Shadow of a Doubt
Chapter 15
He breathed in deeply and left out a soft groan as he felt his lower abdomen spike in pain. Turning his head side to side and looking around him, he realised that he was laying on a medical cot in the apothecarium. Various wires were hooked up to his torso as well as his head while fluids were dripped into his body via multiple coloured IV bags hanging above him with the syringes hooked into a central feed line over his left arm. He let out a loud breathe attracting the attention of a medical servitor who scrambled up to him and scanned his body with a hand held auspex.
"Patient condition stable. Do you require additional medical attention?" Kyreg waved the servitor away who would retreat to a corner of the room and go into standby mode. He tried to stand up but the moment he tried to raise himself on an elbow to get up out of bed, a sharp pain flared in his lower abdomen again. It apparently triggered some kind of alert because the next thing he knew, Chief Apothecary Armand stalked into the room in a finely made gilded suit of power armour, the white chains painted onto his right pauldron the only indication of his status as an apothecary. "I just knew that you would try and stand up Commander. Tell me how I knew that. I had you hooked up for a movement alarm because I know how much of a stubborn grox you are." Kyreg grinned slightly, a pained grimace filling his features as he laid back down and looked over his torso.
"You got lucky the Warsmith had such poor aim. An inch higher and he would've ruptured both your hearts. As it is, he hit your third lung, and your secondary heart as well as taking a chunk out of your digestive tract. Volkite beams are recommended as unhealthy by most apothecaries." Armand checked the Commanders status and looked at the monitors display his vital signs and nodded. "You are recovering nicely though. A few more days and you should be back to normal."
"Wait. Most apothecaries?" He asked in curiosity. "Well Commander, when you were still an initiate, you trained with the Iron Tenth did you not?" Kyreg nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, although back then they were known as the Stormwalkers." Armand smiled at the mention of the old pre-Primarch legion name. "Yes, when I was initiated, the old legion names still stood. The Stormwalkers, the Dusk Raiders. The Imperial Heralds. Oh yes let us not forget the Dragon Warriors and of course the Warhounds. Well the Iron Hands see the replacement of flesh with mechanical augmentics to be holy almost. So their apothecaries might suggest that Volkite beams are a healthy and honourable way to find yourself replacing your own flesh with mechanical parts." Kyreg snorted a little in amusement. He too had not heard the names of those pre-Primarch legions for a very long time. Of course the Chief Apothecary's sense of humour was still quite sarcastic and dry.
"How long have I been out?" He asked as he looked down at his body and closed his eyes. He could still see the blast of searing at him into darkness. "We brought you on board nine days ago, Commander." Kyreg blinked at the answer and stared Armand. "Nine days? We have lost nine days? What is the state of the planet now? Who holds the capital city?" The Chief Apothecary sighed and walked over to examine a large syringe and tilted his head over at the Legion Commander. "Everything is as it should be, Commander. Your battle plan was worthy of the Harrowmasters. Now be quiet and rest before we put to test just how much knock out chemicals an Astartes system can resist."
Lorhenge
The city itself was in ruins, the artillery barrage fired by the Iron Warriors having hit large quantities of the different buildings and the like in the short but sharp shelling of the city. The mortar shells fired by their human cultist troops had destroyed the city borders, turning houses and buildings into rubble. Of course the human cost was far greater, more than three thousand of the militia gathered by the Alpha Legion Sergeant had perished in the attack. The casualties were not just limited to the militia however. For the 27th Theta Grenadiers, each Commando company suffered close to a quarter casualties. However almost of their armour Squadron was utterly wiped out, only the 2nd Troop consisting of two Leman Russ Vanquishers and a single Destroyer still existing. The Gamma 6-7 were not immune either, and out of the five twelve man teams deployed as special mission units, only two remained.
