Chapter 3: Through the Void

ALL AROUND THE transport, the darkness of space was seeping about. It was a vast dark hole with only little stars with which to see by. If it weren't for the technology of the Adeptus Mechanicus, transition from one part of space to another would take years upon years, and life in the Guard wasn't based of years, it was months. The Guard were always being transported to new war zones. That was life in the Emperor's mighty Imperial Guard. The transport The Emperor's Carrier was a gargantuan vessel that had served in His divine service for centuries. It had seen so many war zones, planets, and solar systems that the Captain of the ship had switched three times in its lifespan.

Captain Hugo Juven was looking out of the viewing bay of the bridge. He loved the void of space. It was so mysterious and dark. Just like the Navigator, a being not of the regular human standards, but a thing with the gift of warp-sight. It is able to guild ships through the warp. Without these Navigators, just like without the Adeptus Mechanicus, space travel would take too long.

Being the Captain of a ship was hard work but when you had a hundred and fifty years under your belt it was a piece of cake. Juven was a tall man with white hair, displaying his age. He was beloved by his crew and demanded respect at all times, and they gave it to him. To many, it would seem Captain Juven was happy with his position of being a Captain of a transport, but in reality, he wanted to captain a Battlecruiser. To fight the Emperor's enemies was something he had dreamt of as a child. To see the flashes of coherent light and massed balls of plasma rip through space and tear the enemy to pieces. To be triumphant in battle, and be sung about long after he had passed on, to the Emperor's side. But instead, here he was being used as a shepard to herd these Guard dogs to their point of rendezvous on the planet of Yessaria.

'Sir.' Captain Juven spun around on his heel breaking out of his trance. The officer in front of him was his second in command, Lieutenant Fids Loher.

'Sir,' Loher repeated.

'Yes, what is it Lieutenant,' answered Juven finally.

'Sir there is a contact off the starboard side, and it isn't reading an Imperial Navy signature.'

'Have you identified it Lieutenant?'

'Um, no sir. I wanted to tell you so you could make a command decision.'

'Well, for starters, please identify the thing.'

'Yes sir,' Loher turned to group of men down below on the machines, 'Ensign, relay all information concerning the approaching vessel to the computer for analysis.'

'Yes sir.'

'Sir! The contact seems to be powering up her weapons. Shields are also online,' came a panicked shout from below.

'Everyone calm down, power up our own shields and brace for impacts,' Captain Juven said smoothly.

'Shields are up and to a hundred percent sir.'

'Blast shutters are closing sir,' the viewing bay shutters were also closing, and Captain Hugo Juven glimpsed at the void one last time.

'Power up the lances,' Juven announced. Inwardly, he smiled. Now was his time to shine, his lone vessel taking on another lone vessel. Though the enemy was clearly built to fight while his own was built to transport, he relished the chance to prove himself worthy.

The ship's only two lance ports powered up while the enemy ship commenced shooting. The lance shots all went wide; the distance was still too great.

'Sir, we have got a fix on the enemy's ship. It is called the Executioner's Blade. It is Chaos sir,' panic had finally overtaken the Ensign's voice.

'Turn to starboard and for the last time, calm down,' yelled Juven. How the hell had a Chaos ship gotten this far into Imperial space? He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that. All he knew for sure was that he had to get his cargo to their destination.

'Aye sir.'

'Let us rid the universe of this filth.'

DOWN TWO DECKS, Tiberius and his classmates waited patiently, but were starting to get antsy. They had been in this damn thing for over three months now. They were all anxious to see this new world where command was beckoning. There was only so much a man could do before he got tired of the waiting. Just yesterday, Holther and Pasyi had gotten into a brawl, when Pasyi "accidentally" got jelly on Holther's uniform. It was a minor incident but to Tiberius it was the beginning of madness. He saw the tiredness and fatigue that comes with waiting on the faces of everyone. Even the joker Lowe was down. They needed to get off the ship and just have time to regroup.

The ship rocked violently, throwing several men to the ground, and spilling the drinks on the tables. There was a scream at the other end of the mess hall. Tiberius didn't have time to find out who it was as another hit sent them all tumbling to the deck.

