Vivian scanned the dark water and the silhouettes of soldiers that had made it to land. She checked her wrist chrono. A dim green light shone at the edge closest to the river, so clearly Tartor was still breathing but in the water. Worrying about him didn't come easy to her as it was almost unheard off.
She crouched down and checked the pulse of the prince beside her. Still not moving but with a strong heart. She hadn't found any life-threatening injuries but there could be hidden ones inside. Unconsciousness was really not good for one's long-term health regardless, she had read, and the blood-stained bile earlier indicated something internal.
"Come on" she whispered to herself, looking out over the water again.
Suddenly a soldier called for help and carried a bald girl to shore. Vivian's bald girl. Pim wasn't moving. The soldier laid her down carefully on the unlit ground and tried talking to her and listening for breath.
Vivian gave him a moment, but these soldiers were apparently as educated in first aid as they were in swimming. Not at all. She went over and pushed herself between some soldiers that had come to their comrade's calls for support. Apparently she no longer had the worthy gravitas she had entered this village with, soaked and muddy.
Vivian pushed Pim's rescuer away and laid her own cheek to the girl's mouth to feel breathing while checking for pulse. Nothing. Drowned. For a split moment Vivian considered just leaving it at that but was repulsed at the instinct. Psyker or not, this was still a young woman in her care.
With swift movements Vivian took a long needled stimm from a uniform belt pocket and injected it in Pim's neck. She didn't know if the powerful combat drugs could counteract the effects of drowning, but they solved so many other crisis related problems that it was her best idea.
Pim immediately started convulsing, her whole body shaking as if possessed, and Vivian regretted her snap decision until a moment later when water and bile were coming out of the girl's mouth. The nearest soldiers helped Pim up to a sitting position and the worst convulsions abated, the girl's unseeing eyes wide open in confusion and pain.
Vivian gave her a pat on the cheek, glad that it all worked out and left the girl with the ones helping her. Vivian gave her prince a glance, but he seemed fine where he lay. He was just another soldier among the ones laying hurt, exhausted or dead along the shore. It seemed no one had recognised him yet. Again, watching the water and her chrono she noticed that the green light slowly was changing angle. Tartor was close.
Suddenly his head breached the surface and the rest of the body followed at a watery run. As soon as his hands where above the water, the las carbine was up, rapidly tracing the scared faces looking at him as he scanned the small beach through black eyepieces. It took him only a second to find her unthreatened and looking at him. He lowered the weapon and approached her quickly as he raised the compact night vision googles he had donned and spat out the rebreather he had in his mouth.
Vivian put her hands to her hips and gave him a stern look in the darkness. "Aren't you supposed to be at my side at all times?" she asked sternly but couldn't keep a straight face, relived as she was to see her cliff.
"To much equipment, had to walk" Tartor answered simply but Vivian could see a bit of relief in the large man's face as well.
"No matter! We have to get the prince to Little Bird." She said pointing at the man a couple of meters away. "We are taking him to the medicus."
They made their way back to the market, Vivian leading the way with her cliff carrying the prince and Pim stumbling after, trying to keep pace. The small streets were dark and utterly chaotic. No one stopped them. Everyone was either evacuated or was reorganizing to defend the western bank. It seemed the enemy were believed to be preparing a crossing. In passing Vivian wondered if the leader of these soldiers, the one she saw on the other side, were trying to organize this or if he'd been killed already.
The dry, lit safety of Little Bird made them all breathe easier as they climbed aboard. The thrice blessed Mechanichum forged alloys representing the unbending inexorability of their beloved Imperium, protecting them from the uncertainty of this world.
"What is the meaning of this?" a flabbergasted Krishan said as he gestured with both hands down at the soaked man clothed in a broken leather armour with the white tree of Gondor. He looked at each of them with wide eyes. Their wet and muddy clothes, their exhaustion as the adrenaline left them, Pim's vomit and the syringe that still sat in her neck.
