Chapter 2
The Stricken Ship
Bramar awoke dazed and numb, lying prone in a pool of what he assumed to be blood. Sensations flooded his consciousness and as one he took them in; the cold touch of the troop hold's adamantium floor against his cheek, the metallic taste of the long dried post-human blood on his lips and the faint trace of scents unknown in the air. The latter of which made him snarl and spit in disgust as he remembered what had happened.
He rose slowly, his muscles felt tight and stiff as if they had gone unused for a decade. Unsteady on his feet, he initially stumbled before regaining his footing as his double vision receded. Once on his feet again Bramar removed his helmet from its mag-lock on his waist and smoothly placed it over his head, his green eyes became glowing pink circles through its red lenses. With a hiss and a click, his MK7 Power Armour became hermetically sealed.
Taking a deep breath of his suits internal air supply and rotating his arms and shoulders to ease the stiffness, Bramar began a self-diagnostic, his suit feeding him detailed information of his body's current condition. Streams of data cascaded down his retinal display at speeds only a conditioned mind could read. He soon blinked the information away when he was sure he was fine. He was also sure that the blood that caked the floor and his armour was not his.
A quick glance around the room told him that all but two of his squad were he expected Mannarsh to be in the cockpit, he had no explanation for his standard bearer Brother Caliss' absence from the room. Inter-suit transmissions told him that most his men were physically fine but for their comatose states, from which Bramar assumed that like him, they would soon rouse. Readings from the missing Brother Caliss' suit showed a highly increased metabolic rate that indicated that he was recovering from near-fatal physical damage.
While sieving through the information of each marine's condition, Bramar crossed over to the young scout, Vibbon. As with all Scouts within the Chapter and most other chapters for that matter, Vibbon had yet proven himself truly worthy in the eyes of his superiors and had yet to receive his Black Carapace - the final of the 19 implants that transforms an ordinary human into a space marine - the organ that would allow him to physically interface with Power Armour.
Due to his lack of Power Armour and thus lack of biological reading to be transferred, Bramar had to examine the Scout himself. Lifting his head by the chin in his armoured gauntlet and placing his other hand on the boy's chest, Bramar read two strong heartbeats as well as a steady breathing rate from three fully functioning lungs, movement of the eyes behind the eyelids spoke of dream-like brain activity.
"You need not bother Brother-Sargent Bramar." In one smooth motion Bramar's bolt-pistol was drawn an aimed at the owner of the yet unfamiliar voice. Now unsupported, Vibbon's head flopped forwards, his chin once again resting on his chest. "I have performed a diagnostic of the entire squad, yourself and the Scout included. All are in battle worthy condition." Continued Mannarsh, his tone impartial. The Iron Grinder stood in the troop hold's doorway, unflinching under the scrutiny of the Basalisks Sargent's bolt-pistol.
Hesitating a moment, his mind yet to fully piece itself back together after the battering from the warp, the Sargent slowly lowered his aim, remembering the ally standing before him for who he was. "Brother-Sergent Mannarsh, you are awake I see." Said Bramar holstering his weapon, his voice now sounding just as monotone and void of emotion as the Iorn Grinder's through his helmet's vox speakers. Mannarsh responded to Bramar's observation with a curt nod and the Basalisk continued. "And Caliss? Where is my standard bearer?"
"I have moved Brother Caliss into the secondary troop hold in order to more efficiently attend to the wound he had sustained. If you wish to see him I would have you do it quickly, as I have much to discuss with you concerning our current whereabouts and next course of action." Said the Iron Grinder, ever to the point.
"Caliss first" replied the Basalisk.
"Very well." Mannarsh nodded. "After you Brother-Sargent Bramar." He finished, moving aside with a polite bow awaiting the Basalisks passing. Stepping over Brother Mu'tan, who's prone for still lay unconscious on the floor of the troop hold, Bramar headed for the door.
