The Solar Hands

By zcm1

Prologue - Servants of Terra

Officially, by Imperial Law, it is a notorious crime to have dealings with the reprehensible Xenos that plague the galaxy. Officially, by Imperial Law, it is a heinous crime for a warrior of the Imperium to break bread with the enemy. Officially, by Imperial Law, the possession or collection of Xeno or Dark Age technology is forbidden to all those outside the authority of the Priests of Mars. Yet, unofficially, the Imperium needs to have dealings with Xenos, the Imperium needs to - on occasion - break bread with the enemy, the Imperium needs to obtain all beneficial technology, Xeno in origin or otherwise. So when the High Lords of Terra need something that is out of reach, they send a chapter that is sworn to serve the Solar System, sworn to serve Terra. To obtain that which is forbidden, they send the Solar Hands.

Chapter 1 - The Greenskin Pirates

An ear-shattering explosion rang from behind Kell's advance position, and a shockwave thrust the armor-clad forms of five Solar Hands Astartes further into the cover that they were already positioned in. "Garos is down," came the shout from the vox into Kell's ear, "explosive trap, we have no apothecary," it continued. "Gather the holy geneseed from his satchel, Brother Rugen," Kell replied, "then reinforce our position in the upper corridor, the Greenskins have mounted a defense!" And indeed they had, as a barricade of scrap metal filled with gun barrels had been erected seemingly out of nowhere, and was now blasting heavy autocannon fire down the pillared hallway, where the Astartes had taken refuge.

The ship was a stolen one, plundered from Astra Militarum forces by a Greenskin pirate horde, led by Longfang, the repugnant Ork warboss. Such an act would not go unpunished, and while the Nightbreaker and her accompanying fleet punished the Greenskin flotilla, an attack party of two squads of Solar Hands Astartes was snuck aboard the plundered vessel. These squads, sent via boarding torpedoes, were deployed with orders to first, recover a cache of information from the bridge, and then dismantle the ship from the inside.

Kell reloaded his bolter and checked his surroundings, which shook thunderously as voidships exchanged cannon fire and split shields. The once beautiful tan stonework of the Cadian escort ship "Pride of the Penitent" was reduced to mere rubble, and the bluish-grey plasteel substructure beneath it was exposed to the air. The hallway was dark - and though that bore no burden against the ocular enhancements of his helm - it was also littered with the bodies of several greenskins, which had been further pulverized by the autocannon's fury. Kell signaled through his vox "Battle Brothers, sound off!"

"Behind, Sergeant," said Salazar.

"Behind, Sergeant," said Lysander.

"Behind you Sergeant," said Rugen.

"On your left flank, Brother Kell," said Damien.

The replies ended, and they did not number nearly as many as he had hoped for, and Kell grimaced beneath his helm. That was Mercurial Squad accounted for, but where was Venusian Squad? Again, Kell signaled his brothers through the vox, this time addressing Venusian Squad specifically. "Brother Sergeant Aritus, respond, Venusian Squad, respond!"

'Kell,' Damien shouted over a direct channel, 'there's a decent chance that Venusian's boarding torpedoes were shot down.'

"I know," Kell replied, "but it's worth the effort to try." Then, over a shared vox channel he tried again, "Brother Sergeant Aritus, respond, Venusian Squad, respond!"

Yet there was no answer, and Kell's gaze fell to the grime-streaked floor. "Venusian Squad is either dead or cut off from the vox, it is now up to us alone to carry out the directive." There was general silence on the vox, as Mercurial Squad returned their quiet confirmations. Five battle brothers dead, Kell thought, now six with the loss of Apothecary Garos. The council reaps a dire toll on us this day.

The thundering of autocannon fire continued to chorus down the corridor, accompanied by the drowned-out greenskin shouts of "Dakka Dakka Dakka!" Snapping out of his melancholy, Kell raised his gaze from the ground and risked a peek towards the greenskin machine gunner. After a mere glance, he ducked back into cover, as a hail of autofire and makeshift projectile shots rained into the pillar he stood behind. Through his helm, Kell changed his vox frequency back to an individual channel. "Brother Damien, what do you hear from the enemy position?"

There was a brief pause, and Kell looked over at his left flank to see if Damien had heard his vox, and saw him crouched in an aggressive stance, his head pressed just near the edge of his cover. "It sounds like they only have one heavy gun firing, Brother Sergeant," Damien said. "The rest of their guns sound like small ones, not likely that they'll pierce ceramite."

"Then that confirms what I saw. Ready your plasma gun brother, set to overcharge. On my mark, I want you to annihilate the defended position, or at the very least, blind the bastards behind it." Kell switched his vox back to the group frequency, and ordered, "Salazar, the moment you see a plasma blast, follow it with a hail of heavy bolter fire. Lysander, Rugen, as soon as Salazar stops firing, follow my charge."

