This planet is Chaeros, a minor industrialized planet of the Arigipinaa sector. One of the planets that was embroiled in the desperate sector-wide clash between the forces of Order and Disorder that was the Thirteenth Black Crusade of Abbadon the Despoiler, Warmaster of Chaos. And it was one of the planet's that fell under the baleful attentions of one of Abbadon's most heinous vassals, Lord Typhus the Herald of Nurgle.
In the opening moments of the attack, half a dozen plague hulks laden with all manner of unspeakable contagion and their equally disgusting hosts of the lost and the damned had encroached the planet and attempted to make haphazard planetfall.
It was a testament to the skill and determination of Chaeros' modest space-force as well as ground and orbital defense crews that only single hulk was able to break the space blockade. But one was all that was needed, the surviving hulk crashed violently into the capital of Korvale's industrial heart leveling entire city blocks and throwing up a thick pall of dust that blocked out the sun. The impact of the crash splintered the monstrous spacecraft into thousands of pieces, scattering them hundreds of square kilometers in every direction.
For a moment it had seemed like hell itself had come to Chaeros, as the survivors of the devastation picked through the wreckage of their homes and attempted to salvage what they could. Local authorities were at a total loss at how to deal with carnage on such a grand scale, their logistic capacities all but annihilated by the crash. The PDF (Planetary Defense Force) struggled valiantly in a losing street battle against the hordes of plague mutants that had survived the crash and boiled forth like an unstoppable tide of filth to claim Chaeros in the name of Chaos. Inexorably the PDF had to relent ground or died making their stands and soon the entire capital of Chaeros was firmly in the claws of the Forces of Disorder.
Total anarchy prevailed on the perpetual night of Chaeros, lit by the ruddy glow of burning geysers from ruptured gas pipes and flickering glow globes bands of mutants roaming the streets killing indiscriminately all who did not bear the blessings of the Plague God. But that was not the worst that the invasion of the children of Father Nurgle had in store. The darkness of Chaeros proved to be the ideal breeding ground for one of Nurgle's most recent 'gifts' to the living, the horrific affliction known only as the Curse of Unbelief. The ravages of the plague struck down the few who had managed to escape the predations of the Plague mutants as well as millions of survivors that had fled to the safer outskirts of the Capital and with no form of real authority left to direct the reeling population, the mounds of dead were simply left to rot in the streets.
Chaeros was, however, not alone in this fight and within a week from the report of the arrival of the plague hulks had been lodged the Imperium responded, elements of the Cadian 125th supported by an Order of Adeptus Soritas and the 4th Company of Doom Eagle Space Marines had responded to quell the invasion. Making unmolested planet fall and setting up a base of operations several miles beyond the limits of the capital, the Imperial strike force was totally unprepared to deal with the newest and most terrible effects of the Curse. Pushing cautiously into the stygian ruins of once proud Chaeros, the Imperials were attacked and nearly overwhelmed by hordes of dead that had perished from the Curse, the sea of shambling reanimated corpses along with the hosts of plague mutants falling upon the startled and badly outnumbered defenders with mindless abandon.
Developments from such an unexpected quarter threw the Imperials on the defensive, recalling all scouting or recovery parties to consolidate and deny their position from the waves of attacks thrown against them.
Daelius had been on one such mission when the hurried recall of all troops to the landing site had been received. He and his squad had made a fighting retreat back to their rhino transport and attempted to break the line of Plague Zombies that tried to hem them in. Roaring full throttle down the street, the pilot noticed too late a grav-mine on the street, no doubt used by the PDF of Chaeros to attempt to deny the enemy that area. The Rhino's pilot acted instinctively, slewing the vehicle desperately to the left, it was too little too late, the grav-mine activated and sprung into the air, wedging itself in the spinning axle and detonating. The Rhino's drive shaft snapped, pistoning up into the crew compartment and rupturing the fuel tanks, ripping the vehicle apart in a spectacular explosion, the last thing that Daelius remembered was being blown bodily through the Rhino's side hatch.
