Nothing But a List of Names to Mark His Ascension
Chapter 36: Desert Winds Part 2
Note: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 or Dawn of War, I am simply writing a different perspective to the events portrayed.
Nikephoros followed Tarkus towards the enemy. The sharp ridges flanked the marines, leaving only a small passage to advance by. Two groups of Black Legionnaires, assisted by Vandis traitors, were engaging the newly arrived Blood Ravens. Four Legionnaires and about twenty of Vandis' men were entrenched in a small homestead made of light colored stone, smoothed by both man and wind. Thaddeus' squad had them engaged up close, where the strength of the Legionnaries was outmatched by the weaponry of the assault marines. Tarkus' squad focused their fire on the second group, three Legionnaires and a mass of heretics taking cover behind strips of slate, protruding from the sands like capsizing ships.
From behind a sloping dune, Tarkus' squad fired on this second group. With only four active marines, they were at a disadvantage against the traitors, but once Avitus' heavy bolters opened up, the tide was firmly on their side. Nikephoros was glad to see one of the chaos marines slump backwards, his head burst by a bolt round to the eye. His bolter, barrel wrapped in the bone colored cloth, had a heavier kick to it, yet felt more natural in his hands than ever. He heard a shout of triumph, and turned in time to see Thaddeus remove the head from the final chaos marine in the area. The remaining Vandis heretics broke, and were shot down as they tried to flee further into the village.
There was a short pause. The Astartes regrouped, and Ariston took the lead. He would move ahead in loose formation with his squad, harrying any hostiles to fracture their ranks for the coming attack. Nikephoros waited with Tarkus as Commander Aramus approached.
"Word from the fleet," said Aramus, who was holding his power sword loosely in his left hand. Nikephoros wondered if his right arm was still wounded. If he could not wield Remembrance again soon, it could be dangerous for them. It was a formidable weapon, and as much as Nikephoros enjoyed an honorable fight, he enjoyed winning more.
"What news?" asked Avitus. He would wait for Tarkus and advance side by side.
"Captain Diomedes is on his way, along with the Honor Guard and two squads from the 5th Company. They are veterans, all of them. Our victory is assured."
"I sense a 'but' coming on," growled Avitus. He gritted his teeth as he waited for a response.
"Yes, I suppose you could say that," replied Aramus. "The drop zones are ahead. We need to contest the area before they land."
"Time of arrival?" asked Nikephoros.
Aramus smiled a bit, possibly glad that one of the younger marines was stepping up to a more proactive role in the Chapter.
"About ten minutes."
Tarkus stood, "Then we must move on. We cannot keep the good Captain waiting."
He waved forward, and the squad followed. Aramus had already moved up, joining with Thaddeus. Thus, the men of the 4th Company advanced. Due to casualties sustained, Mercutio and Magnus had not joined the battlefield, and a lack of leadership left Cyrus' squad aboard the Retribution as well. Jonah Orion, however, had joined the battle. He moved here and there, using his unique skills where they were needed.
The marines passed around the overhanging crags, meeting and crushing the light resistance. Where there were traitors, only a few stood against them. As they advanced, Nikephoros could see red streaks in the air. The drop pods of the 5th Company and Honor Guard were descending. Soon they would have reinforcements. Suddenly their vox opened, Blood Raven priority signal.
"Commander, 4th Company, this is Captain Angelos. The 3rd Company has deployed to Argus. While the enemy is here in great numbers, we have halted their attack. Casualties minimal on both sides, but with PDF reinforcements arriving soon, we should be well prepared to push back the enemy."
"Victory is an eventuality then?" cut in Diomedes over the vox.
"Victory is never an eventuality Captain," replied Angelos, "It pays well to be prepared."
"If you can keep the situation under control there," replied Aramus. "I will push the enemy back into the warp here."
"Keep casualties to a minimum Commander," said Angelos. "We cannot lose more marines now."
