Lone Warrior
"In an hour of Darkness a blind man is the best guide. In an age of Insanity look to the madman to show the way."
Evolution I: The Road Home.
The frigid cold of the suspension fluid shocked the skin with a fury of bitter sensations that jarred a foggy mind to sudden clarity. Tired eyes opened and looked through the blur of the green liquid for the first time in quite a while. Slowly, the right arm lifted and pressed a wrinkled hand to the glass of the containment tube. Beyond the translucent glow of the watery cocoon white lights danced about in an almost rhythmic ballet. The lights grew brighter and larger as muted voices could be heard through the container.
Presently, a metallic clank rattled the wall behind the weary body. The liquid level dropped. Slowly, the captive pulled the breath mask from his face and took a fresh breath on his own power. The monitoring wires and breather hung like the carcass of a dead spider as the sound of the drain could be heard. Now standing in an empty tube, weary eyes once again peered out into the blur before them.
Three men, all dressed red armor and fatigues, grimly welcomed him back to the living with disinterested glances. A sharp hiss forced the front of the tube to the left and the occupant fell lifelessly to the tile before the soldiers. The massive form was coated in a durable, black suit that had several interface nodules on it.
"Sergeant, none of the other captives survived the shut down when the building lost power." The voice grew louder as the speaker drew near. "This is the only one."
A cold metal hand gripped the chin of the fallen survivor. Slowly, it pulled the face from the floor and brought the eyes up to look at the room in which they found themselves. It was a cold, dark room. In the light of the soldiers' flood lamps, degrading walls and aging consoles told of the age of the equipment contained in this laboratory. Was laboratory the right word? Perhaps it was more of a storage room than anything else.
"I said, 'What is your name, chapter and division number?'" An angry voice focused his attention back to the men before him. The grizzly face of an aging soldier looked him square in the eye as the sergeant knelt before the prone man. "Name, chapter, division."
"I. I can't remember. I am a Marine. I serve the Emperor." The voice was weak and croaked as he swallowed the rest of the stasis fluid. "I should remember, but. Who am I?"
The sergeant let go of his chin and let his head fall back to the floor with a thump. A huge surgical scar bisected the back of the fallen man's head. "You have been compromised." The sergeant tapped the scar and began to dial on his comlink. "Beyond that, I can't tell you. Section command," he said turning his attention to the comlink, "This is Sergeant Kurzim. I am in command of Scout Squad 9, 10th Company detachment. We are currently running a recon in quadrant 413 of the heretic city of Beldath. We have located a prisoner in an old storage facility. No, he doesn't remember his anything. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Immediately."
The strength began to return to his legs. The survivor began to struggle to stand. "Help him up." Sergeant Kurzim barked as he turned to leave the room. "Finish your scan of this building. We're moving on." The crumpled body winced as the blinding light of Kurzim's flood light passed his eyes. "He is coming with us."
*****
"You," Kurzim pointed at the Marine that was burdened with assisting the new addition. "If this one is an alley, I want you to make sure he gets back to command alive. If he slows us down, you will stay with him. If he has betrayed the Emperor and is a member of the rebels. purify."
"Yes, sir."
"The rest of you. Clear this street."
"You hear that? I'm your new chaperone." The veteran scout laid the shivering man up against the inside wall of the entrance to the building. "I need a name for you."
"Call me Azeroth." The seated man struggled to recall the simple details of his life.
"Is your memory returning?" The scout checked his weapon and scanned the exit as the rest of his team returned to the street.
"Call me Azeroth."
"Very well, Azeroth. I am Kendral. Blood Angels Chapter, Marine Scout 10th company, serving the Emperor under Sergeant Kurzim. Azeroth found himself scanning the rooftops of the neighboring buildings.
"Give me the mission parameters and the capabilities of the enemy." He fought to stand and braced against the wall. He struggled to recall anything about his life prior to that infernal tube, but nothing would reveal itself from within the recesses of his mind. "I am ready."
"The planet is Beldath. The local governor is a traitor to the Empire and the Imperial legions under his control have stood as an affront the might of the Emperor for 96 hours. far too long. We are in the capitol city to root out the resistance forces who survived the bombardment."
