Noctem Oritur Chapter 38
Uriem was crying again, a sobbing wretch that sounded like it was never going to stop. He'd been doing this since the last fight and it was grating on everyone's nerves, but the serfs had no inclination to say anything. All of them were shaken to the core, stunned by the violence of the day and not one among them had the energy to spare to say anything. Miko for his part held his lasgun in shaking hands and tried not to weep, as he waited for the invaders to show their faces.
He wasn't sure where he was, somewhere in under the eastern shield vanes was his best guess. They were standing inside a pillbox, a hastily erected defensive position, one of hundreds scattered around the island. The Ferrocrete walls were still setting, so new was it, but the wide apertures gave a good sweep of fire down the long corridor. From positions like this serfs could pick off approaching cultists, their lasguns and lone Heavy Bolter presenting a formidable defence, but not good enough, that was why the middle of the pillbox was packed with incendiary explosives. Other than that it held little to recommend it, a few ration bars, some bandages and pain balms and a bulky vox-set that looked ready to be given the last rites. Miko had already defended three positions like this, abandoning them when they were overrun to be blown up and kill as many foes as possible. Three times had he dropped his rifle and ran out a looming door to the rear, praying to get away before a bullet found his back or a bomb went off. Three times he had escaped death and he was growing increasingly concerned there wouldn't be a fourth.
Suddenly Berem doubled over and vomited loudly on the floor. Everyone glanced away, a dozen serfs trying not to breathe as they averted their eyes. Berem hadn't been hit, none of them had so far, but the shocking violence of combat had turned their worlds upside down. None of them had started this war together, their various platoons having been broken up in the madness, now they fought alongside whoever they found themselves standing next to. Miko had already thrown up his guts several times, there was nothing left in his stomach to void, but he wanted to anyway.
Berem straightened up and wiped his chin as he muttered, "Sorry."
"Don't mention it," Miko sighed.
"I think it won't happen…"
"I said, don't talk about it," Miko hissed through gritted teeth.
Berem got the hint and took up his rifle, aiming down the corridor as he muttered, "Won't be long now."
"They'll come," Uriem sobbed, "They'll come for us all. They keep coming and coming and coming…"
"Shut up!" Miko snapped, his nerves fraying, "Just shut up!"
An awkward silence fell but Berem leaned over and whispered, "Don't be so hard on him, he was in the eastern docks and fought the first wave. He saw all his comrades slaughtered before his eyes."
"We've all seen good friends die today," Miko growled.
Berem eyed him and asked, "How many fights is this for you?"
"Three already," Miko admitted, "You?"
"Five," Berem confessed, "It's getting harder each time. The shooting I can handle but the hacking and the stabbing and the smell, throne, I never imagined death would smell so bad."
A small shift in the shadows made Miko raise his lasgun, but it was only a shadow. He lowered his gun but didn't relax a hair, he'd seen too much to drop his guard. Sullenly he muttered, "This isn't what I expected."
Berem sighed, "I know what you mean. When the Masters told us we'd be forming a militia I had visions of glory and pride. Fighting under flags of victory, as I'd dreamed of as a boy. It's nothing like I imagined, I don't understand how the Masters do this every day and not go insane."
Miko glanced over and asked, "You were a failed Aspirant?"
"Are you jesting?! I was born in the Monastery and work the mess halls. The closest I get to the Masters is stirring synthi-gruel, I don't even get to lay their tables. I thought the new Captain would lead the Chapter to glorious victory, and I would be there to celebrate. A tale to tell my grandkids… I was a fool. The things I've seen, I don't know if I'll ever sleep again."
"Does anyone know where the Captain is?"
"Somewhere under the fourth Thunderhawk bay, last I heard. Vox is choppy and it's hard to keep track."
Miko sighed, "This is madness, and I shouldn't even be here. I was born in Kua Mua, apprenticed to the spaceport traffic controllers. The Chapter needed trained personnel to work orbital traffic lanes, so I was conscripted before I could shave and plonked in front of a Hololith. I guess I was supposed to stay there until I died…"
"And then the war came," Berem finished the thought, "Maybe you'll go back after we win."
Miko grunted, "If we win, I don't know…"
"Contact!" came the sudden cry from Uriem as he opened fire. Miko thought for a moment the man had snapped but then he saw bulky shapes moving in the dark and pulled his trigger too. The pillbox exploded with las and the Heavy Bolter roared, spitting shells down the length of the passage. The corridor lit up with light and Miko tried to pick out cultists from the mass of shadows, but what he beheld was far, far worse. Sweeping pauldrons and horned helms were illuminated by the fusillade, casting light over stretched skins and skeletal remains nailed to Ceramite. Silhouettes similar to the Master's but so very different too: Chaos Marines, coming right at them.
Miko's jaw dropped and his finger slipped off his trigger as his bladder emptied, spilling piss down his leg. The sight making his heart go cold and his mind numb. Many of the serfs lost their nerve at the sight, struck dumb by the horrific realisation that they were about to die. Uriem collapsed into a foetal ball, wrapping his arms about his head and pleading for divine intervention, salvation Miko knew was not going to come. Only Berem seemed to keep his wits, firing over and over and he shouted, "Keep firing! Fire, fire, fire! Someone bloody well…"
A deep crack from afar heralded a bolt-round soaring across the distance and then Berem's head exploded. Blood and brains and skull splattered the serfs and they panicked, screaming and running for the door. An impossible shot, taken on the run from ranges so great Miko could barely see the shooter. Impossible for mortals, but not for Transhumans and a sibilant whisper followed, "We come for you!"
The words broke something in Miko's hearts and his lasgun slipped from numb fingers. The Chaos Marines were charging and his mind refused to admit it. They were so huge, so powerful but also so fast. They covered the distance in moments, barrelling forward at incredible speed. Nothing that big should move so fast, the human brain was not conditioned to process this paradox. Transhuman dread, Miko had never heard the phrase but he was experiencing it firsthand and all he could muster was to gabble, "I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be here, I'm a serf, I shouldn't be here."
His words went unheeded as the rest fought to get out the door but they were too late. Shadows bounded up the corridor, faster than Miko would have believed possible and leapt over the pillbox, vaulting its low bulk with ease. The serfs were halfway out the back when Transhuman killers fell among them, knives and glaives sweeping in murderous arcs. Miko closed his eyes and didn't look as he heard the wet slurps and heavy thuds of his comrades were slaughtered. Fear took him, rendering him impotent as silence fell behind. Then a sense of presence at his back and the whir of servo motors told him one of them had entered the pillbox. He expected a knife in the back at any moment, but to his surprise a huge hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him about. He was slammed into the wall and shakily opened his eyes. What he beheld baffled him, a Space Marine in defiled Storm Herald colours, marked by fresh icons unknown to his eye.
"But…" Miko stammered in blind confusion, "But… but… but…"
Alpha sneered in contempt as his hand closed around the serf's neck and he growled, "Tell me where Captain Toran is and I will make your death quick and clean. Refuse to speak and your suffering will be legendary!"