Wildthing.
(A Warhammer 40,000 short story)
Jukata was a ball of spinning rock slightly smaller then the Earth, its surface a mix between pure desert and steaming jungles. All the life on this planet was gathered in these great woods, the hot springs being the only place anything could survive. With no native intelligent lifeforms, this planet had been colonized several hundred years previously by the Imperium, the planet's crust being rich in materials useful to the great human empire's continued existence.
Now war had come. The colonists and miners had been slaughtered by the crew of a renegade chaos vessel that had drifted by accident into the system. With the raw materials suddenly being cut off, several nearby factory worlds began to have slowed production. Not being able to keep the armies of the Imperium supplied without these factory's goods, a task force was send to reclaim Jukata and drive the forces of Chaos out of the planet's facilities and destroy them.
Leading the task force was General Gerald Leraid, a relatively unknown commander with a modest career. Eager for glory, he persuaded the Captain of their escort squadron- one Captain Zuel Devasi- to press the assault into the system and clear the way for an orbital assault. The 142nd Sword Squadron, in a classic arrowhead formation, engaged the enemy vessel- later identified as the Iconoclast class 'Grievous Wound'- and destroyed it in a battle that lasted a mere fifteen minutes as it tried to break from orbit and flee. Leraid pressed his assault, combat dropping companies from the 12th Cetcho and his own 18th Skarac onto the strategically important mining towns of Alpha 4, 5 and 6 as well as the spaceport capital of Alpha Prime. The lightning strikes from these forces threw the ill prepared forces of Chaos into disarray, leading to the capture of vital locations and landing fields. Next, Leraid deployed the bulk of his forces- the remaining companies from the Cetcho and Skarac regiments as well as the veteran 39th Kovian (who were granted settlement rights to this planet following their triumphant battles in the Gortan cluster) and the 27th Catachan, leaving the elite 4th Skarac Storm Troop (rumoured to be Leraid's personal company of bodyguards) in reserve in orbit.
Fighting was swift and light, the Chaos defenders being totally outmatched by the seasoned Imperial Guardsmen. Within three hours of the vanguard hitting the ground in their drop pods, the Imperial Eagle was raised from the Firebase that served as the Governor's Palace in Alpha Prime and victory for the Imperium was declared. Leraid had his victory, and the Kovians had their new home.
Or so the records remember. Guerrilla warfare began in the jungles, the survivors of the planetary assault having fled to continue the fighting for as long as possible. The Catachan regiment was tasked to hunt down the remaining Chaos forces and end this war once and for all.
But unknown to the forces of the Imperium, the Chaos worshippers had a deeper agenda then simple conquest and destruction...
Gunnery Sergeant 'Wildthing' woke with a start, cold sweat pouring down his forehead. His dreams were disturbing to him, as they usually were, but this time...it seemed so real. Smell, touch, pain.
He shivered. Just a dream, like all the others. But why the lingering dread?
He had dreamt, as he often did, about his childhood. The hardships he and his family faced every day of their lives. He was with his mother and father.
But his parents weren't how he remembered them. Perverted, warped parodies of them, mocking him, torturing him. His brother and sister were there too, but almost as he remembered them. Empty, black-eyed versions of them maybe, but not evil like his parents were.
Wildthing got up from his bunk, carefully as not to wake his bunkmate, Gunnery Sergeant Bradon. He walked to where the water tap was and sloshed the cold liquid over his face, trying to cool down.
But the shaking didn't ease, it intensified. It scared him- more then the giant red spiders back home on Catachan, more then the ferocity of direct shellfire. He understood those things, but not this. The unseen fear.
As his night-vision asserted itself, he stepped outside his barracks- room- hoping to clear his head with the cold, fresh night air.
Outside it was worse, stuffy and over-humid, testing of copper. He realized why he tasted copper, for his nose was suddenly bleeding, that his own blood was pouring down his face. Wildthing was shocked, staggering backwards into the doorframe.
Taking massive gulps of air, he managed to calm slightly. It was those damn flies, he thought, it's been happening all week. But the local insects didn't ever cause a nosebleed this bad, nowhere near. Wildthing's head started spinning as blood rushed to his head.
Candiver...Mernier Candiver...
Wildthing's eyes widened, his vision swimming.
"Who's there?" he screamed hoarsely, looking around frantically.
Your destiny... hissed the leathery, evil voice; rejoice...the true Gods have noticed you, Mernier Candiver...
Wildthing screamed, pressing his massive hands over his ears and falling to his knees. Everything was spinning, then darkness fell.
*
Wildthing's eyes opened, slowly, as pale light flooded into them. He could still taste his blood on his lips.
"Damn, Wild, thought you were a goner."
He looked up into the sadly smiling face of his unit medic, Lieutenant Eden. But the voice wasn't his.
The Colonel himself appeared at his side. He reached down with one of his bionic arms and pulled Wild's massive bulk up with ease.
"You 'kay, kid?"
"Fine, Colonel, sir," Wild muttered.
"I keep telling you, Wild, call me Xanter like the others do."
Wild nodded, embarrassed. Eden returned with a sedative, making Wild flinch.
"Come on, Wild," Eden grinned with his childish features, "its just a sedative."
"I know, I know..." he grimaced as the needle went into his arm.
"Needles aren't the worst of your problems, my friend," Eden's face turned serious, "what happen to you?"
"Flies, they must have stung me..." Wild shrugged. Eden cocked an eyebrow.
"Do me prosthetic ears detect...a lie? The flies around here don't cause that sort of injury, Wild, and you know it. Something weird is going on."
"Did anyone else...?"
"No," Eden cut him off, "and that's the weird thing. You'd expect more then one man in over two thousand to be effected by this one illness that I've never heard of before, would you?" Xanter nodded. "I've heard of nothing like this before either, and I've heard a lot."
The shadow creature sat on it throne of jet, contemplating. This Mernier Candiver, 'Wildthing' as the other meat-beings called it, was very interesting. A prefect host, if conditioned properly.