"Agreed. Give me a weapon."
"Not going to happen, you are going back to command. You are not cleared for exercise in this theater."
"Very well." Azeroth scanned the rooftop again. He saw a glint. He was sure that he did. "Sniper." He pointed to an open window moments before the gunman opened fire.
The sniper caught Kurzim's unit just as it passed the open alleyway to inter the main street. The response was deafening. A hail of bullets from their bolters peppered the wall of the building, but the soldier had done his job. More than a fatal shot, the sniper bullet was a signal. Over the thudding of the bolters, the whine of incoming mortar rounds could be heard.
Azeroth grabbed Kendral by his shoulder pads and threw him into the corner. The blast in the street blew molten plasma through the nearby doorway with a terrible roar. Using his full leverage, Azeroth braced his knees and pressed his left shoulder into Kendral's chest to prevent him from joining the immolated fates of his comrades.
"Brothers!" Kendral shouted as he shoved and pushed against the one holding him back. When the fire subsided, Azeroth composed himself and allowed Kendral to enter the street. How easily he held down the man who was his size and build. For his lack of memory, he seemed to be able to recall these combat skills without effort. Perhaps his instincts were not damaged. Would that be enough to keep him alive?
Azeroth turned and followed Kendral's path out the door. The carnage was total. More than six separate rounds had been dropped in the narrow street. The buildings threw the explosion in on itself causing massive damage to those trapped in the blast zone. No one survived.
"We move on, Kendral." Azeroth picked up a bolt pistol from the fallen and cleared its breach. "Take me back to command so that we can refit ourselves and go out to avenge your fallen team."
"Blood Angels do not wait for vengeance. We exact it." Kendral shivered with rage. "May. may the Emperor guide you, Azeroth." Kendral drew his sword and charged across the alley and into the building where the sniper had fired his shot.
"Kendral!" Azeroth shouted as he perused the berserk warrior. He got to the door when his enhanced hearing picked up the sound of an engine. The creaking of wheels that cried under a tremendous weight echoed down the urban chasm. "Kendral! Tank!" Kendral was already up several flights of stairs.
Azeroth glanced out into the street and saw the barrel of a massive tank turning to his position. It was a Leman Russ, but the Imperial insignias were scraped off. He turned and ran as the barrel lowered its sight to ground level. The explosion of the massive battle cannon threw the unarmored Azeroth halfway across the street. He landed next to one of the fallen scouts. He could hear his left forearm shatter as his frame slammed into a large piece of rubble.
Bleeding and broken, Azeroth struggled to reach the corpse's comlink. "9th Scout platoon. nagh. 413th quadrant of Beldath. Heavy Fire with armor support. Back up now!" The tank laid down a withering rain of fire with its left side-sponson. "Heretics have been engaged!"
"Confirmed, we are sending reserves." The reply was nearly inaudible by the sound of another round from the tank's bolter. Azeroth fired a useless shot at the hull of the massive behemoth and ran for the doorway of the storage facility. He took his cover just as a laser blast from the Russ shattered the adjoining wall. Through the falling rubble, he could hear the whine of the lascannon preparing for a second shot.
Over the sound of the lascannon, the distant hum of jet engines began to grow. The noise started as a low buzz like a thousand insects and then swelled until the tremendous roar of the thrusters filled the street. Azeroth looked through the debris of his cover and saw seven marines in red armor. Blood Angels. Each of them had enormous jet packs on their backs. They landed among the bodies of the fallen scouts and advanced on the tank, their plasma weapons growing red hot with the rate of fire.
The leader of the strike team knelt on the ground as his team advanced fearlessly on the armored vehicle. He placed a large dish on the ground and activated it. The homer aimed toward the sky and began to go through a sequence of start up checks.
Within moments fragments of bright, blue light began to fill the air. Those ribbons of energy began to encircle each other and form hoops of flowing photons. Soon, the twelve rings of light became twelve orbs of light and a bulky, humanoid outline could be seen inside each one. The terminators stood alone as the most elite of the Space Marines. Their armor was so thick, so strong, and so heavy that they were most often deployed in this way. The glow of the teleport orbs faded and two units of the finest of the Blood Angels moved to engage the enemy of the Empire.