Mercurial Squad voxed back confirmations, and Kell waited, honing in on the rhythm of the heavy autocannon. It came in cycles of four, stuttering briefly as the weapon itself struggled to keep up with the massive amount of fiery hell it spat out toward the Solar Hands. Finally, after another fifteen grueling seconds of rattling fury, the autocannon was out of ammunition. "For the Council," Kell cried into the vox.

"And for Terra," Damien answered, as he pivoted out from behind his cover and loosed a volatile blast of utter plasmatic destruction upon the greenskin position. The orb of fiery blue light careened down the corridor and was instantly followed by a fusillade of mass-reactive heavy bolter fire from the Solar Hands position. Total obliteration was delivered to the Xenos defenders in a span of time that lasted less than two mere seconds, as the turreted position exploded in a tempest of fire and shrapnel. Evidently, the greenskins had stored their explosives near their barricade, likely as a trap for the Astartes should they have lost the position by other means. Kell had expected something like this, after all, it was an explosive trap crammed into a maintenance duct beneath the floors of the lower corridor that had taken the life of Apothecary Garos.

Feeling rage swell in his hearts, Kell drew his sword, Sellaraen, and charged towards the breach. It wasn't long before he heard the pounding footsteps of his brother Astartes following behind him, at a pace that neared galloping. His brothers would be avenged, Garos would be avenged, Venusian Squad would be avenged, the very moment that they cleared the breach. Running at a speed that seemed impossible for such large beings, the Solar Hands dove through the breach that had been a well-defended barricade, and onto the bridge.

First, Kell blinked, unsure if he was seeing correctly. Second, he cycled his helmet's air filtration, to make sure there were no toxins causing hallucinations. Finally, he realized what they had charged into. "Damn Xeno bastards, I should have known better than to think they would use the bridge for anything reasonable, instead of thrice damned livestock!"

The bridge, once a location bustling with tactical displays and command consoles, had been torn apart and flattened out. Fences made of leftover scrap materials had been erected all around, in order to house and breed all sorts of animals, from squighogs to fat birds, and even the occasional mutated bovine. The stench of shit and rotting flesh was rank, as the greenskins simply didn't care if their food was "sanitary," or "edible," or "three weeks old." Even worse now, most of the animals - if you could call them that - had been blasted to a pulp, and the handful that remained were screeching in surprise. The only redeeming qualities that the desecrated bridge had were that for one, there were no longer any threats within it, and for another, something here might be salvageable. Cooling his temper, Kell turned around to address Mercurial Squad over vox.

"Rugen, take Damien back to the body of Apothecary Garos, the two of you are to salvage what remains of his ammunition, and relieve him of any wargear that might arouse suspicion were it to be discovered by a Codex-compliant chapter of Astartes."

'Your will be done, Brother Sergeant,' Rugen replied, before turning to lead Damien back down the corridor to where the shattered corpse of their fallen brother lay.

"Lysander, see if you can find any control consoles that will respond to your techprayers, Salazar and I will see to the rest of the disgusting creatures still depriving us of clean air."

Lysander looked around, surveying the deck for a good place to start. "I shall begin with portside terminals, they seem better for wear, if that means anything," and so he went. Kell looked to Salazar and nodded towards the remaining Xenos livestock. "Not the most glorious work brother, but it must be done." Salazar chuckled in response, and said 'strange to send those with hands of gold to do the peasant's work.'

"Yes, strange indeed," Kell said, sheathing his sword and pulling his bolter from his hip. "Be wary of the blood, brother, lest it turns the ivory of your armor to scarlet and your blue Aquila a shade of violet." This time, Salazar laughed loudly, and the two unleashed the controlled wrath of bolter fire upon the last of the mutated animals. "Keep an eye out for heat signals," Kell voxed to the squad, "whether it be more vermin or more greenskin, put it down, there is no telling what is and isn't a danger to us here." Mercurial squad voxed back their confirmations.

'Brother Sergeant," Lysander said over the vox, "I believe that I have some functional control over the bridge viewport shielding. Opening the blast shields could act as a signal to Nightbreaker command that we've taken the bridge.'

"Not a terrible idea brother, we should have received word from the Nightbreaker nearly half an hour ago. Give it another go trying to reach her over the vox, as well as trying to reach any of the thunderhawks. If there is no response, open the blast shields."

"By your command, Brother Sergeant," Lysander replied.

From the ruins of the Ork defense, Damien and Rugen returned from the corridor, clutching a few relics that had belonged to Garos, as well as his Apothecarion bag. 'The explosive trap destroyed a fair portion of his armor, it is very fortunate that the geneseed was not damaged,' Rugen said. 'As for ammunition and his personal relics,' he continued, 'both were scarce, but we were able to recover what remained.'

