Speculum Enigmate Chapter 21
Las-fire fell from on high, scorching the ferrocrete surface with blazing energy. It was coming in at a steep angle, falling on their heads almost vertically and promising swift death. The only shelter was the balcony above their heads, a circular walkway that protruded from the wall but it was scant cover.
Manaar kept his feet well back as he returned fire. The simple Mon-Keigh las-pistols were primitive firearms, lacking the grace and elegance of Shuriken weapons. The Hybrids above them had lasrifles, longer-ranged and more powerful by comparison, but the wielders lacked the exceptional eyesight and precision of a superior race. Manaar lifted his pistols and let off a volley, blasting crude laser bolts up at the foes from a range any human marksman would have sworn impossible. Three Hybrids took shots through the eyes, their skulls blown open by searing energy and a fourth fell back, clutching his shoulder.
"Nice shot!" Eirk shouted as he swept his Hellgun about and let off a thundering retort. His fire was far less accurate but he made up for that with sheer volume, inundating the balcony above with shots that punched through the rockcrete and blew out the legs of their attackers. The Hybrids above them faltered, stumbling as their numbers were culled and Inquisitor Vevara yelled, "Quickly, move up!"
The Inquisitorial party were caught in some underground silo, a cylindrical shaft that bored down many levels into the ground. Manaar had no clue as to its function or history, but sadly it had made the perfect trap. The party had been crossing the bottom when they had come under fire, caught in a vice by the Genestealer Hybrids. The shocking revelation of the nature of their foes would have stumped a lesser soul but Manaar was an Aspect Warrior, his reflexes were keen and his experience broad. He had fought the bastard byblows of the Great Devourer before and learned never to be surprised by their insidious nature. The Inquisitor's retinue seemed equally immune to shock, hardened by years of treachery and betrayals no doubt.
Vevara sprinted for a ramp leading up another level and the rest followed on. They had already ascended many balconies but resistance was growing, now they were pressing on into the teeth of enemy fire with every step. Yet Manaar did not feel daunted, he exulted in it. The battle was unlocking the barriers in his psyche, allowing his darkest emotions to flow uninhibited. It was the nature of the Aspect Warriors, blood and death drew their warrior-selves to the fore, shifting his equilibrium to the violence of the Warp Spider. With every kill he felt his soul grow more bloodthirsty, more skilful and deadly and his heart thundered in his chest. Yet he was stymied in his ascension to his warrior state, he had not his armour nor had he partaken of the rituals of war, without those his mental locks could not be opened, he could not become who he needed to be.
As he ran he saw a gaggle of Hybrids racing to intercept them, pressing forward with bayonets and knives in hand. Yet as they drew close they stumbled and slowed, seemingly baffled and struck dumb at the last moment. It was Mortula, her Null Aura was affecting them. Manaar knew the children of the swarm communed through a group mind, somewhat like the Infinity Circuit but more insidious. The Sister of Silence broke that bond, leaving them alone and silent in their minds, it was painful for him but to the Genestealers it was agonising, stealing purpose from their souls. The Hybrids stumbled and then Mortula was amongst them. Her greatsword swept about and cleaved a head in twain and plunged through a heart. A kick from her armoured boot sent another screaming to his death many levels below and a punch floored another. She was a whirling dervish, lashing out in all directions and laying low their attackers. Her speed and skill were phenomenal, almost like a Howling Banshee's, and in moments she had slain half-a-dozen foes.
Her victory was short-lived however for more Hybrids were amassing above, raining down fire. The retinue threw themselves aside as Eirk yelled, "They've got us pinned!"
Vevara let off a beam of ravening purple energy from an exotic pistol as she shouted, "We need to flank them!"
"Not possible," Lumix stated as he fired a grav-pistol that crushed a foe into a tiny ball, "The enemy has an elevated position and superior firepower. The odds of our survival diminish by the second."
"Frak," Mortula swore as she threw her back against the wall, "We can't fight like this!"
"I'm open to suggestions," Vevara snapped as she fired her pistol again, racking the balcony above with purple beams.
