Boarding Party - Touchdown
"Baron. A single escape pod has been jettisoned from the enemy ship!" called one of the deckhands aboard the Trade Federation Lucrehulk. Such news filled the Baron with joy. "It is on a collision course Baron. Preparing to fire." From the corner of his vision Sukha Hapto could just about make out the blip on the view screen that corresponded with the enemy escape vessel. "Ha no. Let them be dashed to pieces against our shields. How long before impact?" There were a few moments of silence before the mechanically enhanced ensign replied.
"Moments, Baron." Said the deckhand a handful of seconds before the dull shudder spread through the ship. But it wasn't the transient sensation of solid matter evaporating upon contact with a ray shield. It was the metal on metal clash of something penetrating their defences. The Trade Baron, turned back to the great banks of displays littering the bridge of his command vessel not fully appreciating the sounds and tremors around him. Noton Dol however could tell something was very wrong. "Illustrious Baron..." He called out in his most indulgent tone. The sensation of barely concealed antipathy crawling over his mottled skin was all the confirmation Noton Dol needed to know he had caught the attentions of his master. "That was no escape pod. We have been boarded."
The grinding journey through the outer layers of the Federation hulk was devastating. In truth the boarding torpedo had almost been destroyed outright during its confrontation with the hulks ray shields. But sturdy Imperial craftwork would win this day. Hundreds aboard the Trade Federation ship were slaughtered as the Astartes ate their way deep into the ship. When the torpedo had finally spent its strength it was barely recognisable as an Imperial craft let alone a vehicle. It was merely a cage with teeth now. By the time the Space Marines had dug their way free of the boarding torpedo's wreckage the alarm had been disseminated to every corner of the vessel. "This way. Our attackers will be here soon. In force..." Growled the Apothecary as he started off down the concourse without the others. As the remaining Astartes made to follow, Ghorgios Szezilaak spoke up. "We should secure the area. Establish fire zones and make our movements from a position of surety. Not go strutting off in search of safety when the enemy could be coming from that very direction!"
Those Astartes requisitioned by Turgis for this party lingered hesitantly as they weighed the legitimate authority of Szezilaak against that of the venerable Apothecary. "Where do you think we are going Ghorgios?." Turgis let his question hang in the air for a moment. "We are going to find them." and with that the Apothecary rounded a corner and passed out of view. His words had been enough and the others were soon in tow. Of the others Turgis only knew two personally. His perpetual tutorling Hephestule, and the molten Szezilaak. Of the remaining two Turgis had performed a lengthy and painful procedure on one and tended to the other in the field but had never shared conversation. Although admittedly the Apothecary graced very few with his conversation.
The Astartes with the limp was Guthrid. And he had mixed feelings about the Apothecary to say the least. On the one hand. He was a venerable hero who embodied the ideals of the legion and was a healer with a sacred duty. On the other hand he had all but ignored his agony as the young soldier lay boiling alive in his searing suit of power armour. The patches of burnt flesh that clung to Guthrid's face echoed the full body burns inflicted upon Szezilaak though far less severe.
The other Astartes was Psorion, another of the rank and file, but with a sense of duty that had made an impression upon the Apothecary. As another of the Astartes who took part in the boarding of the Republic ship it was a surprise for Turgis to see his face and armour so unmarred by the recent battle. That had been a black mark when the Apothecary had begun assembling his cadre. The Apothecary believed that one of the Death Guard could only be truly considered so with a body hidden beneath a rich tapestry of scars. The healer continued his journey through the bowels of the enemy ship, now joined by the others. Thus far neither Turgis nor those under his command had detected even the most remote signs of life. "A craft of such size should be teeming with life forms." Ventured Psorion from the back. "I do not like this." he added echoing the sentiments of his brothers. Stalking through the enormous vessel like rats in a maze did not suit the Death Guard and their frustration was beginning to tell.
"They should be all over us." spake Psorion with his characteristic Terran accent. The only non Barbarun who was aboard the Surkhast was perhaps the most talkative Astartes in the fleet. Perhaps even the legion. Turgis was beginning to regret commandeering his life. "Do you think they flee?" said the Terran. Clearly aiming his question to Szezilaak. The Terran's among the expedition were far more inclined to follow official chains of command than those born in the Primarchs cradle and found it difficult to ignore it in favour of the quasi tribal respects paid to certain members of the legion by the others. There would be no time for an answer. The medicine man had forged ahead once more and disappeared from view as he navigated the vessel. The icy pain of Human emotion shot through the venerable Astartes system. Neural pathways that had not been used since before the implantation of the gene seed flared to life in response to what now confronted him.
"...Abominable Intelligence."