"What in the Golden Throne is the name of this pit and why the feth are we here?"
The shrill, nasally tone could only have been Gerns, cutting through the monotonous drone of the Chimera's engine. As usual, the trooper was impatient and bellyaching and getting on the squad's nerves. While it could have been said that each guardsman in the patrol had a useful ability or training, such of Vendric's almost innate knowledge of where mines and traps were kept, or Polin's skill with a grenade launcher, Trooper Gerns' sole talent seemed to be annoying his squad mates.
As usual though, the squad ignored him, preferring to check their weapons, securing their webbing or in the case of Trooper Polin, snoring loudly. They all knew he'd get bored soon enough, until then, the easiest thing to do would be to just will themselves through it. Or they would have, until Vanghast "accidently" kicked Gerns in the head as he climbed down from the Chimera's cupola, drawing a stifled laugh from Troopers Benner, Glatch and Kalt.
"Quiet you lot! We're coming up on the target." Sergeant Joller came in from the driver's compartment. The sergeant's face was locked into a permanent sneer after an Ork's choppa glanced his cheek during combat on Spicer's World, destroying much of his jaw, leaving exposed muscle and teeth. "Vanghast, what did you see up there?"
Trasken Vanghast took a swig of his water canteen, the high winds of the Bad Lands meant that men could only spend a few moments in the turret before the heat and dehydration would force them back into the shade. Taking another swig of water, the guardsman removed his helmet and ran his hand over the stubble that lined his chin.
"Not much, the wind is too thick. But we are approaching the site; I could see a couple of the outlying buildings with the magnoculars."
Vanghast was Joller's second, the squad's point man, clad in Procyon flak armour, reinforced at key points with small carapace plates. Grim, as always, the guardsman proceeded to load his autogun as Joller briefed the rest of the squad. Pulling a dataslate from his flak vest, the sergeant motioned the men closer.
"Command has received word that one of the way stations here has not reported in for three check-ins. It's happened a couple of times before, the winds knocking out the communications array. This should be easy enough, but I want the lot of y-" Joller wiped away a sliver of drool from his jaw, as it was wont to do when he spoke more than the barest sentences. "-to do this by the numbers. Vanghast, take Benner and Glatch with you and investigate the eastern section of the compound, get to the vox array, see if anything happened."
The three nodded, Benner and Glatch setting their lasguns to high charge.
"Kalt, you, Gerns and Vendric will take the west to the barracks. Varco, Polin and-" Another line of drool wiped away. "-I will investigate the station itself. Dstano and Lyner will stay here with the Chimera and man the heavy weapons."
The squad nodded in agreement, save for Polin, who was still asleep until Kalt and Benner kicked him. The reward of waking him were a number of half-awake comments questioning what species their respective mothers were and a hand gesture that made both men laugh even harder.
Joller snapped at them, the open sneer of his cheek seemed even more intense. "Get serious and fast or walk back! This is not a furlough, we are going into a potentially dangerous situation. Take the safeties off and keep the microbeads open. We've arrived."
The sergeant was right, as the Chimera slowed, eventually coming to a halt several hundred yards from the compound. The squad made some last preparations, stuffing spare lasgun clips into their flak vests as Polin loaded his grenade launcher with his usual frag grenades. Each man hoped that Murragh and his squad had just gotten drunk and seeing off a hangover. Each man also knew that the battle to retake Hemrien had forced the cultists to flee into the hills; that the enemy had not been wiped out yet and that any situation could mean a sign of a new offensive. Each man silently offered a prayer to the Emperor that it was the former.
The rear hatch of the Chimera opened, Vanghast and Benner the first two out, securing the area as the others fanned out. Each trooper moved flawlessly, weapons ready and scanning the area before splitting into their search teams without a word, a sign of the bond each man had developed since the Founding of their regiment six years before. Trasken, Benner and Glatch moved towards the old shed containing the vox array. Thankfully the compound was shielded from the winds, as only a few wispy tendrils of dust flew in the wind.