'What the feth is going on,' vocalized Aldus to no one in particular.

Tiberius answered, 'I believe we either have run into an asteroid field or we are under attack.'

'I hope it is the former,' Maller mumbled.

'Well, a lot we can do just sitting here,' chimed in Yolst.

The screaming was becoming too much of an annoyance. Tiberius and Maller both sprinted to the other side of the room. They were disgusted by what they saw. Nwerin was on the floor, squirming, retching, and screaming out things the others had never heard before. Nwerin was one of the quiet men of the group and mostly kept to himself. He was also one of the smallest men. His black hair was short and clean cut. It seemed that when the ship took the first hit, his hot caffeine had spilt all over his face and neck. The man was pleading with those around him to help though they didn't know how too. Tiberius grabbed him by the right arm and pulled Nwerin's screaming body up onto his own shoulder.

'Hold tight Nwerin.'

'God! I'm going to die,' he screamed as his face bubbled and tears ran down his face.

'No your not.' Just as the sentence was out of Tiberius' mouth, the intercom came to life.

'Armsmen, report to port side on deck two immediately.'

'Feth! Feth it all,' Tiberius yelled at the top of his lungs.

'FIRE,' SHOUTED Captain Juven. All had gone terribly wrong in just a few seconds. It seems there were actually two Chaos warships, one coming in behind the first's wake. It was hiding in the other's warp signature. As they closed, the second was identified and was called Death Incarnate. They were of the Idolator class ship.

The weapon batteries of The Emperor's Carrier opened fire in a hail of lasers at the Executioner's Blade. They had struck home, and the shields of the Idolator collapsed with a bright flash. Death Incarnate had gotten close while its sister took the blunt of the hitting. It opened up with its weapon batteries and lance batteries. These ripped into the transport, blowing out the shields easily, and tearing great chucks out of the ship's prow. Men died in the hundreds, while fires burned, oxygen ran out, or they were sucked out into space. The Emperor's Carrier wasn't finished though. It fired another hail of laser fire at the already struck Executioner's Blade, completely tearing a gapping hole through the side of it, as it tried to swing about to bring up its bigger guns. This in turn hit the plasma reactor, causing an overload. The Execution's Blade was torn to pieces from inside its own soul, as the plasma leaked out like lava. The explosion blinded sensors and eyes for a minute. In this minute the Chaos ship, Death Incarnate, got round behind the Imperial transport. It poured on a torrential amount of fire into the backside of the already stricken Imperial vessel. The engine room suffered several critical hits, making the ship come to a complete dead stop. Frantic tech priests tried to put out the fires or to repair that what was damaged, but to no avail.

From the monitors on the bridge, Captain Juven saw something out of the rear view that he had never wanted to see. A wave of Chaos Dreadclaw attack craft came out of the Chaos ship, like a wave of locus back on his home planet. He saw this and then looked at his second in command. 'Prepare for boarding action.' Juven sighed deeply at the thought of the fight to come. He then grabbed the power sword at his side and unsheathed it along with his compact laspistol.

'Yes sir,' replied Loher doing the same, as the turret defense lasers started to fire into the oncoming horde of death.

MEN IN CARAPACE armor and with autoguns and hellguns in hands, hurried past Tiberius and the limp Nwerin. Maller and Waton were just behind them, just in case they were needed. Their carapace armor was a dark blue, and helmet visors hid their faces from the group of four. One man stopped and said, 'The infirmary is just down the hall to the left buddy.'

'Thanks,' replied Tiberius, as he and the others with him shuffled down the hallway.

CADO WENT TO the nearest armsman and asked how he and the others could help. The man replied that they should go to the armory on deck three and pull out weapons for their own men to use.

'Come on men, to deck three,' Cado was shouting as they ran off to get weapons of any kind.

A loud thud sounded against the outside of the think hull, which caused Cado and the others to stop. Sparks started to seep in through the wall, making a huge circle.

'Oh shit,' exclaimed Cado as he took off in the direction of the stairs.

Morpx, Ardm, Jesor, and Quis all picked up what weapons were available to them, while the others went after Cado.

'We hold this until the others come back with some goodies okay,' Morpx said, trying not to talk with the nervousness he felt.