Manaar saw the perilous state of their position and knew it was up to him to change it. He slotted his las-pistols into his belts and drew froth his grappling line as he cried, "Suppress the foe!"
"What are you doing?!" Vevara snapped.
"Asuryan's Blood," Manaar swore, "I'm saving you worthless apes."
He burst into a flat sprint, racing for the edge of the balcony. A flurry of covering fire flew over his head, racking the Hybrids above as he planted his foot on the edge and leapt into the open air. For an instant he soared over nothingness, feeling the blood racing through his veins with joy, then his hand flashed and his grapple shot away. The small hook sailed upwards and snagged the balcony and Manaar felt a jerk as his line went taught. Las-fire flew around him but his momentum carried him away in a long arc, moving too fast for the crude foe to target.
His feet struck the edge of the balcony they were standing on and he began to run sideways, dashing along the perimeter of the silo suspended from his line. This was the most dangerous moment, when his path would be predictable but that knowledge exhilarated him. The wind on his face, the lethal drop below, the achingly close shooting of his enemy set his soul ablaze. He was dancing with death and he loved every second of it. Perhaps this was how the Dark Kin of Commorragh felt all the time, living on the knife-edge betwixt life and death. No wonder the Path of the Aspect Warrior was so heavily restricted and disciplined, such passions were dangerous things.
Manaar's run had brought him nearly to his foe's location and he jumped as he hauled on the line. His heave sent him soaring aloft, rising above the foe's heads as he soared high. The Hybrids couldn't believe what they were seeing, their lasrifles tracking too slowly as he flew towards them. Then his laspistols were in his hands and he began to fire. Searing bolts felled two foes before his feet even touched the floor, three more collapsed with smoking holes as he swept his arms about, shooting them low in the guts. A pair tried to target him but he dove low, rolling between them and putting las-bolts into their groins as he passed. One last foe screamed as it tried to stab him with a bayonet but Manaar twisted and elbowed him in the back, sending him headfirst over the edge to smack into the ground so far below.
Manaar had bested this knot of enemies but his victory was short-lived. A glint of light was all the warning he had before the next attack came. Manaar ducked back as a spray of lasfire inundated the ledge he was standing upon, coming from two-dozen Hybrids on the topmost floor of the silo. They were presenting a line of lasrifles and firing constantly, heedless of any surviving kin that may yet breathe. Manaar clung to the back of the wall and saw he was alone, his allies were yet a floor below and could not get an angle to return fire. Las-bolts chipped the floor inches from his feet, only the girth of the balcony above his head was sheltering him. Moving from his cover would be suicide but staying here was not an option, a few Hybrids could keep him pinned indefinitely while the rest of them descended to finish him off. More than ever he longed for his Warp-jump generator, one brief translation could have brought him up behind them but it was not to be.
His eyes scanned the silo and he saw a sawn off wooden beam sticking out of the uppermost balcony. A run and a leap could see him catch the beam and swing around it, sending him high over the foe's heads. It was risky, he would be perilously exposed but he had no other options. The blood pounding in his ears demanded action, his unleashed emotions called for death and slaughter and his heart knew no fear. He tensed,preparing to make his gamble, but it turned out he didn't need to. A heartbeat before he could move there was a sharp retort, followed by the unmistakable thunder of bolter fire, a sound Manaar knew all too well. The Hybrids were caught in the flank by the unexpected assault and they fell in sprays of blood and bone, mass-reactive shells tearing them to pieces and leaving behind showers of blood and bone.
Silence fell at last and Manaar stepped out curiously, wary of further attacks. Nothing came from above but the rest of the party swiftly caught up, glancing high with confused expressions. Manaar gritted his teeth as Mortula's Null Aura settled over him but Vevara strode past him and marched up the last flight of steps, head held high. Manaar and the others followed, emerging onto the top flight only to be confronted by a ring of gaping pistol barrels. Manaar saw they were being held by Space Marines, ten of them in dark blue plate. Nine of them were wearing lighter armour than he had previously seen, marked out by skull-masks in a crude Mon-Keigh attempt at intimidation. The tenth was shorter, in heavier plate and a traditional helm. He spoke not but Manaar could read his body language like a book, the way he carried himself cried out that he was a deadly warrior and the way the others deferred to him denoted him as their leader.