Bramar and Mannarsh entered the upper troop hold, which in contrast to the 16 seated forward hold they had just left, only possessed the capacity to secure 6 passengers in grav-harnesses. This was due to a large portion of the space having been converted into an armoury, within which Caliss lay recuperating on a large metal slab.
Bramar moved to Caliss' side leaning in close to scrutinize the gory wound on his face. Half of the right side of the standard bearer's face was a blood clotted mess covered in a thin filmy layer of sterilising spray, his right eye was gone and a fair chunk of his skull along with it. It seemed to Bramar that the Marine's face had been gouged out, reinforced bone and flesh alike, like the way a small child would gouge out a portion of nutrient jelly with its grubby fingers, or by what Bramar imagined to be fingers anyway. The thought made him shiver and he cut it loose at the disturbingly familiar image of a necrotised corpse hand reaching down at him. "What happened to him?" Bramar queried out loud.
"The cause of the damage is uncertain Sergent." Mannarsh began, answering the Marine's question anyway. "As I entered the forward troop hold after I awoke, I had found brother Claiss draped over your prone form, the wound was still bleeding but his own astartes healing capabilities had done most of the work, your standard bearer would likely have been fine even had I not intervened." Mannnarsh paused a second and punching a sequence of keys on his right arm before continuing. "As for what could have caused the damage I cannot be certain, I could find no weapon, edge or surface within the hold that could cause such a wound. Though at present, that is the least of our concerns. Please, follow me." At that Mannarsh turned, heading out of the troop hold reroute to the cockpit.
"You had awoken first, and by the looks of things with more than ample free time between then and my stirring. Can you explain why that is?" Asked Bramar with a levelled voice, though one who did not know him could barely notice the tone change betraying his suspicious thoughts through his helmet speakers. As the two marines walked the corridor connecting the hold and the cockpit, Bramar's hand never once strayed from the bolt pistol mag-locked to his right thigh.
Without turning or stopping Mannarsh tapped a red armoured finger to the right side of his skull. "Three decades ago I lost my right arm and a significant part of my head, much like your Standard-Barer, though to a Xenos Witch-Queen. As I delivered the fatal blow the beast dealt a desperate blow of her own." Mannarsh paused in his stride to look at his right arm, clenching the mechanical fingers into a fist. "The injury meant that portions of my brain had to be mechanically replaced and reconstructed. It was this portion of my brain that was responsible for me rousing earlier than you and the others, it detected that portions of my flesh brain was unnecessarily shut down and so forced my biological system to… reboot." He finished the explanation as the couple entered through the small bulkhead threshold that served as the cockpit doorway.
"I see, it seems that having techno-organs is more useful than I ever realise-" Bramar stopped just short of finishing his sentence, surprise stunning him into silence at the sight he beheld through the thunderhawk's forward void screens. "Where is that? Where are we?" He said instead.
Bramar had beheld the small planet of Arthos IV. It was a beautiful green orb, stark against the star-freckled blackness of the void. Arthos IV was a planet akin to the mythical Edain, the envisioned birth place of man in several long dead Terran religions. It was a lush virile planet full of dark green dense Jungles and verdant plains of the greenest grass, both potholed with vast lakes and streaked through with long snaking river valleys. It was a sight that could effortlessly resonate the heart of any sane son of man.
"That is Arthos IV." Began Mannarsh. "It was lost to the Imperium along with the entire of the Meddi'terrean star system when the warp-storm Madrada berthed itself 647 years ago." Mannarsh turned to regard Bramar before continuing. "This system has 6 planets and Imperial colonization had begun 343 years prior to the system becoming obscured. Whatever had knocked us into unconsciousness had destroyed the feeble minds of the pilot and navigational servitors, when I had awoken we were already on a collision vector heading towards the planet. Taking the initiative I have manoeuvred us into a geo-stationary or orbit above the planet and the signal's location."
"Signal?" Bramar asked.