The hull exploded inward and sent shards of metal everywhere. Quis' thigh was struck and he collapsed to the ground screaming. The other three were missed and steeled themselves. The mass of corrupted flesh was immense, like the rush of oncoming water through a hole. At least thirty chaos cultists poured out of the improvised entry. Morpx took the pipe he had and swung down onto the head of the first one he met. There was a crack and blood spurted all over. The cultist tipped over, only to be replaced by another who fired his lasgun, hitting Morpx squarely through the left shoulder. Morpx fell to the ground, grabbing the hole and dropping the lead pipe. He then staggered up and with his boot, flicked up the fallen pipe, and in one fluid motion, rammed it through his attacker's neck. After which he collapsed to the deck, blood pouring out of him. Ardm threw one of the knives he carried and it found its mark in the neck of a cultist with a bolter. He grabbed two more, each in a hand, with one up and the other down. He was in the thick of it, spinning, hacking, slashing, and killing. He slit a throat here and opened a gut there. Only was he stopped when a chainsword severed his right arm off at the elbow. At this, he dropped to the floor and started to go into shock, convulsing. Jesor had picked up a shotgun he had found on the grill of the floor and racked a slug into the chamber and fired. The shot sent three cultists spinning. Another corrupted human charged into him and rammed him into the wall, causing all the air out of Jesor and the shotgun fell to the ground. The cultist let him fall to the floor and smiled a grim smile that Jesor would never forget to his dieing day. As the bolt pistol was put to Jesor's temple, he closed his eyes and felt something shower over him. It was warm and wet. He opened his eyes and saw the cultist pitch over, headless and convulse. Then there was a red flash of light as more fire came down from the hallway. More cultists were hit and fell where they were stood. There was a shout as Cado and the others came running to aide their comrades. A mass melee was taking place inside the hallway. Fhor spun the chainsword he had commandeered and killed with every stroke. Lowe was fighting with a lasgun with a bayonet attached to the lug. The others fought with a mixture of weapons. Lasguns, autoguns, shotguns, knives, bayonets, chainswords, laspistols, autopistols, bolt pistols, and just about every other thing that could kill. Skih skewed a cultist on his sword and pushed him off, only to realized that the man hadn't died. Skih's chest exploded as the solid slug of the cultist's weapon hit him. Basd screamed as he finished what Skih had started with his laspistol. He and Skih had been best of friends on their homeworld of Tokklon, and had remained so in the Academy. Basd saw Skih's chest and dropped to his side and held him, as blood came out of Skih's mouth.

'Will you remember me forever Basd,' Skih gasped out.

'What are you talking about, you are going to live.' Basd couldn't hide his tears and he started to retch, choking back the sobs he wanted to release. 'Who is going to be there for me,' he wailed as the fight continued around them.

'I will always be with you Basd, and don't ever forget that,' Skih coughed up more blood that spurted onto Basd's face. Basd ignored it, and continued to hold his friend close, until Skih died, after which Basd cried out.

'PUSH THEM OUT, Emperor damn you,' yelled Commissar Kelgo to the armsmen around him. His bolt pistol spat into the face of an oncoming cultist. Deck two was a mess, and he could see this. Order could only be kept for so long. 'Do not falter. Those that do will suffer the Emperor's wrath, which was given to me.' His pistol barked again and again. The hellguns that the armsmen had were making short work of the heretics, but they kept coming. No matter how many you kill, there are always more. Another thud was heard down the line, as another Dreadclaw attached itself to the hull. Kelgo rattled off several shots when he saw four men and an unconscious man stumble in amidst the line of armsmen. 'Halt,' he shouted to the men as they drew closer. 'Where do you think you men are going?'

'We need to get to the infirmary. My friend here is hurt,' said the apparent leader of the group.

'Well, as you can see, there is a fight going on at the moment and the route to the infirmary is choked off by these bastards.' Lasbolts seared from the armsmen skirmish line, as if to add emphasis.

'We can remedy that,' said the leader. He gestured for his men to pick any fallen hellgun, as he set down the unconscious man, very gently. 'I will not let you die Nwerin,' was all he said. He then too picked up a hellgun, and joined the line of armsmen. They poured mass amounts of fire into the wave of cultists who charged from down the hall. They died in droves, like cattle being sent to the slaughter. And still, more came on.