Vevara did not seem intimidated as she ascended the stairs and declared, "Brother Jediah, we meet again."
This Jediah person replied, "Stand aside so we may kill the Eldar."
Manaar's grip on his pistols tightened but Vevara snapped, "I have no time for your bluster, there are bigger problems on this world."
Jediah retorted, "You haven't changed, still associating with untrustworthy foes. Trust not the alien, is that not what the Inquisition preaches?"
Vevara's eyes narrowed as she spat, "My methods are not for you to question! The Inquisition has discovered a Genestealer infestation and we have been battling towards its nest."
Jediah glared at Manaar but allowed, "We have encountered the same. These Genestealers have stolen the heir to the Governor, we intend to get him back and burn out the heart of this corruption."
Vevara nodded as she said, "Then it seems our goals align, we should work together."
Jediah sneered back, "That's not going to happen."
Manaar couldn't hold his tongue at the ignorance on display and spat, "You would squabble over petty differences when your species stands to lose a world?!"
Jediah glared at him as he growled, "Speak again, alien scum, and I will tear out your tongue. We don't need you to kill our foes."
"Really?" Vevara mused, "Then you have found a way to avoid the Broodmind's notice?"
A pointed silence greeted that remark, the Space Marines sullenly clamping their jaws shut. Vevara however elaborated, "We both know the Genestealers operate in a collective psychic consciousness, linking them together. A shared purpose and spirit, they are not many foes but parts of one greater whole. You can sneak about to your heart's content but they will find you and bring down a mountain of foes, numbers even you can't match."
Jediah sounded suspicious as he probed, "You have a way to disrupt this power?"
Vevara did an admirable job of not glancing at Mortula as she replied, "The Inquisition has the means, over a short distance. So long as you stay near me the Broodmind will be weakened."
Jediah was silent for a long moment then questioned, "Why do you care if we succeed or fail?"
Vevara answered, "Firstly because you are the God-Emperor's warriors and this is His world, letting you die does not serve His divine plan. And secondly I am an Amathalan, I believe in the divinely appointed order of the Imperium and its institutions. The Bassail line has governed this world loyally for millennia, their continued stewardship is preferable to letting this planet fall to the alien's claws. Recovering this heir is His will."
Jediah lowered his pistol a fraction then muttered, "We go into the heart of this filth, you may follow us if you wish but keep the alien on a short leash."
Manaar was no happier about this than the zealot but he interjected, "Finally you see sense but we still have no idea where to start looking. It is a maze down here and the Great Devourer's bastard offspring are everywhere."
Jediah didn't answer directly, instead bending over to scoop up the severed head of a hybrid. He thrust this into the hands of one of his followers and said, "Gotram, eat this."
The warrior shivered at the prospect, betraying his loathing of the idea as he said, "You want me to eat his brain, but it doesn't work that way. I can't absorb detailed information like reading a map."
Jediah glared at his errant underling and snarled, "Take his understanding for yourself, devour his instincts and habits. When you see the paths you will know what turns to take as if you had walked the route a thousand times yourself. Now stop being so weak and do it."
The protesting warrior lowered his head and pulled free a knife, starting to work the scalp off. Manaar however stepped back in disgust. He understood something of the Mon-Keigh's genhancements, the Eldar had spent thousands of years studying their foe. He knew the Space Marines could consume the instincts of their enemies via consumption but the practice disgusted him. He turned his back as the grizzly procedure played out, revolted by the squalor he had embraced. Every time he thought this species could get no more offensive they found new ways to revolt him, at least Orks and Tyranid were honest about their vile natures. He could only hope their plan worked, else he would be stuck down here for untold days and his quarry would slip away. For the sake of Furta-Rith this had better be over quickly so he could get back to his real mission.
