Pursuit
The ship burned in the void of night, fires spilling out from every deck and random explosions rocking the hull. Deep within the crew grappled with the invaders, both sides throwing all thought of safety or retreat away to close with their hated foe. Men in flak jackets were decimated by power armoured nightmares who in turn were cut down by kill squads of equally powerful figures in the blue-grey and chased gold of Storm Herald Space marines.
Deep with the survivors of a kill squad approached a junction, their numbers had been whittled down by constant fighting and now there was merely one sergeant and two scouts left. They ran into the junction only to be confronted by Traitor marine barrelling out from another corridor. The chaos space marine was a figure cut straight from the oldest visions of hell and stood well over two metres tall, with the horns that rose majestically from his daemon faced helm only adding to that. His armour was a pitted and chipped mass of ancient battle scars but the lightning etched midnight hue declared his allegiance to the traitorous VIIIth legion: the thrice accursed Night Lords. He bore no weapons but his hands were mutated into murderous claws, hissing black smoke and dripping black drops of blood that burned and seethed on the deck plates. Just looking at him inspired terror and gut churning revulsion vastly beyond the mere physical threat he represented. Worst of all his breath came out through his speaker grille as an unending, ceaseless chuckle that granted on the nerves and made you think of forgotten pain and suppressed despair, "Hu-hu-hu, hu-hu-hu, hu-hu-hu".
Scout marines Artemis and DeFrain circled slowly seeking any advantage while brother-sergeant Zaroth drew his chainblade and took up his guard. Suddenly scout DeFrain let out a wild yell and jumped forth at the traitor, swinging his combat knife in an overhead swing. The chaos marine barely moved, standing utterly still save to swing one fist across in a lazy backhand that caught the reckless scout across the chest. DeFrain was smashed away by the sheer power of the blow, hurled across the compartment to slam face first into a wall; he crumpled lifelessly and lay still. Zaroth took advantage of the moment and slashed in but the nameless traitor moved like lightning and deflected the blade, sparks flying from the impact of claw and ceramite. The two unleashed a frenzy of conflict and it was all Scout Artemis could do to follow the whirling pair let alone intervene, the fight was beyond anything he had ever experienced, two transhuman warriors channelling centuries of hatred. Their bulk, their power and above all their speed made it nearly impossible to watch, no mere mortals should be able to move like that.
Brother sergeant Zaroth fought in wide slashing sweeps, using the power and torque of his chainblade but each blow glanced off the daemonic talons and turned back into a counter-attack. Huge claw marks swiftly rent into Zaroth's armour and he snarled his fury as he redoubled his tempo. The traitor spun and dodged in an inhuman display of speed, always ahead and always in the best possible position, centuries of experience lent him a huge advantage in this fight. Yet through it all was the relentless, unceasing chuckle, chaotic in nature shifting in timbre and pitch from moment to moment but never, ever changing in rhythm. On and on it went never varying no matter how hard the Night Lord pushed himself and Artemis could not help but be caught up in its drumming pulse. Now it was the bellowing passion of a gladiator revelling in his craft, the joy and the rage combined into staggering fury, "Hu-hu-hu, hu-hu-hu, hu-hu-hu". Zaroth snarled in frustration and slashed out in a clumsy attempt to break the traitor's guard, but it would cost him dear. Over extended the sergeant was pulled off balance and was helpless as the traitor caught his wrist and pulled him forward as he brought up his other hand and punched his claws through the Sergeant's breastplate.
For a moment the two clung together as if old friends, Zaroth fixed his gaze on Artemis and through a mouthful of blood manage to whisper "run…". Then he toppled heavily to the deck, his body ringing like an old bell in his bloodied armour. The traitor Night Lord hunched over the sergeant's corpse like a vulture over carrion and scout Artemis looked on in shock at the figure looming over him. Slowly the nameless killer turned its head to look upon him regarding him with its predatory gaze. In that moment Artemis knew he faced death nothing he could do would even irritate the Night Lord, following his Sergeant's last order he turned on his heels and fled for his young life.
