This was a submission for the Black Library's Deathwatch short story contest. So after not hearing from them, I present it to you. This was also my chance to include the chapter, alluded to at least, that is my profile's namesake. As always, please review.
Battle was in the air.
Even without their enhanced suits of power armour and increased natural senses, the Kill-team could easily detect the battle no more than a few kilometers away. Somewhere in the distance, the 188th Krieg Line Infantry and a strike force of the Emperor's Shadows were making their counter attack against the dreaded xenos known as the Tau Empire. This discharge of plasma based weaponry gave the air a very distinct scorched ozone smell, while the rumble of artillery and the faint whine of chainsword adding to the already audible screams.
The four armored giants rushed off the boarding ramp of the idling Thunderhawk, bolters and other weaponry checking each angle of attack to be sure they were not detected. Satisfied that they weren't, Brother Apothecary Rhombus mentally activated his helmet vox. "Excellent approach, Brother Noah. Return to orbit eighty kilometers away from our position."
"Yes, Brother Apothecary." The Iron Hand pilot guided the Thunderhawk up from the ground and began to make his assent into the skies above. The rest of the Kill-team filed in and formed a half circle around the Apothecary.
"Our mission is clear. Commander Fireshield is here and he must be eliminated. She is a tactical opponent but has been known to use words instead of weapons." He spat behind his helm, as if saying those words filled his mouth with disgust. "We will show them the folly of their ways. This world belongs to the Emperor, and no alien filth will dispute that right!"
"Praise the Emperor and strike down his foes!" Brother Joshua issued the familiar saying as he racked the bolt of his combi-weapon. The most pious of Kill-team Dragon-Solar, Joshua, was often the first to evoke the Emperor's Holy name in praise or condemnation. It would seem that, while his piety made other members of the Deathwatch feel belittled by his sermons, the longest of which ran thirteen hours with no respite according to illicit wagers, he had made several steadfast allies within the Holy Sisters and Witch Hunters. His condemnor bolter was a testament made manifest to that bond, gifted to him by the Ordo Hereticus for services rendered unto their interests only a short while before his secondment into the Deathwatch.
Brother Torus laid his hand on the shoulder of the upstart Disciple of Caliban. "The Emperor's foes will be vanquished in due time, Brother. It would be wise if we did not stay for them to find us. I would rather be the hunter then the hunted." Unlike his Brothers, Torus wore no emblem on his shoulder where others bore their Chapter's iconography. He was a Black Shield, one who had forsaken his Chapter and scrubbed all history of it clean from his body as well as his armour. He never revealed his true name either, like most Black Shields did, in fear of the name tracing them to their Chapter. Still, Rhombus thanked the Emperor each and every day the Devastator served with him. While he lacked any identity, his aim faltered not.
Geoffrey of the Crimson Fists nodded to the ebon clad Black Shield. "Spoken like a true warrior scholar, Brother. Come. It is time I paint my gauntlets with xenos blood." The four-man Kill-team moved in a square formation, with Torus and Geoffrey at the front while Rhombus and Joshua held up the rearguard. The planet, Tavish, as it was known to the Imperium, was a temperate world much like Holy Terra in days gone by. The shadows cast by the looming trees allowed the Space Marines to move through the tree line virtually undetected.
Torus raised his hand and the rest of the Kill-team stopped. "Enemy contacts, eighty meters ahead." The group took three more paces forward, remembering that their suits of armour were nothing if not cacophonous in comparison to the idle wilderness. Thankfully they didn't need to get much closer than they already were. With their helmets and autosenses in tandem, the four space marines could see the patrol of Tau fire warriors. Upon closer inspection they were the xenos' human allies: Gue'vesa.
Rhombus opened the private squad link. "Traitors. They are armed with pulse rifles by the look of it. We need to eliminate them, lest they become alert to our position."
Geoffrey balled his power fist. "Little better than the cultists we see surrender to the Ruinous Powers. Hand to hand combat would be the most satisfying way to deliver the Emperor's retribution."
"But not the most effective," Torus reminded the Assault Marine. He pulled a belt of heavy bolter rounds from his backpack ammo clip and slid it into the feeding port of his weapon. The dull brass rounds were different then the bolts in their pistols, and a passive reading of them showed that they were Stalker Bolt rounds. While still possessing the lethal ability of normal rounds, these mass reactive shells were designed for nigh-silent killing.
