Chapter 17
(A/N: My apologies to everyone here. I've been a bit busy these past few months as I am essential personnel in my country. However, I am sad to announce that another reason why I am late in posting this is because my paternal grandfather passed away on St. Patrick's Day and we cremated him last Thursday and will not be interred until the last case of COVID-19 in the US is over... probably. He was 91 years old. He is survived by my grandmother, my father, my aunt, my uncle, my two little brothers, not to mention numerous cousins and a family line involving his half-niece as my great-grandfather had another wife before my own great-grandmother. He was a former US Navy sailor for three years and then worked as a plant worker for General Motors.
We are sad at his passing and hope that he is in a better place. Nevertheless, I have been working on this story and other projects, not to mention work. I plan on adding more to this chapter later.)
2518
Epsilon Eridanus II
Epsilon Eridani System
Outer Colonies
United Earth Government Space
It had been nearly a year since Michael had been kidnapped. By whom and for what- neither of them knew. But, one thing was sure: the fuckers who did it would pay for it in blood.
The night was dark on the western hemisphere of Eridanus II. The stars were out and the moons gave off their glow. Not exactly an ideal time to pull off a raid, but then again: bad things happened at night, didn't they? Both his father and he had been a part of those bad things... usually to bad people. Occasionally, both of them (at separate times and places) got into bar fights with good people as well under the influence of alcohol. It was the nature of Marines and Spacers. Tonight? In this day and age and with their current predicament? Not so much. Tonight was a night when they would unleash the primal savagery that humanity had mostly forgotten. A rage that was known intimately by a nearly-extinguished race indigenous to North America. More accurately: to one surviving tribe. A tribe they were banished from for reasons too stupid and outdated to even remotely understand.
The father-and-son team sat in an alleyway across from each other in a bad part of town. Far away from the nice part of the city. Can't have raids near nice neighborhoods now, can they? Chris Soaring Hawk took a bite of some dip and started chewing. He took a big sigh. The last time he had been here was a bit before Michael arrived. He smiled, shaking his head. He missed him. Trouble? More so than most. But, his wife had loved him like the son she never got the chance to bear. And so: both he and his father took him in as well, but decided to seek the help of the medicine woman some time afterwards, keep tradition as best as they could.
"Remember when Mike was a year old and he could already start talking like a kid about seven or eight years older than his age?" His father, Jacob, said quietly across the alleyway from him in their clan's guttural tongue... or rather: the old tribe's tongue. Back when there had been a tribe with more than one clan. Almost all of them were wiped out by the US cavalry, save one guy whom got banished. He later reformed the old tribe after taking in a wife from another tribe and repopulated it. As for having additional clans? No dice.
The former Marine smirked back at his near elderly-father. "Yeah, freaked Maria out for awhile." He said in a hushed tone. Jacob chuckled back. "I still remember that one time a tractor that you were lifting on a jack was about to tip over and the kid-bless his little heart- stopped the damn thing with his bare hands like God-damn Superman." Jacob told his father. Chris chuckled. He then stopped smiling, remembering something.
In the dim light, he could see the camouflaged paint his father wore under the hood. Both of them had it as they pretended to be hobos in the bad part of town. Had it been in a much nicer neighborhood, the local cops would've pulled over and probably asked them what the hell they were doing.
"Remember what we talked about on the way over here? What one of my suspicions was?" Chris asked, leaning forward. Jacob sighed. "I remember telling you to shut the fuck up about it. We can't have them on our tail," He said, referring to his old 'employers'.
"What if we're going after the wrong guys? What if it's not the-" Chris paused to find the right word, in case they were being watched or bugged. "'Traitors', like we thought it was?" His father asked. The son scoffed.
"Why the fuck would they take kids? Doesn't make no damn sense, Innies used kids as human shields and bombs back in your day too." Jacob told his father flatly. "Shit goes before my time too." His father answered, shrugging. "Remember reading about the Spartans?" Chris asked. Jacob scoffed in response."I remember reading they and the Athenians fought each other with a plague going on, and then both of them got conquered by the Macedonians." Jacob answered, flatly.