"Very well," said Aramus before he closed the link. He followed Ariston around the edge of the ridge they had been following, turning their direction of advance almost backwards. Ahead of them now was the center of the village. It was much bigger than Nikephoros had guessed it would be. For a town of no more than a thousand people, there were a relatively small number of houses. Perhaps the majority were small homesteads spread throughout the badlands. The center point of the village was a large sand covered plaza, surrounded by a low stone wall with a small stage on one end. It seemed to be a sort of assembly area, and the squat buildings nearby were analogous to a town hall of sorts. It seemed incredibly primitive. No roads had ever been paved, nor had the large boulders ever been cleared from where they had laid for thousands of years. The town had been built around the stones scattered sporadically, and now the traitors were using them for cover.
There were at least twenty traitor marines, with a much larger number of Vandis heretics bunched together in fireteams. Under the harrowing fire, Nikephoros barely noticed the works of art that the traitors had wrought. On scattered pillars hung the mutilated remains of the Guard patrol that had accompanied Priam, along with a few of his scouts. To Nikephoros' horror, it seemed that some of the scouts still lived. Though their eyes, jaws and most of their organs had been ripped from their bodies, and their lungs had been spread out through their backs like the wings of angels, they still shivered in pain. With limbs bent in ways man should not be capable of, their fingers stretched and relaxed, as though reaching for the death that was stolen from them. Under the gunfire, Nikephoros could hear their unnatural groaning. It was being amplified by an unknown source. He felt his stomach rise in protest.
Worse was the fate of Priam himself. He had been caught in the scant moments the Astartes had spent reaching this position. He knelt on the stage, next to four of his scouts, all wrapped in black chains that stretched out of thin air. In front of them stood a blue armored sorcerer, his staff held above his head in a single hand. Surrounded by five blue and gold armored Astartes, he oversaw the Black Legionnaires.
"That sorcerer is the cause of this!" screamed Nikephoros in rage. "Kill him! He must die!"
He was nearly frothing with anger. He pulled the trigger of his bolter now with more strength than an ordinary man's punch, and each shot killed. After thirty deaths, he reloaded his weapon, and the cycle started anew.
"Flank them Thaddeus!" shouted Aramus. The Commander dropped into cover behind a strip of rock and reloaded his bolt pistol. As Thaddeus' squad launched into the air, disappearing from sight behind another ridge, the rest of the squads dug in to lay down covering fire. The traitors had larger numbers and less cover. While their firepower was dangerous, the Blood Ravens had the advantage.
"Landing in thirty seconds," came a voice over the vox. Nikephoros looked up in time to see three drop pods land twenty yards behind the traitors. Half of the enemy split ranks and took cover in the opposite direction, forcing fire at the new arrivals. However, this left them easy targets for the 4th Company, who shot them dead with ease. The same could be said for the 5th Company tactical squads of Zacharias and Bellores.
The sorcerer on the stage shook with frustration. He snapped the fingers of his free hand and the portals holding the chains widened. With a scream, Priam and the others were dragged into the abyss. Then the portals closed, cutting off their screams prematurely. Simultaneously, the five Astartes around him began advancing with ponderous steps towards the drop pods. With each slow step, the stiff figures fired a round from their bolters. The shots glowed red, and each round burnt great holes in the cover around the marines. They were Thousand Sons, Rubric Marines, silent automatons that were once sentient. Now they simply followed the orders of their sorcerer as dust filled golems that lived to fight and nothing more. They could not even communicate the horror of their shackled existence.
Nikephoros turned his fire on the sorcerer, unleashing two bursts of four rounds each. Before the bolt rounds reached their target, the sorcerer pointed an open palm at the incoming shots, opening a portal directly in front of them. The rounds entered the portal, and suddenly Nikephoros' position was bracketed with his own shots. He fired once more at the sorcerer, and the pattern repeated. The sorcerer's portals consumed the shots, and reopened pointing the same rounds at Nikephoros. Only a quick change of position had saved his life.
"Commander!" shouted Nikephoros, "The sorcerer guards himself with his warp portals, we cannot fire upon him, lest he reflect the rounds back."
Aramus scowled. "Take heed brothers! The marine is correct. Avoid firing at the sorcerer, concentrate on his minions. I will deal with him shortly!"