Torus racked the bolt on his heavy bolter and chambered the first round. He braced his body and took aim at the human allies of the insidious Tau. He whispered the rites of aiming to the machine spirit of his weapon and slowly exhaled. He pulled the trigger and sent a volley of six heavy bolter rounds down range. The gaseous compound inside the rounds detonated and sent them barrelling toward their targets.
The rounds of ammunition slammed into the targets, rupturing armour and detonating within the wounds. The traitors exploded in a shower of gore before they could even scream. The furthest victim was bringing his pulse rifle to his shoulder before his upper torso exploded into a shower of fat, muscle and bones. Torus brought the heavy bolter back to resting position and nodded to the rest of the kill-team.
Rhombus took the lead, unsheathing his power sword and unholstering his bolt pistol, aware of the danger evident in their path. They advanced to the patrol's position and moved through the remains of the bodies, smashing assortments of limbs underfoot. "May the Emperor have mercy on their souls for their sins."
Joshua let off a scoff under his helmet. "They were weak in spirit. No true human would associate himself with the alien. It was humanity's divine right to rule the stars alone, and any who associate themselves with the enemy without will suffer the same fate."
Rhombus glared at the upstart fifty-eight year old scion of Lion El'Johnson. Already in the Deathwatch and he has not yet earned his first service stud, he muttered in his head. Rhombus himself had earned three rivets in his skull for three hundred years of service, one of which was while he was serving in his seventh secondment into the chamber militant of the Ordo Xenos. He would learn eventually the folly of being distracted by such piety, often it led to the death of the individual or close allies. Rhombus had no qualm about dying if that meant to join the legends in the afterlife that his Chapter's dogma professed. Still, he wished for death to be by a worthy foe, and not Joshua's misguided sense of duty.
"Regardless, whelp, we have a mission to kill the alien. I would rather have it left to the Death Korps to deal with the traitors than us. We need to prioritize the success of this mission over cleaning up lesser dangers."
"Agreed. Time and duty dictates that we expend our force on the targets and not their numerous followers. Still, if they cross our path, we should eliminate the dangers." Geoffrey stated as he scanned the nearby brush with his bolt pistol, ready to react with either it or his power fist should a foe present themselves.
In all actuality, he didn't need to wait long.
The sharp animal howl and the rustling of brush was all the warning the Kill-Team received before they realized they were under attack. Joshua was knocked to the ground by a powerful reptilian form, slamming him on his back, bolter clenched tightly in the Tactical Marine's gauntlets. Geoffrey was attacked in a similar manner, but his power fist was waiting for the mass of scales. He slammed out, the superpowered appendage ruptured flesh and smashed dozens of bones of his attacker.
The smoldering corpse fell to the ground just as three more attacked from the shadows. Solid slugs bounced off their armor as the Kill-team used their enhanced vision to discern the shadows from their attackers. Joshua lashed out with his hands, grabbing the prevalent beak that threatened to break open his helmet like a Kothisis egg. So, the Tau brought Kroot with them? They would die just the same.
He twisted his arms with the beak in his grasp. The vertebrae within the reptilian Kroot snapped, and the body soon became limp as its connection to the brain was compromised. He rolled the carcass off of him and brought his bolter up as his helmet gave him a slew of tactical data and targeting information. "It would appear that the Tau do not wish to fight like warriors. They instead prefer to send their auxiliary units to counter us."
Rhombus fired a three round burst from his bolter and activated his power sword, causing it to be wreathed in lightning. He impaled another Kroot that tried to bury the pick of its gun-staff in the pauldron of the Star Phantom. Thanks to his enhanced strength and the power behind the sword, he carved through the heart and bisected the alien with the return stroke. "Why waste the lives of their best on menial patrol duty while the battle rages on in the front? They have plenty of troops to throw at us.," he gripped the throat of another attacker and crushed his windpipe before tossing the limp body into two more Kroot in the shadows. The move distracted them as Joshua fired a single round into each of the aliens, "Besides, the dead xenos have their uses."
His gaze fell upon Torus, who was supporting Geoffrey with his heavy bolter. However, he noticed something unusual about the scene he was witnessing. The dead Kroot, of which there were five, were merely ten meters away from the Black Shield, yet at Torus' feet were thirty expended shells. Odd, as Torus was one of the best shots the Watch Fortress offered.