"My point is: what if... we've been thinking about this the wrong way?" Chris asked. His son gave him an incredulous look. "We came all this way for nothing, then?" Jacob angrily answered, while trying not to raise his voice. "We've planned this for months on the way here and this planet's our first god-damned lead to find the kid." Jacob asked. "You talked me into this, now you want to back out? Are you fucking serious?" The son angrily scoffed.
The old warrior sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, no, what I mean is-" He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know what to think now. This was the first planet I thought to look, given how we both came here at one point or a-" The father spoke while turning his head. He paused as he looked up at the roof, for some reason. Later, he would say he didn't know why he did so. He squinted, making his son looked at the direction he looked at: the building right across the street from the target complex. More accurately: the roof of said complex.
They saw nothing at first. Then, a faint outline began to emerge, just the faintest, really. Something big and bulky. Chris blinked. Just like that-it was gone. Both stared, blinkingly at the spot and then turned back to each other.
"How much of that old Irish whiskey did we drink before this? I think it's starting to affect me now." Jacob asked, rubbing his head. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea, after all.
XXX
Aslan Shah smiled underneath his hood as he gazed at the two former Marines hiding in an alleyway from a building across the street, a simple thought suggestion to make it look natural, a brief glimpse of one of the Custodes with him. More accurately, a member of his Companions and a crisis was averted... for the moment. Part of his concentration now was on maintaining the illusion that nothing awaited the sentries walking around on the roof as music blared in the down-trodden apartment in front of the gathered strike force.
+++My Emperor+++A voice deep and gravelly said in his mind as a warrior stepped next to him. He turned, seeing one of his Companions, Octavian, look at him with his helm covered in dark navy blue as well as the rest of the strike unit. All ranks and insignias had been taken off for this mission. Besides, they were all Astartes or the equivalent thereof. +++The men are ready.+++ Octavian reported. He turned around to regard his strike force: half a squad of Raven Guard with at the very least four of his companions. All armed with boltguns, flash bangs, and frag grenades. The mission was to be a simple one... and yet: not so.
+++Octavian: our task begins on my mark. Code-word is 'Lucy'.+++ The Emperor telepathically said, remembering an incident he had witnessed while on business in the now-defunct, but then-chaotic nation, of Somalia on Earth in the late 20th century. He had been doing some business there for recruiting purposes. Sometimes the worst of places, produce not just the worst of men, but also the best of them.
The squad gathered at the edge of the roof, the target building across from them only a mere jump away. Elsewhere, there were agents under his employment about to make a raid. ONI agents on this planet were redirected elsewhere or engaged in other matters off-world. Some had disappeared. Local law enforcement had been told to turn a blind eye under false pretenses (He had pretended to be an ONI agent).
They stood in a single file row, their feet spread apart for the jump, their armor painted a dark navy blue and their heads now covered in their traditional and renowned helms. The Emperor put his own helmet on, a bland tactical mask with a visor and a metal laurel.
+++All units within range of this message: Lucy. I say again: Lucy+++ The Emperor telepathically announced. Then, they all jumped,lifting into the air. At that moment, in power stations supplying electricity to that area of the city, the power went out thanks to an EMP device planted there by an agent. Entire blocks went out of power for the whole night, save the medical clinics he had graciously donated generators too along with convenience and grocery stores. All light went out in an entire district. It was enough for this operation.
There would be traffic accidents, crimes, and what-else. Being what he was, and having garnered more than enough compensation, he was prepared to pay the financial cost to partially alleviate grieving and wounded families. He was not perfect, but then again: he was only a mere man that somehow was powerful enough to be considered a sort-of 'God'. As their metal boots came closer to the roof, with the guards looking up at the shadows. A loud cry came across the Vox channel that he and his squad shared.