Before the marines could act, the sorcerer snapped his fingers again. Dozens of portals opened around the marines of the 4th Company. The black barbed chains lashed out, wrapping tight around the men of Ariston's scout squad. Nearby brothers attempted to help, but upon touching the infernal links, their gauntlets burst into unnatural flame. One by one, the scouts were pulled into the swirling portals. Ariston was the last to vanish. The veins in his forehead bulged as he resisted the pull, but every second a new chain was added to his bonds, wrapping around his arms, legs and neck. They tightened, digging deep into his skin, and with a final grasp for freedom he was violently snatched away. Tarkus looked particularly unnerved, even with his helmet on. For a moment, he stared at the space that Ariston had just occupied, breathing in ragged gasps. Then he spun and began firing with greater vigor at the enemy. He was muttering litanies of hate under his breath, a prayer for every dead man.
Aramus' face was dark. He shouted out to the enemy. "I will punish you here! You will die screaming, begging for mercy you unforgivable monster!"
In response, the sorcerer laughed as he dropped off the stage. "The organs of your young will be valuable additions. Though the leaders are useless as organ hosts, I am sure we will find a purpose for them. Rejoice, I will not take you as I have taken your brothers. You will meet a swift death here."
Aramus raised a hand to his ear. "Thaddeus, strike from the sky! Kill every one of them!"
From behind the nearby ridge, Thaddeus squad dropped into the middle of the Vandis heretics. At such range, the Black Legionnaires couldn't train their weapons correctly, and Thaddeus used this opportunity to wreak havoc in the enemy ranks. With each swing, he and the assault marines killed two or three heretics. Nikephoros saw Augustine's powers flare up occasionally. They had grown in strength, and could now project out to immolate two to three heretics at a time.
With a cheer, Diomedes and his Honor Guard leapt out from behind the drop pods. They charged forward, firing their weapons sporadically into the enemy while under cover fire from the 5th Company tactical squads. The rubric marines turned to fire on them, but one of the Honor Guard broke rank and charged at them headlong. It was the fierce swordsman Loren. The rubric marines tracked their new target and fired a steady stream of shots, but he twisted and dodged his way through the gunfire. Once in arm's reach, he swung his relic blade in a massive forehand strike. Two of the rubric marines were bisected instantly. The empty suits of power armor fell and the dust inside was carried into the wind. In two more swings, the rest of the rubric marines had fallen. Nikephoros was amazed. The Thousand Sons were recorded in Blood Raven archives as being tenacious and dangerous foes, yet this marine had killed five in a mere moment.
Diomedes, Bonaparte, and the marine called Roland hit the enemy first. Diomedes and Bonaparte killed with short, compact strokes. They were experts, and each blow was meant to maximize damage while minimizing output. Bonaparte's short sword rose and fell, each strike felling a traitor. Next to them, Roland was a much more acrobatic fighter. He used his lance and shield to maneuver his foes. With one strike he would bash them with his shield, and then follow up with a killing strike to the temple with his lance. Next he would run two enemies through at once. Then he would crack a heretic with the counter weight on the opposite end of his lance, stunning him for a powerful stab to follow. Despite the heretics crowding around him, his movements and quick thinking kept a safe distance between him and the nearest foe.
"Now is the time of reckoning!" cried Aramus. He leapt over the boulder he hid behind, charging directly at the sorcerer. With the distraction of the Honor Guard and Thaddeus, his way was nearly clear. The sorcerer pointed a hand at Aramus. As the Commander charged, chains reached out from all directions. He ran on, slicing the chains with his power sword when he could, or tearing them off when he could not. Faced by this unstoppable figure, the sorcerer stepped back in a panic, prepared to flee if Aramus could close. Then Aramus was within arm's length. But finally, with his hand drawn back for the fatal stab, he had been ensnared.
The sorcerer laughed as Aramus strained against the bindings. "Fool. I knew I had nothing to fear. You were far too stupid to challenge me if you thought you could simply charge through the chains of torment."
Aramus muttered something. The sorcerer could not make out the words, and screamed into his face, "What was that, scum? I could not hear you over the sound of my victory."
Aramus chuckled, low and menacing. "I said, 'it was a distraction'."