Artemis ran hard down the ship's corridor pumping his legs as fast as his transhuman metabolism would allow. Enhanced biology pushed his frame to the uttermost limits of human tolerance, setting a pace that would kill most athletes yet he kept it up for minute after minute. Yet no matter how fast he ran the chaos marine seemed able to keep up, crashing heavily through the corridors like a raging bull. Artemis put his head down and poured all his strength into his desperate attempt to outpace the monster on his heels. Bulkhead after bulkhead whisked past him, blurred by the stinging tears in his eyes, he wanted to slow and clear his vision but dared not waste a second of flight. From behind him came the harsh ringing of ceramite on plasteel as the traitors' armoured boots slammed down on the decking. He dodged around discarded trolleys of tools and hurdled cooling piles of bodies, crewmen and invader grappling even in death, but the traitor simply tore through each obstacle. Its inhuman bulk and unholy strength smashing aside any resistance and Artemis knew each obstacle closed the distance by precious millimetres.
He dared not waste a second to look behind him but he knew it was gaining and he could still hear its infernal chuckling, so close he thought he could feel the wind of its passage against his neck. Now it was the throaty laugh of a hunter enjoying the chase, knowing that its prey was only prolonging the enjoyment, "Hu-hu-hu hu-hu-hu hu-hu-hu". Artemis felt the hairs of his neck twitch and threw himself to the left, hearing a swish of air as a massive claw swept through the space he had occupied a heartbeat before. He took advantage of the moment to redouble his flight and gain a few precious feet of distance; he spied a narrow stair and on instinct dove down its length, hands sliding down railings boots not even touching the steps. He turned thinking he had gained a moment of respite but the shadow of the Chaos Marine eclipse his sight as the traitor simply tore the narrow railings from their mounts to create room for his bulk.
Artemis pushed his aching legs back into motion, blood pounding in his ears as he sought any last drop of strength left in his body. The traitor pounded after him driving him on relentlessly. He could feel the burning acids building up in his limbs and a stabbing pain throbbing in his guts, the enhanced biology gifted to him pushed his body beyond mere human frailties but even he had his limits and the Chaos Marine was much further along the path to being transhuman. Artemis had passed the point where mere determination and fury could keep him alive, now only sheer terror lent him the power to keep placing each numb foot ahead of the next and the next and the next. Each step was agony, spikes of pain shooting up into his shins but he dared not let up for an instant, he scoured the path ahead trying to form some plan, any plan to survive the next minute.
The pattern of damage and welds on the bulkheads seem familiar as he sprinted down the next corridor and he realised he had been here before. The pounding of massive boots filled his ears and he knew he had seconds to live. He spied a junction ahead and had a split second to choose his direction, left or right: life or death. He chose to dive right and ran up the long corridor presented to him, yard after yard he hurtled down the path only to come up short as he ran straight up to a sealed bulkhead. Desperately he pulled open the console hatch and pounded on the release but the machine spirit's runes glowed the deep magenta of vacuum seal, it would not open, he was trapped. Chest heaving as he gasped for air Artemis slowly turned around to face his pursuer; he was fifty yards back, standing at the junction flexing his wet claws in anticipation black blood hissing off the razor sharp edges. Artemis was almost doubled over in pain, lungs burning in their crippling need for rest but apart from his kneading claws the traitor was as still as a statue hewn from granite, it wasn't even winded. Artemis realised it had been toying with him the whole time; the Night Lord could have killed him at any moment he chose. Only the pleasure of the chase had stayed his hand thus far, now Artemis' young life was over.
Wheezing and trying to control his breathing Artemis drew his combat knife and held it point down as he moved into the corner taking up a combat stance. He lowered his head and glared at the foe, determined to stare death in the face and meet it as a warrior of the Astartes should. Slowly the Night Lord placed one foot in front of the other, its ceaseless chuckling echoing down the corridor. Now it was the keen, sharp derision of the killer who knows its victim's hope of survival have been dashed, anticipating the hot rush of blood and violence, "Hu-hu-hu hu-hu-hu hu-hu-hu". Suddenly it was in motion again charging down the corridor, filling it with its vast bulk. Artemis stood absolutely still for a heartbeat, letting it close the distance then he spun on his heel and plunged his knife into the exposed mechanisms of the console, severing the hydraulic feeds to spray high pressure fluid across the deck. In an instant the incredible pressure of space tore the weakened bulkhead seals apart, blowing the heavy hatch open to hard vacuum. Artemis clung desperately to the wall gripping fiercely to his knife which was lodged deep in the mechanism and jammed his feet against the doorjamb but the Chaos Marine had no such protection. Already in motion the blast of air accelerated his momentum beyond his ability to undo and he was thrown head over heels through the bulkhead into the void exposed hanger beyond smashing hard against the walls.
