Tergum Cultro Chapter 5

The sewer was a long stretch of bare brickwork, tapering off into the distance and punctuated with occasional drains, rusted ladders and access covers. From the drains ran trickles of chemical runoffs, raw human sewage and the decomposing corpses of small scavengers, creating a repulsive stream of waste running down the centre of the space. Diseased vermin scuttled through that mess and fought with hooked legged spiders to gnaw mouldy meat from white bones while reptiles slinked nearer with hungry eyes.

Suddenly they were sent fleeing by a sudden stab of light, penetrating the absolute darkness and the sound of movement. The vermin ran before a line of giant figure,s waded through the reeking sewage, their dark blue armour stained with filthy grime up to the kneecaps, IXth squad advancing into the darkness with weapons raised. At the fore Furion advanced, bearing the weight of a Heavy Flamer with ease, keeping its dual nozzles well away from the wet floor as the top of his helm scraped the low roof. The flamer was not typically assigned to IXth squad but Captain Phalros had agreed it was perfect for tunnel fighting. Without needing to be told the rest of the squad was keeping back, even when wearing power armour nobody was foolish enough to get in the way of a Heavy Flamer.

The Space Marines filed along through the putrid muck. Sergeant Toran was alert for any threat, but so far their advance had been unopposed and he was pleased by their progress thus far. Behind him came a line of servitors, trudging mindlessly and loaded down with the weight of a Seismic charge. Bringing up the rear came a huddle of red-clad figures, festooned with augmetic implants: the dreaded Skitarii warriors of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

The combined party of altered humans proceed cautiously through the darkness, alert for motion detectors, auspex sweeps and tripwires and from the rear Halis Paur waded along, kicking aside floating fragments of human waste as he muttered, "I know I said that we get all the crap assignments but I never meant it this literally."

"This is an important duty," called Furion from the front, "Our Brothers are waiting for us to open a breach, so they can burn out the heart of the rebellion on Caminus."

"So the First Captain gets covered in glory and we get covered in excrement," replied Halis cynically.

Further back Brother Ophelion piped up, "What I don't understand is why we are putting such effort into prosecuting a simple civilian rebellion. Why does the Mechanicus not simply level this city to the ground and start over?"

It was a typical thing for him to say for Ophelion was a ruthless warrior with a chilling disregard for life. In any situation he simply chose the most direct path to victory and would not hesitate to discard someone the instant they ceased to be of use. Toran had tried to impress on him the need to minimise collateral damage but to Ophelion there was the Emperor and the Chapter and everything else was irrelevant.

Toran informed him, "The Mechanicus' Forge-fanes date back to the Nova Terra Interregnum, when Saint Karyl led the faithful to first colonise this whole sector. There could be anything in those temples, irreplaceable artefacts and archeotech marvels that are lost to the Imperium. That is why the Tech-Priests want their sacred Forge-Fanes back in pristine condition."

"So let the Cogboys handle it," said Ophelion, "Let the Skitarii slaughter the rebels and then ship in new colonists from the Hives of Tectum."

Halis let out a grunt of a laugh and called out, "Politics is why, our Chapter's history with the wider Imperium is hardly shining. Chapter Master Gorgall seeks to improve relations with goodwill missions like this."

"That is enough from all of you," Sergeant Toran snapped, "The First Captain entrusted this mission to us and we shall see it done with pride, do not shame the Chapter before potential allies."

With that they turned to glance behind them where the servitors were trudging forward with Skittari surrounding them. At their head was a figure in red robes, who floated serenely above the sewage seemingly unperturbed by the filth. The body of the Magos was vaguely box-like, with strange protrusions undulating under the robes, yet where legs should have been was only empty space, with a slight breeze hinting at esoteric devices keep it afloat. Toran had met the Magos only a couple of hours earlier and found her a most baffling contradiction. She was overwhelmingly mechanical yet presented a human manner that was at odds with her physical nature. Toran hadn't the slightest notion of how much of the original Magos was left under that robe. Was she a human trapped in a cybernetic shell or a Machine clinging to scraps of humanity?

The Magos clearly detected his scrutiny and in a strangely feminine voice for one who was essentially a floating box in a red robe called out, "Astartes 1-9-9-776, is there a malfunction?"

Toran called back, "No Magos Castabore, merely checking that you are keeping up."

Castabore replied, "That is an unnecessary repetition of effort, my Skittari are fully capable of matching your pace."

The Sergeant told her, "Better to be sure, and my name is Toran."

Castabore replied with a puzzled tone, "That is an inaccurate means of identification, you are the Primary member of the ninth squad, Ninth Company of Astartes Chapter 776."

"That will hardly be quick to say when we are in combat," retorted Toran.

"You propose that expediency supersedes accuracy?" Castabore queried then went silent for few seconds as she processed the concept and stated, "Proposal accepted, re-designating Astartes 1-10-9-776 as Toran."

Toran sighed in exasperation and turned his attention turned back to the sewer, seeing the tunnel suddenly opening up into a broad concourse. It was a confluence of sewers that entered from multiple channels before running together into the larger route the party had emerged from. The broad concourse was lit by a handful of flickering lumen orbs that revealed signs of former human habitation. Mounds of detritus and shanties revealing the spoor of vagrants and mutants, the forgotten and uncared for of Imperial society. Once dozens of outcasts from the city above must have congregated here, but now there was only stillness and the quiet trickle of sewage running. Toran's suspicions were roused instantly, for there was no sign of the former inhabitants. There was a remote possibility they had fled when the fighting broke out on the surface, but then if they had anywhere else to be they wouldn't have lived in a sewer. Warily he swept the space with his bolt pistol and did not like the number of blocked angles and concealed positions he saw, all his training and instincts told him this was not right.

Without looking around he said, "Magos Castabore keep your Skitarii back and guard the demolitions. IXth squad, Codec pattern epsilon-two: sweep and clear the area."

At his order the Space Marines broke formation and began to sweep around the piles of junk, looking for traps. Boxes were kicked over and shanties cleared in moments as they looked for a lurking enemy. As they searched Novak commented on the squad's secure vox link, "Emperor wept, are all cogboys so pedantic?"

"Not had many dealings with them before have you," retorted Ophelion as he pointed his Combi-bolter into a wooden lean-to, "This is them being brusk and snappy."

That earned a brief chuckle from the squad as they carried on searching and Toran took the opportunity to make his link to Furion private so he could say, "Something is definitely off with this war, the Heretics are too well equipped and too well trained for a civilian uprising. Someone has been planning this for a long time."

Furion replied, "All the better."

Toran turned his head fractionally to look at him and Furion made a small gesture towards the Tech-Priests party saying, "A real fight will display our skills for the Mechanicus to witness. Our proselytizing ways are driving us into conflict with the wider Imperium and soon Terra will move to make an example of the Storm Heralds. But if we can convince the Tech-priests to withhold their support any Imperial retaliation would be doomed to fail. "

Toran saw the wisdom in his words, he was about to ask how to approach Magos Castabore when a flicker of movement caught his eye. Ahead of him was a small formless mass, cunningly hidden in shadow and piles of rubbish. It was the smallest discrepancy and to mortal eyes practically invisible in the gloom but to his helm's autosenses it was blatantly obvious to be the shape of a man hiding under a camo-cloak. Toran drew in a breath and roared, "Ambush!" even as dozens of rebels rose from cover and flung themselves at IXth squad.