Geoffrey internally decapitated the last of the aliens and pulled a solid slug ball from his vambrace. "Damnable things. A thousand curses on the bastard deities who created these foul spawn. " He muttered as he proceeded to flex the fingers of his power fist to dislodge the gore from the gaps in the weapon.
"Aye. A thousand thousand curses on them." Joshua replied as he brought the heel of his boot down on the torso of a still breathing xeno, smashing the lungs and heart into a bloody paste. "Though the aliens must have heard the sounds of battle, and the longer we tarry here the more likely we will be ambushed again in short order."
Torus mag-locked his heavy bolter to his chest and nodded his head in affirmation. Rhombus then noted the slight twitch on the warrior's gauntlets, that extended to the elbow joint of the armor. "The Tau base is not far now. The Emperor detests the slow." He led with unusual haste for one in his position. Torus was always the most taciturn of the Kill-Team, never rushing head first into combat without evaluating the risks, an opposite of Geoffrey when the opportunity came.
The Kill Team followed, but Rhombus opened a private vox link to the Black Shield. +You are distressed, Brother. You body tells the tale and your tone confirms it.+
A while passed before Torus responded. +Think nothing of it, Brother Apothecary. A slight twitch is nothing to be concerned about.+
Rhombus snarled under his helmet and clicked the link open again. +I am Rhombus, Apothecary of the Star Phantoms, and your leader for this mission. You will answer my statement to the best of your ability or I will inform Chaplain Bastian of your shortcomings and penitence will be issued swiftly.+
Torus stopped mid-stride to face the Apothecary and approached him. Geoffrey and Joshua were perplexed for a moment but Torus' finger being pointed at the veteran and his voice in the open dispelled any rumors they were thinking. "If you have an accusation, Brother, make it plain."
Rhombus didn't lower his gaze for an instant. "Your aim is lacking. Five kroot lay dead by your hand but thirty shells lay at your feet. Your hands are shaking, and if you were a Guardsman I would state that combat anxiety is getting to you. You have Marksman Honors, you should not be missing such easy shots!"
"Yet I am labeled as the weakest link in this operation!? The crack in the blade? Let Him who is without fault be my judge. You, Rhombus, cannot speak to me in such a condescending manner. I could name but few of your shortcomings, but that would take longer than three Terran days if I sped. You and the other members of this Kill-Team have just as many faults, if not more, than I. "
Joshua approached the two feuding Brothers and held up a hand to each. "Torus, the Apothecary is right. You-"
"As if you have room to place blame, son of the boastful Primarch!" Torus whirled on the Tactical Marine, whose sentence promptly died on his lips. "You focus too much on sermonizing of the beatitudes of the Emperor, pious but distracting. The loss of a Lord General and Battle Brother Yorik of the Space Wolves is evidence of your misplaced zeal. Did your piety save him from that shuriken blast that took not only his life but that of one of his progenoid glands?"
He then turned to Geoffrey and jabbed his extended index finger toward his breastplate. "Geoffrey here has so much pride pulsing in his veins that I often believe we need to retrofit our doors to let him pass through them. He treats this," Torus gestured to the holy silver on his left arm, "as if it were his birthright - a title given to him, not earned through the fire and blood we give to bear that emblem."
He paused, as if his mind was realizing what words had escaped from his lips. He took in a deep breath and finally, finally, looked away. "I... apologize for my outburst. It was not the position of a Black Shield to say such things to those who have not forsaken their Chapter. This tick is my burden to bear, my curse. I will seek the Chaplain out and ask for the needed penitence after the mission is complete. But our enemy still breathes, so perhaps penitence on the battlefield will serve enough for my transgressions."
The Kill-Team moved forward as a singular unit in silence, checking every nook and corner for possible enemies. It would appear that the Tau were willing to sacrifice their auxiliary in an attempt to secure their flanks, though they were more prepared for a possible Guard assassination squad rather than four members of the Emperor's chosen. They fell like chaff before the righteous wind.
Three more times they encountered a Kroot ambush and three more times they emerged victorious. During the final engagement, however, the Kroot were led by a sharper and had drawn the Kill-Team's blood. The deep gouge across Geoffrey's right elbow joint was no great task for Rhombus' medical skill, but it now felt stiff and unwilling to move. "Thank the Emperor it is with your shooting arm, and not that which bears your power fist." Rhombus said as he applied a thin layer of synthetic skin to the injury, which had already begun to clot.