The first squad charged the tank head on, almost trampling the sergeant that set their homing beacon as they lumbered into battle. Four of them were armed with wicked claws that were laced in deadly electricity. Their lightening claws crackled as they neared their target. The lascannon fired into the advancing beasts and caught the sergeant, the one holding a power sword, in the arm. Blown clean off, the shield that was held in that arm fell to the ground with a loud clang. In spite of the wound, the sergeant still advanced and held the line with his men.
The second squad of these juggernauts came up the right flank of the ship. They passed by the broken doorway of Azeroth's building. Each of them held terrible weapons in their massive hands. They unleashed solid streams of fire as they patiently advanced. Azeroth knew so little of his former life, but surely this was his way. The sight of the battle made him thirst to be in it. He longed to fight beside them for the good of the Empire. for the will of the Emperor. He rose to join them. His blaster pistol quivering with excitement.
"Eliminate all non-Imperial combatants from sector." The closest terminator spoke as the heat from his breath bloomed from the ventilator. "Non-Imperial sighted. Eliminate with extreme prejudice." His massive assault rifle whirred and chunked as the barrels began to blur. "In Sanguinius' name." The fiery metal casings exploded from the breach, but Azeroth was no longer there. With superhuman speed, he had closed the gap between him and the terminator and slid underneath the flames of his gun.
"Listen to me! I am a marine! I have been separated from my armor! Look with your eyes not your technical display!"
The firing stopped as the massive suit appeared to pause. "Name, Chapter, Division."
"I am called Azeroth." He stood before the massive equipment suit. The marine turned and showed his scar. "I have been damaged and my memory has failed me."
"Seek an apothecary." Azeroth turned to find the terminator lumbering away. "Squad, return to priority target." His weapon firing streams of bullets into the hull of the tank. The other squad of terminators had reached the first vehicle and was ripping it to pieces with their gruesome claws.
The assault troops were already past the tank and were engaging the hapless human defense forces that advanced behind the armored columns. They were Militia. hardly worth the effort.
A stray round from the battle deflected off of the nearby wall and caught Azeroth in the face. Absently, he touched his left cheek to feel the torn flesh that hung beneath his eye. He could see, but the bullet was wedged into his mandible bone. Unarmored and wounded, Azeroth advanced toward the enemy. His left arm hung lifeless and limp, the left side of his face was shredded and yet he advanced. It was the way of the Marine. Thou shall know no fear.
Then, the shadowy corners of his mind whispered words that had been long forgotten. They were words of wisdom. Azeroth had memorized these phrases ages ago and they returned to him as though the tome of the Codex Astartes lay before him.
"To die without purpose is not a service to the Emperor. It is a heresy to waste lives entrusted to you as an Imperial Officer. There is nothing shameful or disloyal in righteous retreat."
He watched the Blood Angels as they fearlessly advanced on the enemy forces. Silently, Azeroth knelt beside the headless torso of a 9th squad member. One frag grenade had survived the explosions. He took that, removed the scout's combat sword, and withdrew from the battle zone.
*****
The haze of war hung on Beldath like a joyless carpet. Slowly, Azeroth picked his way through the debris field of the bombarded buildings. The bolt in his jaw had drifted and he could feel it pressing against the base of the skull. For the first time, he felt radiating pain flowing up his left arm. not a good sign at all. Several blocks ago, he had found a torn political banner and had slung the lifeless limb to make sure that it could be repaired when or if he found the rear lines.
The first light of the morning was coloring the distant horizon. The marine's genetically enhanced vision had made the nights travel easy despite him being hopelessly lost. He swore and chastised himself for not retrieving a comlink, or staying with the advancing troops. Any other possible tactic had to have been more fruitful than this.