Inquisitor Laneth looked around her and sighed softly. While the Commanders squad had left with him back onto the cloaked warship of the Legionnaires, Sergeant Rythor had returned back to the surface through hijacking a drop pod from the warship they had disabled and landed on the surface to take command. Troiey and Cyprus sat on a cement bench that was strangely undisturbed looking at the scene of destruction they had witnessed. An Astarte on Astarte battle that had tested the formidable Iron Warrior assault against the many twisting claws of the Hydra, and it was not something they wished to witness again anytime soon. The effeminate assassin could be oddly found pruning a small hedge of flowers that had been protected against the battle with a molecular edged combat blade, deft movements of his wrist slicing apart any parts that were dead or at all damaged. The dead were being piled by the civilians that remained, by those who had hidden in the governor's palace escaping the battle while the war raged around them. There were small mercies as children looked out and around as they were finally allowed to step outside. Laneth looked at the men around her, one of the squads of the Gamma 6-7 arranged around her loosely each holding hellguns in their arms carefully as two of their Taurox armoured patrol vehicles were parked nearby. The G6-7 operators were unlike any Imperial units she had ever met. They moved faster, and were much stronger than any Tempestus Scion unit she had ever operated with. Their movements were smooth and fluid, and they coordinated almost perfectly with each other. They stood around her in a tan, dark brown, green and grey striped camouflage pattern even as they wore dark green carapace armour on top with full masked helmets, each mask having advanced targetors and sensors built in.
They were assigned to her as a bodyguard when the shooting first started, as her acolytes had been seconded to one of the special mission units established during the defensive. They had performed admirably, as the Inquisitor had been fired at by an Ironsworn assault platoon that had infiltrated through one of the defences weak points after overrunning the platoon defending it. With movements learned only through countless encounters, the one closest to her grabbed her and shoved her onto the floor while the others had opened up with precise hellgun bolts, drilling the enemy unit with carefully aimed single shot armour piercing hell bolts all the while the Inquisitor had been unceremoniously shoved behind a concrete pillar while the operator who had dragged her leaned out from behind it and opened up on full auto, spraying countless bolts at the assault squad as his own squadmates moved back quickly into cover. The encounter was over in seconds, the Gamma 6-7 troopers cutting the enemy assault unit apart with precision shots. The minute the shooting stopped, a full face helmed soldier with a small blue medical insignia on his carapace armour slid behind the cover and checked the Inquisitor over thoroughly for any shrapnel or injuries. All the while, the rest of the squad had moved in a full circle, covering every direction while air support was quickly given strike coordinates in case the enemy unit was leading a larger enemy force in through the breach. A few vox messages later, and a Theta Grenadier platoon had moved in sealing off the breach in the lines with hellguns raised.
In a way, she was envious of the Commander. He had memories and experiences that she so wished she could experience again, memories that she had barely seen the tip of when the Librarius legionnaire had taken her mind into his memory pool. As an Inquisitor, she believed that knowledge was the most potent of all weapons. She looked over at her acolytes, the only one who seemed to be in a good mood was Cyprus but he cradled the sniper rifle in his lap the way parents would hold a child and smiled out as he watched the reconstruction start slowly.
"Inquisitor." A deep voice sounded behind her, and she would turn as her body guard squad bowed slightly towards the power armoured giant. "Is the Commander well?" She would ask. The Legionnaire Sergeant nodded. "I am here to inform you that the planet appears to be cleansed. However, artifacts were recovered from the Landraider." She raised an eyebrow as the Sergeant gestured towards a massive piece of a light yet intensely strong section with multiple small red gems placed in it as place holders. "We found seven of these pieces in the Landraider, and wish to know what you want done with them." The Inquisitor frowned a little as she looked at them. "They are xenos are they not?" The Legionnaire nodded. "Yes. They are Eldar spirit stones. This seems to be a holder of some sort, perhaps a storage system for them. There are perhaps a few hundred soul stones found." The Inquisitor had a latent psyker resonance, not nearly enough to manifest any true powers but she had a sense about her and she could sense old psychic echoes resonating to her senses. "I suppose most Inquisitors would have them destroyed." She stated haltingly. "Most Inquisitors would not be standing in front of me so calmly, my lady." The Sergeant replied with a light smile on his face. Laneth chuckled lightly, she was surprised at herself. After all this, she held no ill will towards the Legionnaires, only a sadness. A sadness that they would never be recognized as loyalist because of their legion, that for all their loyalty to the Emperor, she was practical enough to realise that loyalty to the Emperor was not necessarily loyalty to the Imperium and if their existence was revealed to the Inquisition, they would be attacked and wiped out. Of course even for her, it was a new experience. For space marines from the age of the Great Crusade, those who had walked beside the Emperor himself now were shunned by the Imperium at large and would always be treated as the same traitors that walked beside Horus. She wished she had an entire Chapter. No, an entire Legion almost. Perhaps that is what the Emperor felt as he watched his newly formed Legions travel to the stars. The difference she could make in the Imperium.. she would mentally shake her head and sighed softly. "Well, I'm quite loathe to hand them over to an Ordo Xeno Inquisitor. Quite frankly, they would be experimented on and tormented. I think, they should be guarded for safe keeping then." The Sergeant nodded approvingly. "You are familiar then with these stones?"