"AVE IMPERATOR!" A Custodes, definitely Claudius- that funny, but eager fellow. His squadmates echoed his cry. He himself cried out something similar, but reflected for what he fought for. "AVE IMPERIUM HOMINIS!" His boots now landed on the concrete along with his brethren, the structure stable enough to hold them all. He raised his bolt pistol to a surprised Insurrectionist, holding an MA5B rifle, probably stolen from a UNSC armory.
"My apologies for this," He solemnly spoke, executing the man afterwards with a bark from his bolt pistol. The man fell back to the ground without a head. By now, the entire neighborhood would be awake at this. He knew that similar strikes were happening at suspected or known Insurrectionist safe houses.
While the current target building was indeed criminal in nature, it was also, according to trusted sources, also a safe-house for Insurrectionist sympathizers. Most likely, the foster family for his son would have stormed the place guns blazing only to be either captured and tortured or to just be executed. Something he couldn't quite allow.
Around him, his warriors moved swiftly. The Raven Guard line troopers took aim before their lesser opponents could open fire and took them down. His loyal Custodes formed a ring around him with their Guardian spears, striking those that would aim at their liege with a charge and a slash that looked more like a faint blur to the defenders.
The Raven Guard fire-team, a half-squad of five Space Marines from the Stranded Raven Guard Contingent, formerly of the 122nd Shadow Company, moved ahead, their armored bodies melting into the shadows while he sensed the neighbors in adjacent buildings hearing the sounds of bolter-fire and possibly seeing the flashes of it as well. Not to mention the screaming rebels. He closed his eyes to concentrate for a brief moment, a single thought- an idea-concept coming to mind. Then, his eyes briefly flashed gold. He nodded, satisfied.
"Milord," The vox channel that the strike force used crackled in his ears. "Shadow-Primaris: The rooftop is secure. Break. We have left two survivors for interrogation, just in case. Inquisitive: What is to be done with them? Over." Sergeant Kage's raspy voice inquired. He had been grazed in the throat some years before Horus's rebellion by an Ork round. Not badly enough to warrant a bionic prosthetic or extensive regeneration, but enough for the Sergeant's voice to change from deep to its current status.
+++Leave them be, but gather them into one place. The same goes for whomever we keep alive+++ The Emperor thought to his subordinate. He then smiled as his retinue and himself walked towards the entrance to the floor below them. +++I must say, Sergeant: Corvax had taught you well. A damnable shame that he sent you and others such as yourself away simply because you were Terran.+++ The Emperor complimented. A silence came onto the vox. He sensed a brief period of shame from the Sergeant. He frowned, remembering that the Raven Guard's Terran veterans had been sent away because they were formerly slave-masters and barbaric savages-elements of humanity that Corvax didn't want as his own adopted Homeworld of Deliverance and its neighboring planet of Kiavahr had been owned by Techno-Guild slavemasters. Obviously, the Primarch of the Raven Guard hadn't wanted that kind of reminder of his past under his command. So, he practically exiled or sent them on suicide missions. "Thank you, milord." Kage said with a tinge of awe.
+++You are welcome, Sergeant.+++ The Emperor telepathically responded back before returning to work. +++Proceed as planned+++
"As you will it, milord." Kage affirmed with a smile in his voice. Downstairs, he could sense a rising panic from rebels and those close to them. He shook his head. On the one hand, they offered their families protection. On the other hand, they painted their families as targets.
+++Custodes: prepare for teleportation. Stand close to me.+++ The Emperor ordered. +++Aye, my liege+++ They responded, standing in a close pentagon formation. A brief flash and they appeared on the street outside of the building's front entrance. As planned, three of the Custodes separated from them with two behind and in front of his person. The Emperor smiled, noting that to the average outsider, it would look like some strange rave thanks to the illusion he had conjured. He may be a fragment with a fragment's power, but it was nevertheless impressive, even to himself. However, trivial, it may be.