TIBERIUS CHANGED power cell clips for the sixth time in less than five minutes. The spent cartages of over twenty men littered the floor, like the dead of the enemy. It seemed as though the cultists only wanted to get into close combat.

'Blood for the Blood God,' shouted several of the cultists at one time. 'For Khorne and the Betrayer.' They were clad in red robes that fluttered and wiped about them, like there was something wet on the ends of their robes. Their faces were distorted and upon their forehead's, was a symbol that Tiberius had never seen before, but made him dizzy to look upon.

At the sound and look of this, Tiberius noticed that blood was running down the face of the nearest armsman's face. He wasn't hit though, and then the man flipped up his visor to wipe his bleeding nose with his sleeve. Others were doing the same, and he tasted blood in his mouth. The iron tangy taste was strong and he spat out, seeing that he too was bleeding from the nose.

'Pour it into them boys,' shouted the Commissar that had stopped them. Finally, the wave of humanity finally overcame the be leagued Imperial defenders. There was shouting as knives were thrust into flesh and bone. Blood poured out freely from everywhere.

Tiberius used his hellgun as a club and beat the enemy whenever he appeared. He slipped and fell to the ground as a sword passed over his head. He kicked out and heard a satisfying crack. His attacker fell and screamed a curse that Tiberius couldn't understand. He quickly grabbed up the cultist's sword and jabbed it down into the man's face. Then, he brought it up behind his head and parried another sword. How had he seen that coming? Who cares he thought as he spun and threw up the attacker's sword and thrust his own into the belly of man. He rolled just as another sword came down on where he was just a second before. Sparks flew and blood splashed up. The roll brought him up into a fighter's stance. The brute was huge, with what looked like a Space Marine's armor suit that was hastily painted red. The trophy rack on the back of the monster was decorated with human skulls. It charged and snarled at Tiberius, bringing up the sword it wielded to decapitate him. Tiberius sidestepped, and was matched in this maneuver. This took him by surprise, which seemed to make the thing smile. It brought down the sword, but was blocked at the last second by Tiberius' quick reflections. As the two blades met in midair, the slaver leaned into Tiberius' face and said,' Join me, and I will make you a god.'

Tiberius spat into the heretic's face. This seemed to excite the man, as he broke off the deadlock and attacked with renewed vigor. Tiberius did his best to deflect and dodge the dangerous blows. Several grazed his body, which made little cuts that started to bleed with mass amounts of blood. He knew he couldn't win this if he was on the defense the entire time. Then, he noticed a pattern in the swings the heretic made. Downward stroke, diagonal strike from the bottom left to top right, sidestroke meant to take off Tiberius' head, then the diagonal top left to bottom right, and then it would be repeated.

'Gotcha,' Tiberius whispered as the sidestroke came in and at which he dropped to his knees. This hurt immensely, yet he grit his teeth as he stabbed with all his might into the belly of the thing, driving the blade deep into the organs, that dwelled within the armor. Dark blood poured out over the sword imbedded into its body. 'I go to the dark gods,' were the last words out of its mouth. At this, it fell backwards into the pools of blood that splashed up from the ground. Tiberius had slain his first Chaos Space Marine. The rest of the cultists were either dead or were being finished off. Tiberius tried to stand, and did so slowly, as his muscles protested this sudden strain on them. He glanced over at where he had laid Nwerin down, only to see that the body was gone. Panic overtook Tiberius, but was released as his eyes saw Waton had taken Nwerin upon his own shoulders and started towards the infirmary. Tiberius' eyes found Maller up against the bulkhead, panting hard and with a gash across his forehead and a deep cut in his midriff. A corpsman was already at Maller's side and administrating basic aid to the injured man. Medics were already running down from the infirmary to see to their saviors. There were moans and cries from the injured while the medics came into the hall where the worst fighting had just taken place. Tiberius brushed off one of the medics and said, 'There are others worse off than me, see to them first.' The medic nodded and went off to help another medic with an armsmen who had lost a leg and arm in the swirling combat. Someone saw to Nwerin and relieved Waton.

