Storm Heralds Reading List

Book 1 Maledicti Venator, Serrati Stellas, Tenebris Resurget, Finis Fide, Tergum Cultro, Omni Honore, Carpe Posterum

Carpe Posterum Chapter 1

985.M41

Orbital space was filled burning wreckage and dying men, defence stations and system defence boats exploding in sequence as they futilely tried to hold back the invaders. They fought with bravery and determination, they fought with everything they had but it was to no avail, the odds against them were impossible to overcome. Ploughing through their ranks were the towering behemoths of Imperial warships, their weapon batteries and lances tearing through the paltry resistance with ease. Cruisers, escort frigates, battlecarriers and troop barges, each and every one an ancient and mighty giant of the void but none amongst them could match the titanic leviathan at their head: the legendary Thunderlord.

Stacked weapon batteries along the flanks of the Battlebarge roared and her engines shone like captured stars as she swept forwards. She was a rampaging force of destruction, wading into the rebel defences and obliterating everything in sight as she blasted open a corridor for the following Imperial fleet. A rebel defence monitor sallied forth in an attempt to break through the Thunderlord's shields but the battlebarge soaked up her opening salvo without taking a scratch and with a single volley swatted the offender like a bug.

Far below the battle a green world was turning yet its serene visage was marred by rising forests of mushroom clouds and the spreading clouds of a nuclear winter. These had been caused by the Battlebarge's Bombardment Canons raining down magma bombs across an entire continent, breaking open the ground defences for the first wave to land. Following hard on the tail of the opening bombardment came wave upon wave of drop pods, fighters and gunships. Stormhawk interceptors and Stormtalon attack craft flew ahead of Thunderhawks and Stormravens. They streamed from the Thunderlord's launch bays in an unstoppable tide, bringing the Space Marines to war. The gunships dodged and weaved around flaming debris and burnt out wrecks cluttering low orbit to become shooting stars as they hit the atmosphere and began decelerating.

Aboard the Thunderhawk 'Starfire' twenty seven Space Marines were strapped into their restraint cages, jostling and bouncing with force enough to shatter mortal bones, but this barely registered on their genhanced physiques. They were focussed and honed, ready for war and thirsty for action. Amongst the fiery howling of re-entry Sergeant Toran was looking around at the gathered squads, all of whom were from Ninth Company. He took their measure and evaluated each in turn. Alongside his own squad there was Sergeant Mikilas' squad who were armed with four heavy bolters and Sergeant Xanthur's squad who bore four missile launchers. Stalwart and worthy comrades in arms, redoubtable allies who had each faced more wars than Toran had years and were calmly meditating upon the coming conflict, as if on a pleasant jaunt not dropping straight into combat.

Satisfied Toran turned and looked at his own Squad checking their readiness. Brothers Furion, Jediah, Halis Paur and Daite were busy checking and rechecking their combi-meltas, Daite's augmetic arms moving smoothly as pistons as his metal hands worked the fuel lines. Besides them Brother Novak was polishing his rapier, completely disregarding all weapon safety protocols as the shining steel shimmered the in the ruddy light from the inferno outside. Persion seemed to be sleeping in his jostling cage as the antenna of his enhanced vox array snapped back and forth like a whip yet Toran knew that he was completely aware of all that transpired around him. These were his trusted squad-brothers, souls he had fought beside many times but there was a new face in the ranks.

Toran turned to the last cage and looked at his newest recruit, brother Bylan, standing apprehensively in his cage, looking uncomfortable in his newly issued mark VII plate. This was his first deployment as a full initiate and it showed in his repeated glances and restless fidgeting. Toran struggled to remember how it had felt to be so green but then his road to ascension had not been so fraught as Bylan's. Brother Bylan had once been rejected from the scouts, not for any failings on his part but because of tragic genic incompatibilities in his respiratory tract. He had been doomed to the life of a serf, until he had intervened to save Toran's life. The deed (and a pair of augmetic lungs) had seen him readmitted to the scouts, a feat unheard of in the history of the Storm Heralds. Many of the Masters had opposed such an act and Toran had been forced to personally plead for Bylan to be given a chance. The Sergeant had done nothing else to bias the youth's chances and the Marine had ascended entirely on merit. Unfortunately, from Toran's point of view, the experience had left Bylan with a bad case of hero worship.

The Sergeant yelled over the rattling of the fuselage, "Brother, have you completed all your checks?"

Bylan replied with the groaning wheeze of mechanical lungs and the harshness of a voice synthesiser, "+Yes Master, I stand prepared+"

Exasperated Toran sighed, "Bylan, I have told you I am your Sergeant now, you do not have to call me Master anymore."

"+It seems disrespectful+" replied Bylan bashfully from under his helm.

"Well you are one of us now," said Toran, "Act like it."

From further down the racks Novak called out, "If he is an equal then let us have a wager; my second favourite combat blade against your virgin bolt pistol says I kill more Heretics than you!"

Next to him Persion commented without opening his eyes, "Hardly fair, you have decades more experience than he does."

