On the mountain peaks of Snohenge
Kyreg had ordered their assault bikes camouflage and left abandoned for now. The mountain peaks were not the terrain for mechanized protocol. With a slight wave of his left hand, the Commander shouldered the stalker combi-bolter and checked the underslung metal gun. Out of all the anti-armour weapons, the melta was perhaps the quietest. A slight hiss was usually the only telling sign of superheated gas and air before something was cut, or melted. The underslung melta had proven itself time and time again, especially as Xythos rarely travelled with large amounts of heavy weapons. No, leave that for Taleon. Their last few precious suits of Cataphractii terminator armour were reserved for use for the heavy weapon veterans of Taleon. It was still rare for the 8th to deploy any of their Terminators. The only true enemies that warranted a Terminator deployment was when the legionnaires had to neutralise a large enemy armour unit. Then Lernaeans were deployed with volkite cannons and power fists that took apart enemy armour.
Activating their stealth field around themselves, the members of Xythos moved slowly, bit by bit up the mountain paths. They could hurry but intelligence in the region was rather unsure. For Kyreg, this was a fact finding mission as well as simply trying to locate the loyalist infantry company here. As they climbed further up, the weather steadily got colder. Of course it mattered little to the superhuman warriors that moved up the mountain trails but it made Kyreg wonder how the mortal soldiers were holding on. Perhaps they would climb the mountain only to find frozen corpses. Shrugging the thought from his head, he gestured for a quick stop, the other legionnaires each taking a knee in a small circle facing outwards, their bolters ready to address any threat that came into their fire lanes. "Something the matter Commander?" Ulyr asked over the vox. Ulyr was the unofficial second in command of Xythos, something which had been earned over millenniums of service. "Perhaps. A question which has been bothering me. Where are the traitor marines? We saw their battle barge in orbit. Yet we have not encountered any yet. Nor has any of our assets." Kyreg responded before unlocking his helmet and removing it for a second, breathing in the cold mountain air. He had been born on Terra near the Ural mountains, and he always had a nostalgic appreciation of cold mountain air. Ulyr shrugged before responding. "Perhaps we have not yet seen them because they have not deployed yet. Why deploy and risk yourself when you have possibly hundreds of thousands of cultists at your beck and call?" It was Thobor who answered this question. "You are thinking too much like an Emperors Legionnaire, brother. The question to ask is why have they not come onto the surface yet and begin the rituals which often accompany any of the ruinous powers?" "Because they have not yet found what they are looking for." Added in Mytis. The Apothecary did not wear any white like many of his ilk did in other legions. He was an Apothecary second, but a strike legionnaire first.
Kyreg set his helmet back on his head again and nodded. "The hospitaller is correct. I believe they are looking for something on this planet. Something that will allow them to gain power. For now though, we can only address this mission one and a time, we do not have the luxury of multiple strike squads." The Xythos legionnaires nodded and as one, they progressed up higher the mountain.
Lorhenge
The thunderhawk landed slowly in front of the Governors palace. Governor Adriana stood out front, her eyes shadowed in gaudy make up unlike the dignified image she had represented previously. Her lips were blood red and in a crazed grin as did the white uniformed members of her honour guard behind her. The ramp opened and descended a full squad of ten astartes in gold trimmed white power armour, the symbols of Slaanesh laser etched in rich purple ink onto pauldrons and breastplates. From behind them came the one she had been praying for, the one she had been waiting to finally see. The voice that had been haunting her nightmares. It was him!
Consul Viprus walked slowly down the ramp and sighed softly. Instead of paying any attention to his honour guard, he eyed the woman standing there and smiled lightly. "I am here to claim my world in the name of the dark prince!" The mortals facing him all went to their knees and bowed deeply. With a rich laughter, he would exit the ramp and step on solid ground. "Please, get up off the ground. The heat of the concrete will dry your skin. Look upon me, surely that is what you deserve for handing me a planet is it not?" The mortals stood up and looked at him, some crying at the perfect beauty that was his face. Others simply passing out as they were unable to stare at a Slaanesh blessed face of a superhuman astartes without their body simply giving up on them. From behind the corrupted Astarte came a troupe of females in power armour. Their power armour was dark purple, holding power weapons as well as chained blades and bolters in their armoured gauntlets. Their leader has a cruel smile on her face, words in an unholy language tattooed over her face in bright blood red as her skin was almost as pale as snow.
