Chapter II: Reproba hostilis

Battle brother Demarcus breathed in deeply to calm himself. It was hardly the first battle he'd entered – all initiates survived countless battles in dozens of wars before being awarded power armor. It was just the first battle he'd entered with the honor of bearing his own armor. He looked around the drop pod to the members of tactical squad, all of whom sat silently as the pod began shaking violently.

"Drop pod zero-four entering the atmosphere now." The cool voice of a machine spoke to the silent chamber. "Impact in thirty-seven seconds."

He breathed in again. It wasn't the fear of death that made him uneasy. All marines trained for twenty hours every day they weren't in battle, fear of death had left shortly after induction to the adeptus astartes. It was the anxiety of proving himself on the field of battle.

As though sensing his thoughts, the marine beside him slapped his chest plate. It was Bael, the only other initiate from his first day of recruitment that'd survived long enough to get his armor as well. "With faith in the Emperor guiding our actions, and the brother beside us lending their strength, we shall not falter."

Demarcus looked at him. Though the battle helmet betrayed no emotion of its occupant, he could tell his old friend was smiling. That was one of the innumerable quotes they were required to learn from day one, and Bael's favorite to recite.

"We shall not falter." Demarcus repeated, gripping his boltgun tighter with newfound resolution.

"Showing impact site now." The machine voice announced. An image of the ground below the pod flashed on the walls inside. It looked as though they were about to crash into a large river or sea, but upon closer inspection they could see pockets of humans, some marines, some imperial guard fighting to stave off the ocean. Each marine quickly examined the situation to see where they were needed most upon landing. A flash of movement later a dark shape with wings tried moving under the drop pod and the feed to the ground was cut off in static.

"Bael," Sergeant Knossus called from the other side of the pod, "Move to hatch three when we land. Remember brothers, target the larger synapse creatures first; they hold control over the lesser beasts."

A moment later each marine was pushed further into their seats as the drop pod smashed into the ground. They barley reached their feet when the hatches blew, nearly blinding them with sunlight. Their visors adjusted instantly to the light change and it took every ounce of Demarcus' training not to stand in awe of the sight before him.

It was an ocean before them, one not made of water but bodies. Most had never seen a live Tyranid before and the sight was an ugly one. A vague cross between insect and reptile, their bony exoskeleton shone in the late afternoon sun as their sharp teeth gnashed, making loud clicking sounds.

Bael passing before him snapped him back to his senses. The marine moved down the ramp, hefting his flamer to shoulder height and unleashing a gout of red fire. The beasts screamed as nearly two dozen were immolated before the mass turned to focus on this new threat.

Demarcus remembered "short, controlled bursts" being a major emphasis with rapid-fore weapons, but he wasn't certain that applied to Tyranid. His finger never left the trigger since moving down the ramp and almost every shell had equated a kill. Firing into the crowd before him was a guaranteed hit when the enemy forces were without number. He wasn't even sure how someone was to find one of the larger Tyranid with all attention being given to keeping the smaller ones at bay.

One of the quicker, scythe-armed Tyranid leapt from the crowd before them straight for Demarcus. With heightened reflexes he brought his boltgun up and pulled the trigger – a split second later the shell punched through the ribcage before detonating and showering them all with purple ichor. He grinned to himself and dropped the clip to reload when another beast came from the same direction, pouncing on him before he had a chance to brace himself.

He struggled with the Tyranid, trying to grab hold of its arms as it rained sharp blows on his helmet like a jackhammer, rocking his head around violently. Suddenly he saw a pair of hands appear by the its head, not hesitating a second to come together and snap its neck in one swift motion.

"Back on your feet brother." Sergeant Knossus shouted, dragging the body aside, "Your service to the Emperor has yet to be repaid." He brought a hand to his helmet and spoke to the unit with the commlink. "There is a unit of devastators pinned at the top of the ridge to the north of us; we need their fire if we're to win this battle. To me brothers, we shall show our foe fury!" With that he reached for his belt, unhooking a grenade and throwing it into the back of the crowd, then charging into the mass of Tyranid before him, drawing his bolt pistol and chain sword and carving his way through to the other side.

