Author's Notes:
Be warned, this short story contains a variation of Iambic Pentameter in which the first and fifth syllables are accented differently the the rest of the text.
I'd also like to offer a special thanks to fellow authors 'AlwaysBetOnVoid' and 'Disciple of Ember' for articulating and isnpiring this story's theme.
What If
The Stormbird shuttered as dull thuds exploded outside. Slaves scampered to and fro in a general panic devoid of real purpose. In the belly of the ship sat only a single Chaos Marine. Across from him, naked and in chains, sat one Imperial Marine.
"You shall accomplish nothing with my capture. The Ultramarines will destroy you serpent." The captured Imperial Marine was serene.
The Chaos Marine glared at the prisoner through his snarling dragon helmet. He spoke with a voice like far away thunder. Waves of ghostly power seemed to ripple through the air as the traitor marine whispered.
"All things in time brother. Some day
death, gruesome and terrible, shall
come for me. But you, dear brother,
must suffer the crushing pain of
Imperial extortion for
all your days. When my end comes, more
good will have been brought through me then
you can know. Your eyes are shut tight."
The champion of Ultramar was not intimidated. He did not listen to the blasphemer's words. This traitor marine could take all the emerald dragons on his armor and ram them up his back side.
"You are not but a treacherous snake. I command you by the might of the Imperium, release me or slay me."
"Imperial might is built on
Death. Its people, led before the
alter of war, sacrificed and
slain by billions every day. The
Emperor is dead. His people
die to feed this Imperial
Tulpa. He who should have been our
savior, is now un-life in flesh."
"I cannot hear your serpent tongue Alpha Legion. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of the daemon…"
"Son of the one Guilliman, why
prostrate yourself? Ingratitude,
relegation, death are the few
rewards you'll be given. And no
better shall the Galaxy be,
all your sound and fury feeds the
daemons you wage fruitless war with.
Carnage begets Chaos you fool."
The Stormbird trembled. A terrible grinding screech pierced the ears. Something was wrong.
BOOM!
Blackness.
The Ultramarine's eyes snapped open. His ears rang. His enemy was nowhere to be seen. An open street lay before him. Down the road lie half of the burning wreckage of the ancient Stormbird transport. Sky scrapers rose all around and the sounds of gunfire rang from nearby. He was still strapped in the chair and his feet dangled over the pavement.
The Ultramarine had a hundred thoughts in his mind. But first things first, he found his bindings were malfunctioning. With a huff he ripped one free. The herculean warrior sprung from his chair. He was alive and he had a duty to uphold. He had to find the relic. What if it was gone? Then he would scour this world until he found it. His bare feet stomped through the listing wreckage.
The Ultra crushed the life out of a dazed slave without a second thought. He needed to find his equipment. The relic had to be here somewhere. There was nothing in the galaxy that matter more at the moment.
There. His things were lying neatly, undisturbed atop a shine. Shrine? Concern gripped at him. He reached up for the holy banner of the fifth company, but recoiled when he saw what had been done to it. Blood. The sacred battle standard of the Ultramarines fifth company had been soaked with foul and tainted blood. Desecrated. How dare they. Such a sacrilege made him seethe. Incapable of words, he reached for his helmet. But inside, it too was slick with dark crimson blood. Fine, he had no time to waist making all his armor pure once again. He snatched up his power sword and carefully pulled the fifth company banner from the dark alter.
The Ultra stepped out into the streets. The sounds of war were everywhere. Yells, booms, and rat-ta-ta filled the air with discord. Mortal men cloaked in rags and dirt, were beginning to fill the road. Chaos worshipers, perhaps three score.
From the other half of the flaming wreckage the serpent arose. With a sinister blade held before him, the Alpha Legionnaire rallied the heretics around him. The crowd cheered for their master. They threw gold, flowers, bones and even themselves before the unholy marine's feet. The traitor did not acknowledge their offerings. He had his eyes set on the Ultramarine.
What if there were too many? Then he would overcome them all or die well. The lone Ultramarine unfurled the fifth company battle standard. Its fields of noble blue were still darkened with the blood of the wicked. What if it was forever stained? No, the brilliant honor of the Ultramarines could not be sullied by merely bleeding upon it.
Footsteps came racing up behind the defiant marine. Six men stormed through the pieces of the fallen Strombird. Gas masks, black helmets, and grey coats. These were the warriors of Krieg, fellow Imperials.
"Lord Ultramarine, it would be a privilege to fight and die beside you!" One soldier barked though his mask.
The marine did not acknowledge them. These Death Troopers were not asking for his permission, they were telling him they had come into the street to die. The grey coats stood tall, shoulder to shoulder with one another. The mob of heretics began to draw near.
"Affix bayonets!" The Death Troopers acted as one.
Death Trooper. The Ultra looked across the field to legionnaire wearing the mask of the Hydra. Death. The venom in the serpent's words turned sour and the Ultramarine banished the thoughts from his mind. Death was what the Emperor demanded. What if my enemies do not die this day? Then the Emperor shall have a martyr.
Lasguns kicked like mules in the hands of the Death Troopers. They poured a torrent of laser fire into the encroaching mob. But the cultists charged unhindered. Neither their dead nor the flaming Stormbird derby could slow down the crowd. The Alpha Marine stalked forward in their midst.
The Ultramarine stepped between the Death troopers. Wild bullets from the cultist whizzed by. Fearlessly the troopers began to march forward in the Ultra's tremendous shadow.