"Blade Mistress.. you know your commission." Alexana nodded only once. With a graceful strut, she would walk towards the Governor as her reavers followed her. "Come with me Governor. We have much plans for you.." She purred as her sisters picked up Adrianna by her arms and began carrying her back into the Thunderhawk. Viprus sighed again and looked around. Seeing the look on his lords face, his Equerry, an unhelmed astartes with silver hair slicked back on his head with closely shaven sides gestured with a wave of his sword and a series of slaves led by Oratihr the former dark elf Hekatrix proceeded towards the standing Consul. With a serving plate in her hands, the wych held the tall glass decanter and a long stemmed crystal glass towards the Astarte Consul. Viprus took the glass and drank deep from it, a light pink liquid inside the glass. "Well my lady, I'm humbled you would be so kind as to offer refreshments." Viprus smirked at the dark elf. Oratihr had a look of murder in her eyes and didn't bother responding. With a light laugh, Viprus placed the now empty glass on the plate. "I find it wonderful that the chef can distill such delicate flavours from simple summer berries. I am impressed. Give him my compliments will you?" With that, Viprus proceeded along with his honour guard into the governors palace. His equerry followed behind him, forcing Oratihr forwad with a light tap of his blade against his armoured leg.
The white armoured marine waited a few moments as a large group of slaves carried in a large amply cushioned chair large enough to hold the weight of power armour before sitting down and sighing. In a few moments, his ever efficient equerry had the small mortal sized furniture replaced in the large banquet room of the palace. "I have to say for a backwater planet their decorator is quite nicely put together, don't you agree Aristotles?" Oratihr was forced to stand next to him with the serving plate, while his equerry answered in between giving directions to the menials. "My Lord, I believe that we have artisans on board who can make this more to your liking." Viprus nodded absentmindedly. "Still, I'm pleased to see that I won't have to change too too much here. The wallpaper is a nice delicate shade of cream.. at least just the furniture will need to be replace." His equerry nodded and bowed. "By your wish Lord."
In a few moments, Captain Persedeus entered the room with his bolter clamped to his side. "Consul, the mortals still have not yet found the relic." Viprus only nodded once. "That is to be expected Captain. Now that we are on the planet, perhaps they can be motivated to look a bit.. harder. As if their life depended on it, one could say." His Captain grinned, a cruel smile on a beatific sanguine face and bowed, before exiting. Looking at a small list with a light pout on his face, Viprus nodded once more to himself, before calling for a member of his honour guard. "This displeases me. The fact that there are still worshippers of the corpse god around. I want immediate action, send forces to suppress their positions." The honour guard bowed deeply before exiting the room to do as bidden.
The order was sent out and a few hours later, the newly named Bloodsworn former PDF soldiers were marshalled. The largest group of resistance it seemed was further west, where the 10th and 11th Companies were held up in a defensive position around a PDF command center. That is where entire companies of Bloodsworn were marshalled and put on trucks to head out there. Galya saw the orders as she had to type them up. A traitor marine had walked into the Generals office a few hours ago and gave the order. The General, a true brown nose had bowed on his knees, almost delirious and nodding furiously. He seemed distracted enough that he hadn't even tried to look down her blouse at all before ordering her to type up the order and send it to the Bloodsworn units he had designated. Her glasses pictocapturer had taken down the image of the traitor marine as well as the orders that she has typed up and sent. Waiting as she saw a list of confirmations from the various lesser commands that controlled the Bloodsworn units, she politely knocked on the Generals door. "Sir, the orders have been given and confirmations have been received." The General nodded and smiled. "Excellent work my dear. Now please send a message to my life and tell her I will be late working tonight. And then book me an appointment at the Lounge for uh.. a meeting." She nodded and went back to her desk, shaking her head internally. The Lounge was a pleasureclub which served dinner as well as having a menu for the other appetites.