In the blink of an eye, Azeroth brought up his bolt pistol and turned to his right. The end of the side arm tracked a small pebble as it fell silently from one floor to the next. It hit the dusty ground with a cushioned thunk. The rock had not fallen on its own. Something was in that wreckage. Quietly, he began to close the 200 meter gap between him and the ruins.
Azeroth entered the building through what would have been the northern wall. He walked up to the pebble and examined the situation. It had fallen approximately three meters from the exposed second floor that jutted out like a shelf from the south and east walls. He tucked his bolt pistol in the sling along with his mangled arm. Azeroth lifted his right hand and gripped the shelf. Lifting his feet from the ground, the warrior hung by his one arm and began to effortlessly pull himself up to the second floor.
The woman gasped in terror as she saw a shadow rise up into her hiding place. She scurried back further as the marine brought his leg over the floor and rolled himself up to her perch. He rose up into a crouch and drew his bolt pistol. The woman was a frail human. She looked like a hapless citizen of Beldath. These were the true victims of the governor's heresy. The pawns of a pointless conflict brought on by greed, the quest for power, and the seduction of the corrupting influences of the galaxy.
He stood to his full height and looked at her. In the darkness she lay huddled in the fetal position. She was cowed. She had no food, no weapon, and no hope. What a sad existence it must be to not know your purpose. Azeroth quickly dismissed the line of thinking that statement brought on. He turned and prepared to return on his way.
"Wait." He murmured. Something was wrong. She was a mere human. She was a civilian at that. She most likely had no survival training and was barely capable of defending herself. There was no way that she could have seen or heard me coming into the area. She was hiding for a different reason. "What else is here-"
The creature pounced down at him from its roost. The long claws of the cat- like beast gripped Azeroth's back as the momentum of the leap took both of them over the edge. As they fell, the surprised marine reached over his shoulder with his good arm and griped the beast by its throat. He grunted as his hand snapped back down and threw the creature off of him. It crashed into the remnant of the northern wall.
Without the time to brace himself, Azeroth landed on his sling with the full force of his fall. The pain was mind wrenching. His vision blurred as he tried to rise up to a sitting position. The creature had already regained its footing and was moving slowly toward its prey. It was not going to get the element of surprise again.
The blood from Azeroth's reopened cheek ran into his eye and the silhouette of the beast blurred to a pair of green dots within a dark shadow. He reached around for his bolt pistol and found it thankfully close by. He fired several rounds in the direction of the creature, but it easily evaded the attacks. As he lowered the weapon, he lost the thing in shadow. Azeroth held his breath and tried to slow his heartbeats to lessen the throbbing in his ears. Where was it?
The creature hissed a wicked call as it jumped. He took the opportunity to brace himself from the attack even though he didn't know the direction from which it would come. The creature hit him from the left this time and knocked him on his side. Using the momentum of the attack, Azeroth threw his legs up behind the creature. He kicked it in the rump and rolled with it.
They tumbled off of the foundation of the building and into a ditch. Azeroth landed on the beast and drove his left knee into the creature's windpipe. Driving his right foot down on the abdomen of the beast, he pinned the predator to the earth. Enraged, he rammed the barrel of his pistol into the chest cavity of the creature and dug his knee deeper into the throat.
"I WILL NOT DIE HERE!" He shouted as he threw spittle on the face of the now terrified creature. The thing struggled to free itself but went limp as Azeroth emptied his clip. Azeroth stood and wiped the bile splatters from his chest. He tossed the empty bolt pistol to the ground and turned to walk down the street. The amazed stare from the woman went unnoticed.
What a failure this has been. Azeroth wandered further down the street as he clung to the wall. Better that I had died at the hands of the enemy than to fall far from the field of battle from my wounds. His blinking slowed and he took long, dragging steps and staggered to a pile of broken benches.
He collapsed on the splintered heap and took a huge lingering gasp of air. He had never felt this way. It was as if his spirit had been ripped from his chest. His good limbs felt heavy and he no longer could force them to move. He rolled on his back and took another gaping breath. What have I become?
Perhaps this is what death was. He could feel his body relaxing as he lay there looking up at the scorched sky. If I could only rest here for a few more minutes. If I could just close my eyes.