Commissar Kelgo walked up to Tiberius and said, 'Well-done son. Now I have a new task that I want you to head. It seems the enemy have taken flight to the bridge. I or really, Captain Juven wants support on the bridge. And as there are still traitors down here, I will administer to them, so that leaves you and some of my men to go with you. The Emperor protects.'

'As with you Commissar,' Tiberius answered. 'You three over there, and you men over there, gather your weapons. We make for the bridge. Waton, you take command of these seven here, and I will take the other six.'

'Sure.'

'Right then, let's go.'

THE BRIDGE WAS a mess. Corpses lay everywhere. Servitors lay where they were cut to pieces. Captain Juven, Lieutenant Foher, and eight other crewmen were pinned down behind a control panel on the far side of the bridge with at least twenty cultists between them and the exit. Small arms fire rattled against the machine as every now and then one of the men would let off a shot or two before they were forced back into cover.

'Sir,' shouted a man from down the line, 'we need to get some help before we get overrun.'

'I know that Phand,' Juven said with acidity. He had voxed for support at least three dozen times. Yet there wasn't any answer from anybody. Maybe they were all dead? But how could that have happened? There were at least a couple hundred men aboard this ship, and those thirty or so Imperial Guard officers. Not that they were being useful or anything. Then again, he hadn't received any type of report. His vox officer yelled out something about support was on its way. It was about bloody time.

TIBERIUS AND WATON with the thirteen armsmen moved slowly upon the stairs to the bridge. They had encountered several cultist patrols, and had silenced them. Their hellguns were up and searching for targets, with new power clips inserted, to ensure they didn't run dry in a long fight. They reached the doors, but before they entered, Tiberius said, 'Show no mercy for you shall not be shown any. Remember this.' They all nodded an acknowledgement.

'For the Emperor!' They all yelled this as they kicked in the doors as one. The first several men inside fired at the stunned cultists, who were about to return fire on this threat but were stopped abruptly when the men who were till recently pinned, stood and added their own firepower to the fight, creating a murderous crossfire. The other men from the outside also poured on the fire. As the smoke cleared, the men of the bridge and those of the rescue party greeted one another with cheers and hugs of happiness, having cleared and stabilized the threat.

Tiberius strode up to the Captain of The Emperor's Carrier and saluted a crisp and sharp gesture. 'Sir.'

'As you were Lieutenant,' he answered, as the ranking of the man was apparent.

'I would like to suggest a course of action sir.'

'And that would be…'

'I would like to board the enemy craft sir.'

'You want to repeat that Lieutenant?'

'I want to lead a raiding party into the heart of the attacking vessel sir; using those craft they came in. Maybe we can knock her out and get some vital information at the same time.' Tiberius knew it was a crazy idea, but if it worked, they could greatly improve their knowledge of how the Chaos ships got to where they were.

'Do you know how to fly one of those things?'

'No, but a friend of mine is a computer tech, and I'm sure he can figure out how to operate one of them.

'Fine. I can only spare some fifty armsmen. Don't let me down.'

'I won't sir, cause if I do, I'll be dead.' Tiberius saluted and walked off to round up his raiding party.

He is one brave son of a bitch that man, thought Captain Juven as the Lieutenant went out of sight.

'CAN'T YOU GET this thing to budge Tillus?' Tillus had been working on the Dreadclaw for only two minutes, and Tiberius was getting frustrated. If the enemy figured out that the first wave had failed, another would be soon to follow.

'Got it. Tell the Captain to close that bulkhead as soon as we lift off.'

Tiberius tapped hid vox-mic and got a hold of the bridge. 'We are good to go. Be sure to close the bulkhead after we have detached.'

'Well done, and may the Emperor protect you.'

'Five, four, three,' Tillus was counting down to launch. Tiberius looked around the compartment. Fifty armsmen were in full battledress. Their dark blue carapace armor glinted in the artificial lighting. Their visors were down and hellguns primed. Every fifth man had a pump action shotgun or shotcannon. Safeties were on, and everyone had their guns pointed down. He saw the other members of the raiding party. Oberh, with a shotcannon, Cirh with a shotgun, Pasyi with a hellgun, Davus with a hellgun, and himself along with Tillus also had hellguns. They too were adorned with the armsmen battledress. 'Now brothers is our time to bring swift vengeance to the enemies of the Emperor. We must be vigilant and strong,' preached Tiberius.