The sorcerer spun on his heel. Diomedes was nearly upon him. The Honor Guard Captain lodged his power axe into the head of a nearby traitor marine, and then took the power sword from the outstretched hand of Brother Bonaparte. Nothing stood between the Captain and the sorcerer. Diomedes stabbed with the blade and struck home. Suddenly a portal opened in front of the sorcerer and the thrust blade entered. Then Diomedes felt a pain in his side. He looked to his left. Protruding from a small portal below his arm, a blade had pierced his armored flank. It was the very same sword he currently held. Shocked, Diomedes pulled back the thrust sword, and the blade in his side retracted.
"Scum," began the traitor sorcerer, "You cannot hope to ma-"
His words were cut off as a power sword impaled him from behind. Diomedes looked past the Thousand Son. Behind him, Aramus had loosened the chains around his sword arm, and though his blow did not kill the sorcerer, he was gravely wounded. It had cost Aramus though. The chains had shredded his sword arm. With both limbs injured, he would be even more crippled in combat.
The sorcerer howled in rage and vanished with a flash of light, leaving the rest of his charges to be killed. The combined forces of the Blood Ravens made short work of them, and the battle was finished with only a few more minor casualties.
"Thaddeus," said Aramus after the fighting had stopped, "Ensure that the town is secure. We cannot have any stragglers running loose."
Thaddeus nodded, and directed Augustine and Lloyd to assist with the cleanup. The pair began to assist the piling of enemy bodies, but was intercepted by Aramus.
"We can handle this area, brothers," he said. Then Aramus pointed painfully towards one of the nearby administrative buildings. Behind it, the wide column of smoke was still rising into the air, nearly indiscernible in the darkening sky. "Put out that fire and bury the remains. I do not need to see it myself to know what burns. Brother Nikephoros! Assist them."
Nikephoros turned from his work and followed Augustine and Lloyd. Tarkus' squad was busy removing the bodies of Priam's scouts from the pillars. They were all dead now, and Galan was moving from body to body, extracting the gene-seed.
The three marines walked around the building, with Augustine holding the lead with a brisk pace. Why was he in such a hurry? Wondered Nikephoros. As they reached the back, Thaddeus broadcast to the Astartes, "Village secure. No hostiles are alive, no civilian survivors found."
Behind the administrative building was a massive pit of smoldering flame and ash. It held the remains of more than eight hundred people, piled without care after being murdered by the Black Legion and their Vandis allies. The fire that had been set was almost out now, and all inside had been rendered black and unidentifiable by the blaze. Augustine removed his helmet, and for some reason, Nikephoros did as well. The stench of charred flesh assaulted him, and if he was a lesser man, he would have vomited.
"The traitors have done us a favor by digging this pit. We can simply fill it up," Said Nikephoros.
Augustine turned to him with an anger filled face. He glared at Nikephoros for a few seconds before turning away.
"What is the matter, Brother?" asked Lloyd. "You seem unhinged. It is unlike you."
Augustine breathed deeply. He did not speak for a while, and simply stared into the acrid smoke that continued to flow from the dying pyre. Nikephoros agreed with the other assault marine. Augustine was acting odd.
Finally, Augustine spoke, saying, "It is nothing. I was simply unprepared to see my family ablaze."
"Your family?" whispered Lloyd. "Do not say that this was your home?"
"It was, long ago." Replied Augustine as he put on his helmet once again. Then he said, " Think nothing of that outburst. It was a passing anger. These people were no more familiar to me than they are to you."
The three marines began covering the funeral pyre in silence. When finished, they simply returned to their squads without another word.
An hour after the village was declared secure; two thunderhawks recovered the elements of the 4th and 5th Companies. At first, they had prepared to return to Argus, but a vox from Captain Angelos informed them that the city was nearly secure with only a few casualties. It seemed that the traitors had withdrawn when faced with only a little resistance. Thus, the Blood Ravens returned to their respective vessels, though their feelings of victory were dulled by loss.
In the Retribution's launch bay, Nikephoros and Augustine were stopped by Tarkus. He looked incredibly tired. Nikephoros remembered how Tarkus had told him of the honor it was to die for the Emperor, that a death should be rejoiced. Tarkus' face only spoke of pain now. It was clear that Ariston was a close companion, and that his loss would be much harder to take. "Brothers," he said, "Concerning the death of Ariston, it would be best if Cyrus heard it from the initiates he trained. I do not know how he will respond if the Commander or I break the news."