"In an hour of Darkness a blind man is the best guide. In an age of Insanity look to the madman to show the way."
Evolution I: The Road Home.
The frigid cold of the suspension fluid shocked the skin with a fury of bitter sensations that jarred a foggy mind to sudden clarity. Tired eyes opened and looked through the blur of the green liquid for the first time in quite a while. Slowly, the right arm lifted and pressed a wrinkled hand to the glass of the containment tube. Beyond the translucent glow of the watery cocoon white lights danced about in an almost rhythmic ballet. The lights grew brighter and larger as muted voices could be heard through the container.
Presently, a metallic clank rattled the wall behind the weary body. The liquid level dropped. Slowly, the captive pulled the breath mask from his face and took a fresh breath on his own power. The monitoring wires and breather hung like the carcass of a dead spider as the sound of the drain could be heard. Now standing in an empty tube, weary eyes once again peered out into the blur before them.
Three men, all dressed red armor and fatigues, grimly welcomed him back to the living with disinterested glances. A sharp hiss forced the front of the tube to the left and the occupant fell lifelessly to the tile before the soldiers. The massive form was coated in a durable, black suit that had several interface nodules on it.
"Sergeant, none of the other captives survived the shut down when the building lost power." The voice grew louder as the speaker drew near. "This is the only one."
A cold metal hand gripped the chin of the fallen survivor. Slowly, it pulled the face from the floor and brought the eyes up to look at the room in which they found themselves. It was a cold, dark room. In the light of the soldiers' flood lamps, degrading walls and aging consoles told of the age of the equipment contained in this laboratory. Was laboratory the right word? Perhaps it was more of a storage room than anything else.
"I said, 'What is your name, chapter and division number?'" An angry voice focused his attention back to the men before him. The grizzly face of an aging soldier looked him square in the eye as the sergeant knelt before the prone man. "Name, chapter, division."
"I. I can't remember. I am a Marine. I serve the Emperor." The voice was weak and croaked as he swallowed the rest of the stasis fluid. "I should remember, but. Who am I?"
The sergeant let go of his chin and let his head fall back to the floor with a thump. A huge surgical scar bisected the back of the fallen man's head. "You have been compromised." The sergeant tapped the scar and began to dial on his comlink. "Beyond that, I can't tell you. Section command," he said turning his attention to the comlink, "This is Sergeant Kurzim. I am in command of Scout Squad 9, 10th Company detachment. We are currently running a recon in quadrant 413 of the heretic city of Beldath. We have located a prisoner in an old storage facility. No, he doesn't remember his anything. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Immediately."
The strength began to return to his legs. The survivor began to struggle to stand. "Help him up." Sergeant Kurzim barked as he turned to leave the room. "Finish your scan of this building. We're moving on." The crumpled body winced as the blinding light of Kurzim's flood light passed his eyes. "He is coming with us."
*****
"You," Kurzim pointed at the Marine that was burdened with assisting the new addition. "If this one is an alley, I want you to make sure he gets back to command alive. If he slows us down, you will stay with him. If he has betrayed the Emperor and is a member of the rebels. purify."
"Yes, sir."
"The rest of you. Clear this street."
"You hear that? I'm your new chaperone." The veteran scout laid the shivering man up against the inside wall of the entrance to the building. "I need a name for you."
"Call me Azeroth." The seated man struggled to recall the simple details of his life.
"Is your memory returning?" The scout checked his weapon and scanned the exit as the rest of his team returned to the street.
"Call me Azeroth."
"Very well, Azeroth. I am Kendral. Blood Angels Chapter, Marine Scout 10th company, serving the Emperor under Sergeant Kurzim. Azeroth found himself scanning the rooftops of the neighboring buildings.
"Give me the mission parameters and the capabilities of the enemy." He fought to stand and braced against the wall. He struggled to recall anything about his life prior to that infernal tube, but nothing would reveal itself from within the recesses of his mind. "I am ready."
"The planet is Beldath. The local governor is a traitor to the Empire and the Imperial legions under his control have stood as an affront the might of the Emperor for 96 hours. far too long. We are in the capitol city to root out the resistance forces who survived the bombardment."
