Saeva Abyssi Chapter 21
Down the corridors of the Thunderchild raced Captain Toran and his Command Squad, weapons held ready and eager to find the foe. Ahead of them they could hear the sounds of combat, but ships were curious places and echoes rang far. Every time they closed upon the sounds of fighting the passageway would twist and they would find that they yet had a way to go.
As they ran Toran barked into his vox, "Third Company, Situation report."
Over the vox came the voice of Sergeant Lorath saying, "Heavy fighting in the starboard batteries and both assault squads are engaged here. These things look like the prisoner abominations we encountered on the Dark Eldar ship, but far more aggressive. For the Emperor, we will leave none alive."
Zeax's voice came next saying, "Engineerium is under heavy attack, my squad is engaged but it's not enough. Casualties are rising and we can't hold this line, we request permission to fall back."
"Permission denied, the Engineerium must not be violated," Toran ordered, "Stand your ground Brothers, reinforcements will be rerouted to your position."
Over the vox came the voice of Sergeant Matheus calling, "Captain, we hear you and my squad is already en-route. We are only two decks above the Engineerium and making our way down to the Devastator's position."
Toran ordered, "Good work Sergeant but Brothers are already dying, you must increase your pace. Make haste Storm Heralds I am counting on you to get there in time."
"You can trust us Captain," Matheus replied, "We will put the White Scars to shame with our speed."
Toran knew there was nothing more to be done and called for the other squads, each one of them reporting in turn. The Company was engaging the enemy throughout the ship and fighting was going on everywhere. Yet these bestial foes did not seem to want to go down easily and every fight was a desperate struggle in itself. One by one the squads voxed in, each telling of terrible struggles but there was one who was silent.
Toran frowned and called, "Sergeant Mylos this is Captain Toran, report your status. Mylos come in…"
Over the vox a crackling, distorted voice came back saying, "This is Mylos, we are suffering an overwhelming attack. We are surrounded on all sides, we can't hold much longer!"
Toran barked, "Report your position now!"
Mylos' voice came back, "Twenty-seventh deck, ninth compartment, junction three hundred and six."
Toran checked his position in his armour's logs and saw his Command squad was the closest to Mylos' position. He lit his vox and called, "I am only two junctions away, help is coming, hold the line Brother!"
Toran redoubled his pace and the Command squad followed in his wake. Gone was their typical banter, replaced by a grim relentless focus. War was upon them and the lives of Brother Initiates were imperilled. So they put their heads down and ran for all they were worth, moving at a pace an athletic sprinter would have been dumbfounded by. Swiftly they progressed and then they saw the first signs of battle, a trail of bodies in Serf's robes laid out in a macabre display. The bodies were beyond mauled; they had been ripped to shreds and mutilated beyond recognition. Toran had seen Khorne Berserkers leave cleaner sites of battle and he cursed whatever foul pit had spawned such monsters to unleash upon his Chapter.
The sounds of fighting grew in their ears and then suddenly it was before them, a heaving scrum of Ceramite and flesh brawling in the tight confines of the Ship's passages. In the midst of the melee were a handful of Marines in Storm Herald blue, battling against desperate odds with combat knives and bolters. Set against them were a dozen huge monstrosities, filling the passage with their bulk and heft. Each one of them was a strange amalgam of forms, some human, some alien and some unidentifiable. They were hulking giants swollen with obscene muscle mass, bony protrusions and too many limbs. Their backs were covered in metal plates and plastek injector vials, filled with odd chemical stimulants. No two were alike, each one unique and nightmarish creation. The only common feature was that each one had a steel helm sutured onto their heads, flashing nightmares directly into their minds. Their jaws were distended wide, filled with drool covered fangs and they screamed in rage and pain, their very existence a nightmare of torment and horror.
Toran saw that they were throwing themselves at Mylos' squad, bearing the proud Brothers down with their superior bulk. The Space Marines were fighting for all they were worth but their knives were barely making an impression and they would be overrun in moments. Toran felt a rush of righteous anger at the sight and threw himself into the fight with a cry of "For Terra and the memory of Roboute Guilliman!"
The monsters saw them coming and lumbered about, sensing the greater danger approaching. Toran flung himself at a large brute whose three arms were all tipped with bony clubs. He dashed in and swung his sword for its midriff but was shocked when the blade did not penetrate. His sword had mowed down Orks and scythed down Traitors but hitting this thing was like taking a blunt axe to a gnarled Oak.
Toran saw a bony army swing towards him and ducked but was taken by surprise when a third arm came around and caught him a ringing blow that made stars flash before his eyes. The brute saw his stunned state and pounced, pinning his sword arm in its jaws and trying to bite it off. Toran heard the ceramite vambrace creak under the strain and tried to pull back but he was firmly lodged and could not escape. Toran snarled in anger and reached down with his other arm, grasping his master crafted bolter in a pistol grip. He forced his pinned arm upwards, lifting the brute's head, even as it chewed on his armour, exposing its neck. With a righteous snarl Toran fired and sent a three-round burst straight into its exposed larynx, finding a weak spot and blowing its head clean off.