"Very good, keep it secure, it is the least we can do for Garos' memory. Lysander, any response from the Nightbreaker?"

'None, Brother Sergeant. I will begin the rites of opening for the blast shields.'

"Acknowledged." Lysander began inputting the techprayers, and the pistons that held the shields in place began to groan as beaten-down servos and electronics began to come to life.

'Wait!' a shrill voice cried out, echoing against the vast open space of the destroyed command bridge. 'Keep the doors closed,' the high-pitched voice continued, 'or we'll get sucked out to the void!'

"Lysander, is this coming through the comm system?"

'No Brother Sergeant, all comms are down.'

"Mercurial," Kell said through the vox, "fan out, try and find the source of the voice, look for heat signals." The pistons along the blast shield doors began to groan, but being clogged with all manner of Xeno muck, they were still far from moving.

'Please!' the voice echoed out once again, 'keep the doors shut!'

'Source located,' Rugen said, 'bottom of the starboard side vent system, faint heat signal, likely due to coolant.'

"Flush it out," Kell replied, "Lysander, keep the blast shields closed!"

'Compliance,' Lysander said, and the groaning of the pistons ceased. Over at the bottom of the starboard side vent system, Salazar stood with his bolter at the ready, while Rugen crouched down to grab the sides of the vent cover. 'On your command Brother Sergeant,' Rugen said.

"For the Council," Kell ordered.

'And for Terra,' Rugen replied, as he tore the cover away from the vent in one swift motion, and stepped to the side as Salazar pointed his heavy bolter straight towards the opening. But instead of a storm of bolter fire erupting into the vent, there was silence. 'Brother Sergeant,' Salazar voxed, 'it's a Guardsman and a young one at that.'

Kell swiftly made his way to the vent opening and looked for himself. Sitting there in a shivering ball of fear and self-preservation was a grimy figure with gaunt, near-malnourished features. It was a young man, or rather a boy, wearing the uniform of an Astra Militarum Guardsman. Then Kell noticed that the figure held a laspistol in its hand. Not willing to risk the danger of losing a potential lead to suicide, Kell reached into the vent with the speed of an Astartes marine and grabbed onto the laspistol, wrenching it free from the grasp of the Guardsman, and pulling him halfway out of the vent in the process. Now that the upper half of the Guardsman was outside of the vent, the rest of Mercurial squad had closed in, and each of them had their weapons drawn and pointed towards the Guardsman."

'What were you doing in there Guardsman,' Lysander asked over his helm's comm speaker.

'I was just hiding from the-'

'Who are you,' Salazar asked, 'did your commanding officer order you to hide, or are you a deserter?'

'My name is Aryin, I-'

'Are you a traitor, Aryin,' Damien began, 'or are you just-'

"Wait," Kell interjected over the vox. "Coward or no, there is a chance that this Guardsman could know where the objective has been moved to, given that it is clearly not here on the bridge." There was a moment of silence, and weapons were lowered. Then Lysander replied, 'Brother Sergeant Cristorus makes a very logical case, this deserter may have valuable information.'

'I agree,' Damien voxed. After a few more seconds, it became unanimous, and Kell switched back from the vox to his helms external comm system. Looking down at the young Guardsman, Kell asked, "do you know of a potential location where the greenskins could have stockpiled objects of value?"

'E-everything they liked got put in the hangar bay, with the valkyries. The big one sits on a pile of it all, but a lot of it is trapped. They,' the boy paused, choking on his words for a moment, 'they set mines and grenade traps to flush out the resisting survivors.'

"Resisting survivors?"

'Yes, my lord,' the boy replied meekly.

"Does that mean that there are more of you? Other fighters hiding like Catachan guerillas?"

The young Guardsman swallowed, then uttered 'none other than I sir, once they figured out we were moving through the vents, they started sending in beasts with explosives attached to them to seek us out. This was the only place left I could hide out without risking detection.'

"His story seems truthful enough so far," Kell whispered into the vox, "there's no way he could've been detected around here while all those beasts were alive, too much noise, too heavy of a stench. Any thoughts about the hangar bay?"

Damien chimed in through the vox, 'Kell, it seems logical that the greenskins would gather their valuables near the remaining combat vehicles, as the boy said. After all, that's where the largest weapons would be, hanging from the sides of gunships.'

'To the Ork,' Rugen said, ' it does not matter if the gun is still attached to a ship or not, what matters is that there is a gun. Probability and past experience would indicate that this guardsman is telling the truth.'