"Yes Sergent there's a signal broadcasting in very archaic Imperial codes, curiously it seems to have been relaying a distress signal on a loop since our arrival and I expect long before. This is your command Basalisk and I await your orders." Mannarsh stood stock straight and saluted the Sargent with the sign of the Aquila across his chest.
As Bramar and Mannarsh began to go over plans and scenarios of how to proceed, the other marines roused themselves and one by one joined the ever growing group in the cockpit to be appraised of the situation. Soon finding the space too cramped, the now group of 7 with the recent arousal of brother Bronnuks, moved into the more spacious upper troop hold, finding that, to everyone's surprise, Caliss was also awake. Within an hour the whole unit was once again gathered at full strength in the upper troop hold, they coalesced around a rough 3D image of the surface of Arthos IV scanned by the rudimentary devices onboard the thunderhawk and the distress signal received from the planet below was to be played once more.
+++ - This is Solmek Ulor of th…egion , calling to any Imperial +Cough+ forces. The shi…own. I repea…hip Titan's Mercy has crash +Cough+ landed. I'm Dying, but there are a large number of human surviv+Cough+ors. Please, I beseech thee save these +Cough+ Loy…vents of the Empe…pare them death on this pl…in favour of life in further serv…umanity's Great Crusade and the spreading of the Imperial truth. Save +Cough+ them… … … -+++
Gansis stood for a moment in silence. "He said "legion" did He not? And "Great Crusade" as well." He said with a raised brow. "This message is over ten thousand years old, the crew are long dead."
"Mannarsh." Said Bramar turning with a playful smile to the Iron Grinder. "Please enlighten my brother to our conclusions." He finished with a smile.
"As of six hundred and fifty years ago." Mannarsh began. "Imperial colonisation of the Meddi'terrean system was well under way. At one point or another in that time, the Adeptus Mechanicus would have had a strong presence here, and the Priesthood of Mars are not known for their restraint when it comes to the acquisition of ancient technology or lost information."
"Meaning what?" Gansis grunted. "They've turned over a new leaf?"
"No brother, we suspect that this ship, wasn't here 650years ago, and that we, are the first ones to find it." Bramar ended the conversation with his armoured finger pointed at the slowly rotating 3D image of the clam-like shaped crooked shadow that was the scan's focal point, and with a grin splitting his face.
The Vigilant flame touched down 3km away from the "Stricken Ship" as the group had begun to refer to the downed void vessel, landing in the nearest clearing in the thick foliage. Even through the thick Jungle canopy the gigantic wreck could be seen to the north, looming in the distance like some shadowy crooked city.
As the ramp came down the marines alighted and filed out in quick order, bolters up and scanning the surrounding woodland for danger whilst forming a perfect semi-circle. 7 marines formed the semi-circle with Sargent Bramar taking a position in the centre of its diameter and the heavy weapons troopers Karvin & Mu'tan taking a reserve position at the top of the Thunderhawk's embarkation ramp. After a series of seven clicks over the vox informing the Sargent of a secure LZ, Bramar held up his left index finger and drew a circle to the sky. "Pathfinder defensive sweep 70m." He said.
"Sir!" Vibbon said by way of acknowledgement before dashing out of the dropship and into the dark, beige-barked forest, the shadows enveloping him in seconds.
Whilst Vibbon scouted the area the squad increased the size of their cordon, with Bramar, Mannarsh, Karvin and Mutan joining the expanding formation until it made a full circle around the Vigilant flame. "Hold position." Bramar said and as one the unit stopped, helmeted eyes ever scanning the environment for the slightest danger.
Within 10 minutes Vibbon was reporting back In Basalisk battle-cant. "North, clear. West, clear. South, clear. Path, found. Targets approaching 35m. Eastern wind, Human 27 heads, tooth level flint, skin level none, condition unknown. Finder, hidden."