The Emperor awaited the arrival of the fleeing rebels and their supporters outside of the entrance, sensing them move through the halls as their brothers and sisters above were slaughtered in the shadows by bolter-fire and blade, the bark of the rounds scaring and slaying all it came across. Lights flashed from the windows, showing outlines of bulky armored giants and their inferior opponents. He sensed several aiming down at him from the window above. Both of his remaining Custodes stood by, ready to deflect the bullets from their Emperor be it in front or in the back. He took aim and fired, each round having its aim adjust within seconds of each shot as perfectly as possible while rounds bounced off of either his armor or were deflected by Guardian spear-blades. The other bodyguards would deal with those that came out the back or side entrances while the Raven Guard would deal with those above, working their way down: taking prisoners or none. Those that fled would be either apprehended or slain by the Custodes and the Emperor himself.
Every time he slightest sense that a trigger was about to be pulled, he would fire at its source, either a window up a story or so or on the street level with the occasional reload. Eventually, cries of 'Enough' 'We Surrender' rang out after a full four minutes of Imperial slaughter occurred, the bolter-fires' ghosts now being seen on the very street level, near the lobby, as he was right. The last shot had occurred near the elevators and stairways leading up. So far, no one had come out with their hands up at the entrance. He had sensed that civilians had come out, rebel supporters that now wanted nothing more than to live. Unfortunately for them, some would face justice. He sensed the fear, the hidden anger, the dying strength of misguided rebels that fought for an ideal that would unfortunately fail.
+++Have the wounded and the prisoners be gathered onto the roof. Leave the dead for our men in the planetary law enforcement.+++ The Emperor ordered, not having had to move even a mere step forward during his turkey shoot on the ground. He had counted only fifty rounds to be used. All anyone would see outside was a teenger and his friends shooting paintball guns.
"GODDAMN KIDS!" An old man shouted from an open window behind him in an apartment building that wasn't so downtrodden. "Quit scaring half the damn 'hood to death! Made us think the spooks were after you!" The aging senior scolded with a raised fist and a raspy voice. The Emperor rolled his eyes and started to respond.
"Lo siento, abuelo! Won't happen again!" He called out in a mid-twenties-sounding Terran-Spanish accent. The old man shut the window. Just then, he heard a few of his Companions snicker on the Vox channel. He smiled to himself. A little humor never hurt anyone. He then gestured for his Custodes to walk with him. The party entered the building as the last of the survivors were ushered up the stairs. His helm's night vision sensors showed the world in a greenish-aura. Bodies were against the walls or on the floor. Bolter cases had been picked up and properly put away to hide the evidence. Blood covered the holed halls, doors, and pooled on the floor, like a horror house in the 20th Century. Bodies were split in two or lost limbs that looked like hand grenades went off in their grasp... or not (counting the feet). Heads were off as well while he walked up the stairs. As he went up the stairwell, he noted the pile of no less than thirteen bodies on the floor with five or six more leaning forward without heads and/or chests. He sighed. Perhaps, doing this was a bad idea. Then again, any information on other rebel movements would benefit himself and ONI in the long run, perhaps even so far as to take care of one Colonel Robert Watts, a turncoat that was formerly a UNSC Marine.
He scoffed at the thought. He had some information on what happened there to that particular hot topic. Sources varied, but he deduced he was either bought off or was tired of fighting a seemingly endless and losing war against Insurrectionists and decided to join the Underdog. Had he known what was really going on, he would've valued himself and his men's lives by staying on Earth's good graces.
If he was right, and he almost always as, the Insurrectionists would probably be eradicated within four or five years as long as raids like this, combined with some discreet 'donations' to ONI occurred. If new ones didn't spring up during the upcoming war with the alien oligarchical religious confederation outside of human/ Imperial space, that is. He was looking forward to it, actually. He had never encountered their particular like, before. If he did, he didn't remember (he was a fragment after all). Then again, it almost reminded him of Lorgar.