"Acknowledged." Kell studied the guardsman, looking into his young, frightened face, and saw that the boy was nearly as scared of the Solar Hands as he was of the Xenos. Kell removed his helmet, letting the Guardsman see his noble terra-cotta tone face and short-cut black hair, and knelt down to speak to him face-to-face. "Your name is Aryin, correct?"

'Yes, my lord.'

"Well Aryin, my name is Kell. Sergeant Kell Cristorus of the Solar Hands Astartes." Kell turned and pointed out each of his battle brothers. "These fine warriors of the Imperium are Damien, Rugen, Salazar, and Lysander. We are here to recover something that is very important to the Imperium. Do you understand?"

'Yes, Lord Cristorus,' Aryin said, slightly less shaken.

Kell made a small, slight smile, and nodded quickly to help boost the boy's confidence. More often than not, the Solar Hands found that when it comes to dealing with mortals loyal to the Imperium, that trust could be a more effective motivator than fear. "Well then Guardsman Aryin, first I will deliver you good news. Though we first suspected you to be a deserter, we now understand that you are a survivor and a clever one at that. Because of this, I would ask for your help. We have already lost at least one of our noble battle brothers to those traps you mentioned earlier. And though I cannot guarantee your safety, you would be doing Terra, the Emperor, and the Imperium a great service if you could safely lead me and my brothers to the hangar bay."

Aryin's face hardened, the fear that had been displayed on his features replaced by resolve. Such was the power of one's loyalty to the Imperium. Such was the power of the Solar Hands Astartes. 'I will serve you, Lord Cristorus,' Aryin said, 'For the Throne, for the Emperor!'

Kell smiled again, this time a bit more broadly, then he rose and looked around the desecrated bridge. "There do not appear to be any salvageable weapons fit for base humans. When the time for combat comes

'Well my lord, if we are heading to the hangar bay, why wouldn't I power up one of the valkyries and use its lascannon?'

At that, the Solar Hands looked over at the young guardsman in unison, confused expressions hidden by their armored helms. "You have the knowledge to operate an Astra Militarum Valkyrie Gunship?" Lysander asked.

'Yes my lord,' Aryin responded, 'I've been a pilot for almost a year now.'

"And just how old are you, Guardsman?" Kell asked.

'Sixteen standard years, my lord,' Aryin said.

"Well," Damien said over vox, "I supposed that is quite long-lived for a Cadian."

"Hold on," Kell said, looking down at the teenage guardsman. "If we were able to open the hangar doors after the securing of the objective, would you be able to fly us to our ship?"

'My-my lord, in a valkyrie?'

"Would it be possible?"

'Well, maybe, I've never flown one in the void before and-and only the cockpit would be atmospherically sealed.'

"That is not a concern, guardsman. We simply need a way off of this ship."

'Yes sir, I mean, yes my lord. Would you like me to guide you to the hangar bay now, my lord?'

"Are you physically and mentally capable of doing so?"

Aryin smiled, 'I know the Pride of the Penitent like the back of my hand, my lord, and I'm more than halfway sure that I can make it there without needing a break.'

"Very well. Mercurial Squad, prepare yourselves and follow the Guardsman. If we wish to secure the objective, he is our best chance of being able to do so."

'Acknowledged,' Mercurial Squad answered.

After an hour of navigation through maintenance corridors and crew access points, Kell was beginning to appreciate just how much effort went into the crew's guerilla defense of the Pride of the Penitent. On occasion, the path they were led on crossed through sections that had been previously blown to bits by Ork traps or anti-personnel squigs, but the young Guardsman did not seem to be fazed. Aryin simply hardened his face, looked for any signs of additional traps, and kept moving. Eventually, the din of greenskin activity came into the ears of the Solar Hands Astartes as distant snippets of sound, 'boss says… Gorgor… pile 'o dakka…'

The sounds grew louder, and after another minute, Aryin began to hear them too. 'We're almost at the hangar bay, it'll be just around this corner.'

"Hold," Kell said, addressing both Mercurial Squad and the Guardsman. "We enter in a lambda formation, Rugen and Lysander to the left, Damien and Salazar to the right. Strike fast and hard, and as soon as there is a break in the fighting, attempt to locate and secure the objective."

'Acknowledged,' Mercurial Squad replied.

"Guardsman, you remain behind me, do not expose yourself until the firefight is over, we need you to operate one of the Valkyrie gunships."

'Yes, my lord,' Aryin replied.

"Very well. For the council."

'And for Terra,' Mercurial said. Then, leading the group around the corner, Kell readied his bolter, and at the first sight of Xeno resistance, opened fire. Standing guard to the personnel entrance of the hangar bay were two mindless greenskins. Within an instant, they were reduced to entrails as Kell blew them apart with mass-reactive bolter rounds. Seconds later, Kell accompanied by Mercurial Squad, entered the hangar bay, and into an unnavigable firefight. Thousands of rounds poured out of makeshift greenskin barrels and bounced near harmlessly off of the Solar Hands' ivory power armor. In matching fury, the bolters of Kell, Rugen, and Lysander barked back, Salazar's heavy bolter rained down death, and Damien's plasma gun let out bursts of destruction. Yet somehow, the greenskin force within the hangar continued to return fire in staggering numbers, completely unyielding.