He must have been knocked unconscious by the impact and had been found by allies, but there were probably no operating Imperial units left in the Chaeros capital. 'Enemies!' His mind screamed a warning.
Instinctively he reached out with his right hand and grasped just below the sound of the voice, where he reasoned his enemy's throat would be. His fingers closed around something firm yet yielding and he heard a gasp of shock.
"Wha-what are you doing? Stop it! You're hurting me!" the voice yelped as he tightened his grip, constricting her windpipe.
Desperate, flailing blows rained down on his arm and her voice came through as a faint gurgle.
"Please… Can't breathe… Killing me."
He heard an exclamation of surprise to his left and movement as more presences were alerted to the scene unfolding, they would not reach the she-mutant in time to save her. And he forced open his eyes wishing to see the last thing that he was to kill before he was torn apart by her bastard brethren. His vision swam for a moment before it clear and he got the first look at whom he was strangling. His grip released immediately and she fell in a heap next to him, coughing and sucking in lungfuls of air. It was no Plague mutant; it was a Soritas, a battle sister, barely in her thirtieth year from the looks of it. Her black suit of power armor was dusty and slightly damaged but the Doom Eagle noticed the gleaming silver Fleur de Leis that was mounted on her greaves and shoulder plate.
"I-I thought you were an enemy." He said, the reality that he had nearly snapped her neck like a twig suddenly dawning on him.
She coughed again and managed to rasp, "If I wuh-was an enemy yuh-you'd already be dead!"
That was a good point, Daelius thought suddenly feeling rather foolish. Wincing from the pain as he finally sat up, he regarded the Battle Sister as she attempted to get back on her feet. Like he had noticed before she was young, her black hair tied back in a braid that ended just half way down her shoulders and a tiny superficial scar ran downward from here eyebrow, across her left eye that ended just before her cheekbone.
"Are you alright, battle sister?" Daelius asked.
"Yes, I'm fine. No thanks to you… Is that how you treat rescuers back with the Doom Eagles?" She snapped back.
"I said I thought you were an enemy…" he growled annoyed that he was being spoken to in such a manner by someone probably a quarter of his age. "And what do you mean rescuer?"
"Hold still, I'm just checking that you've not broken anything." She muttered, waving a medical auspex over his chest as if he hadn't said anything at all.
She was naïve, he thought waving the auspex away, a Space Marine had no fear of broken ribs for they had none, their ribcage fusing into an ossified carapace upon the implantation of the gene seed.
"I am fine," he assured her, "Just a concussion at the most."
She shot him a venomous glare before packing it away, "Suit yourself then. I was just trying to help."
"He is a Space Marine, he doesn't need help." Someone said to his right, it was the male voice he heard and Daelius turned his head slowly to regard him.
It was a man dressed in a fitted suit of carapace armor painted in a swirling urban camouflage scheme. His shaven head bore a small winged skull tattoo of the Imperial guard just above his brow and his face was a latticework of scars that indicated he was a veteran of many battles.
"Who are you?" Daelius inquired to the man.
"My name is Corporal Kotarian Verhek of the 009th Kasrkin, of the Cadian 125th, my lord Space Marine." The Cadian saluted smartly, ingrained military discipline overriding common sense.
"Corporal Verhek," he acknowledged him by thumping his fist into his throbbing chest ever so gently.
"And what about you, sister?" he turned to look at her.
"Sister Natalya Cervus of the Order of the Pure Heart." She nodded curtly before glancing worriedly out the window.
"What is your name, Space Marine?" She said without looking at him.
"I am Veteran Sergeant Daelius Valana of the Doom Eagles. My squad and I are where dispatched to-" he trailed off, realization hitting his like a hammer. "Where is my squad?"
Natalya turned to him and he saw a deep sympathy in her eyes, "We found you here in this building next to a burned out shell of a Rhino. The blast must have thrown you to safety." She motioned to gaping hole in the wall that he had created. "But the rest of your men, I'm afraid, perished in the explosion."