She sighed softly and nodded. "When the Age of Strife ended, the Eye of Terror was created by the birth of the Chaos entity known as Slaanesh. Where the Eye of Terror now, used to be the capital region of the Eldar Empire. The same birth is what stopped the warp storms around the galaxy and opened the way for the Imperium to advance into the stars. The Eldar had millions of souls consumed, and now even when they die, their souls are sent into the warp where Slaanesh will feast on them. To prevent such a thing, these soul stones, they trap the souls of the Eldar and prevent their consumption. In turn, they were stored and treasured so as to preserve the souls of the fallen." She thought about it for a moment and continued. "While I cannot condone the Eldar for what they have done, I also will not condemn them to an eternity of suffering either. Of course the destruction of the soul stones would also strengthen Slaanesh and that cannot be allowed either. Yes, I do believe these must be placed in safe storage."
Sergeant Rythor smiled in approval. "Now you understand truly the difference between the 8th and the youngsters that form the Astartes chapters now." The Inquisitor bit her lips lightly and looked at him questioningly. "Why is it that the Commander, you and all the others all seem to despise the space marines now?" The veteran Sergeant thought about the question for a moment and gestured around them. "We despise them because they are the inheritors of our legacies. Whether it is the traitors or the loyalists, there are few of us left from the Great Crusade. Back in those days, the Iron Warriors that attacked us would have been part of an unstoppable assault force taking apart their enemies in the name of the Emperor. Now, they attack us for their own greed, for their own sakes and it is why they lost. I remember them when they formed great walls of grey ceramite, standing strong against our foe and showing them the true genius of the Emperor. Eighteen legions formed, each with different talents and strengths. The Iron Warriors from back then would have planned this attack better. Each shot by their heavy weapons would have been calculated down to the last decimal to be directed towards the scientific weak point of a fortification. Here, they simply sought to overwhelm us with firepower and bog us down in the assault of their mortal Auxilia and then strike us down. It is unbecoming of the sons of Perturabo."
Laneth looked at him in slight surprise. "You almost seem to have a high regard for them. For how they were." She was surprised because of how little any of the Legionnaires she has encountered had ever given a compliment to any other Astartes. "Of course. For all their faults, the Legios Astartes was a truly majestic force. Even the sons of Guilliman knew that the best way to adapt to a battle was to adapt in the effective methods of a worthy enemy or ally. There is a reason that the Ultramarines had a version of almost every elite unit used by his brothers. Even from us he copied the Vigil Operatii, initiates who failed only because their genes did not because they lacked spirit. They were sent on covert operations and all those things which Guilliman publically denounced. Yes, he was a hypocrite but he is also a Primarch and a fearsome general."
The female inquisitor rested a hand on the top of the carapace torso armour forced on her by her G6-7 body guards and frowned a little. It was seldom that any loyalist would critique a beloved and renowned Primarch like the Sergeant did.