"Agreed. Give me a weapon."
"Not going to happen, you are going back to command. You are not cleared for exercise in this theater."
"Very well." Azeroth scanned the rooftop again. He saw a glint. He was sure that he did. "Sniper." He pointed to an open window moments before the gunman opened fire.
The sniper caught Kurzim's unit just as it passed the open alleyway to inter the main street. The response was deafening. A hail of bullets from their bolters peppered the wall of the building, but the soldier had done his job. More than a fatal shot, the sniper bullet was a signal. Over the thudding of the bolters, the whine of incoming mortar rounds could be heard.
Azeroth grabbed Kendral by his shoulder pads and threw him into the corner. The blast in the street blew molten plasma through the nearby doorway with a terrible roar. Using his full leverage, Azeroth braced his knees and pressed his left shoulder into Kendral's chest to prevent him from joining the immolated fates of his comrades.
"Brothers!" Kendral shouted as he shoved and pushed against the one holding him back. When the fire subsided, Azeroth composed himself and allowed Kendral to enter the street. How easily he held down the man who was his size and build. For his lack of memory, he seemed to be able to recall these combat skills without effort. Perhaps his instincts were not damaged. Would that be enough to keep him alive?
Azeroth turned and followed Kendral's path out the door. The carnage was total. More than six separate rounds had been dropped in the narrow street. The buildings threw the explosion in on itself causing massive damage to those trapped in the blast zone. No one survived.
"We move on, Kendral." Azeroth picked up a bolt pistol from the fallen and cleared its breach. "Take me back to command so that we can refit ourselves and go out to avenge your fallen team."
"Blood Angels do not wait for vengeance. We exact it." Kendral shivered with rage. "May. may the Emperor guide you, Azeroth." Kendral drew his sword and charged across the alley and into the building where the sniper had fired his shot.
"Kendral!" Azeroth shouted as he perused the berserk warrior. He got to the door when his enhanced hearing picked up the sound of an engine. The creaking of wheels that cried under a tremendous weight echoed down the urban chasm. "Kendral! Tank!" Kendral was already up several flights of stairs.
Azeroth glanced out into the street and saw the barrel of a massive tank turning to his position. It was a Leman Russ, but the Imperial insignias were scraped off. He turned and ran as the barrel lowered its sight to ground level. The explosion of the massive battle cannon threw the unarmored Azeroth halfway across the street. He landed next to one of the fallen scouts. He could hear his left forearm shatter as his frame slammed into a large piece of rubble.
Bleeding and broken, Azeroth struggled to reach the corpse's comlink. "9th Scout platoon. nagh. 413th quadrant of Beldath. Heavy Fire with armor support. Back up now!" The tank laid down a withering rain of fire with its left side-sponson. "Heretics have been engaged!"
"Confirmed, we are sending reserves." The reply was nearly inaudible by the sound of another round from the tank's bolter. Azeroth fired a useless shot at the hull of the massive behemoth and ran for the doorway of the storage facility. He took his cover just as a laser blast from the Russ shattered the adjoining wall. Through the falling rubble, he could hear the whine of the lascannon preparing for a second shot.
Over the sound of the lascannon, the distant hum of jet engines began to grow. The noise started as a low buzz like a thousand insects and then swelled until the tremendous roar of the thrusters filled the street. Azeroth looked through the debris of his cover and saw seven marines in red armor. Blood Angels. Each of them had enormous jet packs on their backs. They landed among the bodies of the fallen scouts and advanced on the tank, their plasma weapons growing red hot with the rate of fire.
The leader of the strike team knelt on the ground as his team advanced fearlessly on the armored vehicle. He placed a large dish on the ground and activated it. The homer aimed toward the sky and began to go through a sequence of start up checks.
Within moments fragments of bright, blue light began to fill the air. Those ribbons of energy began to encircle each other and form hoops of flowing photons. Soon, the twelve rings of light became twelve orbs of light and a bulky, humanoid outline could be seen inside each one. The terminators stood alone as the most elite of the Space Marines. Their armor was so thick, so strong, and so heavy that they were most often deployed in this way. The glow of the teleport orbs faded and two units of the finest of the Blood Angels moved to engage the enemy of the Empire.