His shoulders slumped as he glanced at the carnage around him. He had thought of his rebel sons often. Not as seldom as he wanted to, but still. Lorgar, if he was thinking right, must have been the first. Monarchia was a dead give-away. Had Lorgar perhaps been more of Horus's caliber, it would have been Lorgar directly leading and not indirectly. Then again, he suspected the true cause may have been from the Word Bearers rank-and-file in the first place. The old religion of Colchis had bore strange and disturbing similarities to so many cults he had vanquished over the years. And now: that cult had spread like a plague and given birth to a rebellion, which split his former Imperium back home, and shattered the semblance of his dream into possibly ungatherable pieces. What a mess.
'At the very least, I am gathering shards here.' The one-time Master of Mankind encouraged himself, while he stepped in blood. He heard the wails of lovers and siblings mourning the dead and the wounded calling for aid. He glanced briefly at levels that were riddled with holes, slash marks, shattered glass, broken and destroyed weapons, and corpses. The smell of death hung in the air as did the sense of it. He never really did like that smell... but he had to confess he did on more than one occasion, which wasn't that many. Monarchia definitely hadn't been one. Or any city he had atomically bombed during the Unification Wars. So much needless death and destruction, because no one saw the bigger picture.
While he could have easily teleported to the roof, he felt it enjoyable sometimes to walk... but also much better to survey the damage he had caused to remind himself of the cost and the tragedy that war often brought. . Doubtless, similar situations were happening throughout the city and across this world. It had been a massive operation on a planetary scale with pin point accuracy. Rebel leaders and sympathizers captured or eliminated. Lives possibly saved or not. Data left behind for ONI agents, the battlefields left in place to remind those of what happened and as a warning to those that resisted. It almost made him feel like he was in the Unification Wars back on Terra. Space, he somewhat missed those days. Much simpler with one world than trying to liberate a million or so more. Then again, he had planned on reuniting humanity.
The Emperor arrived on the roof, the Raven Guard and three Custodes standing watch over the huddled and sobbing prisoners. On the vox channel that he shared with the many squad leaders across the planet: reports came in. All of the operations were successful. All known sites were destroyed. Enemy casualties were possibly below two-or-two-and-a-half-thousand by his reckoning. Bombs properly disposed of, the means of making them vanished into the flames, leaders taken captive or dead, rebel spirits crushed. He sighed, wondering if this was a portent of things to come in the near future. For there was only war, that way, he knew. He nodded satisfied as the combined group of no-less than fifty-five captives looked at their wardens in fear or bruised anger. The fearful ones were the few children and noncombatant women... or the scared men and women that fought but surrendered.
"This is all of them, sire." Sergeant Kage reported, his beak-like helm looking at his liege for guidance.
+++This will do+++ The Emperor declared, nodding. He then connected with the Bucephalus in orbit. The cryo pods would be ready for them after initial interrogation. The Shaw-Fujikawa Drive would be prepped to jump once they exited the Orbital Elevator and all teams with their captives were gone. He closed his eyes, concentrating. Then, he opened them. The captives had briefly cried out and then disappeared in a flash of light along with the Raven Guard. He wouldn't leave. Not just yet. He had unfinished business.
+++If I may ask, my Emperor: are we going to meet them?+++ Octavian asked, his helm turning towards his liege. His own helm nodded with not a word spoken. Then, another flash and they appeared right in the middle of a living room with a startled pair of Indiginous father-and-son in their wife-beaters and shorts drinking beer and having fried chicken. Both stared at the sight in awe and shock, the air having blown their hair and the guns they had suddenly vanished from their sight. He smiled at them beneath his helm.
"Ah," He began, grinning. "Perhaps I should've went to the front door first."
(A/N: 'Lucy' was a code-word used for the assault to begin during Operation Ranger. More specifically, during the Battle of Mogadishu in the very early 90s'. Many of you may remember Black Hawk Down, which is the movie based on those events, but also somewhat inaccurate in some respects. Still: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Happy Easter/ Passover! Shalom!)
