many chapters of the astartes, yet small enough to hide within such a small facility?'

'Please repeat, Inquisitor,' Xavius requested, looking up from his control consol.

'I was just musing aloud, Xavius.'

The seven brothers had been driven back and driven back. They stood now on the inner wall, the outer having fallen minutes before the footing becoming too treacherous as dead bodies and spilled fluids, blood and oil, gathered on the parapet. They had left behind the bodies of Sergeant Constance of the Templars of Blood and Sergeant Demitrius of the Exsanguinators. Their sacrifice would be recorded, their valour reported to their parent chapters. Their geneseed recovered and returned to its rightful place of glory. Assuming any of the Guard remained alive to perform such a duty come the end of the battle.

Their next line of defence was the courtyard. From there they would fall back through the heavy adamantium doors to the chapel, the chapel held two further fall back points before the enemy would breach the subterranean vault that housed the true wealth of the shrine.

As they stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, the seven remaining sons of Sanguinus looked forwards to the walls edge. An unstoppable army now climbed the wall unmolested, gantries were being erected to lift the skitarii incapable of scaling the sheer ferrocrete surface.

'Well, Brothers,' hissed Captain Vorhees. 'The Angel surely feels pride at the display we have managed so far.'

'Kill them all,' snarled Augus, having seen his fellow Templar fall under the thunder-maul of a mechanicus heavy skitarii he had almost been lost to the Rage. He had barely been brought back from the brink by Chaplain Reslo who had done more to earn his crozius archanum today than he had been required to do in the last two years of this posting. 'Traitrous dogs!'

'Let us finish this,' barked Cassius. Even the usually tranquil Blood Angel had felt his emotions rise at the sight of so much Sanguinary blood spilled this day.

Every one of the seven men held aloft his weapon, each a relic of their own chapter reserved for the marine chosen for this specific duty. Power-weapons and master crafted chain swords whined and hummed as the seven men saluted one another and their fallen friends.

'Sanguinus watches on still, Brothers,' the Chaplain stated.

Finally, the army before them seemed to think they had the numbers they would need to take down the remaining Blood Guard. They surged forward, an unstoppable tide of precision engineering, destined to crash against the immovable cliff of the Astartes faith and martial prowess.

Magos Lostix bowed before the Inquisitor. 'All is in readiness, your Lordship,' he hissed. 'We have tunnelled to within three metres of a sub-terrainien chamber of the shrine. We believe it to be the basement of the central spire building.'

'Excellent,' Kaenech smiled. 'Whatever the space marines are hiding here it is virtually guaranteed to be contained within the vaults of the shrine.'

'Or at the top of the spire,' interjected Vilus. 'Either way, coming at it from here saves us slogging through the fire fight above.'

'Exactly,' the Inquisitor agreed. 'Carry on Magos.'

'You may wish to withdraw slightly,' the Magos motioned the retinue back. 'The final clearance has been wired with demolition charges, all the better to enter the facility quickly. We hope to prevent the Astartes responding to our presence until we have established a firm foothold.'

Cassius fell beneath the pistol driven shock-maul of a vat-grown half bionic monster, his skull completely pulped by the downward swing. He had removed his helmet, but the ceramite shell could have done little to mitigate the damage.

Vorhees bellowed in rage, smashing the butt of his now empty bolt pistol into the face of the nearest attacker. He took one step further backwards. Sergeants Augus and Kullis closed in from either side of him.

The doorway of the Shrine itself was barely wide enough to allow the two sergeants to stand side-by-side and swing their close combat weapons. Vorhees turned to tech-sergeant Hellik. 'What are the external defences doing?'

'Commander,' Hellik glanced to a digital display on his vambrace. 'I have lost much of the external data-feed. I believe many of our weapons are still firing, the forces will be whittled down, but we must hold them here, no quromated weapons protect the interior spaces of the facility.'

Chaplain Reslo and Apothecary Niculix stepped around the two brothers protecting the door, each determined to take his turn cutting down the mechanical abominations attempting to desecrate their holy refuge. Kullis and Augus stepped back, sweat matting their hair and their breath coming in steady long draws.

A violent tremor shook the floor of the shrine. Dust fell from new cracks tearing through the walls of the entrance chamber.

'I thought their artillery was neutralised?' barked Vorhees, looking to his tech-marine for confirmation.

'That wasn't artillery, Captain,' Hellik shook his head. 'Seismic sensors indicate an underground detonation, within the perimeter of the complex.'