A click over the vox from Bramar told Vibbon that the message was received; a further few clicks told the Scout to maintain a visual on the targets, to stay hidden and to not engage. Bramar engaged the unit vox "Minus 30 targets east 30m Vanix, Makkin, Gansis, eyes on. Targets Human, melee weapons, harmless, armour none, condition unknown. Claws only, conserve your ammo brothers."
Soon enough the Humans came into view. Their hair was dark almost to a one and their skin was a noted sunburnt red, though it was difficult to tell through the ragged clothes they all wore and the sundried mud that caked their entire bodies. It was as if these people had never even conceived of hygiene at any point in their lives.
The four marines watched the ragtag group of muddy forms emerge slowly and cautiously from the forest's edge. Bramar stepped forwards and spoke through the loud helmet vox speakers. "People of Arthos IV, I am Brother-Sargent Bramar of the Basalisks adeptus astartes cha-" Bramar was cut off midsentence as the nearest Human, a female with piercing green eyes and knotted blonde hair, screamed a throaty roar at the Basalisks and ran at Bramar in a mad rage wielding a shoddy metal shank.
The others followed suit and the full number of the group charged at the four marines, teeth bared, roaring and howling like frenzied animals. "Condition hostile, free your claws brothers!" Said Bramar to his three brothers as the green eyed woman reached she charged him their eyes had met and the image of degrading green eyes flashed in Bramar's mind, he broke the stare blinking the foul image away and with a casual swipe of his hand he ended her life, cracking her skull with the butt of his pistol snapping her spine in the process.
The next 4 minutes would seem to be utter carnage to any normal person, but for Space Marines it amounted to no less than a sunny stole in the park. The Mud-men came at them fast, armed with makeshift knives, axes and spears. A scraggily long-bearded man threw one of the latter directly at Gansis - an exceptionally bad choice of weapon to direct at a Basalisk - Gansis caught the spear, effortlessly spinning it around in his hand with a devilish grin on his face, he adjusted his grip with a deft flick of the wrist and with the practised hand of a seasoned veteran gained a new weapon. With a step and a grunt Bramar threw the spear back at its former owner, it pierced cleanly through the Mud-Man's chest cavity leaving a near perfect circle in him that looked like some comical window in his torso enabling others to peer upon what was behind him.
The spear flew on, piercing a second crazy man who was stood laughing hysterically at the sky behind the first and pinning lunatic in place by his right shoulder to a beige-barked tree. Gansis did not even remain still long enough to witness these events, as soon as the spear had left his skilled hand he was already moving and drawing his combat knife to wet his claws alongside his brothers.
Vanix was slicing the Mud-Men to pieces with his twinned custom combat blades. Every swing and swipe precise killing blows, though some of his victims found themselves in more than just two pieces at the point of their death. Only one enemy did not taste the edge of his blades, a green eyed female who for all he could tell was twinned with the first female that Bramar had killed, this woman he had felled with a head-butt that caved in her face and left a bloody stain across his battle helm. He grinned beneath his helmet as he decided that the obscured vision would make the rest of the battle more fun.
Makkin went unarmed felling Mud-Men with punches, kicks and chops, cracking a skull here and snapping a spine there. A tall Muscular Mud-Man with fiery red hair and green eyes similar to the twinned women's eyes charged him. The Mud-Man would have cut an imposing figure with his impressive size and two ad hock Axes held aloft is his muscular arms, but up against an astartes, he could seem like nothing other than a child. Makkin stepped in to meet his foe, planting a large armoured boot in the Mud-Man's chest that sent him flying, pulping his organs and crushing each and every one of the man's ribs as well as both collar bones in the process.
Bramar beheaded his final opponent as the few remaining Mud-Men began to flee whooping and yelping as they ran into the dark depths of the forest. "Pathfinder." He voxed. "No survivors." One by one the voices in the forest were silenced until none remained. "Pathfinder, repeat action. Reveal the way."