The Sergeant laughed in amusement and shook his head. "You must remember for all you mortals deify them, many of us had walked in their presence and fought beside them. But that is also why we deride the Adeptus Astartes as they are now. They only know of minor glories now, not of anything close to the scale of the Great Crusade. When the Astartes of the Imperium deploy into battle now, they deploy in manners befitting a skirmish. In the Great Crusade, tens of thousands of Astarte Legionnaires dropped onto planets to bring the Emperors compliance in ways that is never seen now. Each First Founding Chapter as they are now are but a diluted drop of what they were. The Traitors are but mockeries of how they were when they stood next to the Emperor. Abbadon and his Black Legion, it's a mockery of the Lunar Wolves. Abbadon sought to emulate the Warmaster but his memory must be tainted by the warp because the real Lupercal never accepted defeat. The real Lupercal was named Warmaster because he was able to unite all of his feuding brothers and placate them the way only another Primarch can, and send them each to their own specialties. I have met Ezekyle Abbadon once. The 8th was ordered to stand by the Primarch's side when Horus had summoned a meeting of various available Primarchs for a war council. Our genefather deployed of course with his Lernaeans but alongside them marched the 8th Harrow's Shroud company. Us. That was when Kyreg was still a Captain, and he marched us to stand opposite of the Sons of Horus 10th Company. An Imperial Fist asked Kyreg if he truly thought us fit to stand in front of a Mournival company. Kyreg asked the Imperial Fist if he truly thought himself fit to question someone who was inducted into the Legios Astartes before the Imperial Fist had been a thought in his father's eye. The Mournival who were waiting had burst into laughter, with Ezekyle Abbadon stepping forward and telling the Imperial Fist that if Captain Kyreg was unfit to stand here, then no one was fit to stand there."
She raised an eyebrow at his story and laughed a little. "I didn't realise that you would know so many of those we vilify now. I'm not surprised, I can only imagine that once upon a time before they had turned arch traitor, they had been loyal to the Emperor."
He nodded and gestured around him again. "Tell me Inquisitor. What do you see here in the battlefield around us?" She sighed as she looked around slowly, taking in the sights of the burnt out buildings, crushed structures and the many bodies that were being collected still. "I see, death. Destruction every where, and war." Rythor shook his head slightly smiled almost painfully. "Perhaps it would be difficult for mortals to understand but… I see only weakness. Failure. If this was during the days of the Great Crusade, this entire town would have been almost razed to the ground in the fury of battle. Imagine for every mortal soldier we have here, it was instead an Astarte Legionnaire. And instead of the pitiful few tanks we had, it was entire super heavy tanks supported by heavy tanks firing a massive barrage. The fact that this city still stands after an Iron Warrior attack.. that shows how far all of us had fallen. We lost more than three thousand soldiers to a single attack. Yes it was partially out of necessity but during the legions of old, the Iron Warriors would have found tracks unable to advance further. Bolter shells with dead primers. Suicide bombers amidst their ranks causing nothing but havoc. This here, this is a diluted example of what a legion can do."
She nodded in understanding. She could not begin to imagine a worse firestorm than this, perhaps the only place she would have thought to be worse might have been Armageddon. But that was caused by the attack of millions of orks.
Kilo Zeta
Kyreg flexed his arm and turned his hips side to side before nodding with approval. It has been a few days and his superhuman system had finally managed to heal him. Almost two weeks, he thought disapprovingly. That would have brought his genefather disapproval at first, letting himself get so injured in the first place, and then being forced into bed rest. Of course, a lot of things now were different with his genefather slain. While the battle strategies that made the XX Legion notoriously difficult to stop were drilled into his very being, he still could not help but miss the days of the Great Crusade. Back when there was true brotherhood. He thought the last bit rather bitterly, having been schooled by various cousin legions but also because he had fought alongside many of his cousin legions that had been worthy allies. He took the long way around to the armoury where he knew that one of the tech marines would be waiting. He nodded at Legion serfs who bowed towards him as well as G6-7 soldiers who saluted him, waving them back to their duties casually. It felt strange to be in nothing but robes at the moment, having not taken off his power armour for almost a decade except for maintenance and hygiene. The halls of the Kilo Zeta were familiar to him, once long ago the vessel assigned to the Shroud Company; the veteran stealth operators of the 8th. It provided nostalgia as he remembered brothers who were no longer there with fond memory; from the time he had spent as a veteran Sergeant in the company to when he had achieved captaincy.