She sighed softly before calling the Generals residence. His wife, a middle aged woman with multiple rejuvenat treatments answered the phone although the voice of a few others could be heard indulging in certain activities. "Hi this is Suzanne from the Generals office. The General will be late tonight due to various meetings." The woman would chuckle a little. "Oh be a dear and tell him not to worry, to be as late as he wishes. I have to get back to my guests now." Galya hung up the phone and rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wondered if it was people like this that she had really fought for as part of the Death Cults and what the Emperor would think if he was to see them now. Regardless, after hanging up the phone, she would send a quick report to the cognitor address through encrypted signals and poured herself a large mug of recaff.
A day later
Kyreg had received an encrypted message from Mordin. Opening it, he saw that the loyalist positions had been marked on a map as well as approaching PDF units. The former PDF units have now named themselves the Bloodsworn. He hesitated to really think too deeply about what sort of ritual had been done on their part to be renamed the Bloodsworn but for all he know, it could simply be mortal bravado. It seems that the green unit were soon to become veterans. Hijacked vox communications had marked these men out as the "Lucky" 13th Company, a light infantry company that specialised in mountain warfare. That came as no surprise seeing as from the observation Xythos had already done towards them, they did seem quite adept at surviving in the hostile conditions. Every trench had a small burner in there to brew recaf as well as provide heat. To keep heat loss at a minimum, white and grey camouflage netting had been placed over the trench openings with the stub guns mounted slightly forward of the actual trench on firing steps. Well drilled of course, but that hardly proved veteran status. There were multiple trench lines dug in support of each other and the command platoon seemed to at least have a few soldiers in carapace armour with las rifles. Elite status perhaps, or it could have been augmentations from other units that had stuck with them.
Xythos was currently half buried in a snow drift south east of the loyalist defensive positions, only about a hundred meters away or so, their active camouflage hiding them quite easily amongst the other piles of mountain rocks and snow. Kyreg checked his helmet data feed again, and saw that Yingr had acknowledged it. Lefias had not but Mordin was with him in the Legion station so that hardly meant anything. Besides, the havoc veteran rarely acknowledged anything even though he read them all. So, the enemy was finally being organized and there were finally traitor Astartes on the planet. Killing mortals was no challenge, but another Astarte? That was what separated a Space Marine from a Legionnaire. He gave the order to ready weapons. Suppressors were checked one last time, in this kind of warfare his Legion was supreme. Even the brothers of the Ravens could hardly contest that fact. For the legionnaires around him, the slaughter of the Chaos reavers earlier were hardly true tests of strength, especially since they had the handy xenos rail rifles which made even terminator armour barely adequate as protection.
Weshenge
Rythor glanced over at the positions Gungnir held. Denlow and Brachus each held their Astartes sniper rifles in their hands as his apothecary Mychil was crouched behind a small rock with his stalker bolter readied. He smiled inside his helmet, Mychil and Mytis were twins, a little known fact as Mychil rarely took his helmet off and Mytis was one of those who had the face of his primarch. But before their initiation into the Legion, they were twins who were singled out and marked as potential future headhunters. Of course they had both ended up in different units but worked excellently together. The veteran Sergeant looked back at the small battlefield that was happening in front of them. He had received the same message as Kyreg, the only difference was he had led his squad to the western plains of the capital city and headed further west until they had travelled into a small town that was abandoned except for a loyalist PDF unit that had dug itself into the town and was currently fighting off an attack by one of these Bloodsworn formations.
The Bloodsworn formations seemed mostly to just be a multitude of soldiers in white fatigues of some sort while being led by officers dressed in hideously out of place elaborate white dress uniforms with gold braids and all sorts of gaudy decorations on their person. Of course the real interest was the six traitor Astartes behind them pushing them forward. The loyalist units had fired back with disciplined clatters of autogun and stub gun fire while the Bloodsworn mostly fired their autoguns on full auto while charging. So far, the loyalists seemed to have a better grasp of tactics and were rather stubbornly dug in. Rythor tuned into their vox channels just to listen.