Orders given, Bramar made his way towards the Mud-Men's only survivor, calling over Mannarsh and the rest of the squad. As he passed the green eyed woman he retrieved her weapon and tied it to his belt. It was a common Basalisks custom to retrieve a token or trinket from the first enemy slain on a battlefield, Vanix and Makkin did the same and Gansis stood waiting patiently with a sour look on his face as his trinket was currently the only thing holding the Mud-Man survivor in place.
"What is your name?" Bramar asked. The Mud-Man didn't answer in favour of scratching and biting at his wounded shoulder like a canine troubled by a splinter. Bramar was unsure if the man was even aware that the marines were there. He turned a helmeted head to Vanix at his left who had removed his helm and was cleaning the faceplate of blood with some ragged clothing torn off of one of the deceased. Vanix understood his confusion and just awkwardly shrugged an "I don't know" before going back to his cleaning. Bramar smiled at the thought of how abnormal a shrug always seems when done in power-armour.
He leaned in closer to his captive "Who are you!?" He demanded. The Mud-Man stopped his gnawing and scratching suddenly, looking off into the distance like a grazing herbivorous animal at the sudden sound of a snapped twig. Slowly he turned his head to face Bramar who was stood directly in front of him, he stared at the Marine as if trying to make out whether or not he was actually there. Just as Bramar was about ask again the man started to cry, reaching out a hand to the Marine's face and babbling some incomprehensible words, before becoming enraged, turning to scramming and attempting to bite at Bramar's faceplate. To Bramar's surprise the man even managed to raise his right arm slightly with no sign that it caused him any pain.
Bramar straightened up slowly, grunting in defeat and turning sharply to march off towards the Vigilant flame. "Mannarsh, Caliss, Viddar, Vanix with me. Brother Gansis, you may collect your offering. Basalisks secure the LZ." He said over his shoulder as he marched off.
"Thank you Brother-Sargent." Gansis grinned happily, drawing his combat-blade as his squad mates moved off about their business. Gansis stood in front of the Mud-Man placing his hand gently on the crazed lunatic's chest. "May your game be bountiful and your hunts be successful, you shall from now cast your spear in the afterlife." He solemnly intoned the farewell and swiftly ended the man's life with a blade through the heart. Then yanking the spear out of the tree, he claimed his trinket-offering.
Bramar and his group convened in the upper troop hold. "Thoughts?" He said to no one in particular.
"The locals are clearly insane. Though I do not feel the uneasiness that usually comes with it, I believe warp madness is the likely cause." Ventured Caliss. He was sat on the arming table that had been his own hospital bed mere hours earlier, applying more neutralising agents, sterilising gel and fresh bandages to his grizzly damaged face.
"I concur." said Mannarsh "With the help of your ship's systems and my own abilities, I have tested their blood for both virulent and genetic disease, but detected no abnormalities, even among closely related family members found among the dead. I also attempted to decipher some sort of language from among the roars, grunts and snorts of the enemy, but no logical linguistic system could be found." He finished.
"Their clothes." Said Vanix "They were tattered and torn but I could clearly see that they were at some point fleet service uniforms. Here and there I noticed the full-body blue uniform of a maintenance worker and the engraved golden buttons of a ranking naval officer." He glanced at Bramar as he spoke.
"I noticed that too Brother." Nodded Bramar. "Those garments no doubt once belonged the crew of the Stricken Ship, could these barbarians be their descendants?"
"We cannot know for sure Brother-Sargent, but I know a good way to find out" Said an ever helmeted Viddar.
Bramar couldn't know for sure as he hadn't known the warrior for long, but he assumed that Viddar was grinning. Whether he was or not, his statement carried the weight of one and a grin spread onto the faces of the other marines. "As do I Brother" said Bramar, his own grin stretching ear to ear.
As if on cue Vibbon reported in. "North, clear. West, clear. South, clear. East, clear. Targets 7, voices silenced. Path, found. Finder hidden. Awaiting orders."
"Finder return. The Hunt begins." Bramar replied.