The doors hissed open for him as he walked into the armoury, the section of the ship kept at a perpetual cool temperature in order for the various machines and tools used by the tech marines to keep cool. "Commander, I have been awaiting you." Of course it was Centurion Maygis. For whatever reason, even as the ship's captain, the Centurion always insisted on tending to the Commanders armour himself. Of course the seasoned veteran provided more than excellent repairs to him. "My apologies for the wait. My route took me on a rather nostalgic path." Maygis chuckled slightly and nodded. "I cannot blame you Kyreg, just yesterday I wandered into a section of the ship where I remembered as a new tech marine, Centurion Krogis chastised me for not being sufficiently respectful as I tried to change the barrel on a sniper rifle meant to equip Styger squad." Kyreg chuckled with amusement. He remembered Centurion Krogis. The tech marine was nothing short of a walking encyclopedia, having been one of the first to learn the secrets of the machine from Mars.
"Your suit has been repaired. The breast plate and back plate was replaced from the former Captain Lezath's power armour, it has been sufficiently placated to allow proper function. Your backpack also had to be replaced." The Commander nodded and looked over the power armour suit laid out on the massive bench in front of the tech marine. He reached out and gently touched the stylized A on the left side of the breast plate as well as the eight chains that reached out from all sides to entangle the stylized letter. At the same time, a hydra was painted twisted thinly over the stylized A. The power backpack had finely gilded trims of chains while at the angled stealth vents of the backpack had small chains etched to come out of the vents. "I wonder if I will be worthy of a piece of his armour. He was the Captain I served under when I was first inducted as a veteran Sergeant into the Shroud Company." Kyreg smiled fondly and lightly traced the individual twists and turns of the coiled hydra. The Centurion smiled and nodded with pride at his work. "It was strange installing the pieces I must admit. It required very little placation truthfully, and the pieces fit in almost eagerly. As if longing to belong to the servos tuned for your movements." The Commander turned and smiled at his new suit of power armour. "I will gladly wear this armour and ensure the Captains memory lives on."
He stepped onto the armour mounting circle and spread his arms out. Quickly and efficiently, servitors would fasten each piece of armour onto his body until the Commander was complete as a space marine should be. Then with a soft whine, the suit powered up and he tested the movement of each suit. The parts added on seemed to adapt to his own servo tunings like the Centurion had said. Walking a few experimental steps, he noted that each piece was one hundred percent in sync with each other. When armour was repaired, it was often rare to have one hundred percent sync. Generally, ninety five percent was acceptable but the fitment was rare to have one so intricately connected with each other. Machine spirits were known to take on those they deemed worthy and give their protection fully. Maygis fully believed it in this case and nodded towards the stylized A on the Commanders breastplate. "Interesting piece of armour… it comes with its own conversion shield. Quite fitting for the Commander of the 8th I believe." Kyreg snorted slightly at the shield, it was quite useful that was not in doubt. However he had never carried one previous although he had no doubt that the volkite beam would have done far less damage had he worn one when he was hit. The Tech Marine looked at him approvingly before waving him to the other side of the bench. There was his combi-stalker bolter, underbarrel melta guns almost as a standard as it was the quietest anti-armour weapon. His bolt pistol with the suppressor still fitted, as well as the power dagger first issued to him when he became a full fledge member of the two thousand numbered Legionnaires that was known then as the Ghost Legion. Last but certainly not least, he picked up the phase blade and smiled grimly underneath his helmet before fitting it onto his power armour. An assortment of grenades and magazines completed his re-armament and he would bow gratefully to Maygis as he clamped the last magazine onto his power armour.