"Commander," said Augustine. "Is it possible that Sergeant Ariston is alive? He was not slain last we saw."
Tarkus looked at the floor for a moment. "When one is taken by the Ruinous Powers, death is a mercy. We will not see Ariston alive again, and if we do, we will be the ones to give him peace."
Nikephoros and Augustine quietly nodded after processing that thought, and went on their way. The rest of the Sergeants remained behind in the launch bay, where they were greeted by Apothecary Harkon. As Harkon fussed over the Commander's wounds, the assembled marines discussed the previous conflict.
"Perhaps the attack on Argus was a diversion," said Thaddeus.
"A diversion for what?" asked Avitus. "Why would the enemy commit greater forces to a diversionary attack?"
"Is it not obvious?" said Tarkus, with an unusual venom in his voice. "They meant all along to steal our initiates. The Black Legion did not expect us to have such numbers all in one location however."
"Tarkus is right," said Aramus as Harkon wrapped his injuries in synth-skin. "We dealt them a powerful blow. They will not be so unprepared a second time."
"But the sorcerer escaped. Next time, we cannot allow that to happen," said Jonah Orion. Ever since he had been placed on the Retribution, he had felt out of place, so now he resolved himself into being a sound advisor for the Commander.
"What should our next move be Commander?" asked Thaddeus.
Aramus thought for a second, before replying with, "With Captains Diomedes and Angelos here, we cannot take the initiative. We will await further orders in high orbit."
Harkon looked up, "Commander, if you are not planning on going to the bridge, I can pass that order along for you."
"It would be appreciated, Apothecary."
"Astropathic message for you Captain," said a Chapter serf as Apollo Diomedes set foot in the bridge of the Scientia Est Potentia.
"Well done," replied Diomedes, before turning on his heel and exiting. He walked briskly to the astropathic chamber, where one of the ship's many astropaths awaited him. When he found the particular psyker, Diomedes did not even bother to speak; he just motioned for him to begin.
The astropath cleared his throat and spoke in a voice that was clearly not his. "Captain Apollo Diomedes, it pleases me that a leader as great as yourself is actively defending our Chapter."
"Chapter Master Kyras!" exclaimed Diomedes. The astropath halted in its speech, and shrunk back at the sound of Diomedes' voice. It took a moment before it was composed enough to respond.
"While your victories and those of Captain Angelos impress me to no end, it has come to my attention that your enemy is the Black Legion. Now, you are ordered to break engagement with the traitors. You know well that I dislike conflict with them. It does not pay to anger the Despoiler. Rally the Blood Ravens in the subsector and report to the Ferrox Rift Crusade. I could use more manpower on the front."
Diomedes looked at the astropath. "A reply, 'your will be done.' That is all."
Finished, he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He had to quickly reign in Angelos. He would not like these new orders.
Nikephoros and Augustine stood next to Cyrus' cot in the apothecarium. He seemed to have healed well, and they had been told by Harkon on they way there that he would be released in a few days, in time for the next deployment if he could attach an augmetic well enough. He returned to treating the two survivors from Borian's squad, who had still not regained consciousness. Though he knew what tidings Augustine and Nikephoros brought, he would not speak, and his silence left Cyrus and the other conscious patients nervous.
"Brothers," began Lyon, from the cot next to Cyrus. "Why have you come? Your faces do not bear good news."
"The enemy's objective was to steal our initiates," said Augustine. "Priam's squad was taken, as well as Ariston's."
Cyrus' eye thinned in anger. "And Ariston himself?"
"Gone," said Nikephoros.
A cloud passed over Cyrus' face, and he looked down at his chest, numbed by the news. Similarly, Lyon lay back in the cot. Ariston had been an excellent Sergeant, and the news of his death gnawed at him.
"I should have been there," said Cyrus with a cracking voice. "This would not have happened then."
"Sergeant," said Nikephoros, "There was nothing anyone could do. It happened in an instant."
"It would have been different!" shouted Cyrus. Then his voice dropped to a whisper. "I would have saved him! I would have saved Priam too."
Even after they had left, the image of Cyrus' distraught face had not left his mind. This guilt would no doubt claw at Cyrus, possibly forever. His was a sad fate, a survivor of Kaurava, cursed forever to watch his comrades die, and live with their regrets. Worse, the sorcerer had escaped, and vengeance was out of reach. Nikephoros swore to himself that he would live to see Cyrus get his revenge. Ariston was too good a man for anything else.