Lieutenant Nat Zandi walked towards the aid station entrance, returning a few polite salutes to a group of Kovian soldiers as she did. She had heard of her friend's illness, but it had taken three hours for her to see him.
Two Catachan troopers stood guard by the entrance, both tense and nervous looking. Zandi approached them with a curt nod, but neither of them moved aside for her.
"Sorry, Lieutenant, no visitors," one of them, trooper Coome, replied.
"Why?!" barked Zandi, causing the two troopers to jump slightly. Though they were both head and shoulders taller then her they both knew that she was a devil to get into a fight with.
"Co...Colonel's orders, Lieutenant," the other trooper, Randle, stuttered, "Wild got pissed about something and started trashing the place, so Eden shot him full of 'ease to keep him under control."
"That doesn't sound like Wild..." Zandi muttered, "let me in, I'll report to the Colonel later."
The two troopers edged aside, letting the Lieutenant pass. Coome breathed a sigh of relief. The blame wasn't theirs at least.
The night patrol returned at damn the next morning- six men in all, and all covered in muck. The sentries posted around the camp allowed them to pass quickly and they met up with the duty officer, Captain Mangrove. The leader gave a loose salute. Mangrove nodded, too tired to do anything else.
"Captain, no enemy within two hours at least," the leader, Sergeant Jand, reported, "we found some caves six km from here, due east, but didn't have time to check them out. Probably nothing to see though."
"Better check it out, though," Mangrove slurred, making a mental note, "but let it wait. My shift's over, thank the Emperor." He then sent a runner to pass on the recon info.
"Man, my bunk never sounded so sweet before," muttered Jand as he stumbled back to his barracks-room, whistling an old tune he's learnt many years before.
Medic Eden walked into the aid-station, his mind still a little sleepy. He was about to go and check on Wild when he noticed that his bunk was empty. Slept in, but empty.
Come to think of it, where were the guards outside? He walked in to side office where he stored all his medical equipment and stopped in momentary shock.
There, hanging from the ceiling, was the two guards and Lieutenant Zandi, all gagged and strung up upside-down by their feet. None of them looked at all happy.
Eden drew his knife and started cutting them down, shouting for more guards. Zandi came down first, and Eden barely managed to catch her as she fell a couple of feet. Though Zandi was small, he was smaller still- tiny compared to the other Catachans. She tore off her gag and spat out a huge mouth-fall of spittle and blood.
"Bastard!" she shouted, shooting out of the room. She ran into a group of troopers coming in and she bellowed at them to follow her. A few stayed, noticing the other guards hanging for the office ceiling, and went to help the little medic.
Zandi was furious, as the others could easily see. She run right to the duty officer, Lieutenant Max, and grabbed him by the vest.
"Wild! Have you seen him?!" Max shook his head.
"No, Nat, he's in the aid-station..."
"No he's fraggin' not!" she spat, "he gone and done a runner!"
Wild was already three miles away through the jungle, due east, before the alarm was raised. He moved like a predator, like his father taught him when him was a young boy, not letting his massive bulk slow him down. The voice had all but taken over his conscious, but his sub-conscious still remained. That was the only reason Zandi and the other two still lived. If the voice had its way, he would have killed them.
"How in the name of the hallowed Emperor did he get passed the sentries?" demanded Colonel Lysander of the Skarac Griffins.
"He's an expert stealther, Colonel," Xanter told his counterpart, "he's a hunter by nature, and stealth is the name of the game in hunting."
"And why do you think we call him Wildthing?" muttered Lieutenant Nallen sarcastically, his hand hovering over his knife absent-mindedly.
"Don't give me cheek!" Lysander snarled, his pompous features turning sour, "a madman is loose and you aren't doing anything about it. Xanter! He's you're man, do something!"
Xanter smiled, though he really wanted to tear Lysander's oh-so-noble tongue from his mouth and stamp on it. He had already sent out several platoons of his men to find Wild, but he knew that finding him was going to be almost impossible in a jungle this big.
"Of course, Colonel," he said as he turned to leave the office that he should have been sharing with the Skarac, if not in charge of completely.
When he was outside, he turned to Nallen who had drawn his blade and was playing with it ideally. He flexed his artificial shoulders.
"The only way I can see of catching Wild is that he hands himself over." Nallen snorted.
"No, the only way is if Mikael was here."
Yes, thought Xanter, Mikael Gabriel Rakash. The best tracker and stealther he had ever met, bar maybe RSM Mortis who wasn't posted to this front. But Mikael wasn't here either was he? He'd done another disappearing trick a few weeks earlier, and had yet to come back. And always without telling anyone where the hell he was going or went.
Major Mikael Gabriel Rakash was, in fact, not far away. He was around six miles east, near the very cave that Wild was heading for, though neither he nor his Inquisitor master knew it.
"Major," Inquisitor Wilhelm Von Hiest said, "when we have finished here you can leave, for now at least, and rejoin your comrades." Rakash nodded, thankful. The past few weeks had been hard on him. "But at the moment I need you to take point."
Rakash led the way that the hand-drawn map directed, making sure that he wasn't seen or heard. Not that there was anyone here, in the middle of the jungle. He drew his two silenced Bolt pistols and retraced the way on the map that he had burned into his memory.
Following him was the giant Space Marine, Remus Andromidius, who managed to keep pace with the much smaller Rakash and remain quiet despite his massive power armour that he wore. It was something to do with actuation servos or something that lowered the pressure that his massive bulk exerted. Behind him came Von Hiest, his long, broad-bladed Force sword held in both hands. The sword glowed a fierce slate-coloured blue that shifted shades constantly, casting an eerie blue tinge over the young Inquisitor's face. Then came Von Hiest's novice, the teenage girl Zelda Feist. Though she was short and weak-looking, much like Nat Zandi from his regiment, she was tough and well skilled with her quaterstaff. Not to mention her incredible psychic power that made Rakash fear her more then even the Inquisitor. Lastly, guarding their rear, was the gunslinger Rex Mandred Anko. He was a conflicted criminal- Von Hiest had caught him himself- but know worked for the Inquisitor. Willingly or not, Rakash wasn't sure. He was a weasel of a man, but was an amazing pistol marksman.