'Quit yer shootin' ya gitz,' a voice roared above the din of battle, and without hesitation, the Xenos ceased firing. 'Now move out da way,' the gruff voice shouted, and in a surprising display of Ork discipline, the Xenos parted. Without the obstruction of the small Ork horde, the hangar bay became much more visible. On the port side, there was a row of nine Valkyrie gunships, whereas on the starboard side, the various dropships and gunships had mostly been torn apart for weapons and scraps, and it was clear to see why. There at the back of the hangar, propped up against the main bay doors was a throne made of scrap amidst a pile of looted weaponry, and upon it sat a gigantic Ork Warboss.

'Lookie 'ere, more space marines,' the Warboss roared. 'You 'appen to be in the exalted presence of Kapptain Gorgorog and his Great Green Klaw!' True enough, that is exactly who they were in the presence of. The gigantic Ork Warboss had made a name for himself staging raids and invasions on Imperial ships and stations, and he had made a name for his weapon as well. The massive power claw that protruded from his left arm had blades the size of chainswords, and as the name implied, it was painted green. Gorgorog himself was massive, standing over 11' tall, clad in black scrap armor with hints of bone and gold poking out from it like primitive purity seals and adornments.

"Xeno," Kell replied, "you are in the presence of Sergeant Kell Cristorus of the Solar Hands,-"

'Sergeant! Hah! That means I outrank ye, don't it space marine?'

Refusing to allow the Ork to get under his skin, Kell maintained a cool head and continued speaking calmly and with resolve. "As I understand it, there are occasions where greenskins such as yourself have elected to make trade deals with certain rogue members of the imperium rather than attempting to kill them."

'You mean, you wanna negotiate with me, is that right? You? A space marine?'

"In this circumstance, yes. I need to find and bring back an Aeldari sword, and I'm going to guess that you have it in that pile there, somewhere."

The warboss scratched his head, then reached down and pulled out an elegantly curved wraithbone blade from the loot to the right of his throne. The Aeldari blade shimmered in the dim light of the hangar bay, and Gorgorog smiled. 'I got it. What do you wanna give me?'

'Wait, he can't be serious,' Aryin whispered, tugging on Rugen's elbow, 'you can't make deals with Xenos.'

'If you want to get through this alive, boy, you should start looking for the best ship out of the ones left,' Damien answered quietly. 'Lysander,' he said over vox, 'get us an approximate count on the remaining greenskins.'

'Acknowledged.'

"What I will give you, greenskin, is the chance to continue your fight another day," Kell said sternly. "Sitting just outside of this fleet engagement is the Nightbreaker, the greatest and mightiest of the ships within the Solar Hands fleet. Aboard that ship is enough firepower to blast you and your pitiful force from the heavens. The only reason we have not already done so is that we need to retrieve the blade you hold."

'So zoggin what? I give you da knife ear sword, then you turn around and blast me?'

"No. You give us the Aeldari blade, as well as free passage to escape, then you withdraw your fleet and run, living to fight another day."

'Run? RUN? You think I'll run away like a little squig, space marine? Kapptain Gorgorog does not run!' The Ork stood up from his throne and began to stomp down his pile of loot. 'You want this weird choppa? Then come and take it from me space marine!'

'Brother Sergeant,' Lysander said over the vox, 'There appear to be at least 80 Xenos in the hangar aside from their leader, if we were to try and fight them all at once we would have a 7.62% chance of victory.'

"What do you suggest?" Kell responded.

'Out of Mercurial squad, you have the highest probability of victory in a melee engagement. If you engage in individual combat with the Xeno in command, the greenskin obsession with combat might provide enough of a distraction for myself and the guardsman to activate one of the vehicles within the hangar, which would increase our chances of success by 39.6% if you survive the duel.'

'Well?' Gorgorog shouted, 'are you too zoggin' scared to fight me, or should I let my boyz in on the fun?'

"I know no fear, greenskin," Kell said as he stepped forwards, brandishing Sellaraen. "I will cut you down in single combat and take your head as a trophy, along with that sword."

'Big words space marine, let's see how they measure up!' The massive Ork charged forward, and Kell ran to meet him, swinging Sellaraen over his shoulders to block a strike from the curved wraithbone blade. Then, Kell brought Sellaraen swiftly down to his right, knocking aside a swinging attack from the Great Green Klaw. Gorgorog roared and swiped at Kell's legs with his sword, but Kell parried it and then ducked from a sweeping attack of the Klaw. The greenskin menials watching the fight shouted in glee, 'waaaaggh!' they cried, 'WAAAAGH, GOR-GOR-OG, GOR-GOR-OG!'