The first squad charged the tank head on, almost trampling the sergeant that set their homing beacon as they lumbered into battle. Four of them were armed with wicked claws that were laced in deadly electricity. Their lightening claws crackled as they neared their target. The lascannon fired into the advancing beasts and caught the sergeant, the one holding a power sword, in the arm. Blown clean off, the shield that was held in that arm fell to the ground with a loud clang. In spite of the wound, the sergeant still advanced and held the line with his men.
The second squad of these juggernauts came up the right flank of the ship. They passed by the broken doorway of Azeroth's building. Each of them held terrible weapons in their massive hands. They unleashed solid streams of fire as they patiently advanced. Azeroth knew so little of his former life, but surely this was his way. The sight of the battle made him thirst to be in it. He longed to fight beside them for the good of the Empire. for the will of the Emperor. He rose to join them. His blaster pistol quivering with excitement.
"Eliminate all non-Imperial combatants from sector." The closest terminator spoke as the heat from his breath bloomed from the ventilator. "Non-Imperial sighted. Eliminate with extreme prejudice." His massive assault rifle whirred and chunked as the barrels began to blur. "In Sanguinius' name." The fiery metal casings exploded from the breach, but Azeroth was no longer there. With superhuman speed, he had closed the gap between him and the terminator and slid underneath the flames of his gun.
"Listen to me! I am a marine! I have been separated from my armor! Look with your eyes not your technical display!"
The firing stopped as the massive suit appeared to pause. "Name, Chapter, Division."
"I am called Azeroth." He stood before the massive equipment suit. The marine turned and showed his scar. "I have been damaged and my memory has failed me."
"Seek an apothecary." Azeroth turned to find the terminator lumbering away. "Squad, return to priority target." His weapon firing streams of bullets into the hull of the tank. The other squad of terminators had reached the first vehicle and was ripping it to pieces with their gruesome claws.
The assault troops were already past the tank and were engaging the hapless human defense forces that advanced behind the armored columns. They were Militia. hardly worth the effort.
A stray round from the battle deflected off of the nearby wall and caught Azeroth in the face. Absently, he touched his left cheek to feel the torn flesh that hung beneath his eye. He could see, but the bullet was wedged into his mandible bone. Unarmored and wounded, Azeroth advanced toward the enemy. His left arm hung lifeless and limp, the left side of his face was shredded and yet he advanced. It was the way of the Marine. Thou shall know no fear.
Then, the shadowy corners of his mind whispered words that had been long forgotten. They were words of wisdom. Azeroth had memorized these phrases ages ago and they returned to him as though the tome of the Codex Astartes lay before him.
"To die without purpose is not a service to the Emperor. It is a heresy to waste lives entrusted to you as an Imperial Officer. There is nothing shameful or disloyal in righteous retreat."
He watched the Blood Angels as they fearlessly advanced on the enemy forces. Silently, Azeroth knelt beside the headless torso of a 9th squad member. One frag grenade had survived the explosions. He took that, removed the scout's combat sword, and withdrew from the battle zone.
*****
The haze of war hung on Beldath like a joyless carpet. Slowly, Azeroth picked his way through the debris field of the bombarded buildings. The bolt in his jaw had drifted and he could feel it pressing against the base of the skull. For the first time, he felt radiating pain flowing up his left arm. not a good sign at all. Several blocks ago, he had found a torn political banner and had slung the lifeless limb to make sure that it could be repaired when or if he found the rear lines.
The first light of the morning was coloring the distant horizon. The marine's genetically enhanced vision had made the nights travel easy despite him being hopelessly lost. He swore and chastised himself for not retrieving a comlink, or staying with the advancing troops. Any other possible tactic had to have been more fruitful than this.