"Aye, thank Him indeed. Not much longer now, I can see Tau architecture beyond the tree line." Geoffrey responded, and Joshua took point, raising his bolter to a firing position and proceeded in the direction of the base. The other members of the Kill-Team followed suit, though all were becoming aware that the tree line was beginning to grow thinner. Trees that were usually growing so close together that the Kill-Team had to find another way around them were now much more sparse, giving a clear view to what was beyond the tree line.
It was a solid wall, unusual for the Tau and their manner of battle. Their form of war was vastly different from the Imperium's. "Defense" was not a word in the Tau's battle doctrine. There was no reason to build walls or turrets if the enemy is broken. As such, the aliens preferred a more offensive style of combat. However, the wall looked like that of Imperial design, meaning the Xenos must have left the wall standing when they established a foothold in one of their offensive phases.
Joshua approached the wall and scanned to both sides, fully expecting another ambush, yet there was none to speak of. Judging from the set up, there was one entrance - likely to be heavily guarded. None of the Kill-Team brought any climbing gear and the metal was not a magnetic alloy, thus rendering their boots ineffective.
Joshua looked to Rhombus, who gave a curt nod. The Disciple of Caliban tore off a cylinder from his belt and attached it to the wall. The clamps bore into the metal as Joshua plugged in the timer for ten seconds. The Kill-Team gripped their weapons just a little tighter as the counter reached towards zero.
The melta charge exploded with a bright flash and a deafening roar. The intense heat was felt even through their thick ceramite armor, little more than a distraction for the genetically engineered warriors. The hole left by the detonation was large enough for the squad to pass through unhindered.
As they moved through the hole left by the detonation, Joshua swept left and right with his bolter, scanning for any xeno foes. The rest of the Kill-team moved up with Joshua and realized the reason for their brother's, and his bolter's, silence..
Beneath their helmets, the Kill-team's faces were one of shock. Standing ten meters away were scores of insidious Tau, weapons trained on them with 'Valkyrie Dots' aimed at their exposed weak points and vitals. In any second, they would be fired upon and their armour and the flesh beneath it would be melted away without so much as a chance to squeeze off a single bolt. Amongst them were several gun drones and other xeno allies, though they could not seem to find one wearing the colors of a Shas'o.
"Stay your fire. They came for me." The voice came from behind the lines of Fire Warriors. Several warriors made way as a female Tau, the Y-shaped nose slit giving the gender away as if the voice wasn't clue enough. She was tall, given the fact she was not in a Battlesuit and only in light carapace armor. Her light auburn hair was tied back in a braid that fell to her left side, and her hands were behind her back. "Sons of the mighty Emperor, I am your target. I am Commander Fireblade. Your deaths would slow your inner purity police from their duties, but your lives still have worth. Unload your weapons and remove your helmets if you wish to still breath."
For a second no one moved. The Kill-team still kept their weapons trained on the enemy. Then Rhombus sheathed his power sword, holstered his pistol, and removed his helmet. His face relaxed as the cool breeze battered his worn features "Do likewise." He spoke in a controlled tone.
"Lower our weapons? Remove our armour because xeno scum told us to?!" Geoffrey barked at Rhombus. "Have you gone senile, old one? Is your heart-" A bark of a pulse rifle and the tang of scorched ozone filled the air right next to Geoffrey's head. Instinctively his hand went to where he felt the heat. Even through his gauntlet, he could feel where the paint and ceramite were scorched away. It was almost a kill shot, but it purposely, ever so slightly, missed its target.
Without giving the xenos any time to speak, Rhombus responded with his old grey eyes upon the New Rynnite Crimson Fist. "You are a Space Marine, Geoffrey. And Space Marines are capable of and do many things. But above all, they follow orders!"
Geoffrey had to bite his tongue in response to the Apothecary. Every fiber of his being demanded that he draw his weapons and charge the foe. If he had to die, then that is what the Emperor demanded. He was not ready to dispute that fact but Rhombus was glaring him down. This was what needed to pass. "My father Dorn and the Emperor, forgive me for my transgression on this day."