Bael brought his flamer around to make a wall of fire, separating the Tyranid from reinforcements as the tactical squad followed Knossus, firing into the heart of tight clusters and picking off stragglers before they had an opportunity to flank.


"Incoming volley, get down get down!"

Guardsman Logan threw himself to the ground as the air around him erupted in screams. Grabbing a nearby body of a nameless soldier and dragging it over himself he gritted his teeth as he could feel something moving underneath the flesh of the victim.

Something grabbed his ankle and he looked over to see the squad voxman crawling towards him, rolling his eyes into his head as writhing shiny black worms burrowed themselves under his skin and slithered their way into his brain. He couldn't see the last bit, but he knew that was what was happening. He'd fought Tyranid before and encountered the horrors of their living ammunition. He grimaced and took aim with his lasgun, and a short flash of red light later the grip on his ankle went limp.

The average lifespan of a guardsman on the field of battle was sixteen hours; Logan was used to seeing comrades die. He looked around without moving his head, trying to find who else survived the last attack. His eyes fell on Moriarty, the squad demolitions. He was just wondering if he could make his way to the fallen soldier's grenade launcher when he saw him blink. They made eye contact and Moriarty began slowly moving his hand to the back of his belt.

Chancing a glance under the arm of his human-cover he saw a Tyranid Warrior appear from the crowd, easily recognizable as being the only one in sight that walked on two legs. His eyes glued on the monster as it drew nearer, lips peeled back to reveal dagger sized teeth. It snarled and the unit of gaunts surged forward.

Logan held his breath and clenched his eyes tight as the ground thundered around him, but he felt no pain. After another second of ground quaking he opened one eye to see the gaunts fleeting past them, on the run towards the next platoon. As a soldier he'd ceased being surprised, or even grateful, for near-death experiences. There was no "god emperor" or divine being to thank for his blessing to keep him safe, he was a simple soldier and this was simply war. Death was the only truth who stalked these planes or cared enough to pass some lives up and harvest others.

He took a quick look around to assess the situation and his target presented itself: the back of the Warrior, walking past where he and Moriarty lay. He knew he'd only have one shot to bring it down – the big ones were deadly once prey was in sight. He moved his head, preparing himself to throw off the body and bring the Warrior down. He took a deep breath, tensed his muscles, and missed a heartbeat as the sounds of his own plan met his ears before he'd even budged.

Logan threw the body off and rushed to his feet, stopping in his tracks as he saw Moriarty charging the Warrior's back. The guardsman fired with his laspistol and brought the demolition charge pack from his belt with his free hand. The shots sizzled against armored chitin as the beast turned and snarled. It leveled its weapon and fired at the man, the projected maggot-like sac glancing off his shoulder and exploding like an oversized water balloon, bathing his left side in corrosive acid.

Moriarty screamed as pain overloaded his entire left side and he threw himself at the beast. One of its paired talons flicked out and speared him through the chest, breaking through his flak armour, sternum, and back plate like cardboard. Moriarty hung there for a moment, suspended limply as the shock of the hit caught up with his body. His head rolled to look at his right hand and he forced his finger to press a single button as his vision darkened and the cold feeling in the left side of his body spread quickly throughout the rest.

Logan who had just brought his lasgun up to shoot the Warrior while it was distracted was blown backwards as a blinding light engulfed the area before him.

He lay on his back, unsure of how much time had just passed as his ears rang from the deafening crack of the demolition. He'd heard countless explosions in his lifetime, but sound wasn't like pain; you never got used to the sound of rushing death, unsure if it would pass you over or finally decide to collect its dues.