In the blink of an eye, Azeroth brought up his bolt pistol and turned to his right. The end of the side arm tracked a small pebble as it fell silently from one floor to the next. It hit the dusty ground with a cushioned thunk. The rock had not fallen on its own. Something was in that wreckage. Quietly, he began to close the 200 meter gap between him and the ruins.
Azeroth entered the building through what would have been the northern wall. He walked up to the pebble and examined the situation. It had fallen approximately three meters from the exposed second floor that jutted out like a shelf from the south and east walls. He tucked his bolt pistol in the sling along with his mangled arm. Azeroth lifted his right hand and gripped the shelf. Lifting his feet from the ground, the warrior hung by his one arm and began to effortlessly pull himself up to the second floor.
The woman gasped in terror as she saw a shadow rise up into her hiding place. She scurried back further as the marine brought his leg over the floor and rolled himself up to her perch. He rose up into a crouch and drew his bolt pistol. The woman was a frail human. She looked like a hapless citizen of Beldath. These were the true victims of the governor's heresy. The pawns of a pointless conflict brought on by greed, the quest for power, and the seduction of the corrupting influences of the galaxy.
He stood to his full height and looked at her. In the darkness she lay huddled in the fetal position. She was cowed. She had no food, no weapon, and no hope. What a sad existence it must be to not know your purpose. Azeroth quickly dismissed the line of thinking that statement brought on. He turned and prepared to return on his way.
"Wait." He murmured. Something was wrong. She was a mere human. She was a civilian at that. She most likely had no survival training and was barely capable of defending herself. There was no way that she could have seen or heard me coming into the area. She was hiding for a different reason. "What else is here-"
The creature pounced down at him from its roost. The long claws of the cat- like beast gripped Azeroth's back as the momentum of the leap took both of them over the edge. As they fell, the surprised marine reached over his shoulder with his good arm and griped the beast by its throat. He grunted as his hand snapped back down and threw the creature off of him. It crashed into the remnant of the northern wall.
Without the time to brace himself, Azeroth landed on his sling with the full force of his fall. The pain was mind wrenching. His vision blurred as he tried to rise up to a sitting position. The creature had already regained its footing and was moving slowly toward its prey. It was not going to get the element of surprise again.
The blood from Azeroth's reopened cheek ran into his eye and the silhouette of the beast blurred to a pair of green dots within a dark shadow. He reached around for his bolt pistol and found it thankfully close by. He fired several rounds in the direction of the creature, but it easily evaded the attacks. As he lowered the weapon, he lost the thing in shadow. Azeroth held his breath and tried to slow his heartbeats to lessen the throbbing in his ears. Where was it?
The creature hissed a wicked call as it jumped. He took the opportunity to brace himself from the attack even though he didn't know the direction from which it would come. The creature hit him from the left this time and knocked him on his side. Using the momentum of the attack, Azeroth threw his legs up behind the creature. He kicked it in the rump and rolled with it.
They tumbled off of the foundation of the building and into a ditch. Azeroth landed on the beast and drove his left knee into the creature's windpipe. Driving his right foot down on the abdomen of the beast, he pinned the predator to the earth. Enraged, he rammed the barrel of his pistol into the chest cavity of the creature and dug his knee deeper into the throat.
"I WILL NOT DIE HERE!" He shouted as he threw spittle on the face of the now terrified creature. The thing struggled to free itself but went limp as Azeroth emptied his clip. Azeroth stood and wiped the bile splatters from his chest. He tossed the empty bolt pistol to the ground and turned to walk down the street. The amazed stare from the woman went unnoticed.
What a failure this has been. Azeroth wandered further down the street as he clung to the wall. Better that I had died at the hands of the enemy than to fall far from the field of battle from my wounds. His blinking slowed and he took long, dragging steps and staggered to a pile of broken benches.
He collapsed on the splintered heap and took a huge lingering gasp of air. He had never felt this way. It was as if his spirit had been ripped from his chest. His good limbs felt heavy and he no longer could force them to move. He rolled on his back and took another gaping breath. What have I become?
Perhaps this is what death was. He could feel his body relaxing as he lay there looking up at the scorched sky. If I could only rest here for a few more minutes. If I could just close my eyes.