"Hold the heavy bolter fire until I say so Sergeant. Yes, I know we'll need to resupply the forward positions soon but seeing as how we lack any Chimeras to resupply the forward positions, 5th platoon will just have to carry them forward one by one." That was the commander, a Colonel Eli Strathworth who seemed to be more than just a PDF officer. "Yes Sir, but 5th platoon can only carry so much. It'll take them an hour to resupply the entire company on foot." Sergeant Art Harris was a steady a NCO as they were going to find in the generally untested PDF. A loud sigh can be heard over the vox as the Colonel responded. "I know Art, but what else can we do but our Emperor expected duty at this point?" The Sergeant paused before responding. "I.. the Emperor protects sir." Their defensive position was holding just fine but it was only a matter of time before firing positions ran out of ammunition. Especially now as it seemed the Astartes would be advancing as well.
The six Astartes wore elaborate white armour with purple and gold leaf trims. Each was holding an ornate bolter in their hands while they each carried chainswords with golden wings decorating the handle. They seemed to be staring out at the loyalist positions, ignoring the auto rounds that would bounce off their thick ceramite armour. "Do you know why we wear white armour, loyalists? It is because our armour is a canvas that will be painted with your blood!" The voice was a horrid mixture between a screech and the soft voice of a spoken word poet. A few loyalist soldiers covered their ears at such a horrible sound.
With another loud screech from their external speakers, the six Astartes charged. Nothing the loyalists had were powerful enough to really cut through their armour, except for maybe the heavy bolters and the anti-tank rockets. At that distance, the Astartes easily dodged the rockets fired at them and screeched their battle lust into the air while the first line of troops could only hold their bleeding ears defencelessly.
"Heavy bolters, open up on them. It's the only chance we've got Emperor damn it." The Colonel called over the radio. A few seconds after, the precious Heavy bolters dug into the Imperial lines opened up. Three of the heavy bolters caught one of the Astartes in a crossfire and the Astarte went down as he was blown to bits by dozens of large calibre rounds with a screech of satisfaction it seemed which only shake the loyalist defenders more. "This prey has some life left to it. So be it brothers let us pick them apart and we shall feast of their blood!" The remaining Astartes began firing, the loud booms of the mass reactive bolt rounds stitching through the Imperial lines and blowing up humans into massive chunks of gore and flesh.
"Brachus, Denlow. Select your targets, but hold fire. Mychil, select your target as well." Rythor himself targeted one of the Astartes firing from his bolter, putting the crosshair just a bit over the armoured gorge of the Astartes. By now, the Astartes had reloaded and had bounded into the defenders trench lines. Whether it was arrogance or bloodlust, Rythor watched as his target took off his helmet and picked up a human defender and bit into his neck, drinking deeply of his blood.
"Vampires! They're bloody vampires!" A stub gunner screamed out right before he was picked up and had his throat ripped open by sharpened fangs and his lifeblood emptied into the awaiting maul of the traitor Astarte. Rythor scanned the battle line quickly and saw that the Angels Evermore were in the trench line and gave the order to fire. Brachus fired a round right into the skull of one of them, dropping him into the trench as the cainite bolt round essentially detonated the traitors skull. Denlows round travelled right into the section where the spinal column met the brain stem, the melta cap easily cutting right through the helmet seal while the mutagenic acid was pushed into the lower brain stem, his target simply collapsing into the trench line even as his body twitched for a moment, freezing his face in mid screech. Mychil put a three round burst into the side of his target, the target turning sideways and screeching as the rounds had penetrated but only destroyed the traitors digestive organs. As the traitor picked up another loyalist in vengeance and prepared to drink his blood, the apothecary fired one more time and this time the three round burst landed right into the traitors lower jaw and face, collapsing him on top of the soldier he had picked up while Rythor had simply punched two rounds into his targets jawline, the rounds detonating their acid payload inside his skull eliciting a roar of pain before he collapsed down as well, the loyalists nearby spraying their autoguns into what remained of his mouth and neck to keep the marine down.
The last marine met his fate as a soldier with tears in his eyes and voided bowels fired a rocket point blank into his chest plate. The rocket failed to detonate as the soldier was picked up and had his neck ripped open and drank from but a pinpoint shot by Brachus detonated the melta charge inside and the traitor was essentially melted from the inside out, his limbs flying out as the only remains of his torso were ashes scattering in the trench line.