"Oh, that is some Gondorian prince" Vivian said as she unclasped and removed her destroyed mantle. "Hopefully one closely related to Denethor."
"What!" Krishan exclaimed. "Then give him a stimm" he gestured to Pim's neck, "and throw him out. You can't kidnap their royalty!"
Vivian turned and gave him her full attention. "I have failed with our first impression tonight" she said slowly. "I've also failed with proving our worth here as their enemy uses some kind of battle mutant that was hard to negotiate peace with. I need a new angle. Saving this prince's life puts him into my debt and I can prove to him the unstoppable power orbiting above their heads. He will be the ally I need to sway the rest." Vivian explained with certainty. Then she simply turned and climbed into the cockpit leaving Krishan speechless behind.
"You have no data" Krishan blurted. "That's all just assumptions, lots of them! You know nothing of these people, this prince or anything. This could be the start of a war if even one of the soldiers outside recognised…" Krishan tried but was cut off by the engines starting and the craft ascending.
§§§
In the earie light of early night, the strangely confident rider from the wall stopped at the foot of the hill. The major gave Emmett back his magnocular and Emmett took another, closer look at their guest. This close he could see the strange helmet that covered most of the things face, Emmett had already dismissed the notion that the rider was anything else than another genetic experiment from the tower. But it was the strange symbols that covered it that made him the most uneasy.
"As foul as they come and too unhuman by far" the major stated gruffly while making the protecting sign of the Aquila.
"I don't suppose we remembered to bring a battle psyker from the ship" Emmett tried while putting down the magnocular in its pocket.
A stretch of tense silence later the major spoke again, "Let's go down and get this over with. Coming commissar?"
"I suppose that would be for the best" Emmett answered.
The two men started down the steep gravel slope. Knowing that the firepower that could be poured from the crest could not save them if there was sorcery involved, only avenge them. The climb wasn't hard but not graceful either in the darkness. The major was first down and Emmett took position obliquely behind him, letting the major hide the hand he laid on his service pistol.
The rider was the first one to break the silence with its too large mouth full of rotten teeth, "My master Sauron the Great bid you welcome to Mordor, men flying through the sky" it said in fluent gothic. No, not only that Emmett realised with apprehension. It spoke gothic with the majors Lerderian accent. That was no coincident and spotless proof of sorcery. Emmett's hand closed hard on the pistol grip, but he controlled himself. "Are you here to offer your supplication?" it continued, smiling horridly.
"We don't know of this Sauron the Great" the major answered carefully through gritted teeth, clearly trying to control his revulsion. "We are the Lerderian First Company, and we are sent here to pacify Mordor, if that's what you call the land beneath the storm."
The rider looked quite taken aback, looking down at the major and then up at the hilltop before continuing. "Are you saying that this… 'pack' up there are laying siege to the Black Gate of Cirith Gorgor?"
Emmett really didn't like the way the rider spoke about the wall, it felt like they were quickly sinking beneath more than they could handle. He stopped himself glancing upwards, searching for the engine lights of the reinforcement transports.
The major on the other hand never looked away from the rider. "I have no authority to treat with things like you" he started, "but I can pass on your terms for surrender. Know that your days regardless are numbered. That you and your breed will shudder in our shadow for as long as you are useful to us. Not a day more. The Emperor wills it."
Once again the rider sat in silence looking down at them before speaking. His grin had disappeared. When at last answered it was with a whisper, "Old man, know that you and your men will never see another sunrise again. If your flying allies dares to return to Mordor they will find only your bones, gnawed clean by the guardians of the gate and left to dry in the sun where you fell."
The major simply nodded and turned to climb up the hill again. "Negotiations concluded" he said between clenched teeth to Emmett in passing.