He brought his hands up to his head, vision blurred from the flash of light still burned into his mind. Groaning he rolled onto his stomach and got to his knees, only vaguely aware of the sounds of war around him. He looked over to see where the Warrior had stood and saw only a smoking crater, no signs that anything living had ever stood there. Behind it the Tyranid swarms had turned on each other, without the leadership synapse to guide them their behavior reverted to that of animals. Aggressive animals crowding one another's space.

The swirling masses became a bloodbath as the creatures bit and clawed at one another, staining the rocky ground with alien blood. Logan grinned to himself until he realized the brawl was nearing his location. He faltered before scrambling to pick up his weapon and backing away, not wanting to be caught in a conflict between packs of vicious animals. He turned to run when the sounds of fighting stopped instantly. Looking over his shoulder he saw another Warrior striding through the crowd towards him, chirping harshly and pointing with its talon.

The gaunts rushed at him, covering the distance he just ran in half the time. He turned and took a shot, knowing it was pointless. Even if every shot he made hit and killed a Tyranid, there would be half a swarm left to pursue him.

A loud clattering rang out and he turned in time to see two more Warriors, massive clawed hands and talon-arms leaping towards him. He yelled and threw himself backward, bringing the barrel of his gun around in an arc and taking three shots at them.

He landed hard on his back as the Warriors landed their jumps, completely unfazed by the blackened marks on their chests. They leapt again, seemingly in slow motion as Logan felt the last moments of his life drawing to a close. The nearest one's jump would land it directly on top of him.

A loud whistle was heard shortly before the ground between his legs was replaced by a silvery metal pillar, the force of the impact throwing Logan's upper body backward to the ground and almost knocking him out. He took his legs away from either side of the pod and rolled to the side, seeing bits of the Warrior that'd nearly killed him littering the area around the bottom. Its companion was temporarily distracted by the intrusion, ignoring Logan and tilting its head as great echoing thumps could be heard against the inside of the pod.

Logan looked at the bottom and realized that the pod couldn't open due to the rocks along the bottom of the hatch, keeping it closed. The hammering from inside grew louder. A great hissing brought his attention to the area in front of the pod where the Warrior returned its attention to the prey it could see.

He scrambled to his feet and ducked around to the back of the pod as the Warrior landed where'd he'd just been standing. He could hear the beast coming around the back and quietly moved to the opposite side, ducking down and trying to move some of the rocks along the bottom of the hatch. The sounds coming from inside were intensifying, but the imperial-style pod told him it was more human than the thing coming for him.

A hiss behind him told him his time was up and he threw himself forward, missing an impaling talon by inches but getting his foot caught in a firm hold by one of its clawed hands. He tried prying himself free but it was like having his foot caught in a vice – he couldn't even twist without breaking his knee. He felt several small pops in his foot but didn't have time to worry about the pain before the other hand clamped over his face and he could feel the tension exerted through its powerful fingers, feeling the pressure in his head build up and concentrate towards the gaps between its digits. In a matter of seconds he knew his head would explode just like he'd seen numerous times before.

A cry began making its way up his throat until it reached a crescendo climaxing in a sudden bang, and the hand on his head disappeared. He slumped to his side, gasping, eyes wide. He was unsure how many more times he could take Death's taunting this day.

He focused on the image before him. The hatch had been forced open, likely by the occupant, which had knocked the Warrior who had been standing right before it to the side. Clawing its way to its hoofed feet it spat out another hiss, talons flicking out and arms wide, readying for the attacker.

Out of the pod charged what was only rumored to exist in the stories swapped around campfires on foreign planets. Logan had certainly never met anyone who'd seen one, much less seeing one in action first hand. Until now. Slightly shorter than average in height, muscle bulging under flexible thin armour, the man's dominating feature was the skull-mask that covered his head, hallowed eye sockets allowing dim red orbs to glower miserably in dark pits and teeth pulled into an eternal grin.

An imperial assassin, Eversor Temple judging by the clawed gauntlet known to deliver a dozen lethal toxins and mask, had just landed to give aid to the desperate situation on Ktar V.