The Captain shook off the skull of his foe and looked about, seeing his Brothers fully engaged. Novak was duelling with a monster that had long fleshy whips sown into its arms, it lashed out at him over and over but the Champion danced between the blows. His shining sword flicked and whished about, scoring long cuts to the brutes' flesh, bleeding it by a thousand cuts. Persion was hacking away at a beast with a red-hot Friction axe, gouging chunks of flesh off its arms. The brute roared as it tried to grab him but as it reached out Jediah jumped in from another direction. He hit the deck and skidded between its legs as his Fractal edged short sword cut left and right, hamstringing the beast. The monster crashed to the deck helplessly and Persion raised his axe high to bring it down to cave in the mutated skull.
Meanwhile Bylan was fending off a monster with the haft of the Company Banner, gripping the adamantium rod like a quarterstaff. The blows came thick and fast but Bylan refused to let go, honouring his sacred duty rather than drop the standard. A series of heavy blows forced him to one knee and he dropped before it with the haft held up as a guard. Just as the brute raised its arms for a killing blow the form of Furion emerged, leaping high to land on the monster's back. The monster roared as it realised that it had a tick on its back and tried to shake him off but Furion held on determinedly. His hands gripped the plastek vials on its back and with a grimace he squeezed them hard, forcing chemicals into its bloodstream. The brute screamed as its veins turned purple, overdosing it with a lethal cocktail and then it fell down dead, brain fried by the noxious mix.
Toran had seen all this happening in a flash of the eye but then he spied something that truly caught his attention. Thrashing its way through the scrum of the melee was a gargantuan brute, standing head and shoulders over its brethren. It was insanely swollen with corded muscle mass and it clubbed its lesser kin aside with casual ease.
Toran threw himself at the brute, unleashing a flurry of blows from his Relic blade. Its bladed tip scored red lines across the scarred flesh but failed to penetrate any deeper, stopped by some filthy Warp-taint woven into the flesh of the monster itself. Toran snarled in frustration but was forced to hastily throw himself back as a massive fist with bone-spikes swept an inch past his face. Toran was about to riposte but then he saw something that made him gasp, tattooed upon the Monster's shoulder was a glyph. It was the mark of a snarling drake's helm in profile, the mark of the Salamanders Chapter. Toran was stunned to see it, the implication rocking his world, this beast was once an Astartes.
The moment of hesitation almost cost Toran his life as a huge fist came sailing right at him. At the last moment he managed to twist to bring his pauldron up but the thrust still caught him a mighty blow that caved in his armour and sent him spinning away. Toran hit the floor hard but rolled with it, lurching back to his feet in a flash, blade raised before him. The brute barrelled at him like a charging gorilla, its great fists leaving dents in the decking but Toran spun out of its path. A part of him wanted to call out, to plead with this lost Brother and beg him to return to sanity but he knew it would be futile. This thing was no longer a Space Marine and had any trace of its former identity been left then it would not have attacked.
Toran lashed out with his sword and scored a deep cut across its back but the brute reacted like lightning, swinging an elbow back to catch the Captain in the side. Toran felt like he had been rammed by a Rhino and the force of the impact sent him sprawling to the deck, helpless and vulnerable for a moment. The brute roared in triumph and reared up over him, bringing both fists up high to land a mighty blow. With a roar The creature smote downwards to smash Toran apart, but when its fists were one inch from the Captain's skin there was a flash of light and the beast was thrown back.
Toran was instantly up on his feet, the effects of his Iron Halo's forcefield dissipating around him as he dived forwards with his sword outstretched. The tip of his relic blade caught the brute right in the centre of the chest, driven by Toran strength and inertia it finally penetrated. Toran leaned into the strike, pushing for all he was worth and bellowing in primal fury as he felt the sword work its way further in, inch by inch. There was a moment's stillness and then the brute swayed and fell backwards, sliding off the blade. As it fell a gasp of air escaped its lips and Toran could almost believe it was the word, 'Brother' but in his heart he knew that was just wishful thinking.
He sighed as his foe went limp and looked about to see the rest of the brutes being brought down by the concentrated might of the Storm Heralds. Toran wanted to congratulate them and bide them rest for a moment but knew that the battle was still raging elsewhere. He waved the squads to form up and gathered the survivors into a combat formation, before nodding to Sergeant Mylos who sullenly ignored it. With a sigh Toran led them onwards and as he did so he glanced upwards towards the bridge and whispered to himself, "This is taking too long, I just hope that Wrethan can keep the Thunderchild in one piece until we get back."