In the Eyes of Men
by FalconWind
Chapter Eight
"Exodus"
Captain Ross kept his watchful eyes on the bridge crew, as he usually did. Sitting in the command chair, he could see all the stations and officers who operated the giant behemoth of a vessel.
Isolated from the rest of the officers was the navigator, who guided them through the perilous warp. Every single man aboard the /Redoubtable/ had their life held in the hands of that man. As they were in warp, the navigator had control of the entire ship. If he needed the ship to go left, it went left, go right, it went right. If he advised caution, they became cautious. If he said jump, they'd probably jump.
If there was one thing that Captain Ross had learned, it was to trust your navigator. After all, they were the only ones able to pilot through the warp, and if you couldn't trust them, you'd go mad with worry.
Thus, the entire crew was focused on one task: Do what the navigator orders, and don't disturb him.
Ross trusted Ba'al, but that was not to say that he didn't worry about someone causing him to mess up. So far Ba'al had been flawless in his performance for the past seven years, and neither Ross, nor Admiral Tokugawa saw any reason to doubt his abilities.
/Captain,/ said Ba'al, /we are approaching the Vertolli System./
Though Ross trusted the mutant as a pilot, he still hated his insistence to utilize his powers in communicating. But then, of course, Ba'al could hardly speak; a limitation of a physical deformity.
"Very good. Lieutenant Jeeron, inform the admiral and general."
"Aye, sir."
A few minutes later, Tokugawa and Harrington were on the bridge.
"Good timing, sirs," Ross commented as the deck shifted under them and the stars suddenly returned outside the bridge window.
"Sir," announced the communications officer, "we are receiving a signal, source: unknown."
"With the lack of an astropath, it must be from one of the planets," said Harrington.
"Put it on the speaker," ordered Tokugawa.
"Make room for unusual allies," said a distant, whispered voice over the channel.
It was then that Ba'al stood abruptly from his seat. He looked at the flag officers. /Sirs, I believe the sender of the message is communicating with me./
"No, I think that was for all of us," said Harrington.
"I think he means telepathically," corrected Ross.
/I do. He says that there will be a number of Space Marine Thunderhawks taking off from Heram shortly, and that we should render assistance./
"Is that all?"
/Yes. I believe so./ Ba'al rubbed his head with a three-fingered hand. /If I may, I am exhausted, and wish to retire to my quarters./
"You may." He turned to the helmsman. "Helm, set a course for Heram, maximum speed. Signal the rest of the fleet to follow in standard patrol formation."
"Admiral," said Ross, "permission to launch a squadron of fighters to reconnoiter the area."
"Granted, captain."
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Horandrin met Daleon on the way to the hanger. "How goes the rest of the troops?"
"Well, Horandrin. There has been surprisingly little trouble."
"I find that hard to believe," commented Braxton, who was also walking with them. "I suggest we proceed with caution."
"Noted, sergeant."
Entering the cavernous hanger, it quickly became apparent that there was NO WAY that their operation could be overlooked or missed.
"We must have alerted someone by now. I want everyone to be prepared for battle," ordered Horandrin.
"They already are, sir," informed Braxton.
A deafening boom echoed throughout the hanger as a few Thousand Sons were flung into the air.
Horandrin turned to face the sound, and saw, to his horror, more Thousand Sons pouring in through a side door. These were not his troops.
"I need five squads to battle! The rest, get to the Thunderhawks!" Horandrin drew his bolt pistol and squeezed off several bursts into the massed attackers, felling but a few.
The sound of hundreds of bolters and various other weapons firing was deafening, and caused the room around him to seem to shake. The floor rocked every time a Krak grenade was used.
Horandrin turned to Daleon, as he fired into the group. "Go with the rest, we will follow you in the last Thunderhawk!"
"But Horandrin, you-"
Horandrin cut him off by shoving him towards the open ramp of the closest transport. "Just go!"
A few bullets ricocheted off Horandrin's back, and he turned to return the favor.
The ramp closed, even as Daleon delivered yet more wrath upon the enemy at the last moment.
Finally closed, Horandrin rallied the remaining troops, as they entered close combat.
Battle was everywhere. Horandrin emptied his pistol into the crowd of oncoming loyalists, downing the entire front row. They advanced too quickly for him to reload, he threw the empty weapon hard at the closest marine, and drew his sword, power crackling through the blade and the air around it.
Bolter fire erupted from the group, and Horandrin moved his blade with supernatural swiftness, deflecting many of the rounds as he charged forward.
He lunged, sinking the sword deeply into the first marine, and then spinning, he withdrew the weapon and sliced another's head off with ease.
Shrugging off a blow by a bayonet, he cleaved another in two with a great swing, then punched a marine in the face with a hook, spinning him. Grabbing him from behind, he impaled him on the sword, and using him as a shield made his way back towards the last Thunderhawk.
"Men, we are leaving!" Horandrin announced to the others, still engaged in combat.
Horandrin, walking backwards, struck a hard metal surface from behind. He turned, expecting it to be the transport. But was, instead, confronted by the sight of a towering Dreadnought.