The assassin moved with lightning speed equal to that of the quicker Tyranid, throwing himself at the beast with sword and pistol in hand. The Warrior took a swipe with its claws followed with a stab from its talons, using its superior range to its advantage, but both attacks the assassin nimbly dodged, allowing them to miss by inches. It wasn't training that kept the assassin from being hit, Logan knew, it was the number of drugs coursing through his system that turned being shot at the equivalent to having rocks thrown at you, or that turned watching a feather fall into a day-long perceived experience.

The Eversor moved under the swipe and tackled the Warrior's upper-body, bringing his sword between two ribs and holstering his pistol its mouth, unloading half a dozen shots in the blink of an eye as he fell with it backwards towards the ground.

Logan looked around to see the swarms turn on one another again, hearing cheers of fellow guardsmen in the distance. The day might be won yet if they were able to keep this up… But he knew not to get hopeful. He had no idea how well the rest of the army was doing; shortly after redeploying from helping evacuate civilians to being sent into the belly of the beast from orders "high up" everyone was cut off from one another as the Tyranid forced each platoon to take up defensive positions far apart from one another.

An unfamiliar sound met Logan's ears and he looked around to see the Eversor, sliding his sword free and laughing to himself, presumable over the foe he'd just killed. Logan shuddered; it sounded like gravel scraping over a rough steel file. But his laughter died as quickly as it had begun – cutting off instantly as his head snapped to notice the nearest melee. Taking aim with his pistol he shot enough times to make Logan wonder if his pistol had a "full auto" mode of firing as he charged into the swarm, quickly disappearing as the chunks of flesh and bone littering the air made him impossible to distinguish from their previous owners.

'So they really are as mad as they say…' He made a mental note not to make an encounter with one.

The great sounds of heavy weapons fire brought his attention to the ridge east of him, and he squinted to pick out the adeptus astartes rumored to be helping in this mission. And they certainly were now. From their position at the top of the battlefield they would be able to pick out the synapse creatures and cut them down with a hail of fire, leaving the rest of the broods to kill one another. He saw several of the smaller ones trying to claw their way up the rocks towards them before a burst a flame appeared from the marine's ranks, bathing the hillside in burning promethium.

Suddenly a path through the bodies appeared, leading towards another clearing where it looked as though more imperial guard were holding the line against several broods. Never one to miss a fight where he was needed Logan began limping his way towards them, stooping to pry a lasgun from a dead man's still warm hands and exchange his ammo.


Aracio strode through the bodies placidly, taking note of human mixed with the aliens and curling his lip. Today's battle had cost them dearly – the situation on the planet had been worse than he'd feared. They had less time than foretold to get to the shrine. Ahead of him groups of today's victorious forces stood around campfires or in the case of the astartes, kneeled in prayer within ranks.

"Inquisitor." Officer Collins addressed, coming from one of the groups and saluting. "We've driven the aliens back, but they're sure to return if we stay too long."

"Then you'll be pleased to hear that we're moving." Aracio said, stepping past him and coming to the marines who stood upon his approach. "Time is short, I've arranged transport be dropped over the nearest flat ground so we may reach the site quickly." He gestured in the direction drop ships were swooping low into orbit, depositing vehicles and taking off. "The area the shrine is in has been completely taken by Tyranid, we can't land without our ships being attacked by their anti-air."

"How shall we proceed?" A marine asked, decorated helm identifying him as a sergeant.

"The Tyranid have synapse nodes – a means to control the thralls without wasting their valuable creatures on the back lines. The nearest cluster is the only one for miles around the shrine." Aracio explained, nodding as an assassin made his way through the group growing around them to stand behind him. "Though once the nodes are destroyed, the hive mind will surely send their greatest beasts back to secure the land behind them. One party cannot achieve both objectives." He let this sink in before continuing. "I will lead the shrine-party, and a smaller strike force will destroy the nodes, turning the Tyranid on one another and letting us reach our destination. After their mission is complete, the strike force will rendezvous with us for extraction."