The door hissed open and Chief Apothecary Armand stepped in gracefully with a certain quietness about him that marked him distinctly as one of the original veteran Headhunters. "Commander, you requested that I be here at this time?" Kyreg nodded and took off his helmet, the helmet no longer necessary after the initial boot up of his new suit of armour. "Yes. I wanted you both here as you two are my most senior advisors after all. On the matter of the initiates, out of the one hundred, how many will make it through the process?" Armand thought about it for a few moments. "Medically speaking, all of them are compatible with the genes. Physically speaking however, twenty of them are eliminated off the bat by the fact that their skeletal systems are not strong enough to withstand the process." Kyreg looked at the tech marine who would with a flick of his fingers, ignite a projector lamp on his desk which showed a chart of various stocks of armour. "As there are twenty five sets of gene seeds we can use, I can produce twenty five suits of armour. We have enough pieces on board that I can put together twenty nine. There are many other pieces however that will produce none. By doing so however, we will lose the ability to have enough spare parts to repair every working suit on board." Kyreg sighed and tapped an armoured finger against the large bench he was leaning on. "I understand. Prepare eight suits for now. I highly doubt that we will be lucky enough to have twenty five initiates make it regardless. Especially as there is still a long process to go before they receive their implants." The Centurion nodded in agreement while Armand frowned slightly. "Yes, we have been under strength for a while. It's only with your skills Commander, and the types of operation that we conduct have we been lucky. Only broken bones and in your case, broken organs to fix."
"Yes, I understand. That means the initiates must all be trained to an extraordinary level before donning the scales. I'm sure Sergeant Yingr will ensure that."
Kilo Zeta mortals section
"Sir." The Sergeant Major came to attention as Colonel Curtix Aibel stopped in front of him. The Colonel waved him back to at ease as he examined the new group of recruits. There were over five hundred new recruits that they had recruited from the planet. Men and women both, who were veterans of the skirmishes against the Bloodsworn cultists as well as those who were completely untested and untried who wished to join up with the G 6-7. Of course those that passed would be placed in separate squadrons from the Gamma troops, the training level is completely different. The experience needed to be built up from not only training but also experience and combat. Of course the particularly talented would be invited to join the Gamma squadrons but for now, it was simply training.
"How are the new recruits shaping up Sergeant Major?" Sergeant Major Thom Royson simply shrugged a little bit. "They've all passed the basic training requirements. They know how to wear their uniforms, do close order drill and operate weapons. Marksmanship levels are adequate, although there are a few that seem to have real marksman talents. Those I'll be keeping an eye on. This is only day four of indoc sir, so we'll have to see how long they can stay here." The Colonel nodded and smiled. What they called Indoc was the selection process. For two weeks, the recruits are given minimal sleep. A full eight hours was allocated but during those eight hours, the recruits are disturbed once per hour to conduct a combat hump around the interior of the cargo bays or ordered to stand by to conduct combat operations. Many of the times, the combat operations were real. The las rifles issued to them currently were all training models, weapons only capable of producing stun. If a kill shot was fired, the barrel itself would melt without letting the discharge out. Usually a few squads from the G 6-7 teams would act as the infiltrator force. At the same time, power packs were expected to be charged, and squad leaders had been assigned to request more if needed. Right now, there were less than two hundred that stood in front of them. There would be enough to form one squadron by the time it was done. Many of the blooded recruits would be ear marked for leadership assignments and would spend more time shadowing a G 6-7 officer or sergeant and learning directly from them how to lead a special mission unit.
"Those that do not pass, what is the Commanders instructions for them sir?" Colonel Aibel thought about it for a few moments. "I imagine that should they fail, they would be taken in as Legion serfs. Or as servitors depending on how they failed." The Sergeant Major nodded, standing beside the Colonel as they watched the instructors stalk around the recruits who were currently holding a push up position with their las rifles rested on their backs. If a single rifle dropped, the entire course would be punished severely. The instructors stalked around with their multi-environment fatigues and sharply laced up brown felt combat boots. A hot shot las pistol was holstered at each belt while they wore the soft felt sand coloured berets on their heads. The recruits were in rough forest green fatigues with uncomfortable stiff leather boots and full flak jackets with plasteel trauma plates inserted. To top it off, they had to carry their own hydration pack filled with four liters of water as well as dummy grenades and las charge packs. The instructors let nothing get by them, and harsh words as well as kicks to the gut were common. The Colonel nodded approvingly and looked at the Sergeant Major. "I hope we can make something useful out of them. It's been a while since we've had our own direct action squadrons." Thom nodded and saluted the Colonel again before getting back to his duties. The Colonel made some careful notes on a data slate before returning to his office. The Commander would expect a report soon.