"This looks to be as good a time as any," Damien said as he surveyed the fight. "Guardsman, have you found a suitable gunship?"

'Yes my lord,' Aryin answered, 'there's a Vendetta gunship just past those first four Valkyries, that'll have the most firepower.'

"Good. Lysander, escort the Guardsman to the gunship and conduct the rites of activation. With any luck, your techprayers will have an effect on more than just Astartes technology. Rugen and Salazar, stay on me, as soon as we have confirmation that our means of escape is operational, we'll need to cover Kell so that he can make it on board with the objective secured."

'Acknowledged,' Mercurial Squad replied.

"For the council."

'And for Terra.'

Gorgorog bellowed as he smashed his Klaw into the ground where Kell had been. Kell, having sidestepped the attack, pressed his advantage and slashed at the massive Ork's neck, but only managed to chip off a piece of Gorgorog's black armor. Then he deflected a series of cuts and slashes from both the curved blade and the massive Klaw. Despite the size of the Ork, Gorgorog was extremely fast, moving at a pace that Kell had difficulty keeping up with, not to mention the power behind each attack. Then, just as Kell blocked a downward attack from the curved blade, he was smacked in the chest by a massive blow from the Great Green Klaw, which sent him crashing into the loot pile at the foot of the greenskin throne.

'HAHAHA! I got you now space marine!' Gorgorog shouted in belligerent delight. Though temporarily stunned by the attack, Kell took in his situation and surroundings. Several ribs broken, ceramite chipped, and potentially shattered. His eyes swept back and forth. Majority of weapons within the pile are unusable in my condition, except- Kell's time for thought and strategy was up as Gorgorog charged towards Kell, his heavy footfalls sounding like thunder against the hangar bay floor. The Ork swung the curved blade down towards Kell, who, mustering his strength, lept out of the way and towards a faint blue glow that emanated from a nearby part of the loot pile. Instead of ending Kell's life, Gorgorog cleaved through his own loot, chopping an autocannon in two and spilling autorounds all over the floor.

'Why you little git! Come here space marine,' the Ork bellowed, brandishing the Great Green Klaw. Much to Gorgorog's delight, Kell charged towards him, wildly swinging Sellaraen in an overhead arc. Catching the beautiful blade in his Klaw, Gorgorog snarled in delight, and then, he realized that he had fallen for a trap. There in Kell's offhand, glowing a brilliant blue, was a Commissar's plasma pistol, pulled from the loot pile. Before Gorgorog could react, Kell had pressed the weapon into the base of the Great Green Klaw at Gorgorog's wrist and fired. The superheated blast of plasma tore through the ramshackle armor and Mek engineering that made up the base of the Klaw and melted through the greenskin's green skin. That which wasn't destroyed by the blast was scattered by the force of the explosion it caused, and Kell staggered back as he lost his footing and his grasp on his blade.

Sellaraen soared through the air and skidded across the hangar bay floor, surrounded by pieces of the decimated Power Klaw. Gorgorog howled in anguish and rage as he realized that his favorite toy had just been blasted to smithereens by something from his own loot pile. Not caring that his hand had been destroyed, he battered Kell's head with the stump that had become his left arm and slashed at him with the Aeldari blade. Kell staggered back from the lightning-fast onslaught, which he hadn't expected after inflicting such a wound. He ducked a swinging stump punch and rolled beneath a quicksilver sweep of the Aeldari blade. Then, he pointed the plasma pistol up again, only to find that it had been damaged when he destroyed the Great Green Klaw. Dropping the useless gun, Kell began moving away from his opponent, dodging attacks left and right. "Weapons, weapons" he muttered to himself, and for a brief moment, Kell risked a glimpse away from his barbaric opponent and back to the loot that was scattered all around them, hoping to find another gun, or sword, or anything to help him put down the Xeno bastard. But it was a wasted look, and a foolish one, as the Warboss hooked the curved blade underneath his left pauldron, and wrenched up on it, flinging Kell up over his head and smashing him into the ground.

Pushing himself up off of the floor, Kell simply wasn't fast enough. Gorgorog stomped on Kell's back, cracking his already damaged armor and re-breaking the few bones that had been in the process of healing. 'I'm gonna strap what's left of you onto a rocket, and shoot you into your own ship,' Gorgorog shouted, as he stomped down on Kell again, and again. 'Now,' the Ork said, 'howsabout I give you that choppa you wanted so much!' Lifting the curved wraithbone blade above his head, Gorgorog prepared to deliver the killing blow, a decapitation. But then, the Ork paused and looked up and away from Kell as he heard a terrible noise - the sound of a gunship's engines starting.