The loyalists were shocked, they believed that they had by luck taken down the traitors and cheered as they moved forward to re-occupy defensive lines that were broken from the marines assault. Seeing this, the Bloodsworn began retreating back towards their own lines as most of them had followed the Astartes assault but the loyalists trench lines had erupted in a blast of autogun fire and stubber fire mowing down by the dozens the Bloodsworn lines.
Rythor smiled a little underneath his helmet as he watched the loyalists advanced and in a few minutes, chase down the retreating traitors and cut them apart in a mixture of bayonet and autogun fire. "Seems like we can call this a day eh Sergeant." Mychil said to him through the squad vox and the Sergeant chuckled. "Well they have spirit. That much is true but if we were not here, they would have been cut down to a man and become bloodbags for the traitors." Mychil had curled his hand in disgust at the way the traitors had drank from the loyalists but that was why it took him the most rounds to take down his target. "Watch your aim Apothecary, your anger is no reason to waste three extra bolter rounds." The Apothecary bowed his head in apology. "I know why you are upset Mychil, but don't forget that it is not only traitors who do the same." The rest of his squad all nodded in remembrance.
Shameful as it had been, some of the sons of the Great Angel had taken to a particular method of treatment to deal with the flaw that was common amongst the Blood Angels geneseed; imbibing of blood cut down these urges and allowed them to function as Astartes of the Imperium. But the price was always paid in blood. Whether by willing serfs or by those kidnapped forcefully, it was a hidden source of shame amongst the IX legion and its successors. Gungnir squad had once seen this as they fought to fulfil an ancient oath between what was the 8th Great Company of the Blood Angels and the 4th Harrow of the Legion. Of course now it was the 8th Company of the Blood Angel chapter so Rythor and his legionnaires had hidden in the mist of a small woodland grove where the Blood Angels had fought an ork incursion into the village. The aftermath was brutal. Instead of accepting the various offerings of the village, the Blood Angels had simply taken a large number of them, and told them that they were destined for the stars. However once the Angels had taken them into the woods, they had ritually bled them and drank from them to fight off the red thirst. In disgust, Rythor had ordered his men to leave, the Blood Angels had not known they were there with sniper rifles to cover the Blood Angels attack, and he had no more desire to remain seeing the formerly magnificent legacy of the IX legion be tarnished by these acts he had witnessed.
Mychil had taken it the hardest perhaps, even the hypnodoctrination had not been strong enough to suppress the disgust felt by the Apothecary. Perhaps it was the sanctity which Apothecaries regarded gene seeds. Perhaps it was a revulsion at the solution that was being used by those he had once regarded as brothers. It was unknown but something that Rythor had to remember to keep under control.
"Well, at least we know for a fact that these are the Angels Evermore." Denlow piped in. The marksman was one of the youngest ones that were part of Gungnir. He lacked the same experience as many of the 8th as he was only an initiate during the time of the Heresy and had been pressed into the role of a battle brother earlier than intended. In those days, any initiates that were fully gene seeded were pressed into any available power armour and sent out with the strike teams. Of course the experiences of the Great Scouring after had hardened him but he was still in many ways a pup compared to those of Rythors age.
Rythor nodded and gestured for Gungnir to move. It was obvious that the loyalist would not survive their next battle with Astartes, and it was a shame as they fought bravely. But they had a different objective. There was a starport further west that had to be destroyed, it could not be allowed for the traitors to have such a large logistics facility to use, especially when they had an entire battle barge of who knows what inside. If the Angels Evermore were allowed to bring their full strength onto the planet, it was not a battle that the 8th could win.
One day earlier
His helmet display clicked as a priority transmission came through. He blinked his right eye at the message and it began to play.
"Sergeant, information from our assets. It was overheard that the traitors are having issues offloading their troops large scale, they apparently lack sufficient combat transport vessels so only a few Thunderhawks are available to them. Even then, it seems the Thunderhawks were reserved for the command elements. The only starport large enough to support the civilian transport vessels the traitors have commandeered are far west past the great plains of Weshenge. There is a starport there used for large scale shipping, as it is the only section where there is a large enough of a hole through the planets desert shell for ships to fit through. It must be neutralised. Coordinates have been uploaded to your mission cognitor." The message had come from Mordin, the trusty techpriest. Rythor understood the scale required of such a mission and had begun to prepare Gungnir.