Emmett gave the rider a last look before turning. The rider grinned at him with his horrible mouth and then turned his horse back towards the silhouette of the gate. Part of Emmett wondered if there ever had been a possibility of a diplomatic solution with this Sauron, but mostly he felt that every single wretched mutant and thing they found behind that wall should be doused in promethium and burnt clean.
As soon as they were out of easy earshot the major activated the voxbead in his ear and turned on the company channel. He gave his orders in short, gruff bursts. "The mutants are inbound, no sleep tonight. I want the defences finished within the hour. Recall the scouts and no mines on the hillsides or we will have a gravelslide on our hands. I'll want sound and light discipline from 2300 local. The Emperor protects."
It was easier climbing up, but Emmett was glad he wasn't the one going up this slope under heavy fire. "We know nothing of this test site, this Mordor we are facing" Emmett started while they climbed. "There could be thousands of mutated warriors waiting to be unleashed upon us. What do you think of our odds?"
The major stopped his stride and looked over to Emmett, gaze hard. "Are you testing my dedication, commissar."
"Not at all, major" Emmet answered carefully, "I was just making conversation."
"With the Emperor at our side, we cannot lose. Even in death our lives will be the very steppingstones to the Captain's total victory over this world."
"Indeed" Emmett said without meeting the majors gaze and continued climbing.
§§§
Pim fumbled with the release buckle on her harness as the high-pitched whine of the engines slowly died down. Even still inside the craft she could already hear and feel the thrum of the Righteous Flame. The beating engines that had kept the immense flagship alive for millennia could be felt in every nook of the ship. Unyielding, unending.
When she had been assigned to the choir several years ago, the vibration and the strange sounds of the ship had kept her awake for days. But now, now it was the feeling of home. A symbol of purpose and safety.
Pim felt the soul of Tartor moving to the side door and opening it up. She took in the many smells that entered, of blessed oils, recycled air and body odour. It smelt like home.
Then Pim's saviour came back from the cockpit. Vivian's soul radiated certainty, confidence and fatigue. She was a flame outshining the others in the cockpit and Pim was thankful she had been assigned to such a remarkable individual who even saved her life. Pim squeezed the syringe in her hand a bit harder, she would remember this night.
The others climbed out and the wounded prince was transferred into a rescue vehicle. Pim could feel their stress but didn't share it, this man wouldn't die, he had far too much to achieve first. She contemplated telling them but knew better than to speak with the unseeing about information from beyond veil. Slowly Pim climbed out after them, feeling along the craft for the handholds, but she had barely reached the hangar floor when they took off and were gone, leaving her behind.
Pim considered following them to the hospital wing but was interrupted by the choir. They had started a prelude. Even at this distance a kilometre away she could easily feel the build-up of potential. Maybe they needed her to share the burden.
To traverse the hangar by herself among vehicles, servitors and the crewmen's constantly changing purpose and emotions was a challenge but soon she was on the train going home.
The elite guarding the gates to the choir quarters didn't impede when she arrived. But she could feel their gazes on her and remembered her damp and torn clothes covered in relatively dried bile, blood and mud. One of the guards actually opened one of the heavy doors for her.
The pressure of the prelude was almost unbearable inside the psychic wards of the quarters. Pim continued stumbling to the focusing chamber feeling the walls and doors as she went. She couldn't sense the corridor anymore, but she could feel her mentor beyond.
Rodin met her as soon as she entered the auditorium above the focusing chamber.
"Apprentice, you have returned" he stated, welcoming warmth radiating from him. But also some worry. "I see that your trip was more than taxing. I clearly underestimated the risks of this 'diplomatic' mission."
Pim bowed reverently, "Mentor, I would go again today if I were needed, my horizons have broadened. But now I sense purpose here and came to lend my strength to the song".
She felt him observing her more closely "In your emotional state? Your travels have made you lose your centre" he said sternly. "It will take days of meditation for you to not bring dissonance to any hymn".
Pim knew he was right and bowed again. The things she had seen would take time to stabilize in her consciousness.