'Within the perimeter?' the Captain's eyes widened as he thought through the implications. 'Damn them, this entire attack is a front. They have tunnelled under our very walls!'

Reslo stepped back from his post at the entryway, Augus pushing forward to fill the gap once more. 'Captain,' he forced out between gasped breaths. 'You must get to the repository. Our sacred charge cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of the Inquisition. You know what must be done.'

'Curse them all to the Eye,' growled Captain Vorhees. 'Hellik, you are with me. Brother-Chaplain, can you hold here?'

'We will hold, Lord,' the Chaplain bowed his head. 'Long enough for you to fulfil your duty.'

'Then I shall great you at the Angels side, old-friend,' Vorhees clapped a hand to his Chaplain's shoulder guard, bowed his head momentarily in salute, then turned on his heel and headed for the descending stairwell to the rear of the chamber.

Kaenech strode through the still falling rubble. His power armour meant that the head sized chunks of masonry were little threat to him. Directly before the Inquisitor, Vilus moved in a half crouch as his lizard darted too and fro in front of him.

'Clear,' barked the Veteran. Two squads of elite Shock-troopers marched in behind their liege lord, hell-guns held ready.

'What do we have by way of maps?' Kaenech asked his tech-aide.

'We have managed limited ultra-sonic scans of the basement sectors, Lord,' answered Lostix. 'We believe there is one level below the entry point, our investigations show a descending stairwell three chambers to the north.'

'That is where we will find it,' smiled the Inquisitor. 'Lead the way, good Magos.'

Reslo stepped forward as Augus fell, a sizzling power glaive had cleaved through his chest, he had turned in death, trapping the blade of the weapon and making Reslo's first kill an easy act of vengeance against his murderer.

Niculix stood behind Kullis, ready to step forward as soon as his brother fell. There was no question now of spelling each other, the forces of the Mechanicus were too vast. Every man would stand until he died.

Vorhees pounded down the stone stair well, three levels down he came to a huge sealed adamantium door. Hellik arrived slightly behind him.

'We need to access the vault, tech-marine,' barked the commander.

'I will initiate the necessary protocols commander,' he inserted a slim mechadendrite into an information terminal on the wall plate beside the door. 'Blood samples will be required from the two of us, along with your voice ident-marker.'

'Get it done as quickly as possible.'

The inquisitorial retinue pushed forward. Gaisha danced in the fore with the robotic-lizard, Hungry, moving sinuously to her right. Sister-Ultima Katto and Vilus stalked behind them, using their ranged weapons to cover secondary approach vectors.

The inquisitor strode along purposefully, confident of his peoples skills in protecting him from any threat. His tech-adept and pet psyker followed behind with twenty Inquisitorial storm troopers bringing up the rear.

They reached the spiralling stone stair case in moments, being slowed only marginally by the sealed stone doors that secluded each chamber.

The inquisitor motioned his scouts to proceed down the stairs, a bubbling sense of anticipation building in his gut.

'Entrance granted,' the tinny voice of the processing computer was obviously modelled on some female voice from centuries ago. 'Welcome, Captain Vorhees.'

The two marines rushed into the room, Hellik turning t seal the huge adamantium bulkhead behind them.

'Initiate the access sequence,' growled the commander. 'The vault must be purged before the Inquisitorial forces get here.'

A blood-rending cry tore from Sergeant Kullis. Niculix prepared to step forward, assuming his brother Astartes was wounded.

Instead Kullis forced forward, smashing his immense body weight into the mechanicus forces before him. He powered forward, slamming the twisted, heavy remnant of his bolt pistol into the faces of the automatons that stood before him. His sword was a whirring blur as its razor-sharp teeth spun through the air hacking through skin and metal as if they were tissue paper. His strength seemed to increase ten-fold as he drove his way forward, pushing through the doorway of the chapel.

'Damn you,' he bellowed, his voice louder than even the audio arrays of his armour should have been able to produce. 'Come forth and face me coward! I have slain enough of your pathetic sons this day!'

Niculix stepped forward into the gap his departing comrade had left.

'He is lost to us now,' Reslo glanced at the Apothecary. 'Gone to the Golden Age to battle alongside the Primarch.'

'May his soul find rest until the Final Battle,' Niculix completed the prayer of his own chapter's deathwatch squads.

The Inquisitor had found the bottom of the stairwell, he was confronted with a huge golden door. Engraved on the huge portal was a winged chalice alongside the word, 'Here within rests our final hope'

'Blow the damn door,' barked the Inquisitor, his usual calm demeanour collapsing in light of his anticipation.