He tore his helmet off his head. letting the dark soil-brown hair fall down his shoulders. With some reluctance he slammed his bolt pistol to his magnetically activated thigh plate. Joshua did the same, his ebony black skin a stark contrast to his medium green armour. Torus, due to his upbringing as a Black Shield, was more hesitant to remove his helmet. Another stern glare from Rhombus convinced him to take the helmet off. His skin was very pale, being confined to his armour at every waking hour.
Joshua removed the magazine from his bolter, though he kept it steady in a battle stance, while Torus simply unlocked the belt from his heavy bolter and mag-locked it to his chest. "Satisfied, tau?" Geoffrey asked sharply.
Commander Fireblade chuckled, a mixture between that of a Chimera choking on watered fuel and a Scholastica girl who met a boy for the first time. "Such a wit about you, Geoffrey. One in your position should be more choiceful with his words, lest they be removed along with his head."
The fire warrioress advanced a few paces before speaking once again. "That is the problem with your Imperium and ideology. You ignore change, shun other races, and still find time to hunt down those who are not so zealous in their mission to move backwards. Ten thousand years of history, and you seek only to regress. Some would place you on the wrong side of survival."
"We may be on the outnumbered side of surviving, but we are far from the wrong side of the fight." Torus stated.
Fireblade ignored this statement and continued. "Your empire is much like a dying old man, with much land and ready to be torn apart by much worthier heirs. Progress and unity are the only way to survive the conflict. The hordes of the unknown turn your citizens against each other, the orks could conquer everything if they focused half on much as the other races than themselves, and the Tyranids would strip the life from the stars in mere months given their numbers. All of these threats beset upon you, yet you still fight each other with the same zeal and fury you do when purging your own ranks - who fought them a moment ago - and now are the enemy for being exposed to 'taint.' That is the definition of irony."
Rhombus scoffed. "As if you are any better? The races you assimilate are treated as second-class citizens. You send them off to die while you keep your own kin off the battlefield. You ask sacrifices from all but the tau. There is a greater good, but it is when your kind alone controls the stars. That, xeno, is the definition of irony. Hypocrisy would also be a worthy epithet."
Fireblade scowled. While the Kill-team was not surprised at that fact given their retorts, they were, however, surprised that they were still breathing at this point. "You Gue'la maniacs! Your Emperor is nothing more than a corpse on a chair! Our leaders guide us in person, they make us strong, while you obey the constables of thought without question! You are told to kill the xeno and you do so blindly. Why? Why kill the alien?"
Joshua looked at the Tau commander, and attempted to suppress a laugh with a nasal chortle. He failed that battle and let a long laugh fall from his lips, The other members of the Kill-Team did the same, but were unsure about what was actually funny. "Why? Why?" He breathed out in between his fits of laughter. After a moment he became stock still and gripped his condemnor-pattern bolter tighter. "As one of the Deathwatch's greatest once stated; Do not ask, 'Why kill the alien?' Rather, ask why not."
Flipping the slide on his bolter, Joshua pulled a trigger. He was not firing a bolter round at the xeno commander, rather it was that of a sanctified stake. The sharpened piece of silver and electrum cut through the air in a whistling fury, before finding its mark between the eye sockets of Fireblade. The Stake exited through her skull and detonated in a hail of bright light. The tau battle armor was unprepared for the extreme light, but the augmented senses of Astartes blocked out the worst of the light and gave them plenty of time to reattach their helmets as well as ready their weapons.
"Thunderhawk Iron Talon, the target is down and we need an emergency extraction. Lock on to our coordinates, we will make for a fighting retreat." Rhombus barked into the established vox link to the awaiting Thunderhawk. He pulled free his plasma pistol and squeezed off several shots as Joshua led the way to the nearby elevated platform. They could hold out there for an extraction while gaining the advantage of high ground.
"Confirmed. Hold out for as long as you can. The Imperial Guard is pressing their attack so bombardments are advancing. You have roughly fifteen minutes before the bombardments reach your position," Noah said gravely as he coaxed the machine spirit of the Thunderhawk into hot zone.
"We will be corpses for five minutes by then." Joshua muttered as he kicked the iron lined fence down and ran up the ramp. The ferrocrete landing pad was large and open, with plenty of crates to provide the necessary cover. Torus spun around and opened fire with his heavy bolter, cutting down swaths of xenos charging toward their position.
