Ignis in Vacui Chapter 38
The blast nearly took his head off, a wide spread of pellets fired from some random shotgun. Saffor only managed to avoid being killed by frantically dropping back behind the pedestal, letting the bulk of it take the brunt of the blast. He flinched as the deck around him was sprayed with pellets, several of them coming dangerously close to his legs but he managed to stay alive regardless. Death was inches away but only one thought was in Saffor's head, the armsman would require a moment to steady his aim.
Instantly Saffor sprung up and brushed his fingers over the triggers of his pistols, sending out a burst of spinning discs. His aim was hasty and owed more to luck than skill but fortune smiled upon him and a single disc took the man in the forehead, slicing his skull clean open. Saffor dropped down again instantly but the scene was already imprinted on his mind's eye. All around squads of armsmen were advancing, crushing any resistance with overwhelming firepower. Murr's gang were fighting back with shotguns and autopistols of their own, but they were deck-hands not soldiers, they couldn't hold back the tide of advancing foes. Yet Saffor's more immediate concern was that he had lost sight of Zerban and Kreg, the most dangerous foes around and he didn't have an eye upon them.
Saffor glanced at the atmospheric shield but saw nothing, no sign of an oncoming shuttle. "Dammit, come on, how long does it take?" the Rogue Trader muttered but there was no reply forthcoming. Suddenly Saffor heard an immense roar from behind him and instinct forced his legs into motion before he even had time to process it. The reflex action saved his life as the pedestal he had been sheltering behind was torn from the deck, ripped free in a shower of sparks by colossal strength.
It was Kreg, the slab-muscled Ogryn bellowing in mad fury as he tossed the heavy pedestal aside like it was an empty crate. Saffor hurriedly backed away but the Ogyrn followed, his cranial implants blinking with red-lights as they forced the abhuman into a bestial fury. Kreg stomped forward, swinging his fists wildly, each one twice the size of Saffor's skull. The Rogue Trader was forced to retreat; hastily falling back for a single blow would surely tear his head off.
Two paces behind the Ogyrn came the hated sight of Zerban, the Inquisitor stomping forward in his power armour, trying to aim his plasma pistol around Kreg's bulk. Saffor kept backing off, trying to keep the Ogryn between them, but in doing so he placed himself right in the path of Kreg's charge. Saffor was forced to duck as a fist whooshed over his head, the wind snapping over his neck, telling him how close he had come to death.
Incensed Saffor rose up and feathered his pistols, sending out sprays of discs but they only managed to cut shallow grooves into Kreg's skin, the Ogyrn's hide tougher than carapace armour. Saffor grimaced and raised his aim, sending another burst at Kreg's eyes and this time it was enough to make the Ogyrn flinch. Instantly the Rogue Trader turned and dashed away, he had no plan as to where he was going, but anywhere was better than here.
He felt an icy finger crawl up his neck at the thought that Zerban had a clear shot at his back but the Inquisitor seemed to have been caught by surprise and he missed his moment. Saffor flung himself under an Aquila shuttle and rolled over and over before rising on the other side. His head snapped up and he saw a mad melee before him, crewmen and armsmen wrestling furiously for supremacy, but it was clear which side was winning.
Saffor took off again, dodging fights and jumping over corpses. His heart was hammering in his chest and the hard spike of adrenaline was burning through him, his flight was buying him seconds of precious life but he couldn't keep it up for long. Then Saffor skidded around a blank-eyed servitor lifter and found himself confronted by a corpse, one he recognised. It was Murr, staring blankly at the ceiling as blood puddled around his ruined chest.
"Damnation," Saffor hissed as he saw the fate of his helper and the sight made him freeze for a heartbeat. It was a perilous mistake for at that moment an immense roar erupted and Saffor's head snapped round to see Kreg looming over him, the Ogyrn's huge fists raised in readiness to crush him utterly.
Saffor had always boasted he was not afraid of death, but in that moment he saw his fate writ large and a primal instinct screamed within him that he didn't want to die. Not now, not ever. He wanted to live more than anything but there was nothing he could do to avert his doom. Luck had abandoned him at last and his gambles had finally failed to pay off.
Saffor could only watch as Kreg's fists began to fall with infinite slowness but at the last instant something made the Abhuman pause. The Ogryn's thick jaw dropped in surprise and his eyes went wide, staring not at the Rogue Trader but at something beyond, something outside the atmospheric shield.
Saffor didn't even have time to blink before something smashed through the energy barrier separating the hanger bay from the cruel vacuum of space. It was a gunship, with a blunt armoured prow, downswept wings and a turret on top. It was brutality writ into plasteel and ceramite, it was aggression made fact and it was travelling fast, far too fast to attempt a proper landing.
Saffor ducked as an instant gale blew out from its passage, the cold of space and the heat of its engines both washing over him simultaneously. He hit the deck hard and felt something tear in his left shoulder but he looked up just in time to see the gunship slam onto the floor so hard its landing claws made grooves in the metal. Its wing clipped a cargo-hauler and crumpled, spinning it around to point back the way it came as it ground to a halt in a plume of smoke and sparks.