Daelius' throat went dry and he opened his mouth to voice his denial but the reality of Natalya's words dawned on him and he realized that she was probably right. All his battle brothers were dead and he was alone in a plague zombie infested city with a Battle sister and a Kasrkin. Disbelief warred with his sense of loss and he struggled to rise painfully. Kotarian and Natatlya rushing to his side to help the battered Marine to his feet.
Daelius swayed uneasily on his feet, the spinning in his head eventually slowing enough for him to take a shaky step forward. His knees threatened to buckle and he leaned heavily against the wall for support.
"Whoa, are you sure you're all right, Sergeant Daelius?" asked Natalya, raising an eyebrow.
"Look! You try to getting blown through a solid ferrocrete wall!" Daelius snapped.
" I was just trying to help," she hissed and stormed away.
"Women, eh?" Kotarian muttered quietly. Daelius ignored the Kasrkin as he tried once again to get his balance right. Then something dawned on him.
"Corporal Verhek, where is your squad?" he asked the scarred Cadian.
"Please my Lord Space Marine, call me Kotarian. And my squad has joined the ranks of the zombies that prowl the city." His mouth twisting slightly as he recalled that tragic event. "My squad was dispatched to relieve and evacuate a hab-block that had so far held out from the victims of the Curse of Unbelief. But we arrived too late, the hab-block had been overrun and every man, women and child was dead, or rather undead. We tried to fall back but the exits were cut off by those damned zombies, only I was able to fight my way out of that place."
"I see," Daelius nodded, "I am sorry for loss Corporal Kotarian."
The Cadian nodded but didn't say anything.
"And what about you Sister Natalya?" he turned to regard the Sorita.
"My sisters and I were to push the Imperial sphere of control into the city. However, I got cut off from them when a gas line ruptured and exploded under our feet. I watched three sister burn to death in the inferno and I was the only one on the other side of the curtain of flame. My sister superior told me to go around the affected area and join up with them as they pressed on, but I got lost in these twisted streets and by the time I got my bearings, they had been attacked and were overwhelmed." Natalya said, all the while staring out the window.
Daelius could feel the immense pain of her loss and he saw a tear well up in her eye. "It saddens me to hear that Sister Natalya, I-uh," he tried to form the very unfamiliar words, "I am… sorry if I was unnecessarily clipped in my words with you. I meant no offense."
Wiping it away discreetly, she turned to them, "That is of little consequence, Sergeant Daelius. However, we need to face the gravity of our situation, we are isolated and stranded in a hostile sector of the city many miles away from Imperial forces. We are impossibly outnumbered by an enemy that will pursue us without rest till either we are dead or they are destroyed. We have supplies and ammunition that will not last us more than several days. There is an unknown interference here that makes it impossible to contact Imperial command and the bands of zombies that wander the streets will find us soon."
Kotarian added bitterly, "Basically, Sergeant Daelius, we're fuc-"
"Thank you for the summary, Corporal Kotarian." Daelius cut him off. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders, the artificial muscle fibers in his armor whirring as they mimicked his action. He clenched his fists and heard the two survivors gasp in awe as they recognized for the first time that in place of his left hand was a monstrous power fist. With a mental impulse he activated the deadly weapon, a shimmering blue haze of energy blazed across its surface, giving him the power to rip the hull of a battle tank apart with ease. He was glad that it had not been damaged in the explosion; it would most likely come in very useful.
His senses had finally stopped spinning and he was beginning to feel his strength returning, taking his first real steps since the ordeal that had cost him his Battle brothers, he strode through the ruined side of the building that they had sheltered in, the same way he had entered.
"Sergeant Daelius? Where do you think you're going?" He heard Natalya call after him but he did not reply, swiftly making his way over to the still smoking wreckage of the Rhino.
Dropping to his knees before the charred bones and melted ceremite that mingled with the warped steel of the Rhino's hull, Daelius closed his eyes and whispered a litany of passing for each of the eleven men that had been aboard with him. The words spilling from his lips, his shoulders slumped as the waves of sorrow began to beat on his mind.