The caves weren't far now, Rakash knew, as he slipped in and out of the various shadows that the jungle canopy created. He flicked off the safety clips on his pistols and waved the others forwards.
Wildthing awoke, confused as to where he was. It was dark, with on a tiny amount of light coming from a crack in the cave roof. His head hurt so much.
He raised his head, his trained eyes growing accustomed to the gloom. There wasn't much to see, only grey stone and...a patch of darkness that was darker then it should have been. He crawled to his feet slowly, feeling the pain arc down his spine. The dark object appeared to be a throne, made of a black stone that Wild hoped was jet. He didn't have much time to study it, though, as a cold chill passed down his spine, replacing the pain but no more welcome.
He began to turn, but was immediately thrown to the hard, cold floor, bruising his ribs painfully. The chill intensified as he was lifted off the ground, a sharp pain cutting into him. His blood spilled onto the floor.
Do you know me? The cold, evil voice entered his mind forcibly, and Wild could do nothing to stop it. I know you Mernier Candaver, and I have been expecting you.
Yet again Wild was thrown to the ground, his ribs cracking audibly. He screamed in agony as blood dripped from his mouth. Using all his willpower he turned over to face his nemesis. He then wished he didn't.
The shadow creature was terrifying; over twelve feet of bone and muscle, with a face like a wolf without skin or flesh. It radiated pure blackness from its form, darker then the jet throne even, and it almost seemed to eat hungrily at the little light that did enter the cave. The only light that did come from the creature was its eyes, a dirty red that burned Wild's eyes.
It grabbed Wild in its clawed hands again, bringing him face to face. The red eyes locked on Wild, probing his mind. Wild struggled, but to no avail. It was just too strong.
Yes, you shall make a fine new body for me, the Warp Daemon laughed, ignoring the blood that now freely ran down its arms.
Rakash paused, making a gestured to the others to halt. Von Hiest opened telepathic communication with the guardsmen.
What is it?
I heard something up ahead, Rakash thought, allowing the Inquisitor to read his mind.
Von Hiest moved up, the light emitted from his sword shinning off of Rakash's bald, dark skin. Rakash noticed that the Inquisitor's eyes had turned from light brown to red, a sign that he was ready to fight and to kill if necessary.
Make ready, the Inquisitor ordered, the objective may be near.
The red light entered his mind, pushing it out of his body. No matter how hard he fought it, he couldn't hope to beat it. It fact, the Daemon seemed to delight at his struggling. His mind went lip, and then passed into darkness.
The Daemonic body relaxed, and the body of Gunnery Sergeant Wildthing stood upright, the gapping holes his body closing almost immediately. The red light ceased to emit from the Daemon and passed into Wildthing. The Daemon laughed, using its new toy, as it flexed the body's warp-infused muscles with relish. It would have to hide the eyes, of course, but that would come later. The feasting would commence later. For now it had to fully prepare.
It lifted its now useless old body and tossed it onto the jet throne. He first thought of consuming it, but then decided that it may be needed later.
It stopped suddenly, listening. Had it heard a noise in the background? Meat-bodies were so unpredictable, and never lasted long, but it was an extremely useful thing to have. Sometimes the Daemon envied the meat- beings. If only they knew what it knew then they could conquer his kind, maybe even destroy his masters, but it knew that was impossible. They simply didn't have the strength of soul.
It stalked across the cave, using the former host's memories to move silently. It hide in the shadows and waited. What were a few minutes compared to an eternity?
More meat-beings entered the cave; blindly it seemed to the Daemon. Its tongue whipped over its lips in an emulation of what the former host had called anticipation.
Andromidius, his genetically enhanced sight able to see almost as well in the dark as day, saw the throne first, along with the form that slept on it. He raised his massive Boltgun and hissed to Von Hiest that he'd acquired a target. The humans spread out across the cave floor, all of them drawing weapons if they didn't already have them ready.
Rakash crept forwards, not noticing any movement in the massive, dark form. He shone his new revealed flashlight other the thing. The image repulsed them.
The Daemon stepped out into the gloom of the cave, emulating the voice of Wildthing as best it could.
"Hello? Who's there?" The guns of the warband turned on his, but were quickly lowered. Rakash approached. The Daemon kept its eyes closed, instead looking at the meat-being with its mind.
"Wild? Are you okay?"
"It captured me, but I killed it somehow. Can I open my eyes?"
"It's safe," announced Von Hiest as he checked the immobile Daemon-body, "it has to be burned."
The Daemon couldn't believe its luck. The meat-being was concentrating its mind on his old body, not its new one. It didn't know!
Novice Feist paused as the psychic waves around her spiked slightly. The Daemon was dead, and she was used to Von Hiest's psychic aurora, so where was it coming from? The reality dawned on her suddenly. The Daemon wasn't dead, it had just moved! She turned to Rakash and shouted as she prepared a psychic attack. But it was too late.
The Daemon struck Rakash, throwing him five or so meters back across the cavern, sparks of warp-energy igniting the air around him. Fiest's attack flew over its head as it ducked down, sending a counter-attack back at the young woman. She was sent flying back too. The Daemon laughed, the redness of its eyes shinning brightly and madly.
With a roar of outrage Andromidius flew at the Daemon, his massive chained sword screaming at full revs. The whirring blade came down on the Daemon, slicing down its chest and abdomen, but no blood came from the deadly wound. With a backhand blow the great space marine was sent sprawling, his face mashed and bleeding. The wound glowed a fierce, dark red before simply closing and disappearing completely.
Anko, his two automatic pistols in his hands, fired off both clips in his guns. Every single shot rebounded off an unseen barrier. Anko gulped in horror as the Daemon fired off a bolt of warp-energy that knocked him sprawling and paralyzed.