The compound was eerily quiet, few sounds save for the heavy footfalls of the Procyon troopers on the desert ground. As they neared the vox array, Vanghast raised his hand, balled into a fist before indicating Glatch and Benner to the sides of the door with swift movements of his fingers. The two wordlessly moved to their positions, Glatch's hand on the door handle as Trasken took his position before the door, his autogun ready; the under-slung light-pack switched on. Glatch opened the door slightly as Trasken pushed it open the rest of the way with the barrel of his autogun.
There seemed to be little wrong in the run down shack, but for the lack of power. The beam of light from the autogun swept across the room, searching for something, anything that might explain what had happened.
As the light continued towards the long range vox caster unit, Trasken found it.
A severed hand rested on the vox caster's receiver, leaving a trail of darkened crimson across the controls.
As Benner caught sight of the hand, he began to mutter "My Emperor, Saviour Unto Thee" under his breath as Vanghast tapped the microbead in his ear.
"We found something in the vox caster, hostiles possibly still in the area, switching to a lethal solution. Repeat, switching to a lethal solution."
A dull crumping sound in the main building was the reply.
Running across the compound, Glatch tried to contact Joller over the microbead as Benner and Vanghast hugged the wall. "What do you think it is?" Benner rasped behind Vanghast, slipping a bayonet onto his lasgun.
The trooper glanced back, hissing at his squadmate. "I don't know. I was with you two, remember! Just make sure those flashlights of yours are on full power." Like most pointmen in the regiment, Vanghast carried a different weapon that the standard Mars Pattern Lasgun, the troopers preferring weapons that offered a heavier punch without compromising their ability to move quickly. In his case, Vanghast used the Lethe pattern Autogun, although he knew he could never last in as long in protracted firefight as his lasgun armed squadmates, he also knew that with the autogun if he shot something, it would stay down.
Holding the weapon close, Trasken lead the two guardsmen into the main building of the compound and immediately confronted by the signs of battle. Small arms fire dotted the walls, the tell-tale mark of a flamer seared onto the plasteel walls. Streaks of crimson seemed
"Feth! Why didn't they call for back up?" It was Glatch, bringing his lasgun to his shoulder. A question that Vanghast asked himself as well. A light plume of smoked billowed from one of the rooms ahead. Quickly switching the lamp-pack from his autogun with a three round underslung shotgun, Trasken motioned to the door, whispering to the pair. "I don't know, but we're about to find out."
The three guardsmen fanned into the room and found a scene of carnage, the pungent pang of fyclene and blood hanging in the air. What had presumably once been Varco lay before them, the only recognisable part of him was a tattoo of the Imperial Aquila he had gotten on his cheek during the Founding.
Whatever tore him apart had done it quickly, and most likely still in the area. Keeping close together, the three guardsmen swept the room and found Polin, his ribcage torn apart, his grenade launcher still by his side. Behind them, a noise caused Glatch to turn around, his lasgun brought to bear as the others kept to their respective fields of fire. "Contact!"
All three weapons aimed at the target as Joller stumbled into view. Injuries raked across his body, a bloody mess where his left arm used to be. The sergeant tried to speak, only his torn and ruin throat bubbled up a thick, bloody foam before several shadowed shapes crashed into him and continued to tear at him.
"FETH!"
Vanghast, Benner and Glatch opened fire, the staccato bursts of the autogun joined by the dry snaps of the lasguns as they fired into the shapes before them. Joller was already dead as the shapes stood up, even as they were being taken apart by the rounds and energy shots hit them. There was a vaguely human shape to them, painfully confirmed as the first stepped into the light. MkNam, one of Murragh's troopers, hissed at the three, half his face gone as his charged. The former MkNam managed two steps before the boom of Trasken's shotgun exploded his head. Four more of Murragh's squad scrambled forward into the gunfire.
"FETH!" Roared Trasked as he unloaded another shotgun round into Murragh. "FALL BACK YOU TWO! NOW!"
MkNam's headless body rose again and joined the press of the assault as Trasken's autogun made a loud, empty click as the clip ran dry.