"Open fire," Damien shouted over the vox. And as Kell lifted his head, he saw a stream of bolter fire soar above him, followed by a blast of plasma from Damien, who was charging in towards Gorgorog. Salazar was still firing his heavy bolter at Gorgorog, while Rugen was reloading so that he could begin firing into the surrounding greenskin horde. From above him, he heard heavy steps stagger back, and a gruff voice that howled in pain.

'YOU CHEATED, SPACE MARINE,' Gorgorog cried, dropping the Aeldari blade in agony while being pelted by mass-reactive bolter fire and plasma shots. 'BOYZ, KILL EM ALL!

The greenskin horde shouted in bloodthirsty glee, 'waaaaaaagh, WAAAAAAAGH,' but Salazar and Rugen had already reloaded and began firing precision shots into the surrounding Orks. Seeing this, Gorgorog turned and ran to the cover behind his throne, and started scrounging for a weapon with his remaining hand.

Kell could feel the adrenaline and painkilling stims enter his body through what remained of his Mk.10 power armor, and as he began to rise, he felt Damien at his side, lifting him to his feet.

"You couldn't have done that sooner, brother?"

'The gunship wasn't powered up yet, besides, I've seen you get out of worse.'

Kell almost chuckled, and was it not for the immense pain and intensity of the gunfire surrounding them, he probably would have. Looking down, Kell saw both the Aeldari sword and Sellaraen on the ground. "Damien, secure the objective and get to the ship, I'll be right behind you."

'But Kell-'

"That is an order, you're faster right now, and your armor is in better condition."

'Acknowledged.' Damien quickly grabbed the Aeldari sword and charged towards the gunship, which was hovering a few feet above the ground, pivoting to face the sealed hangar bay doors. Kell, through great pain, ran limping over to his own sword, Sellaraen, and retrieved it. Countless shots from the low-quality greenskin weapons glanced harmlessly off of his armor, but that was not the present danger. The Orks were all gathering around the massive loot pile around Gorgorog's throne and began rummaging through it, finding more dangerous and more deadly weapons in the process. 'Brother Sergeant,' Salazar shouted over vox, 'we need to leave before they can muster something strong enough to shoot us down.'

"Acknowledged," Kell said as he began moving towards the gunship, "Lysander!"

'Yes, Brother Sergeant?'

"As soon as it is safe to do so, instruct the pilot to fire everything he has at that pile of weaponry."

'Compliance.'

The instructions were relayed, and as Kell approached the gunship, Damien reached a hand out from the back, where the boarding ramp had been lowered. 'Grab on tight,' Damien yelled, 'you just ordered a guardsman to decompress the whole bay!' Their hands clasped, and Damien heaved Kell into the back of the Vendetta gunship. Though it was built to transport ten humans, it was fairly crowded with the five Primaris Astartes. Then, taking Damien's advice, Kell mag-locked his armor boots to the floor of the gunship, and not a moment too soon.

Sitting in the pilot control seat, Aryin grinned as he flicked up the trigger protection, and unleashed a hellacious blast of lascannon fire into the Ork loot pile. As Gorgorog peeked up from behind his cover, the last thing he saw was a bright red storm of death that slammed into his beloved loot pile with unrelenting fury and ignited the massive cache of projectiles and explosives that it contained. The explosion blew the hangar bay doors into the void, and anything that wasn't tightly secured flew out with it, as the entire hangar was decompressed. Fortunately, Aryin knew what he was doing, and before the Vendetta gunship was damaged by any debris being pulled into the void, he slammed on the throttle. Like a greyhound being let off its leash, the gunship thundered out of the hangar bay at a blistering speed and spiraled into the void.

'Throne!' Aryin shouted, 'she flies like smooth starch dough without gravity bogging her down!'

"Steady yourself, Guardsman," Lysander said, "put vox command through to the fuselage panel. Once I've established vox communication with the Nightbreaker, I'll arrange for a Thunderhawk to escort you to her hangar bay."

'Don't think I'll need an escort,' Aryin said, 'I can see her on the nav display. She's the big one on the outskirts of the fleet, yeah?'

"Do not approach! This aircraft just deployed out of a captured vessel, they have every reason to blast us from the heavens."

'Right. Vox control coming to you now, my lord.'

"Acknowledged. Now, enact evasive maneuvers and keep us alive, the objective must be delivered."

'My lord Lysander, this is a Vendetta class gunship variant, I've got five lascannons at full charge ready for revenge. You just hold on tight!' The comm system went dark, and it became clear that the young guardsman did not intend to play it safe.