'Two, one, go!' The craft lurched and broke free from the hull of The Emperor's Carrier. They sped away through the darkness to the Death Incarnate.

'Okay, first objective is to get to their engine room and either disable their warp drive or kill the crew. That would keep them back for a while. After that we need to get to a main data terminal. Once we get to it, we need to extract information that may be of use to us. Those are our objectives. If anything comes up, improvise.' Tiberius rattled off these things with the intent to keep their minds off the coming fight. The men nodded their understanding.

'Two minutes till impact gentlemen,' sang out Tillus.

'May the Emperor protect thy humble servant of God,' whispered Davus to himself.

'Oh my God, my Emperor, give me the strength to do your will and slay the enemy of Mankind,' mumbled an armsman.

'I will die to serve,' stammered another.

There was a loud noise, like that of an artillery shell going off just feet away. The docking clamps had clung to the Chaos ship's hull. The automatic burner started to melt away the thick hull of the beast they were to enter. A few seconds later, it had finished and the plating fell forward into the gloom.

The raiding party entered the belly of the beast, wearily. Two armsmen went ahead and scouted out a cross-junction section just ahead. They signaled back that there wasn't any movement. They edged on slowly, and cautiously. Tiberius hand motioned for Davus to take ten men and head down the right hallway. Then he motioned for Oberh to take another ten men and go to the left. He, Tillus, Pasyi, and Cirh would take the remaining thirty armsmen straight up the walkway. They made sure that shotguns and shotcannons were equally split up. They all stalked off to their destinations.

The group in the center came up to another cross-junction only just fifty yards into the ship. Pasyi took the right and Cirh took the left. Tiberius and Tillus with their men moved up the center again.

DAVUS WAS SPOOKED by the stillness in the air. Also, the foul reek of Chaos didn't help the situation any either. Group Two, as they were called, came upon a door, that was locked tight. He tapped his vox-mic, 'One, this is Two. Do you read me?'

'Yes, I do, go ahead Two,' answered Tiberius.

'We have just come upon a locked door, and need to know how to proceed.'

'Kick her in if it won't budge.'

'Roger that, over and out.'

With that confirmation, Davus signaled two men to either side of the door. He then walked up to it and kicked it in with his heavy combat boots. The door broke easily, and the two armsmen rolled in and brought their hellguns up to the shoulders, scanning for targets. There weren't any to be seen, because the lights were offline. Davus found the switch, but didn't turn it on until all of the men were inside, and fanned out. The lights came on weakly. The men almost all threw up at what they saw. There were several surgical tables in the room, and on each one was a man, or what used to be a man. It seemed the stench had waited for the lights to come on, because once they were all on, the smell of blood and decay assaulted their nostrils. Yet there was stirring on the far side of the room. Davus and an armsmen both walked up the room to the man on the center table lay. He was not yet dead, but they saw that he wanted death. Cuts were all over his body. It seemed that some doctor had played merry hell on the body. He spoke, 'Help me.'

'You two there, get this man off the table and take him back to the transport,' shouted Davus. At this, two men came up and helped get the wounded man up and started to carry him towards the door. There was a cry from the doorway as an armsman's head toppled off his shoulders. The corpse hit the floor, as more fire came through the door. Men scattered to get into cover, yet there wasn't much to offer. The armsmen returned fire as much as they dared to. Davus, from where he was couldn't get a good view of the passageway. Only the lasbolts came in through the door. They were pinned in a bad position.

OBERH'S MOB HAD run into contacts much earlier then Davus had, and there was a massive firefight in the halls. The scorch marks were more than proof as to the battle raging on. After what seemed an hour, but were really only minutes, the firing stopped.

'Recon by fire men,' said Oberh. Having lost only three of his squad, group Three pushed on into the heart of the ship, passing the remains of over a dozen slain enemy. Unbeknownst to them, they were on the track to the plasma reactor room.