Inquisitor Von Hiest stood defiant before the mighty Daemon, his Force sword held at the ready. The Daemon noticed the pathetic psychic shield he had created, and dispelled it with contemptuous ease before another bolt of warp lightening brought him to his knees.
The Daemon turned, triumphant, to view his victory. Who these pitiful things were was no matter, they were all his now to consume at will. He prepared to finish the kills when he released that it couldn't move. Perplexed, it turned its head around to see who was stopping it.
It saw itself, its old form, looking it straight in the eyes. But its eyes were almost...alive.
"That's my body, Daemon," snarled Gunnery Sergeant Wildthing from within the daemonic body. The Daemon was fascinated. How did such a weak soul manage not only to survive destruction from him but also transfer itself back into the old body? The link! The link must have made an exit of the soul to escape and steal its old form!
The Daemon didn't have time to think about the matter any more. Its existence was at stake. This 'Wildthing' was much more powerful then expected. Part of the Daemon relished the chance to test the limits of its power, but another- less used part- felt a felling that it was unused to...fear.
Wild snapped back the arms on his body but the Daemon was still too strong. It broke free, spinning on its heels to meet him head on. It roared an inhuman sound that made Wild flinch. He dodged the first swipe from his own possessed hands, and managed to hit the Daemon square in the face with a gigantic clawed fist. The Daemon's head snapped back, and Wild feared he'd broken his neck.
Wild's fears were dispelled when the Daemon came back, and the only expression that could be seen on its face was pure rage. Warp lightening sparked from its body, and the Daemon struck back- this time too fast for Wild to block it. He was lifted off the floor and soar across the cave and landed ten meters away in a crumpled heap. Well, maybe it would be necessary to destroy the body after all. Time to finish this.
The Daemon took a step forwards before realizing that something was wrong.
It looked down to where the sudden pain emanated.
Von Hiest's hissing Force sword poked directly through its chest.
The Daemon almost laughed at the prospect. He has forgot the others.
The warp-forged blade had delivered the fatal blow, carved the Daemon's soul out of the body.
The body fell to the floor, empty and wasted.
The Daemon's spirit was desperate. It needed to find a body quickly. Its hope drained from its dark soul as it saw its old body carve its own heart out, leaving that body, too, worthless.
The Imperial Inquisitor began murmuring an ancient and holy incantation. The Daemon recognized it.
The incantation of Banishment.
The Daemon screamed its last as the incantation took hold and it was sucked from the mortal realm and returned to the dimension that it came from, forever.
"How is he?"
Wildthing's eyes opened, slowly, as pale light flooded into them. The pain in his chest was immense, but for that he knew that he was alive at least.
He looked up into the sadly smiling face of the medic Eden. But the voice wasn't his.
Colonel Xanter came into view, but this time didn't pull him to a sitting position.
"This has got to stop happening," the colonel grinned as he saw Wild's eyes open.
"I'm sorry, Xanter," he croaked back. Xanter's grin spread wider.
"Good to see you're taking my advice, at last, Wild." Wild realized that he did. He almost laughed, but the pain stopped him doing so.
Wild looked down his bed to see his chest, which was covered completely with bandages and strapped tightly.
"You're lucky to be alive," muttered Eden, "a blow like that would have killed even an Ork." Xanter laughed as he slapped Eden on the back, forget that he has bionics for a second.
"Wild's tougher then any Ork in existence! Huh?"
"And the Skarac are out for your blood, too."
Wild looked around to see Nallen walk in, as dour as normal. Wild smiled.
"They think you're a renegade, a 'deserter' if you please," the
Lieutenant sneered. Xanter and even
Eden laughed. "I have to deal with it, as usual."
"Oh, and thanks for returning the Major to us," Xanter continued to
grin, "found him hiding in caves,
huh?"
"Speaking of which..." Eden muttered, pointing to the man who just
walked into the surgery.
"I want a word with him," Mikael Gabriel Rakash said, moving aside as
a gustier to leave. The others
left. Rakash moved up next to the bed-stuck Wildthing.
"Mikael," Wild murmured. He nodded.
"The Inquisition wishes to thank you," Rakash said under his
breath, "and to give you this...." He
unwrapped a small bundle and handed Wild a small medal.
"The honour of the Ordo Xenos," he whispered, "tell no-one, not
even Nat, Wild." He smiled.
Wild took it and looked at it for a second. He then passed it back
to Rakash.
"Keep it for me, just for now, Mikael," he croaked, just before
passing out from exhaustion.
Rakash left, quickly, and met up with a cloaked administerium
clerk. They headed for the nearby
Imperial chapel.
"How is he?" asked the clerk.
"Recovering, no thanks to your attack," Rakash resonded. The clerk
stopped for a second before
continuing.
"It was the only way," Inquisitor Wilhelm Von Hiest snarled.
"I know, so you tell me, but the damage will take a long time to
heal."
"Feist's healing powers are still weak," Von Hiest said.
"Remarkable, I think. Wild would not have survived otherwise. But
what I don't get is how you
managed to return him to his body."
"It would take a long time to tell you, Major, so don't ask."
The two men continued towards the chapel in silence. When they
reached the entrance, Von Hiest turned
to Rakash.
"Farewell, Major," he said simply, and before Rakash could speak he
was gone. Rakash didn't bother to
look around. He had seen that trick before. He entered the Imperial
chapel and sat down to pray with all the
other servants of the Emperor.
Zandi had calmed down at last, and went to see her friend. They he
was, sitting up in bed, talking with
the medic. Eden saw her and nodded. He left them alone.
"I was told what happened," Wild said, his head lowered, "I'm so
sorry, Nat." Zandi could see real tears
in her friend's eyes.
"Me too," she said, "friends still?" She smiled. Wild returned
it. She bent over his bed and hugged him.
"I'm glad," she said. Then her face split into a roguish grin.
She pulled a pair of small bottles from her
pockets. "A present from Thor, no less."
"I dunno, Eden said..."
"Oh, don't worry...." She passed him the bottle and he pulled the
cap off. They both drank to friendship.