"I will lead the strike team." The sergeant marine said, his squad drawing up behind him. With a nod from Aracio he departed to make squad arrangements.

"And I will assign them two squads of leftovers." Collins announced, bowing his head to exit himself and roundup infantry whose units had been wiped out earlier today.

As everyone began making their way down the rocky slopes towards the transports Aracio turned to the assassin who stood still, staring at him. "You will go to the nodes and ensure the mission succeeds."

The Eversor turned without saying a word and made his way towards the vehicles that would take them to the hive nodes, the crowds giving him a wide berth.

Aracio looked over the small army, hoping this was all it took to stop the warp gate from opening.

One of the soldiers following Collins walking past caught Aracio's attention and he called him out of line. The man looked around, uncertain what an inquisitor would want with a lowly guardsman, but when he gestured again the soldier limped towards him.

"You look like you've seen many battles." Aracio stated simply, noting his scars. "And your lack of fresh wounds tells me you know your way around a battlefield."

"No more than any other man who's served in the guard over two years." He admitted humbly, not mentioning almost no man in the guard had served that long.

Aracio's mouth twitched. "I think your abilities will be wasted if you're a part of the strike team." He said, waving a dismissive hand to Collins who was looking around for his missing trooper. "Tell me, have you ever thought of serving under the inquisition?"

"I take it I don't have the luxury of telling the truth?" the reluctant looking man asked, shifting his weight to his good leg.

Aracio's mouth split into a lopsided grin. He was liking his new henchman already.


Demarcus was rocked around again as the rhino transport encountered more difficult terrain. He felt strangely separated, being assigned to a different unit. Sergeant Knossus had felt their mission would be more likely to succeed if they had a heavy weapon so swapped him for a member from the devastator squad, Tamal. His new unit spoke very little, staring ahead with their heavy weapons nestled in their laps.

They'd been riding for several hours now, occasionally hearing bangs and scratches on the outside of the vehicles. But they never stopped, not wasting time on the critters they'd outstrip in a matter of minutes. Over the intercom of the rhino the inquisitor's voice rang out to the silent compartment. "Our imperial troops need rest, and we're nearing the location where we'll wait for the strike team to complete their mission. Stop at the upcoming outpost."

Demarcus couldn't see out of the rhino, imperial technology favoring protection over visibility, but he guessed they were nearing the outpost when the transport began slowing down. Across from him the devastator marine sighed. "Such a hassle… It was a mistake putting them side-by-side with the astartes."

"Watch your tongue, Charon." The sergeant marine warned. "Those are loyal imperials, and under His protection as much as you or I."

The marine called Charon made a throaty scoff before standing, readying to throw the hatch when they stopped completely. Demarcus watched him thoughtfully. While marines were in fact superior in every sense to a human – faster, stronger, tougher, smarter, and less dependent on food or sleep – it was always interesting hearing the different takes on what everyone had once been.

Finally the rhino stopped and the door was thrown open revealing a small town surrounded by desert landscape. Around them the imperial guard chimeras were stopping and unloading guardsmen, many of whom looked exhausted from the day's battle and travel. Out of one chimera came the inquisitor, servitor and guardsman in tow, and he spoke loudly to the assembled forces. "We'll secure this outpost and await contact from the strike team. The marines will provide support for the guardsmen as they move through the buildings."

And with that the uneasy guardsmen moved forward, throwing glances behind them to ensure the marines were following, moving up the central street and dividing off to search through the empty town.


"With all due respect, inquisitor," Logan muttered, not wanting the passing soldiers to hear, "Why aren't the better equipped, trained, and rested soldiers taking the brunt of what might be a trap?" He asked, eyeing the buildings warily from their safe distance back with the vehicles.

"If a one-use trap is going to kill its victim all the same, why waste the better equipped, trained and rested one?" Aracio shot back, folding his arms and watching for any signs of movement around the buildings. Night had fallen, and he knew the only things in the galaxy that gave the disadvantage to were humans. "You've fought Tyranid before. Do you think they'll have forces this far away from the frontlines?"