'Scans show it is a half meter thick adamantium,' remarked Lostix. 'All the munitions we have could barely put a dent in it.'

'Then send for more munitions,' growled Kaenech.

'If you will allow me a moment,' the tech-priest replied. 'With access to their network I may be able to open it.' The mechanicus man moved to the data port on the side wall inserting a thin data plug from within his robe.

'Just get me inside,' snarled the inquisitor.

'Access sequence initiated,' droned the female servitor voice. 'Thawing process will complete in three minutes.'

'Damn the thing,' snarled Capatin Vorhees, looking to the monitor where he could see the Inquisitor attempting to breach the bulkhead. 'Can we hurry this along Hellik?'

'Two minutes thirty seconds, Captain,' the tech-marine shook his head. 'The protocols were never designed with the loss of the facility in mind.'

'Damn it!'

Relso fell, his skull faced helm crumpled in the vice-grip of a huge machine man.

Niculix stepped back into the entrance chamber of the Shrine. He knew his death had arrived, he felt no dear, such things were beneath him. He had stood, his brothers, his father, the Emperor himself, would be proud of what he had achieved.

He opened his vox channel one final time. 'Brother-Captain,' he spoke as the forces of Mars entered the sacred shrine, moving to encircle him. 'This is Niculix. I am the last standing. We have delayed the enemy as long as our skills allowed.

'I pray we have bought you long enough. May the Emperor guide you through your last duty.'

The enemy encircling Niculix surged forward as one.

'Thawing process complete,' the machine voice droned.

The great chest at the centre of the room cracked open. A hiss of escaping steam signalled the breaking of the environmental seals on the stasis cask.

'Bring me the charges,' Captain Vorhees motioned to his tech-marine.

'Access granted,' the Magos remarked, self-satisfied. 'Door opening in one minute.'

'Excellent,' the inquisitor remarked. 'Now we will know your secrets, sons of Sanguinus. What do these vaults hold?'

'No.'

'No?' asked the Captain. 'Give me the charges, Hellik. You know what is at stake here.'

'Captain Vorhees,' the tech-marine turned from the control terminal, his bolt pistol levelled on his commander. A single shot barked from his weapons muzzle, slamming the Captain across the room into the opposite wall. 'I'm afraid you have been misled.'

'What is this?' demanded Kaenech. He was pinned to the ground under the weight of Hungry, his erst-while protector. Vilus lay dead next to him, a single shot from Sister Katto's bolt pistol having entered through his left eye and destroyed his brain.

'This,' growled Gaisha, kneeling beside the Inquisitor. 'Is the culmination of a century of planning.'

'Contained in this vault,' Katto took over the narrative. 'Is the gene-seed of two hundred warriors of the Blood Angels and their successor Chapters.'

'Gene-seed we need,' Gaisha continued. 'Or more specifically that our masters need.'

'We needed your genetic imprint, and your voice ident-code,' commented the Tech-marine. 'Without them the automated systems would have destroyed the gene-seed the moment we breached this chamber.'

His mechadendrites had snaked across the room, seizing Captain Vorhees and removing his weapons.

'Now we have achieved our aim.' The marine walked over to the frost coated cask, looking at the glass vials within. Each contained a single organ, blood red and worth an imperial governors ransom. 'I can only thank you, and apologise.'

'Our agents in this area are far too deeply embedded to be risked on this venture,' Gaisha smiled.

'We needed another way to mobilise a force capable of gaining access to these vaults,' continued Katto.

'Fortunately, for us,' Gaisha picked up. 'An Inquisitor with a documented distrust of the Astartes would almost certainly attack the facility, if fed the right information.'

'Unfortunately, for you,' Katto shrugged. 'We no longer need that level of power in this sector any longer.'

Gaisha drove the tip of her glass sword directly into the Inquisitors='s left eye, pushing through until the tip scraped the back of his skull.

'I can offer you only one consolation,' Tech-Sergeant Hellik said. 'This gene-seed will be used for its original purpose.

'We fully intend to breed a new generation of the sons of Sanguinus.'

He moved closer to the immobilised Captain. Looking him dead in the eye.

'A generation under our control.'

The Captain gurgled a strangled sound. Hellik moved closer, releasing the mechadendrite that was constricting the Captain's throat oh so slightly.

'Speak up, young Captain,' he taunted.

'Who are you?' asked the Captain.

'We are the last true sons,' answered the tech-marine. 'We are the truest followers of our fathers' teachings.' His mechadendrites jerked savagely, snapping the neck of the captive Captain.

'The Hydra moves.'