The End.
(A Warhammer 40,000 short story)
Jukata was a ball of spinning rock slightly smaller then the Earth, its surface a mix between pure desert and steaming jungles. All the life on this planet was gathered in these great woods, the hot springs being the only place anything could survive. With no native intelligent lifeforms, this planet had been colonized several hundred years previously by the Imperium, the planet's crust being rich in materials useful to the great human empire's continued existence.
Now war had come. The colonists and miners had been slaughtered by the crew of a renegade chaos vessel that had drifted by accident into the system. With the raw materials suddenly being cut off, several nearby factory worlds began to have slowed production. Not being able to keep the armies of the Imperium supplied without these factory's goods, a task force was send to reclaim Jukata and drive the forces of Chaos out of the planet's facilities and destroy them.
Leading the task force was General Gerald Leraid, a relatively unknown commander with a modest career. Eager for glory, he persuaded the Captain of their escort squadron- one Captain Zuel Devasi- to press the assault into the system and clear the way for an orbital assault. The 142nd Sword Squadron, in a classic arrowhead formation, engaged the enemy vessel- later identified as the Iconoclast class 'Grievous Wound'- and destroyed it in a battle that lasted a mere fifteen minutes as it tried to break from orbit and flee. Leraid pressed his assault, combat dropping companies from the 12th Cetcho and his own 18th Skarac onto the strategically important mining towns of Alpha 4, 5 and 6 as well as the spaceport capital of Alpha Prime. The lightning strikes from these forces threw the ill prepared forces of Chaos into disarray, leading to the capture of vital locations and landing fields. Next, Leraid deployed the bulk of his forces- the remaining companies from the Cetcho and Skarac regiments as well as the veteran 39th Kovian (who were granted settlement rights to this planet following their triumphant battles in the Gortan cluster) and the 27th Catachan, leaving the elite 4th Skarac Storm Troop (rumoured to be Leraid's personal company of bodyguards) in reserve in orbit.
Fighting was swift and light, the Chaos defenders being totally outmatched by the seasoned Imperial Guardsmen. Within three hours of the vanguard hitting the ground in their drop pods, the Imperial Eagle was raised from the Firebase that served as the Governor's Palace in Alpha Prime and victory for the Imperium was declared. Leraid had his victory, and the Kovians had their new home.
Or so the records remember. Guerrilla warfare began in the jungles, the survivors of the planetary assault having fled to continue the fighting for as long as possible. The Catachan regiment was tasked to hunt down the remaining Chaos forces and end this war once and for all.
But unknown to the forces of the Imperium, the Chaos worshippers had a deeper agenda then simple conquest and destruction...
Gunnery Sergeant 'Wildthing' woke with a start, cold sweat pouring down his forehead. His dreams were disturbing to him, as they usually were, but this time...it seemed so real. Smell, touch, pain.
He shivered. Just a dream, like all the others. But why the lingering dread?
He had dreamt, as he often did, about his childhood. The hardships he and his family faced every day of their lives. He was with his mother and father.
But his parents weren't how he remembered them. Perverted, warped parodies of them, mocking him, torturing him. His brother and sister were there too, but almost as he remembered them. Empty, black-eyed versions of them maybe, but not evil like his parents were.
Wildthing got up from his bunk, carefully as not to wake his bunkmate, Gunnery Sergeant Bradon. He walked to where the water tap was and sloshed the cold liquid over his face, trying to cool down.
But the shaking didn't ease, it intensified. It scared him- more then the giant red spiders back home on Catachan, more then the ferocity of direct shellfire. He understood those things, but not this. The unseen fear.
As his night-vision asserted itself, he stepped outside his barracks- room- hoping to clear his head with the cold, fresh night air.
Outside it was worse, stuffy and over-humid, testing of copper. He realized why he tasted copper, for his nose was suddenly bleeding, that his own blood was pouring down his face. Wildthing was shocked, staggering backwards into the doorframe.
Taking massive gulps of air, he managed to calm slightly. It was those damn flies, he thought, it's been happening all week. But the local insects didn't ever cause a nosebleed this bad, nowhere near. Wildthing's head started spinning as blood rushed to his head.
Candiver...Mernier Candiver...
Wildthing's eyes widened, his vision swimming.
"Who's there?" he screamed hoarsely, looking around frantically.
Your destiny... hissed the leathery, evil voice; rejoice...the true Gods have noticed you, Mernier Candiver...
Wildthing screamed, pressing his massive hands over his ears and falling to his knees. Everything was spinning, then darkness fell.
*
Wildthing's eyes opened, slowly, as pale light flooded into them. He could still taste his blood on his lips.
"Damn, Wild, thought you were a goner."
He looked up into the sadly smiling face of his unit medic, Lieutenant Eden. But the voice wasn't his.
The Colonel himself appeared at his side. He reached down with one of his bionic arms and pulled Wild's massive bulk up with ease.
"You 'kay, kid?"
"Fine, Colonel, sir," Wild muttered.
"I keep telling you, Wild, call me Xanter like the others do."
Wild nodded, embarrassed. Eden returned with a sedative, making Wild flinch.
"Come on, Wild," Eden grinned with his childish features, "its just a sedative."
"I know, I know..." he grimaced as the needle went into his arm.
"Needles aren't the worst of your problems, my friend," Eden's face turned serious, "what happen to you?"
"Flies, they must have stung me..." Wild shrugged. Eden cocked an eyebrow.
"Do me prosthetic ears detect...a lie? The flies around here don't cause that sort of injury, Wild, and you know it. Something weird is going on."
"Did anyone else...?"
"No," Eden cut him off, "and that's the weird thing. You'd expect more then one man in over two thousand to be effected by this one illness that I've never heard of before, would you?" Xanter nodded. "I've heard of nothing like this before either, and I've heard a lot."
The shadow creature sat on it throne of jet, contemplating. This Mernier Candiver, 'Wildthing' as the other meat-beings called it, was very interesting. A prefect host, if conditioned properly.