"I don't need to be an expert on the alien to know not to assume there's a single rock in this universe that isn't hiding something that wants you dead." Logan replied grimly, fingering a long scar stretching from his forehead to his neck.


Demarcus flipped through the vision modes of his visor, not finding any signs of life throughout the buildings. He settled for the LED light on the temple of his helmet and moved slowly with bolter raised behind the jumpy guardsmen. It was obvious these soldiers feared something in the dark corners of each shadow; maybe Demarcus would have shared their wariness if he knew what it was to look out for. He'd heard the words "Spook" and "Claw" being whispered between them, but as far as he was concerned the alien was one foe – if they met one it'd suffer the same fate as every other one they'd faced on the field of battle today.

The guardsmen halted before a particularly ominous looking building, full of long shadows and empty hallways. After they jerked their heads to allow the other to move ahead Demarcus rolled his eyes and moved between them into the building, stooping to make it under the normal human-sized door. Heartened by the presence of the marine the other guardsmen followed, taking up his sides and bringing much needed light to the dark rooms.

A short scraping sound was heard in the next room and Demarcus quickly pointed his bolter ahead, moving slowly towards the doorway. Wordlessly gesturing for the guardsmen to follow he pressed his back to the wall, switching off the light to hide his presence. He waited a moment to hear if whatever it was would move again but it was completely silent save for the ragged breathing of the guardsmen beside him. One of the guardsmen looked quizzically at him, not having heard the sound, but readied himself at Demarcus' sign.

Steadying himself and sliding closer towards the entry, Demarcus took a breath before quickly spinning around the corner, taking a part of the wall with him in his haste. The long hallway stood empty before him, ending in a staircase which went up to the right. The window at the end of the hall let moonlight illuminate a long rectangle of floor, but nothing could be seen in the darkness between it and the marine straining his eyes to pick out signs of movement.

He took a step forward and felt his foot brush against something solid. Figuring it was part of the wall, he took another step and had to work his foot down before it could reach the ground. Knowing that sensation of firm mass yet slight give, he slowly reached up to turn on his light, already knowing what he'd see in the hall.

Bodies piled two or three deep littered the entire corridor. Eyes wide in horror, they stared up at the ceiling or at the walls, mouths contorted into an eternal scream that would never be heard. They weren't just men either; women and children were in abundance. Demarcus kneed beside one as he heard the guardsmen enter the hall behind him and gasp loudly, one covering his mouth and ducking out. There were little signs of the animal-like violence he'd seen capable of the ones today though. Something else killed these people.

Turning over a small boy Demarcus' eyes widened as he saw numerous holes bored into the back of his head – surgical and precise, not mindless or erratic. Looking down the arms of the child he noticed long claw marks dug into his upper arms and torso, where the monster had likely held him in place to perform its feeding after dragging him here to suffer the same fate as everyone else in the town.

He let the boy down, carefully sliding his fingers over his eyelids. There was a time when he would have felt sorrow for the victims of horrible tragedies in war, but after seeing it time and time again it merely became a fact of life. Terrible things would always happen to the defenseless innocents; you can't alter what's already been written. Accepting that fact and resolving to prevent similar actions in the future and punish those responsible was what separated a crusader from a mere soldier, a warrior with a purpose from an animal with an instinct.

Something scuffled down the hall ahead of him and he brought up the bolter instantly, seeing a shadow flash around the staircase. Whatever had done this was still here, and unless it'd taken the entire outpost single handedly it wasn't alone.

"Pull back! Pull back and regroup!" Demarcus called to the guardsmen who were quick to answer, running ahead of him as he backed away back towards the entrance, keeping his weapon raised incase they were followed. As he was just about to pass the doorframe the shadow slinked across from the staircase into the hall. Demarcus blinked, unsure of what he'd just seen. The light from the window bended slightly, as if gas or heat waves were in front of it, and a shuffling of bodies told him something was making its way down the hall towards him. Suddenly two slanted eyes became visible, floating in the darkness with the window behind them.