Artemis was caught between the hurricane of air crushing into him and the pitiless void outside, his already punished lungs unable to pull breath into him. His left hand was locked onto the knife and his feet locked against the scant inches of the doorjamb pushing against the tide of wind. He felt an almost overwhelming temptation to release his grip on the knife and let the peace of death take him, but then saw something that kicked fresh terror into his soul. A dozen feet into the hanger the Night Lord had plunged his bleeding claws through the deckplates and arrested its' fall into space. Slowly he pulled his helm back and the daemonic visage locked onto the struggling scout, he pulled himself flat against the deck and began to haul his way back inside, inch-by-inch.
Artemis flailed his free arm at the console in desperation, seeking any way to escape and perhaps it was divine providence or perhaps random chance but his trashing hand caught a single control. As he pulled it a second thinner hatch moved an inch into the empty space of the bulkhead and he nearly cried in the relief: it was a secondary manual override. Bracing himself he pushed the lever back into the wall then pulled it again and again and again, with each motion the hatch slid another inch into the gap closing the chances of the Chaos Marine re-entering the ship. Not daring to let up for moment Artemis glanced over his shoulder and saw the traitor was still precious feet from the hatch. His progress was utterly relentless, pushing smoking claws into the unyielding plasteel of the deck like parchment, but he still would not reach the closing hatch in time, Artemis nearly laughed aloud, he was going to live! Yet his moment of distraction cost him dear, in that instant the artificial gravity failed as the machine spirits sealed off the exposed section of the ship. Instantly the floor turned into a wall as up became sideways, sideways became lengthways and the doorjamb he was braced against became a tiny ledge over an infinite drop. It was a moment of bewildering disorientation and Artemis lost his grip on the lever, for precious seconds his hand thrashed on nothing before he caught the control again. The scout cursed his moment of carelessness and resumed pumping, the gap was only a few feet wide now but it was already too late.
A massive hand the size of his skull reared up over the ledge and smashed down an inch from his boot. The horns over the daemonic visage of the helm rose from the depths squeezing into the gap as the traitor forced his way back in. He looked up and locked onto the scout's horrified face and Artemis could once more hear the ceaseless chuckling. Now it was the deep triumphant laugh of a victor crushing his enemy under his heel after a hard won triumph, "Hu-hu-hu hu-hu-hu hu-hu-hu". In that instant Artemis threw away every last inhibition and doubt in his heart, he gave himself fully over to death and pushed out from the wall. Caught in the blast of air he twisted and contorted for a moment of pure action before slamming his whole body down onto the foe. It was the most perfect moment of his life; everything he had was committed to this one strike, everything he was focussed down to this one moment of clarity. For the first time he understood what it meant to be one of the Emperor's chosen, what it meant to be an Astartes. His terror, his rage, his hatred and his devotion combined into a pure rush of potency and drove his left arm down, plunging his blade into the eye lens of the Night Lord right up to the hilt.
For a split the second the two hung together caught in a frozen tableau of shock, then the endless chuckling ceased and the traitor sank back out of sight falling into the void. Artemis followed head first pulled inexorably in his wake, but at the last moment he caught his hands on the edge of the hatch. He strained to pull himself back but was in an impossible position, head and shoulders hanging over the edge feet kicking uselessly at empty space. The last rush of thin air pushed him out and he was about to slide into space when a firm grip caught his belt and hauled him back. He looked up and saw brother novice DeFrain standing over him, they clasped gauntlets and with the last gasps of air rushing past they pulled themselves over to the controls and sealed the hatch. As the thin sounds of repressurisation and gravity fields restoring filled the corridor Artemis sank back down on his rear and looked at his saviour. DeFrain's armour was a wreck with a huge buckle right in the centre of his breastplate leaving an impression of a huge fist over his heart. His face was worse, a bleeding mass of puffy inflammation and purple bruises with one whole eye swollen shut but he still had his customary cocky grin. He gazed with his single eye at Artemis in wonder and said "I've never seen anybody move like that, it was just awesome!"
Artemis wished he had some pithy, smart response to come back with but his mind was utterly weary and all he could do was collapse back and fall into blessed unconsciousness.