"Exarch Cculan? What a strange thing to ask. Why would a stranger wish to know his history?"
Arcadia handed the ranger a glass of water. "It interests me. I have never seen a Dire Avenger with skill such as his."
"Very well," said Ronahn. He crouched on the balcony railing, staring hundreds of feet down at the ground below. "I will tell you. While I would normally say that you should ask him yourself, it would take far longer if he told the story."
"Why is that?" asked Arcadia, sitting down on a nearby bench. "He does not seem to be a braggart."
"He is not. It is simply that his memory is much longer than my own."
"Of course. Speak as long or as short as you like. It is simply a passing interest for me."
Ronahn turned with a smirk. "Of course it is. I suppose I will begin when the exarch and I first met. It is a lonely thing, travelling the galaxy as an outcast. It was the first time that I had ever been called back to serve, and I leapt at the opportunity. I found that, despite by distaste for them, I missed my brethren. The foul orks had tainted a maiden world, and you Biel-tan were too far off to deal with it yourselves. Ulthwé intervened, with an Autarch named Yuriel leading. In his council he brought Cculan, who then only bore twelve soulstones, unlike the nearly three dozen he has now. In our war against the orks, Yuriel never once led us in battle. He preferred to lead from the rear, and I do not fault him for it. Battle seems completely different when viewed up close. It was on that nameless world that we realized Cculan's flexibility. Perhaps it was because this current Cculan had spent years as a Scorpion, or perhaps it was the vessel meshing perfectly with the souls of his predecessors. Regardless of the reason, Cculan led every battle, from ranged ambushes to storming the walls of ork strongholds. He fought with catapult and spear and knife, and killed by the hundred."
Arcadia smiled. It was obvious that he had told this story before, and that his protests were simply part of the performance. She listened intently as he continued.
"In the closing stages of the war, however, Cculan was slain by the ork warboss. He was mourned, and I left the war effort soon after. It was only later that I heard of the new Cculan, the one that had kept all of the previous one's skills, the master of tactics and a skilled warrior at arm's reach afar. Since then, I have returned to aid my craftworld eight times. I have seen Cculan fight in five of those occasions. In three of those, I saw him die. Each time, the souls of the dead influence Cculan to make him a more perfect warrior. Some say it takes hundreds of souls to equal the might of the Phoenix Lords. I say that if that is the case, they must be gods manifest, for Cculan is a warrior born of Heaven."
"I have seen Jain Zar myself," said Arcadia. "I could never hope to reach the skill she carries with her."
Ronahn smiled, "To see a Phoenix Lord in the flesh, you are truly fortunate."
"Fate has smiled on me more than once."
"While I would enjoy debating the existence of Fate, you would be more interested in the next part of the tale, no? Where was I, ah yes! In Cculan's seventeenth instance, he fought the Umbra on a world of marsh and jungle. Perhaps his vessel then had once been a ranger. He led surprise assaults, stealth missions, even tracked the enemy alongside me. He died then, but not without aiding the cleansing greatly. I next saw him with his twenty first vessel. Perhaps the years had not been kind to the Ulthwé Avengers, perhaps he had been unlucky, I know not. I do know that somewhere along the way, Cculan had picked up an interesting skill, one that debilitated him in combat. When he reached the thickest close quarters fighting, he would go into a rage that was impossible to stop. In that war, I saw him die in the middle of one of those rages, with twelve blades protruding from his flesh. That was a bitter defeat for us, now memorialized in song and statue."
When he turned back to her, he saw Arcadia's brow furrowed in confusion. "What is it?" he asked, "Stranger things have happened d."
"Yes," she replied, "I find it interesting that it would happen to an exarch. Why has he been so calm in these two campaigns?"
"Allow me to continue. Your answer awaits."
"Of course," she replied, "I did not mean to interrupt."