PAYSI AND THE men under him crept along the corridor, and came upon a patrol of cultists. Hellgun fire made quick work of the five-man team. They rushed up into the area where the dead were, and were amazed to see that they were carrying tools, and not weapons. They continued on until they came to an elevator. 'I guess we go down, as that is where the engine room likely is,' Pasyi said smoothly. He pressed a rune, and the shaft opened up and they entered. The doors closed and they descended. When they came to a stop, and the doors opened, they were met by a huge dome. They entered cautiously, with weapons ready. On the far side of the room sat servitors and on the catwalks above stood cultists, with lasguns. The ground below opened up into a pit. In the pit there were human work gangs, pulling the weapon batteries back into place for another salvo. The sentries on either side of the entrance were stunned to see the Imperials come in, but were silenced with quick bursts of shotguns. The cultists on the catwalks heard the gunfire and started to shoot down onto the intruders. Group Four returned fire with their hellguns. Several cultists tipped over the handrails and fell screaming to the floor. Others ducked down and continued to fire. The Imperials started to fan out per Pasyi's orders. One was knocked down by a lasbolt, and didn't get back up. The servitors paid the battle no attention and continued their work. The work crews looked up and started to cheer at this sudden turn of events. The slavers started to whip those who broke ranks. But the sight of the Imperial men was too much for the slavers to handle, and the work gangs launched themselves at their so-called "masters". The thirty or so slaves clubbed and beat the slavers to death, while their saviors continued to whittle down the cultists defending the control consoles. In a matter of minutes, the gunnery room was in Imperial control. The slaves found the keys and released themselves from bondage. Then they started to cheer to the God-Emperor. Others picked up the dead cultist's lasguns. In turn, they shot each of the corrupted servitors through the head. Three other armsmen had died in the hard fight, along with some ten slaves. Pasyi went about placing tube charges at all the control consoles, not letting their deaths been in vain. He set the times for five minutes, plenty of time to get back to the Dreadclaw.

CIRH AND GROUP Five came to a stairway that led up. They moved up it in pairs of two. At the top there was a set of doors, made out of pure iron. 'Must be the bridge,' suggested of the armsmen.

Cirh nodded and hand signaled for them to set tube charges. When they were in place, at the bottom, middle, and top, an armsman shouted, 'Fire in the hole!' The door exploded inwards with a loud thud. Autorounds came out from the room, cutting down two men. The rest hit the floor, and from their positions poured on their own fire.

Great thought Cirh. Now what am I gonna do? He didn't have to wait long for the answer to come. There was a loud roar from inside the room, as the first of the cultists came running out. The thing was, these were no mere cultists. These were the bodyguards of the Captain of the vessel. They were huge, at least a head taller than the tallest Imperial there. A rebreather covered their mouths, and Cirh gasped as he saw what the rebreather apparatus was attached to. A satchel of a dark red liquid was attached to a tube, which ran from they supposed air tanks to their mouths. They charged with the ferocity of madmen, with axes, swords, and knives. The Imperials just had time to let fly a volley of fire that knocked several down, but most got back up, and fix bayonets. Shotguns and shotguns spat out their lethal short-range ammo. This killed five of the attackers outright. There were still at least two-dozen of the berserkers charging them, and the men of group Five fought with the bravery of legends. Cirh was the last of his men to die. He took a great many berserkers with him, seven to be exact. His men had accounted for another twelve. After Cirh was slain, the berserkers whooped and hollered with excitement. Then they mutilated the bodies of the dead Imperials, taking heads as trophies, and putting them onto the racks above their heads.

TIBETIUS, TILLUS, AND their own men came to a wide-open room, with control panels all over the walls. Surprisingly, there weren't any guards. Tillus set about his work trying to get all the information out of the computer into the data-slate he had. Tiberius and two armsmen stood at the other end of the room, guarding the door, while the rest of the men took up defensive positions everywhere they could. 'Done,' shouted Tillus.

'Excellent, pull back to the extraction point, on the double,' commanded Tiberius. At this, they double-timed their advance down the corridors they had come down.