"Their discipline is now gone and they seek to claim our heads. I thought the Tau empathize on ranged warfare?" Torus asked as he continued to fire his weapon.
Geoffrey kicked a pile of crates down and shoved one in front of the Black Shield, covering the lower half of his body. "They do. But they seem to be prone to fits of rage when their Ethereal caste members are in grave peril, not their military leaders." He squeezed off three more shots before he realized his magazine was empty. "Reloading. Cover me."
Joshua spun out of cover and opened fire, his thirty-round magazine soon clicking empty as he cut down swaths of the aliens. Their blood, like their skin, was a bluish purple color. It began to paint the ground in liberal droplets and runnels. "Still, they are eager to throw themselves on our guns."
A lucky pulse rifle shot hit Torus in the arm, burning through the ceramite and charring flesh. "Apothecary!" Tours yelled at the top of his lungs as he ducked behind the crate. Rhombus fired off his plasma pistol as he rushed down towards the wounded Space Marine. Torus was now firing with his bolt pistol, still raking in a respectable kill tally.
After quick diagnostic of the wound, Rhombus revealed the worst. "Your arm is still functional, but the shot has eaten away much of the muscle needed to properly fire a heavy bolter."
"Damnation." Torus muttered. "Geoffrey and Joshua, frag grenades!" The xenos were getting too close for comfort. As one, the Crimson Fist and the Disciple of Caliban spun around from cover with discus-like grenades. Each flipped a kill switch and tossed them.
Both Rhombus and Torus watched as the grenades flew through the air. They landed in the center of the packed Tau fire warriors; but, as they waited for the detonation, a sleek red laser formed through the dust, and was trained on Joshua's chestplate.
"Joshua! Move!" Torus bellowed, but even as the words left his mouth, the shot rang out before the detonation of the grenades. As if time itself's stream slowed to a trickle, the hot blue-white plasma sizzled through the air and found its mark within Joshua.
The kinetic force of the blast sent the young Marine tumbling to the ground, a sizzling hole where his birth heart once was. Rhombus ran over to Joshua and tore off his helmet to allow for an unrestricted air flow. Fat mixed with muscle burned as one as the outlying valves of the heart still pumped, oblivious to the lack of an organ.
Even though shock and trauma could be shaken off and a Space Marine could easily fight with one heart and two lungs, there may not be another chance to. "Looks like it is time for us to make peace with our ancestors as we take our place alongside them, Brothers," Joshua said through bloody teeth.
Torus roared, a sound that was cringe-worthy to even the most jaded of their rank. His body convulsed as it shifted in the armor. Rhombus was worried he may have been hit by a burst of plasma and would need his ministrations while he applied disinfectants to the open wound Joshua had.
But then something strange happened.
Torus' armor was ablaze in a roaring flame. Yet it seemed as if the flame did not harm him. "Go. I will cover your escape." Torus removed his helmet and tossed it aside.
His skin was ablaze, but not a hair was changed. There was not the sickly smell of burning flesh or the sounds of fat bubbling over from the skin. However, there was heat - it battered the other Marines relentlessly. Was this a daemonic curse or a gift?
Rhombus looked into his eyes and saw that Torus was still there, and it was a look he had seen many brothers before him adopt. It was a look of self-sacrifice and resignation, making peace with the choice to lay down his life for the good of his Brothers. It was a look he himself would one day wear. But today was Torus' day to make his peace and avenge all that was taken from him: why he stripped himself of the livery of the Chapter he once swore an oath to and to gain the honour he could not attain in life through the manner of his death.
And the walking dead needed the best weapon to make sure they would not go into the grave alone. While Geoffrey held pressure on the wound to staunch the worst of the blood loss, lest it affect Joshua's combat ability, Rhombus held his power sword to the Black Shield. It was engraved with iconography of the Deathwatch, easily worth the lives of an entire Imperial Guard regiment to recover it if lost in battle. The silver skull of an alien race long exterminated by the first wielder of the sword was inlaid on the pommel and was outstretched to the warrior.
No words were said. None were needed.
Torus took the relic power sword from Rhombus' side and took off in a loping sprint. "Suffer not the alien to live!" He fired his bolt pistol as he reached the first line of the Tau.
Sword in hand, he cut through the carapace as though it were parchment, cutting down aliens left and right. It was too close for the Tau to use their rifles and carbines, so they used them as crude clubs. Hardly a challenge, Torus continued to cut down his foes. "We have returned from exile! Do you hear me xenos? The Falcon is still aflame!"