"Can I bear witness?" she asked humbly, knowing that few hymns were open even for the initiated.
"That you can, it would do you good to be inspired by a master." Rodin answered and she could feel a badly hidden secret radiating from his warm tone. "Listen to the prelude, what are we witnessing this day?" he asked, falling into the role of the teacher.
Pim walked past him to the edge of the auditorium platform and from there looked down. The focusing chamber was formed by shallow terrasses circling down to a central low pedestal. A dozen of her colleagues stood at specific unregular intervals around the empty pedestal. She saw Dixten who had come to the ship at the same time as her. She also recognised old Martha, one of the few Pim had heard about that had survived the choir for more than 20 years standard. They all stood in their simple clothing mumbling, praying, counting rosaries or fumbling with other ritual items. And from them radiated the prelude as they were constantly trying to stabilise the synchronisation with each other, the ship and spacetime itself.
Pim's unseeing gaze was also drawn to an empty nothingness, just outside the focusing runes in an alcove in the terrasses. The Soul Protector. The untouchable who was ready to step in an save the souls of the ones lost to the hymn by merciful decapitation. Due to his nature, Pim couldn't see the man, but she was thankful for his presence.
She refocused on the prelude and half-turned to Rodin who now stood beside her.
"A small choir" she started slowly, "but strong. Mixed youth and experience. Their focused temperament is clearly choleric, but with melancholy undertones."
"Which suggests?" Rodin urged on.
"The choleric concentration excludes divination" Pim continued with more certainty. "This is a scrying" she concluded.
"Right you are" her mentor stated proudly. "Reports have come up from the surface about an area of possible corruption" he continued. "The area also proved unnaturally guarded. The Captain has asked the choir to look into the corruption allegations and also assess the value of a certain tower in its centre."
Pim took a deep breath and steadied her voice to not make a fool of herself in front of her mentor.
"Are we about to witness a scrying from Petronella herself?" she asked, voice filled with reverence.
Rodin smiled knowingly. "I know she is a bit of an exemplar to you, I'm glad you made it home just in time."
Pim's attempt to cover up her admiration for the renowned scryer was cut short when the prelude abruptly paused, leaving behind an overbearing silence. Everyone's attention turned to the small procession entering the floor of the focusing chamber. The woman leading the procession looked frail and weathered far beyond her years but the purpose in her step and gaze gave no hint of weakness. She was clothed in simple robes, bald and with eyes clouded and unseeing. Behind her came a tech priest, face and body hidden inside its customary red robes. Last was a servitor, carrying a heavy complicated looking crown with cables, lights and technology protruding from all sides.
The scryer, Petronella, ascended the central pedestal and kneeled. She started muttering mantras and prayers to herself while the other two joined her. Without any sign of understanding the gravity of the situation, the servitor lowered the crown unto the kneeling woman's head. She took its significant weight.
The tech priest started connecting the crown's cabling into hidden sockets around the pedestal while it muttered machine cant reverently. A background noise created by hidden machines beyond the chamber started humming and clicking. With its duty finished the priest bowed to the scryer and backed down from the pedestal and left the chamber with the servitor in tow. The lights dimmed.
Petronella unsheathed her Mercy Blade from her belt. She took the short, mono-edged blade with both hands and aimed it upwards towards her own heart as a last precaution.
Up above Pim felt the room reverberate as the choirs foremost scryer connected to her brothers and sisters. Mind and soul they were one and they offered her all that they were to aid her sight.
The temperature fell quickly and Pim started shaking in her damp clothes, the fatigue from her ordeals catching up to her. But she didn't even notice as she transfixed observed the hymn. She felt delighted for her friends and colleagues that got the possibility to be one with this hymn, the oneness of the choir was sublime and with such an experienced leader the feeling of purpose could even surpass the inherent danger.