"Death need not be for us this day! The Emperor asks that we are better! Better than our enemies! Better than our vices! Better than fear! So give me your valor! Bring to me all your fortitude! Show me that you are better guardsmen of Krieg! "
The seven imperials began to gallop with bayonets forward at the swarm of heretical zealots. The tide of yellow teeth, blood shot eyes, and greasy hands was almost upon them. The noble standard of the fifth company curled in the breeze.
"Cherish this moment of life! For on this day you fight beside Ultamar!"
The Imperials crashed into the daemon worshipers. They shot, stabbed, slashed and smashed a dozen heretics in the blink of an eye. With unparallel will and skill the Death Troopers fought through the melee. But the mob swallowed them up. One by one they succumb to the weight of numbers. A gun shot, a club, brutal hands around the neck.
The last Death Trooper fought on with a primed grenade clutched in one hand. His savage knife flashed and three heretics dropped dead at his feet. But a pair of hands brought a heavy rock smashing into his back. The grenade rolled from his fingertips.
BOOM!
Alone, the Ultramarine fought on. His humming blade eviscerated men two at a time. The flag danced as he whirled through the ranks of the enemy. He swept a foot and crushed a blasphemer with the haft of sacred battle standard.
Almost too late the Ultra saw a blow coming, not for him, but for the flag. He ripped the banner aside to throw himself in front of the strike. A dull hook rent a gash across his side.
The hoard saw his act of selflessness. They began to ignore the Space Marine to cut at his twirling flag. They would not touch it while he lived. The fearsome son of Guilliman baited them with his back turned. Every heretic that took so much as a single step towards the banner of the fifth company was struck dead by the Ultramarine's lightning quick blade. Steaming crimson covered him from head to toe, but his retribution remained clean. He would kill them all.
The mob parted and the Alpha Legionnaire stepped before the Imperial. The blood covered Ultra stood braced with his gore soaked banner beside him. This was the moment. Here and now he would strike at least one head from this Hydra. But what if he wasn't strong enough? Quick enough? He dismissed the notion. His fate was in his own hands. He would prove without a doubt that he was better.
"You cannot stand against righteousness wicked serpent. Fall upon your sword and repent."
"Why? Must it be death dear brother?
You have only death in your stone
heart. You shut out truth from your cold
soul. But I know you have had a
doubt. Yes, I know doubt gnaws at you.
Even now it poisons your mind.
Chaos marks you. Come and seek more
death my morbid friend, just once more."
The Ultramarine shut off his ears. The words no longer mattered. Indeed, one of them was to die, and the gene-son of Guilliman intended to do his legacy proud.
The Chaos Hydra circled the stoic warrior of Ultramar. His warp-touched power sword cut a shallow grove in the pavement. There was no sign of aggression. No murmurs from the mob. There was just the grinding hum of the blade.
The Ultramarine stood still. The Alpha Legionnaire wanted him to strike first. Was the enemy really going to walk a complete circle? The circle. Suspicious the Ultra look to the ground. What if it was a trick? Witch craft or black magic? He had to attack first.
The Imperial sword flashed in an arch. The serpent darted and the blade whiffed by him. He kept dragging his sword along the ground. The circle really was the threat. The Ultramarine flung his banner before him to conceal himself. Then he dashed through it. He faked a slash and instead locked the hilt of his blade in the collar of the Chaos Marine. With a yank the Ultramarine pulled the serpent into the circle with him.
Now the Hydra lashed out. The Ultra stood defiantly over the missing piece of the circle. And the Alpha could not find a way to move him. Their swords flashed as they each parried one another, blow for blow.
KABOOM!
Smoldering Stormbird wreckage was blasted out of the street. Imperial tanks came rolling through the smoke. The sound of a marching battalion came swiftly behind. Clap-clap-clap. More of the ever relentless Death Koprs of Krieg stomped into the fray.
KABOOM! Heretics burst into clouds of gore and the crowd flew to a panic.
The Ultramarine's eyes looked away for half a moment. The Chaos Hydra slashed at the sacred banner. Almost too late again, the Ultra pulled the flag away from danger and put himself in the way. But instead of a blade cutting through his flesh, a hand wrapped around his shoulder. The heretic pulled him sideways. Off balance he staggered back and the Chaos Marine leapt by him. In one graceful stroke the last line of the circle was cut into the pavement, but his back was turned. The Ultramarine thrust out with his blade. His power sword sunk to the hilt.
The Alpha Legionnaire stumbled. He looked down at the glowing sword point protruding from his chest. The Ultra spun him about and shoved him into the circle. With the blade still lodged in him, the Hydra marine looked to his opponent. He raised an open hand, a salute.
KABOOM!
Imperial cannons blasted the scurrying mob. There was a flash. The Ultramarine shielded the flag from the rolling dust. He kept his eyes wide open and ready to finish the fight. But as the cloud of smoke blew past he saw the serpent was crumpled on the ground.
No, the Alpha's armor lay in a pile, but it was empty. The Legionnaire was gone. The steaming circle was empty. The Ultramarine looked all around. The heretics were fleeing and the Imperials were butchering everyone left in street. But the serpent was nowhere to be found.
Cautiously, the Ultra stepped into the circle. He pulled his sword free of the dragon armor. His battle standard billowed at his side. It didn't feel like a victory.
The Alpha had to be dead. What if he is not? What more could he have intended? The Ultra looked to the flag, it was still stained. What if its blood magic? What if the enemy is still waiting for another opportune moment? He sifted through the foul words the serpent had spoken in search of some veiled threat. Then he remembered doubt. The Ultramarine looked to his own blood stained hands. What if…
Fin