Lieutenant Nat Zandi walked towards the aid station entrance, returning a few polite salutes to a group of Kovian soldiers as she did. She had heard of her friend's illness, but it had taken three hours for her to see him.
Two Catachan troopers stood guard by the entrance, both tense and nervous looking. Zandi approached them with a curt nod, but neither of them moved aside for her.
"Sorry, Lieutenant, no visitors," one of them, trooper Coome, replied.
"Why?!" barked Zandi, causing the two troopers to jump slightly. Though they were both head and shoulders taller then her they both knew that she was a devil to get into a fight with.
"Co...Colonel's orders, Lieutenant," the other trooper, Randle, stuttered, "Wild got pissed about something and started trashing the place, so Eden shot him full of 'ease to keep him under control."
"That doesn't sound like Wild..." Zandi muttered, "let me in, I'll report to the Colonel later."
The two troopers edged aside, letting the Lieutenant pass. Coome breathed a sigh of relief. The blame wasn't theirs at least.
The night patrol returned at damn the next morning- six men in all, and all covered in muck. The sentries posted around the camp allowed them to pass quickly and they met up with the duty officer, Captain Mangrove. The leader gave a loose salute. Mangrove nodded, too tired to do anything else.
"Captain, no enemy within two hours at least," the leader, Sergeant Jand, reported, "we found some caves six km from here, due east, but didn't have time to check them out. Probably nothing to see though."
"Better check it out, though," Mangrove slurred, making a mental note, "but let it wait. My shift's over, thank the Emperor." He then sent a runner to pass on the recon info.
"Man, my bunk never sounded so sweet before," muttered Jand as he stumbled back to his barracks-room, whistling an old tune he's learnt many years before.
Medic Eden walked into the aid-station, his mind still a little sleepy. He was about to go and check on Wild when he noticed that his bunk was empty. Slept in, but empty.
Come to think of it, where were the guards outside? He walked in to side office where he stored all his medical equipment and stopped in momentary shock.
There, hanging from the ceiling, was the two guards and Lieutenant Zandi, all gagged and strung up upside-down by their feet. None of them looked at all happy.
Eden drew his knife and started cutting them down, shouting for more guards. Zandi came down first, and Eden barely managed to catch her as she fell a couple of feet. Though Zandi was small, he was smaller still- tiny compared to the other Catachans. She tore off her gag and spat out a huge mouth-fall of spittle and blood.
"Bastard!" she shouted, shooting out of the room. She ran into a group of troopers coming in and she bellowed at them to follow her. A few stayed, noticing the other guards hanging for the office ceiling, and went to help the little medic.
Zandi was furious, as the others could easily see. She run right to the duty officer, Lieutenant Max, and grabbed him by the vest.
"Wild! Have you seen him?!" Max shook his head.
"No, Nat, he's in the aid-station..."
"No he's fraggin' not!" she spat, "he gone and done a runner!"
Wild was already three miles away through the jungle, due east, before the alarm was raised. He moved like a predator, like his father taught him when him was a young boy, not letting his massive bulk slow him down. The voice had all but taken over his conscious, but his sub-conscious still remained. That was the only reason Zandi and the other two still lived. If the voice had its way, he would have killed them.
"How in the name of the hallowed Emperor did he get passed the sentries?" demanded Colonel Lysander of the Skarac Griffins.
"He's an expert stealther, Colonel," Xanter told his counterpart, "he's a hunter by nature, and stealth is the name of the game in hunting."
"And why do you think we call him Wildthing?" muttered Lieutenant Nallen sarcastically, his hand hovering over his knife absent-mindedly.
"Don't give me cheek!" Lysander snarled, his pompous features turning sour, "a madman is loose and you aren't doing anything about it. Xanter! He's you're man, do something!"
Xanter smiled, though he really wanted to tear Lysander's oh-so-noble tongue from his mouth and stamp on it. He had already sent out several platoons of his men to find Wild, but he knew that finding him was going to be almost impossible in a jungle this big.
"Of course, Colonel," he said as he turned to leave the office that he should have been sharing with the Skarac, if not in charge of completely.
When he was outside, he turned to Nallen who had drawn his blade and was playing with it ideally. He flexed his artificial shoulders.
"The only way I can see of catching Wild is that he hands himself over." Nallen snorted.
"No, the only way is if Mikael was here."
Yes, thought Xanter, Mikael Gabriel Rakash. The best tracker and stealther he had ever met, bar maybe RSM Mortis who wasn't posted to this front. But Mikael wasn't here either was he? He'd done another disappearing trick a few weeks earlier, and had yet to come back. And always without telling anyone where the hell he was going or went.
Major Mikael Gabriel Rakash was, in fact, not far away. He was around six miles east, near the very cave that Wild was heading for, though neither he nor his Inquisitor master knew it.
"Major," Inquisitor Wilhelm Von Hiest said, "when we have finished here you can leave, for now at least, and rejoin your comrades." Rakash nodded, thankful. The past few weeks had been hard on him. "But at the moment I need you to take point."
Rakash led the way that the hand-drawn map directed, making sure that he wasn't seen or heard. Not that there was anyone here, in the middle of the jungle. He drew his two silenced Bolt pistols and retraced the way on the map that he had burned into his memory.
Following him was the giant Space Marine, Remus Andromidius, who managed to keep pace with the much smaller Rakash and remain quiet despite his massive power armour that he wore. It was something to do with actuation servos or something that lowered the pressure that his massive bulk exerted. Behind him came Von Hiest, his long, broad-bladed Force sword held in both hands. The sword glowed a fierce slate-coloured blue that shifted shades constantly, casting an eerie blue tinge over the young Inquisitor's face. Then came Von Hiest's novice, the teenage girl Zelda Feist. Though she was short and weak-looking, much like Nat Zandi from his regiment, she was tough and well skilled with her quaterstaff. Not to mention her incredible psychic power that made Rakash fear her more then even the Inquisitor. Lastly, guarding their rear, was the gunslinger Rex Mandred Anko. He was a conflicted criminal- Von Hiest had caught him himself- but know worked for the Inquisitor. Willingly or not, Rakash wasn't sure. He was a weasel of a man, but was an amazing pistol marksman.