"Ah," replied Novak cheekily, "But to make it interesting I shall use only my rapier!"

"You only say that because you are such a terrible shot," laughed Persion, "I bet the Ork skull I claimed on Glaeba against that shiny sword of yours that bolter to bolter young Bylan can wipe the grin off your old face!"

"Old?!" gasped Novak in mock alarm.

Persion chuckled at the indignation and needled, "I hate to break it to you, but you are no longer the youngest face in the squad."

Novak turned to his squad mates and said, "Daite care to wade in, any visions about who will claim the greatest tally."

Daite sounded vexed as he snapped, "You know it doesn't work that that, I can't control when they come."

Novak laughed, "Good job too or you would own all our armour and we would be forced to go into battle naked!"

Bylan didn't seem to know how to cope with the banter of Marines he had worshipped from afar all his life so Toran explained, "Pay no mind to them, when combat hits you will see their brotherhood in action."

Brother Furion stated flatly, "They will fall into line when danger looms, else feel the back of my hand."

Any further conversation was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Ninth Captain Phalros, Commander of the Devastator Reserve Company, dropping into the troop bay from the cockpit. His artificer armour was gleaming with gold embellishments and his helm was crowned with a transverse crest. On one arm he bore the bulk of a power fist and at his belt was glorious master-crafted bolt pistol. He landed on the rattling floor without a hitch then straightened up and said sternly, "My ears must be deceiving me; I thought I heard my pious Space Marines engaged in the vices of ribaldry and gambling."

Toran answered him, "Just a little competitive rivalry Brother-Captain, to whet our appetite for battle."

Phalros chuckled and said, "Well that is acceptable; now give me your eyes."

Everybody in the Thunderhawk fixed their gaze upon him as he declared, "As you all know in 983.M41 the governor of Angle's Landing announced this world's secession from the Imperium and declared himself the new god of the populace. Governor Brendan the Mad has been declared a Heretic most foul and the Storm Heralds have claimed the honour of spearheading the Imperial assault. As is our right we shall be the first to set foot on this Heretic world and we shall break open the defences for the Imperial Guard to effect a landing."

He was interrupted by a sudden jolt from all around and a change in pitch as the gunship swept through the Stratopause into the thicker air below. The ruddy light outside the viewportals faded to a pale blue and the engines changed tone as they switched to atmospheric flight. Phalros steadied himself then activated a Hololith which displayed a large urban zone centred around a massive Fortress which doubled as the Governor's Palace. The Captain declared, "The Thunderlord has already reduced all major population centres to ash save the capital city and its adjoining spaceport, which are too well void shielded to bombard. Fourth Company has inserted via drop pod just outside the shield umbrella and will break open the defence perimeter then proceed to capture the spaceport. The supporting squads from Seventh and Ninth Companies will act as a mobile reserve, assisting the Battle Company and allowing them to secure the landing zones. Any questions?"

Brother Furion spoke up, "Are we to assume the entire civil population is tainted?"

Phalros replied sternly, "Scout ships and shifting of the planet's vox-net have found no evidence of a local resistance movement or Imperial hold-outs, the natives have embraced Heresy wholeheartedly. Our Chapter defends the innocents and the helpless but there are none to be found on this world, assume every soul you encounter is a Heretic. No mercy, no considerations for collateral damage."

"Understood," Furion stated, "They have turned from the Emperor's light and deserve no clemency."

Phalros nodded in confirmation then continued, "Whilst the Imperial Guard lands at the spaceport we will drive hard for the Palace. Captain Jossat has boasted that Fourth Company will have the Governor's head in their hands before the Guardsmen can even fire their first shot."

The gathered Space Marines were far too disciplined to gripe and moan but their sudden stiffness was their own way of protesting that yet again a Battle Company would take all the glory while they sat on the sidelines. Phalros was aware of their thoughts and said, "Worry not, the scouts report Brendan the Mad has spent the last two years building up his thug armies to an impressive size, including turning all local industry to the production of arms and fighting vehicles. Doubtless our skills will be sorely needed and there will be plenty of glory to go around this time."

The squads brightened up and Toran raised his voice to ask, "Captain are there any indications of the presence of Chaos on the planet?"

Phalros replied, "None detected, all signs point to this being just a pitiful civil rebellion."

Novak chipped in, "Well this should prove easy."

Brother Furion chided him, "Do not be reckless, the galaxy is littered with the graves of Astartes who though they were in for an easy victory."

Phalros concurred, "Listen to your wise Brother. I expect each of you to uphold the honour of Ninth Company, our mission is to support Fourth Company and help them achieve their objectives, remember we may be separate companies but we are one Chapter, one brotherhood."

He began the ceremonial litany of the Chapter's avowed creed, "We are mankind's contempt for the Xenos, the bane of Chaos and the heretic's lament. We are the thunder that rolls between the night and the dawn; we are the lightning that burns away the corrupt: we are the Emperor's Storm."

The assembled squads replied with the time honoured war cry of the Chapter, "We are His wrath!"