Present
The four legionnaires moved silently through the small rolling hills that adorned the western side of the continent, their active camouflages on to avoid detection. This was what Gungnir specialised in, hard targets far behind enemy lines. A plan had already formed in his head. The actual starports required the massive platforms to operate and he knew that there had to be at least one SDF vessel there. SDF vessels were generally not as well equipped as Imperial Navy fleets unless you were on Ultramar, which meant much less plasma torpedos and a lot more macrocannons.
A few hours later, they could see the blinking lights of the starport up ahead and Rythor gave the signal for a quick stop. From the small river in the woodland that they had approached by, they could see that it was clearly in the traitors hands. Patrols of Bloodsworn walked around the starport and sandbags had already been built in with heavy bolters and stubguns mounted on. Of course this just meant it was challenge for those of Gungnir squad. Sniper rifles were maglocked to backpacks and bolter pistols were drawn. Suppressors were screwed on tightly and the single ten round magazine was changed out for large capacity drum magazines. Power daggers were drawn as well and Rythor smiled at his teams efficiency. Gungnir circled around the starport slowly, and just as Rythor predicted, there was a SDF cruiser there. It was being re-equipped it seems, with ammunition and supplies being loaded on. The Sergeant led Gungnir through a small gap in fences, bent slowly by power armoured hands to fit before being bent back into shape slowly. Each legionnaire covered the other as they slowly moved through the loading area around the shipping containers. For a second the Sergeant thought he could hear something and gestured a full stop, each legionnaire dropping down to a crouch and let the active camouflage solidify for a second. A patrol walked past talking with themselves a few seconds later.
"Come on Joe, you're lying about Mirriam. She's a bloody saint, why would she be going around the barracks huh?" The first soldier asked. "Who cares why, thanks to Slaanesh we can finally have our fill of the women here." Another one chimed in. "Well now they're just offering themselves up now, it's bloody nice." Rythor grinned soundlessly inside his helmet. Chaos worshippers or not, mortal soldiers will still be mortal soldiers. With a gesture, got up and moved towards the road where the soldiers had travelled down and took a look. The patrol was steadily heading over further south. The cruiser was still docked Rythor could feel the plan forming and the details coming together in his head. It was a straight forward simple plan that required precision execution.
Rythor almost moved ahead when he heard a vehicle and ordered his men to drop once again. As the active camouflage solidified, a large truck drove past the road with a full squad of soldiers sitting in the back. Reinforcements? He followed the trucks progress down the road and nodded to himself. It seemed they were being loaded onto the cruiser as well. With a gesture, he once again led his squad closer towards the cruiser. So far so good, no one they needed to silence. The middle of the starport was quite busy, and they circled around it moving through a section where multiple vehicles were parked, waiting perhaps to be loaded. The squad was about to move past the vehicles when a few vehicle headlights could be seen headed their way. Cursing to himself, he gave a quick gesture through his left hand and the squad as one rolled underneath the vehicles and kept still. The vehicles stopped in front of the parked vehicles and voices could be heard.
"Alright, park those there, and then you, you, and you, you're coming with me. Rest of ya, dismissed. Don't have too much fun at the pleasure tents now, you're still on duty tomorrow morning." A series of acknowledgement came from the human soldiers and the ones dismissed quickly walked off, eager perhaps to head towards the pleasure tents. The others grumbled and vehicles were parked, some next to the ones where the legionnaires were hiding under. "Ugh, fucking vehicle guard. That's bullshit man. The fuck did we do to Leison?" One of the grumblers asked his companions. "We did nothing. You were the one shagging up to Leison's son." The first soldier seemed to laugh at this. "He's a Slaaneshi priest. Surely that's the point isn't it? If we can't enjoy ourselves why did we swear allegiance to the Governor?" "Well speak for yourself, I don't find my eye wandering towards the priests. I like the priestesses." The second soldier answered. The third soldier chimed in at this point. "They're all tempting quite frankly." Rythor sighed internally, he was glad at moments like this that his urges were completely nulled by the gene seeding process.