The caves weren't far now, Rakash knew, as he slipped in and out of the various shadows that the jungle canopy created. He flicked off the safety clips on his pistols and waved the others forwards.
Wildthing awoke, confused as to where he was. It was dark, with on a tiny amount of light coming from a crack in the cave roof. His head hurt so much.
He raised his head, his trained eyes growing accustomed to the gloom. There wasn't much to see, only grey stone and...a patch of darkness that was darker then it should have been. He crawled to his feet slowly, feeling the pain arc down his spine. The dark object appeared to be a throne, made of a black stone that Wild hoped was jet. He didn't have much time to study it, though, as a cold chill passed down his spine, replacing the pain but no more welcome.
He began to turn, but was immediately thrown to the hard, cold floor, bruising his ribs painfully. The chill intensified as he was lifted off the ground, a sharp pain cutting into him. His blood spilled onto the floor.
Do you know me? The cold, evil voice entered his mind forcibly, and Wild could do nothing to stop it. I know you Mernier Candaver, and I have been expecting you.
Yet again Wild was thrown to the ground, his ribs cracking audibly. He screamed in agony as blood dripped from his mouth. Using all his willpower he turned over to face his nemesis. He then wished he didn't.
The shadow creature was terrifying; over twelve feet of bone and muscle, with a face like a wolf without skin or flesh. It radiated pure blackness from its form, darker then the jet throne even, and it almost seemed to eat hungrily at the little light that did enter the cave. The only light that did come from the creature was its eyes, a dirty red that burned Wild's eyes.
It grabbed Wild in its clawed hands again, bringing him face to face. The red eyes locked on Wild, probing his mind. Wild struggled, but to no avail. It was just too strong.
Yes, you shall make a fine new body for me, the Warp Daemon laughed, ignoring the blood that now freely ran down its arms.
Rakash paused, making a gestured to the others to halt. Von Hiest opened telepathic communication with the guardsmen.
What is it?
I heard something up ahead, Rakash thought, allowing the Inquisitor to read his mind.
Von Hiest moved up, the light emitted from his sword shinning off of Rakash's bald, dark skin. Rakash noticed that the Inquisitor's eyes had turned from light brown to red, a sign that he was ready to fight and to kill if necessary.
Make ready, the Inquisitor ordered, the objective may be near.
The red light entered his mind, pushing it out of his body. No matter how hard he fought it, he couldn't hope to beat it. It fact, the Daemon seemed to delight at his struggling. His mind went lip, and then passed into darkness.
The Daemonic body relaxed, and the body of Gunnery Sergeant Wildthing stood upright, the gapping holes his body closing almost immediately. The red light ceased to emit from the Daemon and passed into Wildthing. The Daemon laughed, using its new toy, as it flexed the body's warp-infused muscles with relish. It would have to hide the eyes, of course, but that would come later. The feasting would commence later. For now it had to fully prepare.
It lifted its now useless old body and tossed it onto the jet throne. He first thought of consuming it, but then decided that it may be needed later.
It stopped suddenly, listening. Had it heard a noise in the background? Meat-bodies were so unpredictable, and never lasted long, but it was an extremely useful thing to have. Sometimes the Daemon envied the meat- beings. If only they knew what it knew then they could conquer his kind, maybe even destroy his masters, but it knew that was impossible. They simply didn't have the strength of soul.
It stalked across the cave, using the former host's memories to move silently. It hide in the shadows and waited. What were a few minutes compared to an eternity?
More meat-beings entered the cave; blindly it seemed to the Daemon. Its tongue whipped over its lips in an emulation of what the former host had called anticipation.
Andromidius, his genetically enhanced sight able to see almost as well in the dark as day, saw the throne first, along with the form that slept on it. He raised his massive Boltgun and hissed to Von Hiest that he'd acquired a target. The humans spread out across the cave floor, all of them drawing weapons if they didn't already have them ready.
Rakash crept forwards, not noticing any movement in the massive, dark form. He shone his new revealed flashlight other the thing. The image repulsed them.
The Daemon stepped out into the gloom of the cave, emulating the voice of Wildthing as best it could.
"Hello? Who's there?" The guns of the warband turned on his, but were quickly lowered. Rakash approached. The Daemon kept its eyes closed, instead looking at the meat-being with its mind.
"Wild? Are you okay?"
"It captured me, but I killed it somehow. Can I open my eyes?"
"It's safe," announced Von Hiest as he checked the immobile Daemon-body, "it has to be burned."
The Daemon couldn't believe its luck. The meat-being was concentrating its mind on his old body, not its new one. It didn't know!
Novice Feist paused as the psychic waves around her spiked slightly. The Daemon was dead, and she was used to Von Hiest's psychic aurora, so where was it coming from? The reality dawned on her suddenly. The Daemon wasn't dead, it had just moved! She turned to Rakash and shouted as she prepared a psychic attack. But it was too late.
The Daemon struck Rakash, throwing him five or so meters back across the cavern, sparks of warp-energy igniting the air around him. Fiest's attack flew over its head as it ducked down, sending a counter-attack back at the young woman. She was sent flying back too. The Daemon laughed, the redness of its eyes shinning brightly and madly.
With a roar of outrage Andromidius flew at the Daemon, his massive chained sword screaming at full revs. The whirring blade came down on the Daemon, slicing down its chest and abdomen, but no blood came from the deadly wound. With a backhand blow the great space marine was sent sprawling, his face mashed and bleeding. The wound glowed a fierce, dark red before simply closing and disappearing completely.
Anko, his two automatic pistols in his hands, fired off both clips in his guns. Every single shot rebounded off an unseen barrier. Anko gulped in horror as the Daemon fired off a bolt of warp-energy that knocked him sprawling and paralyzed.