"Has he gone mad?" Geoffrey asked as he readied himself to leap into the fray.
"No brother. this is not your fight. To further risk our lives would mean his sacrifice would be in vain." Geoffrey wanted to protest, but Rhombus held the scion of Dorn back. "He has made his choice, he is now walking honestum mortuus . Cover him with this bolter if you wish, but do not risk your life."
Geoffrey took Joshua's bolter and fired off an entire magazine in frustration. His chapter had been told never to leave a Brother behind, but the old Apothecary was right. Torus made his choice. "Farewell, honorable warrior." He muttered somberly beneath his breath.
The raven-black transport approached behind them, and landed with no apparent grace. "The zone is getting too hot, you may want to get moving if you want to avoid the shells." Over the din of the battle and that of the roaring engines, the air was whistling as Death Korps artillery support began to pave the way for their attack.
"Let's move!" Rhombus bellowed and, together with Geoffrey, picked Joshua up off the ground and ran the ten meters that separated them from the open Thunderhawk bay doors.
"Torus… where?" Joshua mumbled out as he struggled to get a full lung of air. Geoffrey handed Joshua his bolter, reassuring the Disciple of Caliban that it was still there. Joshua looked past his Brother and saw the Black Shield selling his life for them. "My… weakness… stupid, stupid, stupid…"
Rhombus injected Joshua with a muscle relaxant and looked out at the closing bay doors. Torus was still there, his armor torn in several places but he was dripping in both his own blood at that of his enemy. "I have slaughtered many of your kin before and you will not bring me down!" Torus shouted over the still active vox link. "We have returned from exile, to an empire worth saving! We are still aflame!"
The door closed just in time to see the artillery rain down from the skies. The explosions shook the Thunderhawk as it began to pull away from the landing site, silence slowly filling the craft as the dull thump of explosions and the static from the vox link faded. The three Space Marines just looked at the closed door, as if it would wipe away what they just bore witness to. Rhombus snapped out of it and applied some sealant to the blasted organ.
The loss of Torus would haunt them. Of that, all three were certain. Fallout from the Inquisitor enclaves would hound them for the loss of one of their tools, and their dreams would have him. Whether in a condemning manner or boastful, they did not know what form awaited them when their minds wandered the dream planes.
Time, as always, would tell.
In the dull confines of his command chamber, Watch Captain Albia of the Black Dragons ran his mnemo-quill over the data-slate in front of him, filling out the last of the after action report. While there were serfs aplenty for such a job, when the mission resulted in the loss of a Space Marine, Albia perceived it as his duty to file the report by hand. The official debriefing, alongside input from the Librarium, Chaplaincy, and Manufactorum, was already attached. Now he was weighing in his opinion on the mission as a whole.
+ The confirmed casualties from helmet observation and debriefing number a breathtaking 127:1 kill ratio. With the Emperor and Vulkan as my witness, I at first thought it to be nothing more than exaggerations by the Kill-Team. With the elimination of the Tau commander, the xenos were routed and put to death swiftly. The crusade to reclaim Tavish will be resolved in three Terran years at the best estimates from Imperial tacticians. In the grand scale of things that is the Imperial warmachine, this would be considered a major victory.+
+A follow up sweep by Kill-Team Secundus Primo found no remnants of Black Shield Torus (may the Emperor protect his soul), Rhombus' relic power sword or his Mark VII battle-plate. As far as the Deathwatch is concerned, the Black Shield died a hero's death. Recommended course of remembrance is to engrave his name within the Pillars of Sacrifice and posthumously award him the title of Torus the Martyr. His heavy bolter will be examined by the Techmarines for examination and appeasement. Techmarine Farrious of the Silver Skulls tells me that the Machine Spirit in the weapon is feisty and unwilling to cooperate with anyone.+
+Kill-team Dragon-Solar was extracted with moderate injuries. Joshua of the Disciples of Caliban needed to have his birth heart removed due to the plasma shot and replaced with an augmetic one. Rhombus of the Star Phantoms and Geoffrey of the Crimson Fists needed only two Terran days in the medical wing of the Watch Fortress to recover from minor field injuries. Rhombus, keeping with his chapter dogma, reveres Torus as better than he and took the glory of an honorable death in battle from him. I must confer with Chaplain Bastian of the Raven Guard on reviewing Rhombus' capabilities of being deployed within the foreseeable future. Possible reassignment to the Apothecarium for the opening of Xeno Chymist seems like a good fit if time is needed to rebuild him as a leader.+