Lysander growled as he prepared to recite the techprayers necessary to contact the Nightbreaker. "It is surprising that the guardsman is still alive given his lack of respect for compliance."

'Yes,' Rugen chuckled, 'he is quite a bit braver now that you can't reach him in the cockpit.'

"Well there's nothing for us to do about it now," Kell said, the pain of his injuries beginning to wash away. "Mercurial, maglock yourselves in place, and hope that our young pilot is as good as he thinks he is."

Fortunately for the Solar hands, he was. The battle raged above the orbit of a dusty orange planet, with Thunderhawks and Stormravens colored in white and gold liveries tearing through salvaged and stolen Ork fighters. Though the greenskin fleet consisted of at least 12 decently sized voidships, they were all dwarfed by the massive battle barge that Aryin assumed to be the Nightbreaker. Rockets, torpedoes, and lascannon bolts streaked across the starry void, each explosion a dash of light and color in the blackness. Scanning his surroundings, Aryin pulled the Vendetta into a corkscrew dive, maneuvering behind a formation of three Ork fighter planes, which appeared to be made from scrap metal. Then, opening up his lascannons, he blasted two of them from the heavens, with the third one barely pulling away from the bloodthirsty guns of the Vendetta.

Following closely behind, Aryin tailed the greenskin pilot across the void and through the scraps of fallen ships, nimbly skirting around larger wrecks. Then he saw an opportunity, as the greenskin had gone over one of the floating hulks, while Aryin saw that it had a massive missile crater within it, one that might be wide enough to fit the Vendetta. Pushing Promethium into his engines, Aryin rocketed the Vendetta towards the gap, his entire body tensed and clenching. Then, as the thread to the needle, he was in. The darkness of the wrecked hulk was almost as alarming as the sudden quiet that came with it, as the remnants of this once-great battleship protected them from the raging battle outside of it. However, this brief respite was immediately countered by the intense maneuvering required to pilot a ship through such immense wreckage at breakneck speeds. Mere seconds later, Aryin cleared the gap and yanked on the control rod, pulling him up and beneath the path that the greenskin pilot was thundering towards. With the trap set, Aryin grinned as he saw his prey fall into it, saying "this is for the Pride of the Penitent, you Xeno filth." Five lascannon blasts tore the Ork flying machine to ribbons and melted what remained.

'Nightbreaker command, this is Mercurial Squad, respond.' Lysander growled under his breath, and tried again, 'Nightbreaker command, this is Mercurial Squad, we hold the objective, respond.'

The vox was silent for a moment longer, until a staticky voice finally came from it. "Astra Militarum gunship, identify yourself." Hearing this, Kell went to the vox panel and voiced a message of his own. 'Nightbreaker, this is Sergeant Kell Cristorus, we have secured the objective aboard this gunship, requesting immediate support!'

A pause. Then, 'compliance.' The staticky voice began relaying information, saying, 'Thunderhawk gunships will be rerouted to escort you to the Nightbreaker momentarily.'

"Emperor's blessings, finally some good news," Kell said to Mercurial squad behind him. Then, realizing that he was still on an open vox channel, he said "For the Council."

The vox panel blinked several times until the same half-electric voice answered, 'and for Terra.'

In the cockpit, Aryin was laughing as he shot down his fifth greenskin fighter, and in his flight, he almost didn't notice the blinking of the vox. Tapping it open, he heard a harsh voice through his headgear. "Astra Militarum gunship pilot, move to heading 187.563 by 17.541, and prepare to be escorted to hangar bay seven aboard the Nightbreaker."

'I, uh, right, acknowledg- I mean, compliance,' Aryin said, as he turned towards the designated heading. Within a few moments, he saw that he was flanked by two large gunships - Thunderhawks. Then it became three, then four, and to his amazement, Aryin realized that he was being escorted by a total of eight space marine vessels. 'Throne, whatever they took from the greenskins has got to be worth more than my old Commissar. Holy Terra, might be worth more than two of him.' Tapping the comm system back into life, Aryin began speaking to Mercurial Squad again. 'We're being escorted into a hangar bay on that ship you mentioned, looks like we're high priority too.'

"Thank the Emperor," Kell said, his ribcage having just fused itself back together. He sighed, "I hope that there is enough time for us to mourn Garos before we are required once more."

There was a moment of silence, then, 'Kell,' Damien said, 'Brother Garos is dead, and he will be mourned, there is no reason to worry for him. If I were you, Brother, I would worry for our wayward Guardsman pilot.'

"All too true, Brother. I have but one notion that might lead to the First Captain sparing the boy's life." And as Aryin slowed to dock the Vendetta gunship within hangar bay seven aboard the Nightbreaker, the pain of Kell's wounds was replaced with worry within his heart.