"There is no need to apologize. It was his twenty ninth vessel that I saw next. The change was miraculous. His rage was contained, so well contained. He fought up close, afar, and never once did he falter in his discipline. It was then that I learned. A warlock named Draoi was the one that told me. Ever since the twenty fourth instance, the rage would only manifest when death was certain. Draoi told me that sometimes before a wound had even been dealt, Cculan would turn into a bloodthirsty monster, killing the enemy by the dozens, and dying after many wounds. It was as though he knew Fate had reached him, and that he was to take as many with him as possible. I saw it firsthand a hundred years later.
It was the Dark Kin, and a horrible misunderstanding. The fight was on their side from the start. Their incubi led them, killing many, but as ever, Cculan fought at the forefront of the battlefield. It was a single scratch that set him off. He had been wounded in countless skirmishes without losing his discipline, but a single slice from a demiklaive set him off. He tore into the Dark Kin, and died after felling forty three of them. He took the arsenal of an entire squad of trueborn. The flesh of his vessel had turned to soup, but we recovered the armor, and filled it again."
Ronahn spun around and stepped off the balcony. "And you know the rest, banshee of Biel-Tan. That is all there is to tell, from my perspective anyway. Ask Draoi or even the exarch himself if you wish to hear more."
"No, no," replied Arcadia, standing. She shook Ronahn's hand and he pulled away quickly, as though he was unused to physical contact. "I appreciate the time you took to tell me."
"It was nothing," said Ronahn. " You should be wary around him though. His rage is terrible to behold."
"I do not believe I have anything to fear, but I will keep your words in mind."
"Commander," whispered Jonah, "I believe I have unlocked the key to finding our traitorous friend."
Aramus stood from the command console and waved for Orion to follow him. Aramus walked silently into a dark antechamber. "Speak then."
"I said before that we need an ancient logic engine to decrypt most of the message yes? The Judgment of Carrion has such an engine."
"That Space Hulk is also nearly impossible to track. What are you proposing?"
"The astronomic array on Typhon will have the power to scan the subsector for the Hulk," said Orion. "And is it not wise to protect our assets on Typhon as well?"
Aramus nodded, but his face spoke of distrust. "Your council is appreciated, but I ask this of you. Why should I believe that you are not the traitor?"
Orion smiled. "It is good of you to distrust me, but hear me now. If I was the traitor, I would not be so eager to decode the messages. Keep an eye on me if you wish, but would the traitor not seek to obscure his identity, especially if the Judgment of Carrion contains the only path to his discovery?"
"I suppose, but do not think for a second that you are above suspicion. No one is."
Orion turned to leave and said, "Your suspicion is valued, Commander. Leave no one out of your sight."
Aramus watched him go, but did not linger. He returned to the bridge with haste. At the sound of his footsteps, the bridge officers turned to look.
"Move to the outer limits of the system and prepare for a jump to Typhon. Navigator, I want a heading ready by the time the warp drives are prepared."
A chorus of affirmatives answered him, and he sat down in the command chair with satisfaction. The ship lurched into motion, its thrusters pushing it out of high orbit, and breaking formation with the other Blood Raven ships. The Retribution's escorts followed her, oblivious to the watchful eyes of the other vessels. In a remote system like Calderis, movement to the edge of the system was easy. There were many routes, and no need to worry about the massive cargo vessels that clogged space lanes near hive worlds. In two hours, the Retribution and her escorts had approached within two hundred thousand miles of their jump point. It was then that the bridge received a communication on the long vox.
"This is 5th Captain Gelden, aboard the Scientia Est Potentia. State your present objective and destination." The voice was calm and patient as though this were a simple check in.
Aramus answered the vox before the bridge officer. "We are presently en route to jump point tertius, destination: Typhon Primarus."
"Course countermanded, on authority of Apollo Diomedes, Captain of the Blood Ravens Chapter Honor Guard. Return to formation with the fleet and prepare for alternate warp heading."
Aramus frowned. "What of the orders of Captain Angelos?"
"Captain Angelos' orders do not supersede those of the Honor Guard Captain. I repeat, return to fleet formation and prepare for alternate heading."
Suddenly another frequency cut in, overlaying that of Gelden's. "This is Gabriel Angelos! Commander Aramus, disregard the orders of Diomedes, full speed to Typhon!"
The vox cracked. The two ships were fighting for control of the Retribution's vox frequencies. Gelden spoke hurriedly, "Captain Angelos, do not disobey the orders of a superior."