+Joshua is adapting to his new heart with a surprising pace. His training is putting the Apothecaries on edge due to his complete disregard of their order to rest in order to let his new heart properly adjust to his body. Brother-Apothecary Marius of the Red Scorpions is the most vocal but given his lack of a bedside manner, I advise those who read this to take his complaints as a grain of sand. Penitence given to Joshua for his allowance of the death of Torus in his weakness was prescribed by Bastian as tattooing Torus' name to his bottom lip. Joshua seemed surprised, considering such repentance trivial given the grave circumstances involved, but he was assured that killing the foul xeno commander lessened the degree of his punishment. Even despite the tongue lashing given to him by the Black Shield and the xeno commander, his piety seems to have only increased.+
+Geoffrey remains unchanged, in my opinion. He does not mourn for the loss of a brother, yet he regrets that such a capable warrior was lost, nothing more beyond that - much like one would mourn losing a particularly trustworthy sword. Further examination and debriefing would be wasted time.+
+Course of action for Kill-team Dragon-Solar: find replacement for the vacancy and resume combat duties as soon as possible. Candidates at the front of the list are the Dreadnought Rolf of the Blood Drinkers and Terminator Carolus of the Angels of Redemption. I will personally broach the subject of replacement to the members of the Kill-team after proper time to mourn has passed.+
+Regarding the words said by the late Black Shield and helmet feed by Rhombus as to the identification of which Chapter Torus belonged to…if such Marines still exist and are found within the Deathwatch, I am conflicted. Should one be joyous that a falsely-accused brother is back from the dead, and implies that they still live somewhere beyond the fringe of the Imperium, still fighting the Emperor's battles? Or should one be concerned about retribution from the other Ordos for not being more thorough in the examination of the Black Shields?+
+Regardless, the mission was completed and the life of a brother lost. In the grand scale of things, this is a minor inconvenience for the Deathwatch and the crusade we fight. This is my personal input as a member of the Adeptus Astartes, a Black Dragon, and member of the Deathwatch. I humbly submit this report and all findings attached to it for reference now, or in the future.+
+Watch Captain Albia Libitas of the Black Dragons+
Albia reviewed the words he wrote for a short moment before he tapped the 'finished' sigil on the lower left corner of his data-slate. In a manner that was unbecoming of an officer of the Deathwatch and one more akin to a Guardsman, Albia leaned his chair back and placed his bare feet upon the oak desk. The wood and metal protested at the unusual movement of the Watch Captain but receded once he was in his relaxed position.
There was a sharp mechanical sound coming from the data-slate in Albia's hand. He looked at it and there was a message for him. He reached for his mnemo-quill as he read it. +Send copy of report to the Inquisitor Eustice Marana, Ordo Malleus?+
A frown formed on Albia's face, one of disgust. Still… he did have some obligation to mention this. Torus may have belonged to an excommunicated Chapter from his founding. In theory, his allegiance to the Emperor of Mankind ordered him to bow to the Inquisition at any turn, be a confidant amongst his own brothers, and obey mortals that were given power by an ancient decree lost to time.
But the Space Marines were not such things as to be the mewling servants of the Ordos. While they agreed to supply warriors to the Deathwatch, it was for the good of mankind that they did so. Gene tithes were to promote purity in many Chapters, a law not harshly enforced. Space Marines were semi-autonomous warrior-nations in the Imperium. They ruled worlds as they saw fit for the good of Him on Holy Terra, and made war to protect the individuals with whom they shared a mortal heart in any way, shape, or form. They were a fraternity of warrior-scholars - brothers in every sense of the word.
And siblings look out for one another.
Without regret, Albia tapped the sigil that said 'Ignore'. The data-slate acknowledged the choice and Albia laid the data-slate down on the table. He folded his arms and looked at nothing in particular as he raised his head to the ceiling. "We have returned from exile." His grated voice came from his lips slowly, like a man under trance. "The Falcon is still aflame."
A smile came upon Albia's face, followed by a single laugh. "For the sake of the Imperium, I hope you are right, Torus."