"On my mark." He whispered into his helmet and the others all blipped their vox in acknowledgement. It seemed like they would be stuck here unless they got rid of the guards. Reaching out, he would lightly tap the side of the truck and readied his suppressed bolter. "The hell was that?" "Go check it. It's probably something falling off the truck again, these damn things are older than I am." One of the soldiers wandered over in between the parked trucks and looked around. Instead of wandering to where Rythor was, he began to walk behind the vehicles towards where Bachus was. As the soldier looked down to peek underneath the truck, Bachus grabbed him by the face, his armoured hand covering his mouth and smashed the bolt pistol into the mans forehead. As the man limped, Bachus quietly snapped his neck just to be sure and dragged his body underneath the truck. Rythor saw this from underneath one of the other vehicles and shook his head a little. "Denlow, with me." He whispered into his vox and rolled slowly out of the underside of the vehicle. The two of them quietly moved around in half crouches to where the two soldiers were standing.
"Taking him a long time to check a truck." One of the soldiers said. The other shrugged and puffed on his llho stick. "The frakhead has probably gone to take a leak too. Who knows." Denlow moved slowly towards the vehicle behind the two while Rythor lined up his shot. He had both their heads lined up and fired a single bolt. The bolt punched through the first soldiers head, the melta cap detonating when it hit the bone of the second soldiers skull, a quiet hiss as the melta charge ashed his brains while Denlow reached out and grabbed both corpses before they could drop to the ground, and maybe trigger something.
Denlow hid the corpses in the back of one of the trucks, as Brachus arranged his corpse to be stuck inbetween the underside of the truck and the trucks drive shaft and struts. Rythor waited for them to finish before he began to lead Gungnir towards the other side of the starport. Now that they were forced to eliminate enemy troops, it was a countdown as to when the bodies were found. Mychil had stuck a primed venom sphere underneath the bodies. Anyone who moved them would immediately be silenced by multiple toxic shards being blasted outwards.
Moving carefully using the various buildings and structures as cover, Rythor finally was able to hide underneath the large platform that the cruiser was docked at. He looked up towards the opening and gestured towards his squad. Clamping their weapons onto their armour, they began to climb. There were many metal handles on the side for maintenance of different classes, and the legionnaires slowly climbed up on it. Almost half an hour later, they arrived at the top, just underneath the side of the maintenance platform and looked up. There was an entire squad of soldiers on board and Rythor breathed deeply as he examined them. Like each of his fellow legionnaires, their suits had been heavily modified for stealth operations. It included on a camera that fed directly to their helmets on the ends of their pinky fingers on their gauntlets. It seemed that this was going to have to get bloody. Unless. He climbed down a few steps and shouldered his bolter, and scanned through the targeter on it. There. A few small stratospheric vessels were being refuelled from a tanker truck. He grinned and gave the orders. Denlow climbed up towards him as he clamped his bolter back onto his armour and reached out to grab a tight hold on the handle on Denlows backpack. Denlow retrieved his sniper rifle, only his armoured boots still remaining on the handles, relying on Rythors hand to keep him steady. Leaning out a little, the marksmen shouldered his sniper rifle and put the crosshair on the target, the targeters auto compensator adjusting the crosshairs for distance. He fired a single bolt round with a soft cough from the long barrel rifle, and the tanker truck exploded, the fuel lines lighting up and taking the other vessels with it. Soon voices could be heard shouting up ahead. "Frak are we under attack?" "No, I didn't hear any shots. Must be the idiot refueling the jets, he didn't ground the tanker. I guarantee you that, I bet you a months pay on that. We'll find him texting away on his tablet again." The soldiers muttered as firefighting crews rushed towards the source of the blaze.
Denlow quietly clamped his sniper rifle back up against his back powerpack and gripped onto the railings again, Rythor letting go of the handle and peeking over with his pinkie camera again. The soldiers were now all too busy staring at the explosion and Gungnir quietly made their way through the entrance of the cruiser.