Before it had even stopped moving the ramp on its front slammed down and Saffor gasped as something terrifying emerged. It was a Space Marine, clad in jagged black armour and a grinning skull-helm, bearing a weighty golden mace in one fist. Saffor couldn't believe it, they had just crash landed into a hostile warzone yet the giant emerged with a speed and ferocity that made the destruction pale in comparison.
The huge Transhuman leapt out of the gunship in one mighty bound and tackled Kreg off his feet with a roar of righteous outrage. Saffor had seen the Ogyrn lift ground-cabs and break plasteel with his bare hands but the Space Marine bowled him over like he was nothing. Fists flew and roars of anger arose as the pair fell upon each other and Saffor couldn't tell which one was more brutal.
Yet the spectacle wasn't over, for three more Space Marines emerged from the smoking gunship to leap into the fray. Saffor had never actually witnessed Astartes at war and the sight took his breath away. First came a Marine with a shining sword and hefty shield that he used as much as his blade, smashing skulls and breaking limbs with smooth élan. His movements were crisp and elegant but still utterly deadly, reaping armsmen like they were mere chaff. Behind him came another Astartes, with a burning axe held in an augmetic arm. He was far more direct, hacking and smashing his way forward like a grox through a wheat field, leaving a trail of cauterised enemies behind. Lastly came a swift Space Marine with a gleaming short-sword, he was far more intimate in his killing, ending men up close and personal, yet his tally was no less for it.
It was staggering to behold, a moment earlier the armsmen had stood upon the cusp of victory, now they were being cut to ribbons. A handful of Space Marines were systematically taking them to pieces, annihilating them with contemptuous disdain. Nothing could stop them, nothing was even slowing them down, they moved wherever they willed and death followed in their wake. If this is what a handful of Space Marines can do, Saffor thought, what kind of destruction could a whole Company unleash?
Suddenly a shadow fell over Saffor and he raised his pistol in his good arm but what he beheld made him pause. It was the lady Vevara, with a bulky Xenos deathlock pistol in her hand and wearing a tight bodyglove, one that in other circumstances would have caught Saffor's complete attention. Vevara glanced down and said, "Zerban, where is Zerban?"
Saffor staggered upright and answered, "Don't know, I lost him in the melee."
"Warp hells," Vevara spat angrily, "Find him, he can't get away."
Saffor began edging around the battle but remarked, "Good timing, bad landing."
Vevara followed him warily as she commented, "Speed seemed more important than grace."
Saffor glanced at the embattled Space Marines, who had already slaughtered half the armsmen and asked, "How did they know to target Zerban's men?"
"They didn't," Vevara snapped, "I just told them to kill anybody who wasn't you."
"Errr… my thanks," Saffor said dumbfounded by her ruthlessness but then Vevara spied something and dashed forward, pistol raised.
Saffor saw the unmistakeable sight of Zerban, fleeing as fast as his power armour would let him. Vevara raced after him and sent a ravening beam of purple energy after the fleeing Inquisitor as she shouted, "Zerban! I name thee Extremis Diabolus!" The wild shot hit the wall above Zerban's head, sending showers of sparks flying and causing him to turn around. The Inquisitor's plasma pistol came up and the firing chamber flared incandescently as it prepared to fire. Saffor swore to himself and hurled his bulk into Vevara, sending them sideways a second before a blast of plasma hurtled by.
Saffor sent a spray of discs at the Inquisitor but they deflected off his armour harmlessly. Zerban in turn advanced, his pistol recharging but Saffor hauled Vevara behind a bulky lander muttering, "That man needs to learn how to die."
Zerban stomped forward relentlessly and shouted, "Did you think you fooled me Vevara?! I know who you are and now I'll kill you, just like I did your sister!"
Besides the Rogue Trader Vevara went very still and Saffor saw the fury in her eyes, the words striking a chord within her. This was not the red hot rush of berserk madness but a chilling, icy wrath, one honed and focussed by an absolutely unbreakable will. The towering resolve and ruthless determination of an Inquisitor. Despite all Saffor had witnessed today this was perhaps the most terrifying thing he had seen.
Vevara whispered sternly, "I'll draw his fire, you have one shot."
"What are you…" Saffor started to say but then Vevara dashed out of cover, running hard.
Saffor could just barely see Zerban's form but he saw enough to spy the pistol coming about, ready to reduce Vevara to atoms. Time slowed for Saffor and he felt his heartbeat steadying, this was just like being on his personal assault course, surrounded by servitor targets. His pistols felt sure and steady in his grip, as comforting as a warm bed in the morning and just as natural. Nothing else existed in that moment, not the battle, not the Space Marines and not Vevara. There was only his pistol and the target, the sum total of his existence. Saffor breathed out slowly and raised his good arm, then stepped out of cover and feathered his pistol.
His aim was sure and steady and all three discs hit the same spot, not on Zerban's armoured skull but at the join of the helm and gorget, slicing into the vulnerable neck joint. Muscle-fibre underweave parted as skin tore and vertebrae were severed, the monomolecular edges of the discs not hindered at all by the matter they were cutting. One second Zerban was standing there, pistol held out before him and then a moment later his body fell sideways, blood pouring from his decapitated neck.
Saffor breathed in calmly and felt the beginnings of a grin tug at his lips. Once more he had gambled and won, fortune indeed favoured him and Zerban was dead at last.