"Calderon!"
The massive dreadnought, impervious to the fire being directed towards them both, seemed to regard the Sorcerer.
"I will provide cover." With that, the Dreadnought picked up the bewildered sorcerer in both hands, turned on its axis 180 degree and set him down.
Turning back towards the group, Calderon unleashed both storm bolters on his forearms, instantly shrinking back the group with a withering hail of explosive rounds.
The others had little trouble getting into the transport, and Calderon, backed perfectly into the open ramp, just barely large enough to accommodate him. The ramp closed just as another Dreadnought came into view for a brief moment.
Horandrin re-sheathed his sword. The bullets could still be heard striking the armoured hull. The craft lurched, signifying flight. "Why Calderon?"
The Dreadnought paused. "I am old, Horandrin, much older than you." was the only answer he gave them.
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A console beeped loudly and drew the attention of a Captain Ross, Admiral Tokugawa, and General Harrington.
"What is it, lieutenant?" asked Ross.
"Sir, we have about two dozen Thunderhawks leaving the planet Harem," answer the officer.
"It appears our guests have arrived," commented Harrington.
"I didn't expect that our guests would be Space Marines. After all, why would we be called to the aid of the Adeptus Astartes?"
"I'm not sure if this is such a good idea," Captain Ross said, a frown on his face. "If they discover that we're here without orders, they're liable to execute us."
"I hardly think that after one hundred generations of waiting, that we'd be called to our doom so obviously," said Harrington.
Ross shrugged. "We are to the Gods, as flies are to wanton boys."
Harrington couldn't help but smirk at the reference to Shakespeare. "True, Captain. But we aren't working for just any God."
"Should we move in to rendezvous, then?" asked Ross.
Admiral Tokugawa shook his head. "No, hold position. Let them come to us. Let's not rush head-long into this, we don't know the situation."
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Daleon looked over the shoulder of the Thunderhawk's pilot. The cockpit was extremely crowded, but nonetheless Daleon could see the instruments perfectly.
"How is that possible? Not even the Emperor himself could have discovered the location of this base!" exclaimed Daleon.
"Sir, all I know is that they are holding position just outside standard orbit. They have a small number of fighters running point, and are in standard Imperial patrol formation. The ships are definitely that of the Imperial Battlefleet."
Daleon checked the read-outs for himself. "The number of ships is small, only a single battlegroup. The largest seems to only be a Luna-class cruiser. If this was an imperial operation, there would be many more."
The radio suddenly crackled to life. "Daleon," it was Horandrin, "do you see the ships?"
"Yes, Horandrin. What do we do?"
There was a brief pause. "We will go to them."
Daleon wasn't quite sure he'd heard right. "I apologise, Horandrin. But did you say 'go to them'?"
"I did, Daleon. They are here for us."
"But they are Imperial ships!" Daleon almost yelled into the radio.
"I know," Horandrin replied calmly. "Trust me, Daleon. I wouldn't lead us so far to deliver us into the hands of the enemy."
Daleon sighed. "You heard him," he said to the pilot, who nodded. "And try to fly non-threateningly." Though honestly, Daleon didn't know what that meant.
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Within the private chamber of the base's commander, a very powerful, very disappointed sorcerer stood on the abyss of complete and utter rage.
"Fools! Imbeciles!" the Lord Sorcerer Kalmain screamed at the stoic Thousand Sons. "You let them escape! You let that traitor, Horandrin, and over 250 of your brethren escape!" His fist glowed a white-hot aura, as it smashed through a nearby wall. "And not only that, but the Ancient Calderon, as well! All because you idiots couldn't kill him!"
"Lord Kalmain, he fought as I have never seen him," said the sorcerer Saivu. "Horandrin is a skilled sorcerer to be sure, but a Daemon Prince he is not. But I swear to you, he deflected my bullets as if they were pebbles flung at him by a child. And Calderon opened fire on my men, destroying many of them."
Lord Kalmain glared at Saivu with barely contained hatred. "It that supposed to be an excuse?"
"No, my Lord, an explanation."
"Pity. Perhaps I would have spared you otherwise!" He struck with his glowing fist, striking the sorcerer square in the chest, ripping a gaping hole, and shattering the figure to fragments.
Such shows of force were wasted on the group. "Get out of my sight," he ordered the rest of them.
The door closed behind the retreating marines. "Oh, Horandrin," Kalmain said to himself, "how I anticipate making you suffer!"
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Oooohh! The plot thickens even more! Damn this story seems to have a mind of it's own! I'm just typing it up! I've never had this many characters in a story before! It's not even near the end yet!
I hope this doesn't get so complicated that I start contradicting myself! Oh, btw, Calderon is of the same design as Furioso (plus tzeentch decor), as you may have guessed.
Also a little fuzzy on the whole warp travel thing. Oh, and I now realize that I've consistently misspelled the word "sorcerer". Oh well.
A/N: Due to my inexperience with the fleet, and with some holes in my knowledge of the Horus Heresy, I was forced to make some revisions shortly after posting this chapter. If you are reading this, it is obvious, which version you have read.