"Rest in the arms of the Emperor my brothers." He finished and held down a cry of anguish. Then he noticed something gleam within the ash. Brushing away the soot he gasped as he pulled out the bulky shape a storm bolter, his storm bolter! Everything in the Rhino had been destroyed save this one weapon and it shone as if it was still freshly pressed from the armory the day it had been presented to him. Even the rounds within the twin sickle magazines did not look damaged. Cradling the storm bolter close to his chest he gave thanks to the Emperor and the weapon's indomitable spirit that such a miracle be granted to him.
He heard Natalya scream a warning to him and he looked up, so embroiled in thought he had momentarily let his guard down and one of the enemy that Natalya and Kotarian had been talking about had found him.
It had a large dog in its previous life, but the Curse of Unbelief had taken it and twisted it into something monstrous, monstrous and hungry. Milky white orbs regarded the surprised Space Marine with unthinking malevolence and ragged lips were bared over broken teeth. Its fur was matted and patches had been ripped off and deep lesions on its side exposed glistening muscles and slimy entrails. It observed Daelius for a second before springing at him with an insane howl, its slavering jaws aimed for his throat.
Daelius acted instinctively, rolling to his feet, leveling his storm bolter and in a fluid motion he squeezed the trigger. Two mass reactive rounds roared out the weapon's chamber and caught the plague beast mid flight in the side, their resultant explosion tearing the beast in half and spinning the ragged halves away from him.
Daelius closed his eyes breathed a prayer of thanks. He had taken a gamble by firing the storm bolter; he had seen the effect of a damaged bolt round going off prematurely in the chamber and was under no illusion that it would have taken his arm off below the elbow.
Natalya and Kotarian were running to his side, weapons in hand, relief painted on their features that the Space Marine had the presence of mind to react to their warnings in time. Daelius waved away their attempts to help him up; he was feeling like his old self again and needed none. He was about to thank them for the warning when a muted snarl drew his attention back to the shorn carcass of the plague beast. The animal had suffered a horrific wounding but was still crawling towards them, the feral hunger still blazing in its cataract eyes. Daelius heard Kotarian mutter something profane and possibly heretical as the three of them observed the unwholesome relentlessness of the plague beast as it dragged itself slowly towards them. The Kasrkin raised his hell-gun to his shoulder and took aim, with a crack the weapon discharged blasting a neat hole right between the beast's eyes, instantly it flopped down and stopped moving, finally dead.
"Nail the rotting bastards in the head, seems to be the most effective." Kotarian growled and spat on the ground in disgust.
"I'll keep that in mind," whispered Natalya, unable to tear her eyes away from the plague beast's carcass, her face pale.
"Sister Natalya?" Daelius said, noticing that the sorita was shaking. She didn't reply.
"Natalya!" He said firmly, causing her to start and look at him. "Keep it together."
Natalya swallowed hard, and nodded, her eyes wide. "What are these things?" she breathed, the horror in voice plain.
"They are the creations of the great enemy." Daelius told them, his tone somber. "I have heard of them… The plague zombies of Nurgle."
Natalya and Kotarian gasped and made the sign of the Aquila over their chests upon the mention of one of the Dark Gods of Chaos.
"Others will be drawn to the noise." Natalya whispered worriedly, "We can't stay here."
"There's no arguing with that, Sister." Kotarian added, putting on his helmet and snapping down the eyepiece.
Daelius looked up at the sky of Chaeros, a sickly glowing orb was all that visible of the sun hung in the gray dust-choked atmosphere told him that it was probably noon, a totally irrelevant fact.
"Corporal Kotarian, Sister Natalya," he said, his experience as a leader kicking in, "Gather up whatever supplies you can without being encumbered, we travel light."
"You plan to take us somewhere, Sergeant Daelius?" Natalya said, some of her earlier defiance returning. Her bolter was slung over her shoulder and she rested her hands on her hips, head cocked quizzically, "Where?"
"We're getting out of this city," Daelius said firmly, working the action of his storm bolter to accentuate his point.
"Two hundred and fifty miles of territory to cover on foot; surrounded by enemies; high chance we'll be cut off and torn to pieces by a hungry mob of zombies." Said Kotarian, his voice muffled as he hooked up his rebreather unit. "Well, what are we waiting for?"