Finis fide: Chapter2

Through the dark night two lines of men marched in the woods, the smaller men grumbling and muttering, the Space marines towering over them but walking in disciplined silence. The native patrol had not wanted to come with the Storm Heralds to their rendezvous but Toran had thought their local knowledge would prove useful and had insisted... the men had quickly acquiesced when the alternative was arguing with an angry Space Marine.

Sergeant Toran watched his new allies as they walked and was surprised how clumsy and inept they were for supposedly innate woodsmen. They tripped over roots and walked too close together occasionally bumping into each other.

Toran opened a closed link to his squadmate Halis Paur and subvocalized only with twitches of his larynx so the men would not hear as he said, "I thought these natives would be useful as guides but look at them."

Halis glanced over and said, "It is dark."

Toran was puzzled by this and said, "What's that got to do with anything?"

Halis said, "It is the middle of the night and the stars are obscured by trees, their eyes are only mortal they literally can not see the hands in front of their faces."

Toran was surprised for he had forgotten how weak and frail mortal men were. For too long he had been accustomed to the superior perceptions of the Astartes, even without his helm on he could see as if it was broad daylight.

"Perhaps we should have left them behind, they will likely die before this is over" he said.

Halis could not shrug in power armour but his sentiment was clear from his tone of voice as he said, "If they get us where we need to go then what does it matter if they die?"

Toran half expected the response for Halis had been rendered bitter and cynical by loss, even other Astartes found him callous and cold. Toran looked around and took in the rest of his squad seeing how easily they moved through the darkness, Furion, Novak, Jediah and Ophelian all in perfect formation, grasping their Combi-Meltas proudly.

Taking point was Persion a savage yet intelligent warrior and with him was Daite, who was odd even for a squad of the Reserve Companies. Daite was a quiet one which made many underestimate his skills yet it was his gene-seed that set him apart.

It was not a fact the Storm Heralds announced widely but their gene-seed hid a small defect, namely a defective Catalepsean Node. When overtaxed it could occasionally induce visions or hallucinations and these visions often came true with a disturbing frequency.

Yet this was not true prophecy like a psyker could perform but rather intuitive insights, profound revelations and incredible leaps of deduction. It was a subtle difference but enough to keep the Inquisition at bay as no hint of Warp taint had ever been associated with it.

Most brothers would go a lifetime perhaps being unlucky enough to experience one vision at most but Daite had been beset by them since his induction.

The genetic cause was a mystery but still the visions made Toran uncomfortable, yet the Senior Masters held the visions in high regard so there was nothing he could do. It at least helped that Daite held the squads' auspex, which gave him a plausible rational for his insights.

Toran voxed, "Daite any threats nearby?"

"Nothing for leagues and leagues" came the response,

"Very good" said Toran then announced, "In that case torches on"

Instantly eight beams of light sprang out from nowhere making the mortals blink and rub their watering eyes in the sudden illumination. The group picked up speed and the men moved with much more confidence. With the light on the natives could see their companions clearly and they kept stealing glances at them in disbelief. The youngest one drifted closer to Toran until he had to crane his neck to look up.

Zander cleared his throat and asked "Is it true, you are Astartes?"

Toran had no wish to engage in conversation so replied briskly "Yes."

"My Da told me you would come but we have not seen any Imperials since before I was born" said Zander, "Why didn't you come sooner?"

Toran replied bluntly with the honest truth, "The Imperium is beset on all sides by terrible foes, Ork Waaghs, Traitor assaults and ancient Xeno races, yet despite that we have never forgotten the Osirian Psybrids. They are a foe of antiquity whom challenged the Legions of the Great Crusade and were eventually declared extinct by our glorious Primarch Roboute Guilliman himself. A declaration that proved somewhat premature, that is why we will never forget: their continued existence is an insult to his legacy."

"Its been so long since we saw any sign of the Emperor's warriors" said Zander glancing at the oldest member of the party, "Some of us have begun to loose faith."

Toran tried to reassure the native boy with a smile but the child looked at him in blank incomprehension. Toran realised the mortal had no experience in dealing with transhuman expressions, what would be obvious and blatant to another Space Marine was subtle and obscure to a mortal. He thought perhaps that was the origin of the myth that Space Marines had all their emotions cut out of them,

Instead he said, "Rest assured, we have come to reclaim this world in the Emperor's name".