Inquisitor Von Hiest stood defiant before the mighty Daemon, his Force sword held at the ready. The Daemon noticed the pathetic psychic shield he had created, and dispelled it with contemptuous ease before another bolt of warp lightening brought him to his knees.
The Daemon turned, triumphant, to view his victory. Who these pitiful things were was no matter, they were all his now to consume at will. He prepared to finish the kills when he released that it couldn't move. Perplexed, it turned its head around to see who was stopping it.
It saw itself, its old form, looking it straight in the eyes. But its eyes were almost...alive.
"That's my body, Daemon," snarled Gunnery Sergeant Wildthing from within the daemonic body. The Daemon was fascinated. How did such a weak soul manage not only to survive destruction from him but also transfer itself back into the old body? The link! The link must have made an exit of the soul to escape and steal its old form!
The Daemon didn't have time to think about the matter any more. Its existence was at stake. This 'Wildthing' was much more powerful then expected. Part of the Daemon relished the chance to test the limits of its power, but another- less used part- felt a felling that it was unused to...fear.
Wild snapped back the arms on his body but the Daemon was still too strong. It broke free, spinning on its heels to meet him head on. It roared an inhuman sound that made Wild flinch. He dodged the first swipe from his own possessed hands, and managed to hit the Daemon square in the face with a gigantic clawed fist. The Daemon's head snapped back, and Wild feared he'd broken his neck.
Wild's fears were dispelled when the Daemon came back, and the only expression that could be seen on its face was pure rage. Warp lightening sparked from its body, and the Daemon struck back- this time too fast for Wild to block it. He was lifted off the floor and soar across the cave and landed ten meters away in a crumpled heap. Well, maybe it would be necessary to destroy the body after all. Time to finish this.
The Daemon took a step forwards before realizing that something was wrong.
It looked down to where the sudden pain emanated.
Von Hiest's hissing Force sword poked directly through its chest.
The Daemon almost laughed at the prospect. He has forgot the others.
The warp-forged blade had delivered the fatal blow, carved the Daemon's soul out of the body.
The body fell to the floor, empty and wasted.
The Daemon's spirit was desperate. It needed to find a body quickly. Its hope drained from its dark soul as it saw its old body carve its own heart out, leaving that body, too, worthless.
The Imperial Inquisitor began murmuring an ancient and holy incantation. The Daemon recognized it.
The incantation of Banishment.
The Daemon screamed its last as the incantation took hold and it was sucked from the mortal realm and returned to the dimension that it came from, forever.
"How is he?"
Wildthing's eyes opened, slowly, as pale light flooded into them. The pain in his chest was immense, but for that he knew that he was alive at least.
He looked up into the sadly smiling face of the medic Eden. But the voice wasn't his.
Colonel Xanter came into view, but this time didn't pull him to a sitting position.
"This has got to stop happening," the colonel grinned as he saw Wild's eyes open.
"I'm sorry, Xanter," he croaked back. Xanter's grin spread wider.
"Good to see you're taking my advice, at last, Wild." Wild realized that he did. He almost laughed, but the pain stopped him doing so.
Wild looked down his bed to see his chest, which was covered completely with bandages and strapped tightly.
"You're lucky to be alive," muttered Eden, "a blow like that would have killed even an Ork." Xanter laughed as he slapped Eden on the back, forget that he has bionics for a second.
"Wild's tougher then any Ork in existence! Huh?"
"And the Skarac are out for your blood, too."
Wild looked around to see Nallen walk in, as dour as normal. Wild smiled.
"They think you're a renegade, a 'deserter' if you please," the
Lieutenant sneered. Xanter and even
Eden laughed. "I have to deal with it, as usual."
"Oh, and thanks for returning the Major to us," Xanter continued to
grin, "found him hiding in caves,
huh?"
"Speaking of which..." Eden muttered, pointing to the man who just
walked into the surgery.
"I want a word with him," Mikael Gabriel Rakash said, moving aside as
a gustier to leave. The others
left. Rakash moved up next to the bed-stuck Wildthing.
"Mikael," Wild murmured. He nodded.
"The Inquisition wishes to thank you," Rakash said under his
breath, "and to give you this...." He
unwrapped a small bundle and handed Wild a small medal.
"The honour of the Ordo Xenos," he whispered, "tell no-one, not
even Nat, Wild." He smiled.
Wild took it and looked at it for a second. He then passed it back
to Rakash.
"Keep it for me, just for now, Mikael," he croaked, just before
passing out from exhaustion.
Rakash left, quickly, and met up with a cloaked administerium
clerk. They headed for the nearby
Imperial chapel.
"How is he?" asked the clerk.
"Recovering, no thanks to your attack," Rakash resonded. The clerk
stopped for a second before
continuing.
"It was the only way," Inquisitor Wilhelm Von Hiest snarled.
"I know, so you tell me, but the damage will take a long time to
heal."
"Feist's healing powers are still weak," Von Hiest said.
"Remarkable, I think. Wild would not have survived otherwise. But
what I don't get is how you
managed to return him to his body."
"It would take a long time to tell you, Major, so don't ask."
The two men continued towards the chapel in silence. When they
reached the entrance, Von Hiest turned
to Rakash.
"Farewell, Major," he said simply, and before Rakash could speak he
was gone. Rakash didn't bother to
look around. He had seen that trick before. He entered the Imperial
chapel and sat down to pray with all the
other servants of the Emperor.
Zandi had calmed down at last, and went to see her friend. They he
was, sitting up in bed, talking with
the medic. Eden saw her and nodded. He left them alone.
"I was told what happened," Wild said, his head lowered, "I'm so
sorry, Nat." Zandi could see real tears
in her friend's eyes.
"Me too," she said, "friends still?" She smiled. Wild returned
it. She bent over his bed and hugged him.
"I'm glad," she said. Then her face split into a roguish grin.
She pulled a pair of small bottles from her
pockets. "A present from Thor, no less."
"I dunno, Eden said..."
"Oh, don't worry...." She passed him the bottle and he pulled the
cap off. They both drank to friendship.
The End.