Up in the auditorium, Pim could not use her true sight as that would disturb the delicate aria. But nonetheless the vague echo of the choir flowed through her as spill off from the focusing chamber. She lost sight of the room and herself as she let herself be submerged in the echo and the colony it contained. Not the stone and earth, but the history and possibility of life, of emotions and thoughts.
Pim felt the choir expertly filtering and directing the attention to the one colony below them. Then after an eternity of sorting, only the colony in the present. Then deeper, closer to their intended target.
Suddenly Pim sensed a glimpse of the focus. Dark emotion reigned. Inhuman levels of patience, control and bitterness. It was like nothing she had ever seen and instinctively she recoiled, trying to close herself off from the choir's echo. But she couldn't, like a probe caught in a gravity well she felt herself being dragged down towards the choir's focus. Then the overwhelming blackness did the impossible. It gathered in a controlled awareness, it became sentient, and it directed its attention towards the choir.
Screaming Pim fell back into the auditorium, her legs giving way beneath her. Sluggishly reality reasserted itself. She tasted blood. The chamber and the auditorium were filled with screaming and breaking machines, the air was numbingly cold and choked with the smell of burning rubber and flesh.
Weakly, crawling, Pim got to the edge of the platform and could feel Petronella sending out a vision as she simultaneous tried to quell the hymn. Her choir wailed and clawed at bleeding eyes, still locked soul and body to the song.
The vision was of a spirit in pointed armour, trapped in reality. Grasping after a lost part of its own soul, the absence of which was the one thing keeping it from overwhelming the world it had claimed.
With a snap reverberating through the minds of the gathered the song was extinguished. With horror Pim realized that the scryer had turned the song and all the spirit's attention on herself, bearing its weight alone before falling on her Mercy Blade.
Then the awaiting untouchable emerged from the alcove, swifter than Pim could follow and decapitated the dead scryer while drowning the psychic backlash with his mere presence. Pim let unconsciousness take her, thankful for the peace.
§§§
Emmett walked his umptieth revolution around the hill crest, the soldiers looking up from their shallow trenches every time. There was only starlight illuminating the scene. But he could see their clear eyes looking up at him, alight with professionalism, anticipation and the recaf based drugs that killed every ounce of tiredness. Beyond the soldiers were the empty valley, devoid of life, and in the distance the black wall with its crenelations and towers. Unmoving and foreboding.
A runner came almost soundlessly in a trained low crouch over the hilltop. She had no problem finding the commissar, the only man standing straight and unprotected above the defences. She stopped at his side, remaining in the crouch. Emmett turned but remained unbowed.
"Report" Emmett simply ordered, his face not giving any signs of emotion.
"The major request your presence in the command tent, commissar" she quickly whispered up to him. "The enemy is on the move."
Emmett looked back out over the empty valley before nodding to her. She turned and ran back the way she came while he strolled after towards the centre of the hill. Looking around he barely saw anything of the hundreds of soldiers that guarded every angle of the slopes, only the too straight lines of some of the sandbag protections. He glanced upwards and wondered if the enemy had flying units. The expedition had no idea of what was left of the old colony.
The command tent was placed in a crevasse and buried beneath gravel to protect from bombardment and sight. A couple of soldiers emerged from the shadows as Emmett approached but immediately recognised his unmistakeable cold features and uniform. They saluted and silently returned to their stations.
Emmett descended to the tent, opened the flaps and went inside. He was welcomed by the standard red lights, chosen to preserve their night vision, and the major's five lieutenants that saluted his entry. Their red lined dark blue uniforms partly covered with combat harness, protection and equipment. They all had their helmets under their arms.
The major was the last one to look up and he gave Emmett an easy salute and then gestured to the map table they were gathered around. "The enemy has soon surrounded us" he stated without releasing Emmett gaze.
Emmett entered their circle and saw that the map had the slow rotating movement of a high-altitude surveillance craft. The map shown was infrared and he could easily identify the circle of men that must be the First Company. He also saw that their position was being completely enveloped by other heat signatures.