With no intention of taking an unseen foe alone without support, he turned to run.

In front of him the guardsmen stood in front of the building, calling to others across the street.

"Everything looks clear, we shou–!" the guardsmen across the street standing before a dark alley was cut off in a scream as something yanked him backwards into the blackness.

Suddenly the air was alive with yells and shouts of men around the entire outpost. Demarcus reached the doorway of his building and called out to the devastators, who had set up in the center of the outpost and looked around wildly, unsure of where to fire.

Charon looked at him and raised his heavy bolter, unleashing a burst just as Demarcus' legs were taken from under him, causing him to fall onto his chest and bolter scatter away across the floor. Turning to see what'd taken hold of him he saw the outline of what could have passed for a giant preying mantis – "giant" being nearly twice his size. As several heavy bolter shells punched through the outline it hissed and rippled, outline suddenly filling in to reveal a scaly, spindly version of the Warriors they'd seen earlier; though in place of a mouth it had a face-full hanging tendrils, tube-like feelers wandering lazily as slime dribbled down between them.

Wounded by the shots the thing reared, Demarcus taking the chance to kick out with a massive boot and bring the beast to a knee as its lower leg's exoskeleton was shattered. But his advantage was short lived as two massive shoulder-mounted talons were brought down on him. He grunted as he caught both of them, trying to fend off the thing's hands that were scrambling over his armor searching for weak spots. The talons began making sawing motions, serrated barbs digging through his gauntleted hands with frightening ease as the clawed hands found the bottom of his chest plate and began prying.

Thinking quickly he took one hand away and allowed the talon to saw at his shoulder pads as he punched his fist into one of the holes made by the bolter shells. When the creature showed no signs of pain and Demarcus realized it was a race to see who could kill the other the fastest he took his other hand from defense and dug it into another hole, pushing deeper and tearing through as much soft tissue and organs he could reach to cause as much internal trauma possible, hoping shock would catch up to the creature before it got through his armour.

Almost instantly the creature's actions became slowed, and while the sharp claws kept their edge the force behind them had become languish, feebly attempting to finish what they'd started. Demarcus balled his hands into fists within the alien, bringing his knee up to its chest and pulling them out along with whatever they'd grasped as the alien's eyes clouded over.

"Suffer not the alien to live." He recited to his fallen foe sprawled across the floor. He then hurried to pick up his bolter and rejoin his brothers outside where the battle continued.


"Lictors, sir." Logan said to Aracio as the guerrilla battle before them bode ill for the imperials. "They assimilate information for the rest of the hive to use in taking a planet, and their chameleonic scales make them difficult to target with ranged weaponry."

"If this continues we won't have any people alive to take the shrine." Aracio said, scowling as he saw guardsmen run through by invisible spears or explode in a spectacular spray for no apparent reason. He spoke to the troops on the voxcaster beside his chimera, "Pull back towards the vehicles, draw them out to us and don't let them separate you!" He switched frequencies to address the vehicles, "Fire on all the buildings. I want this outpost a burning ruin by night's end, with no place for the alien to slip away."


"We must be nearing the nodes, resistance is increasing." Bael muttered through the commlink, putting a hand on the seat beside him to keep from being knocked around as the rhino was forced off course before being corrected. Muffled by the interior of the vehicle, a great roar could be heard outside in the distance.

"You hear that?" Knossus chuckled. Beneath the grinding treads they could all feel a rhythmic quaking, growing stronger with each wave. Suddenly the roar called out again, this time much closer. The horrible screech of ripping metals could be heard nearby followed by a loud explosion.

"The enemy knows their time has come – the angels of death have descended to deliver retribution."

His words were met with a loud "oorah" as the rhino stopped suddenly and the doors thrown open.