Angelos replied with, "Commander, continue on your present course. Diomedes wishes for us to withdraw from the fighting. We cannot leave the recruiting worlds to the enemy! If the Litany of Fury cannot escape as well, it will be up to you."
Then Gelden's voice was replaced with a more familiar one. Diomedes' voice was filled with disgust. "Angelos! Your rebellious tendencies have reached a new height! I will not allow you to directly defy the orders of our Chapter Master Kyras!"
In response, Angelos said, "Kyras' orders are madness Diomedes. My conscience will not allow me to follow orders that would damn the Chapter."
"Where was your conscience on Cyrene?" demanded Diomedes then.
There was a long pause. "One with your reputation should not wave my worst crimes in my face. I am leaving Captain. You will not stop me."
"Very well." Diomedes' voice was filled to the brim with anger and resignation.
One of the bridge officers stood. "Commander Aramus, the Scientia Est Potentia has opened fire on the Litany of Fury."
"What?" exclaimed Aramus. "Can we read their status from here?"
"Yes Commander," replied the officer. "The Litany of Fury has launched decoys, and is making for a random jump point. The Scientia Est Potentia is pursuing, but calculations show that they will not be able to catch them." His eyes widened a bit, and he said, "The Scientia fired another volley. Useless, I can see from here that they will go wide."
"Can we turn around?" asked Aramus. He was not going to add to this treason. This situation was escalating too far. If he could return and convince Angelos to stand down, he was sure it would work out better for all of them.
The bridge officer was interrupted by Captain Angelos' final vox message. "Diomedes has lost his reason to blind loyalty! Make your warp jump immediately!"
"You will do no such thing!" crackled Diomedes. "I will not tolerate any more treason fro-"
The vox cut out in the middle of his sentence and after a moment, the bridge officer said, "The Litany is jamming them Commander. It doesn't look like we will be receiving any more communications from either vessel."
Aramus thought for a moment, "And you said that the Litany should be able to escape?"
"Yes sir. The Scientia was unprepared for her flight. I doubt they could catch up even if they put all power into the main engines."
"Then we will make the jump, as ordered by Captain Angelos. The Black Legion is still a threat. We cannot withdraw from this war. Have an astropath prepared soon, I have a message to send."
"Course set," muttered the navigator in the corner. It was massaging its forehead with spindly fingers, rubbing the cloth that covered its third eye.
"Jumping in thirty seconds," came a cry. Aramus felt the tingling sensation that came from imminent entrance to the warp and braced himself for the plunge.
"Two days stuck in this hellhole. Why can't we just advance?" muttered Remer. His voice was nearly inaudible under the sound of the artillery. The tenement housing had been destroyed the day before. The traitors must have got artillery into position. The surviving guardsmen had scattered, securing basements all around the block. The Daredevils were billeted with the command elements of the Guard here. For the past few hours, Merrick, Connor, and Uther had been in a private meeting with Captain Berniss from the 3rd Company of the 85th Vendoland.
"Shut it," groaned Kippler. "The artillery is bad enough."
"Fine," said Remer, and then quieter, "Somebody's cranky."
The room shook. A round must have landed close. There was no word on reinforcements so far, so the Guardsmen had stayed put. Perhaps the traitors wanted to conserve their numbers, and were shying away from a frontal assault.
The guardsmen in the cellar numbered about fifty, all curled up in the fetal position, trying to drown out the noise and the cold. The heating in the entire level had gone out, leaving the temperatures hovering only a little above freezing. Most power was out as well, and the water mains had cracked, leaving the cellar with an inch of water. Vermin crawled around them, and the guardsmen could do little but endure.
Behind the other door, the COs plotted. Finally, nearing sunset, the door burst open. First out was Merrick, followed quickly by the other three.
Not a single guardsman was sleeping, and they all climbed to their feet in moments. Merrick grabbed his hellgun without a word, and Remer intercepted Connor.
"Miss, where is it that you've decided to take us?"
She looked back at him with red eyes, dulled from lack of sleep, with deep blue bags marking her lids. She scowled, and spat on the ground at his feet.
"We're going to blow up those fraking guns. Its time I got some sleep."