OBERH HELD UP a fist and lowered himself to the grill. His squad did the same. They all heard the turning of combines and clinking of chains from up ahead. They heard the shouts of men and groans. They slowly crawled their way to the doorway. Instead of the engine room they were expecting, they looked upon a massive plasma reactor. The plasma inside was sloshing around like an alcoholic drink trying to escape. Oberh held up four fingers and motioned them through the door. Four men got up and crept up through the doorway. Quick like shadows, they moved in after the four. They used the control panels to block themselves from the eyes of the enemy. 'Three to everyone, we have located the plasma reactor. You all have around ten minutes to get back to the Dreadclaw. Make it snappy, cause I don't know for how long we can sit here without being found. Over and out.' He motioned for an armsman to give him all the tube charges. He set the charges for ten minutes and went around the machines and guards to the back of the plasma reactor. He shot one of the guards through the face, but since there was so much noise already, the shotcannon wasn't heard. He used some tape and strapped on the charges. At this, he dashed back to the waiting squad and motioned for the fall back. 'See you in hell,' he whispered as he left as quietly as he came.

DAVUS CURSED OUT loud as a lasbolt tore a chunk out of his left calf. There were only five armsmen and the wounded man alive. Davus fell to the ground and crawled back behind an overturned table. 'Emperor damn you all to hell,' he shouted out to the attackers. At this, their fire tripled. 'Maybe you shouldn't taunt them sir,' cried out an armsman.

He had gotten a call from Oberh saying that had ten minutes to get to the Dreadclaw, but by the way things were going, they would be lucky to last half of that. A grenade popped into the room, and Davus grabbed it and hurled it out again. There was a crump as it went off. That was at least the tenth one he'd thrown back. Silence. Nothing. Davus crawled up to the door, and stuck out his hellgun. Nothing happened. He leaned out into the door space, and wasn't shot.

'Two, this is One, we are coming out.'

Davus saw Tiberius come from down the hallway, followed by his squad. There was a mixture of greetings, and a mutual agreement that they should take their leave. The ship lurched to the right as an explosion went off, followed by another series of explosions. Squads One and Two ran for their lives to the rendezvous point. They met up with Pasyi and Oberh at the first cross-junction they had come to. More than twenty dirty looking men were with Pasyi's group.

'Where is Cirh and his squad,' questioned Tiberius as soon as he saw they weren't there.

'I've tried to contact them, but all I get is static. I fear they may have fallen in combat Tiberius.' Pasyi tapped his vox-mic as to emphasize his point. Another good man gone thought Tiberius.

'We only have four minutes until kaboom,' said Oberh to no one in particular.

'I'm going back for Cirh,' Tiberius was getting ready to go when Tillus blocked his path. Tillus was a big man to get around. 'Get out of my way Tillus.'

'I can't do that, Cirh is dead Tiberius.'

'No he is not.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I can't leave him behind though.'

'There isn't enough time.'

'I can make it, so get out of my way Tillus.'

Tiberius was about to force Tillus out of the way when he suddenly fell to the ground. Davus was there with his hellgun's butt down. 'Sorry Tiberius, but it is for your own good. Now lets go.'

They set off with Tiberius and the wounded being carried back to the Dreadclaw. They had detached and were only several miles away when the tube charges exploded, causing, for the second time that day a plasma drive overload. The Chaos ship, Death Incarnate was ripped apart in a white-hot flash. Miraculously, the Dreadclaw came out unscathed.

When they boarded The Emperor's Carrier, the injured were sent to the infirmary. No one ever knew what happened to Cirh during the boarding action. He was hailed as a hero aboard The Emperor's Carrier, along with all the other men who went on the raid. Captain Juven wrote in his personal log that he was giving recommendations to Tiberius, Cado, Tillus, Davus, Oberh, Pasyi, and Cirh of the Imperial Guard for their actions during the ambush and the counter-attack. The twenty or so slaves that were saved from Death Incarnate repaid their debts by joining the Navy. The priests aboard The Emperor's Carrier performed a special ceremony for the dead warriors.

Though the struggle in space was over, peace can only last so long. The road to Yessaria would remain uneventful, and without the proper equipment, the data-slate with the Chaos information would have to wait to be decoded. More battles were to come and they all knew it, but just who would death come and take next. That was the question yet to be answered.