Zander nodded eagerly as if hearing divine revelation and said "Well I can not see you being stopped by mere Kerns."

"Kerns?" asked Toran with a frown.

"Oh… the mindless" Zander replied then made a weak grin, "Like Kern seeds, they come in these fat pods, what you do is scoop out the edible parts and what you are left with are these perfect husks but all hollowed out inside. I guess the name started as somebody's morbid joke."

Toran looked at him blankly, the child was obviously making some attempt at humour but it baffled him why anyone would do this. He sub vocalised a link to Halis and said "What is he on about?"

Halis replied on a closed link, "Humans often need to create distance from horror by making humorous remarks about it."

"Foolish" replied Toran, "To mock threats is to underestimate them and that hands the enemy an advantage."

"They are mortal" said Halis, "We are Astartes what more is there to say?"

Toran realised the conversation had lapsed and tried to encourage the native to reveal more information asking, "What are those stones you all wear?"

Zander looked surprised and picked up the stone hanging around his neck on a cord, "These? These are Ward stones, we all have them; they keep the Psybrids from taking over our minds too."

There was a snort from the other side of the marching line and Phelps called out "Don't toy with it too much, you will go blind!"

"Why do you always have to sneer at everything?" asked Zander in frustration, "I told you the Astartes would come, they will drive the Psybrids off Odiosis!"

Phelps grimaced and said, "We don't need them, we can do it ourselves. There are only eight of them, all they will do is get a lot of us killed and where will they be when the Psybrids come for revenge, not here for certain."

"You are wrong" said Zander, "The Sky-Emperor has sent his Astartes to save our world."

"Don't give me that" Phelps spat, "Where was he when our world was invaded? Where was he when we struggled for decades alone? The Emperor does not care about us."

There was as sudden blur of movement and without understand how Phelps suddenly found himself held aloft by one giant hand, pinning him hard against a tree truck. Toran held his neck in the cage of a spread hand, fingers passing by his throat to plunge knuckle deep into the pine tree behind him, splintering bark with the pressure. Phelps kicked and gasped for air as he clawed at the ceramite gauntlet but was helpless as a babe in the merciless grip.

Toran leaned in close until his bionic eye made Phelps face turn scarlet with reflected light and growled, "I am making allowances for your long fight against the Xenos but my patience is limited. Speak of the Emperor again and I will rip out your throat for Heresy, there will be no more warnings."

Then he ripped his hand away leaving Phelps to fall limply and flop on the ground, clawing at his throat as he sucked down air. The natives stood dumbfounded, shocked by the display of force, Toran gave them a sharp glance and they hurried to form up and get back on the march. Even Zander scurried away not wanting to risk saying anything to upset the Transhumans further.

There was no more backtalk from the natives and Pyrus squad kept their thoughts to themselves as they paced onwards. They marched silently through the darkness until the first hint of dawn coloured the horizon, then Daite held up a fist indicating his auspex had detected something. The group paused as silently Diate and Persion slipped forwards to scout the rendezvous location, after a minute they sounded the all clear.

Toran stood up straight and marched in parade perfect drill into a wide clearing in the forest.

Sitting within the empty space was Black Stormraven gunship, covered in psychic wards and stealth baffles, sitting in its cockpit was a lone servitor blankly awaiting orders. Standing before the gunship was a single figure, clad in form fitting power armour. It was a women, somewhat elderly in appearance though with juvenant treatment that meant she could be anywhere from fifty to two hundred years old. She wore her silver hair tight in a bun and had thin pursed lips set in a permanent scowl, at her belt was a thin energised blade and a las pistol along with variety of esoteric devices, symbols and accoutrements.

Toran paced forwards deliberately, holding his hands out to convey no threat, though frankly his hands alone were lethal weapons. The women saw them coming and turned to face them, somehow prim and sternly formal even though wearing a full suit of battleplate.

"At last" she called out impatiently, "Either you lack the good graces to be punctual or you seek to insult me."

Toran made the sign of the Aquilla but it was the stiff formality of protocol rather than any sign of subservience and said, "We have come as agreed, let that be grace enough Inquisitor Canesh."