"They must outnumber us ten to one" Emmett said looking up, making a point of meeting the major's gaze.
"Seventeen to one actually" the major answered, voice sure. "But mutants, battle born or not, will fall before the Firsts' superior training and faith."
Emmett looked to the lieutenants to his sides. They didn't look as assured as the major, but he could sense no fear either. Rather, they looked thoughtful.
"Their stealth capabilities are impressive" stated one of them, a short woman, continuing a conversation from earlier. "Not one of our positions has reported them and still they are close enough to touch the slope at some places, and that's despite our night vision. The gate has been closed this whole time so we can assume that these mountains are filled with bunkers and hidden exits.
"It seems that they are going for a four-pronged simultaneous assault up the easiest scaled approaches" another added. "Clearly they know the terrain and has someone competent leading them."
"Their preparations will be ready within minutes" the first lieutenant continued. "Unless there is something additional they are going to unleash."
"Reinforcements?" Emmett asked.
"The Arch-Militant has chosen to use us as bait to test the capabilities of this test site faction" the major declared. "We are the First and he has the utmost confidence in our abilities." Silence followed the declaration. They all looked at the thousands of dots converging on the steady circle.
"You have your orders" the major continued at last. "As soon as they have committed, we unleash the might of the Imperium." He turned to the commissar "I want you on the eastern flank, their movement indicates that this will be their main assault. Meeting adjourned."
The lieutenants saluted the major and a split second later so did Emmett. They all left the tent in silence. The outspoken woman, that seemed first among equals if Emmett read the room correct, were the one going east. He fell in beside her, easily matching her stride.
"If you'll handle the tactics, I'll guard the centre of our line" Emmett said to her, in a low voice in the silence of the night. He couldn't avoid glancing upward and listening for something out of the ordinary but noticed nothing.
"Sounds good enough, commissar" she simply said, as silently as he. Her tone precise and martial.
"Emmett" he said and gave her his hand.
She paused a bit too long before taking it, eyeing him suspiciously. "Sannita, first lieutenant of the Lerderian Guards' First Company."
"A pleasure" Emmett answered and for once cursed his own rigid unfriendly face. But no, it was good that it kept people at bay, he corrected himself. 'Sympathy clouds judgement' he quoted silently. It was for the best in his line of work.
When close to the line Sannita crouched, ran over to the trenches and disappeared down. Emmett strode over to what would be the natural midpoint of an attack and heard the soldiers in the trenches passing on the whisper of the imminent attack along the lines.
For a moment Emmett contemplated crossing the defences and acting an example, the first one to meet the mutant. But it would probably only make him an example of why there were defences dug, he concluded. And the enemy was not his problem. The men and women here in the trenches were. He scaled one of the larger stones to get a good view of both the soldiers and the slope beyond. The silence of the night was pressing. Once again Emmett looked up into the sky, wondering where the enemies' surprises were. In battle there was always surprises.
Nothing happened. Until everything happened.
Shooting started at the northern hillside, the intensity of lasgun fire lighting up the frontline, then at the southern just seconds after. Emmett turned and tried to see details from both fronts. Then he heard Sannita shouting along her line "FIRE!" and in the light of the las fire he saw the enemy already halfway up the slope, a wall of ugly mutated things in dark armour.
Then the mortars sent up flares and several small suns was lit over the battlefield. The wall of enemies hadn't stopped when the las fire cut down their failed ambush. But in the sudden brightness they screamed and hollered, trying to hide beneath shields and weapons. The frontline dropped like wheat before the scythe.
But for every enemy dead several renewed their fanatic effort to reach the soldiers hiding. Arrows started flying, one close to Emmett but he held his visible position. He saw the lines closing. There was simply too many of them all along the front and they climbed with almost supernatural speed, many using both hands and feet to propel themselves upwards.
Then, as the fastest enemies flung themselves at the bayonets of the First Company, a new creature emerged from the mass of enemies. A tall humanoid all clothed in black with an equally black sword. It radiated unnatural horror and not even its own monsters crossed its path.
The creature let out a high-pitched shriek and Emmett's blood froze in his veins by the raw evil it carried. Confusion and fear interrupted the disciplined fire from the Lerderians. Several just froze and gawked, like prey before the hunter.
Emmett's thoughts eluded him, frozen by primal fear, but he could see his line faltering. In the corner of his eye he saw a soldier dropping his lasgun and abandoning the trench. Years of indoctrination and muscle memory took over as Emmett still stared at the horror in black reaching the battle line.
The commissar's pistol raised and fired. The self-propelling bolt round hitting square in the chest and exploded inside as it was programmed to do. The fleeing soldier was sprayed over his comrades. The sharp explosive sound new and loud over the screams and las fire, it shook Emmett out of the trance. He turned and immediately fired a second bolt at another weakling leaving his post to Emmett's right. Horror was replaced by disgust as his indoctrination protected his mind and reconditioned his perception.
"Not a single step back!" Emmett shouted with lungs trained for this purpose. "Forwards, eradicate these vermin for the Emperor!" He screamed at the men as he jumped off the stone towards the middle of the trenches were the horror in black slaughtered soldiers paralysed by fear as it continued screaming.
With the sharp explosions of bolt rounds the Lerderians regained some of their discipline and fought for the upper hand. The battle raged on. Either in point black automatic fire or with shovels and knives against the enemies nasty looking spears and swords.
With the threat of collapse removed, Emmett instead tried getting a shot at the horror moving fast through the trenches, but it was too fast and chaotic in its movement between the soldiers fighting it in close combat. But he saw several of the soldiers shooting it point blank, melting holes in the armour. And then suddenly it had seen him, it left the trenches and closed inhumanly fast. Emmett reacted instinctively and shot it point blank, the bolt easily penetrating the metal plate. And then it continued out on the other side without exploding. But the stopping power of the bolt had still halted the horror enough for several Lerderians to screamingly charge it, bayonets first. They succeeded in pinning it between them but could not stop it. Their eyes were wide in fear as they shot it, stabbed it and and died.
Emmett's thoughts raced. The bolt should have exploded when it felt the soft tissue behind the armour. Could the armour be empty, remote controlled or maybe filled with a daemon? No matter as the Imperium knew the solution to all of these problems.
"First lieutenant!" Emmett shouted as he caught her gaze, his voice carrying over the din. "Your pistol!" Wide eyed she threw it to him past the soon free horror.
Emmett, still steady in his protected mind, dropped his own pistol and caught the Lerderian officer weapon from the air. Some short steps brought him within the fighting circle as the horror had his back towards him. Emmett put the pistol through one of the holes in the armour and fired. A steady stream of blessed promethium fuelled fire streamed from the small flame pistol and filled the armour completely. It was empty and the flames poured from all openings. The ones closest recoiled but Emmett held his ground protected by his heavy coat. The creatures shrieking changed in pitch and suddenly stopped as the armour fell to the ground in half melted pieces.
It was as a weight had been released from the minds of the Lerderians and suddenly their efforts were redoubled. Reinforcement arrived running from the other flanks that had held against their assaults and soon the mutants were fleeing leaderless down the slope.
Emmett slowly backed away from the unholy armour. He was so tired. He wanted to lay down, but he couldn't, not yet. Around him soldiers looked at him as he was a saint. Facing down and irradicating the unholy without ever showing the least fear, hate or stress. His emotionless face met their gazes. He wanted to scream at them that he had been afraid, that it had been happenstance that had saved his life, that they should stop looking at him at all. But he knew that a good commissar would capitalize on this, shape it and use it in the coming battles. He hated it but it was the lot the Emperor had allotted him and he would use this. And them.