Venenum Filios Chapter 2

The noise was staggering, the clamour of armoured boots, the snapping of weapon actions and the subliminal hum of power armour, mixed in with a hundred voices all talking at once. This was magnified by the tight confines of the ship's compartment and the distant rumble of the engines. The busy industry and preparations of a Battle-Company making ready for war would have staggered any mortal man. Astartes however were used to this; they had waged war for centuries and were accustomed to such a racket.

The Space Marines were divided into squads, making their preparations in groups. They would carefully check their armour's void seals one by one, then attend to each other's, meticulously double checking. They were expecting void combat and when it came to the dangers of space there was no such thing as too much preparation. Standing amid the hubbub was a warrior, marked out from his kin by his expanded Comm-gear and the long Vox-antenna that stood proud of his backpack. He had a large Friction-Axe locked to his hip and his right arm was an augmetic replacement below the elbow.

His name was Persion and he was a member of the Third Company, a command-squad veteran. Persion was stood with his arms outstretched; patiently waiting as his armour was being checked. Persion looked over the assembled Astartes, seeing Third Company making its preparations.

Among the ranks Persion picked out Sergeant Matheus, the proud and straight-laced Tactical-squad leader and there was Zeax, a dour Devastator. There was Sergeant Mylos, looking sour as usual and there was Lorath an Assault Sergeant. Lorath and Persion both stood out among this company, while most Storm Heralds came from the planet Lujan II these two were both were natives of the feral, secondary recruiting world Trux. Everybody else seemed to think that this should make them best friends but Persion was largely indifferent to that common bond. They were both Storm Heralds, what more needed to be said?

There was a satisfied exhalation from behind and the sound of a pair of hands clapped together, then another Space Marine stepped into view. It was Furion, the command-squad Sergeant and he declared, "Well everything seems to be in order, you won't die of vacuum exposure this time."

Persion nodded in gratitude, looking Furion up and down. He was a giant of a Space Marine, standing head and shoulders over his kin. This was exacerbated by the bulk of his antique Mark III armour; a jagged and hard-edged relic compared to the smooth lines of the contemporary Mark VI and Mark VII plate in common use. It suited him though, the bulky suit emphasizing his strength and fortitude. It was rumoured that Furion had been in line for the Chaplaincy, until he fell afoul of internal politics and been sent back to the ranks.

Persion stepped behind Furion and sighed, the Mark III plate was prized for its robust heft and layered armour but the down-side was that there were three times as many nooks and crannies to hide seals in; this was going to take ages. Persion bent to begin the laborious task of checking Furion's seals and as he did so he said, "So, do you think the intel is good?"

Furion was standing still but he answered, "It seems so, the Inquisition's data has been correct so far. If it is true then we should catch the Traitor's unaware."

"Traitors," Persion spat in disgust, "It makes my blood boil to think of facing them once more, we owe them for the attack on Lujan II."

"You know what troubles me," a voice came from beside them, "This intel came from the Inquisition. From that snake Zerban, do we really trust him?"

Persion glanced to his side, seeing the Company Champion also being checked over. His name was Novak and he was an irreverent and loose-tongued warrior, but with a blade in hand he was a prodigy. Yet his face was a mass of flash burns and deep scars, a reminder of an encounter with a Dark Eldar a couple of years earlier. Novak however had not lost his spirit, remaining upbeat and impudent at heart. Persion knew that he was smarter than he let on but Novak seemed to like being one of the squad and avoided the responsibilities of being a leader.

Persion drew in a breath and said, "Everything else has panned out so far, the Traitor's starfort was right where they said it would be, orbiting this dead rock in the middle of the Serrati Stellas. It looks like the Inquisition is actually on the level for once."

From behind Novak a mechanical voice intoned, "+I don't like it, I feel like I'm waiting for the first thing to go wrong+"

Persion nodded as he worked, that was the voice of Bylan the Company Standard Bearer. Bylan had been a crippled aspirant, destined to the life of a serf until he showed true heroism. The intervention of Captain Toran, (and a pair of augmetic lungs), had seen him given another chance. The lad had received no other favours and had risen on merit but he had been left with a bad case of hero worship for the Captain.

Persion declared, "Nothing we can do about it, what will come will come. We have to take it head on."

Another voice called, "It can't come soon enough, my blade thirsts for Traitor blood."

That was Jediah, who was the most conventional looking of the squad. Yet his fair façade hid a brutal and bloodthirsty warrior. In Persion's opinion he enjoyed his work far too much and lacked moral fibre. Yet Jediah's one redeeming virtue was his respect for strength, those who proved themselves worthy would find his fealty to be unbreakable.

Persion was distracted as his hand snagged on an awkward rim of Furion's armour, he grimaced and withdrew his arm to look closer. Sure enough down below the knee joint a seal had broken free and was hanging tantalizingly out of reach. Persion was irked but he had a solution, he switched hands and pushed his augmetic one into the joint. His wrist rotated 180 degrees, in a fashion organic bones would not allow and his fingers moved in a way normal sinews couldn't as he fixed the seal. Persion had disliked the replacement arm at first, finding it clumsy to begin with but at times it had proved exceedingly useful.

He straightened up and patted Furion on the pauldrons saying, "All ready."

Furion nodded in gratitude and declared, "Then let the Traitors fear us, nothing will gainsay our wrath."

The squad had finished their preparations and looked over the hall, seeing the rest of the Company finishing too. Rows of squads were preparing for the coming fight, the Third Company ready and eager for war. However Bylan frowned and said, "+What is eating Mylos?+"

Persion glanced over and saw Sergeant Mylos berating one of his squad. Persion scowled, for Mylos was a sour soul, aggrieved by loss. He was a competent Sergeant but his attitude stank, a fact that Persion had seen fit to use his fists to explain on occasions. Jediah piped up to say, "Is it just me or has he been getting worse the last few months?"

Persion agreed and said, "If he doesn't change his ways then soon he's going to find himself with an unexpected transfer to another Company."

"Yes, send him to Fourth Company," chipped in Novak, "Let Captain Jossat worry about him, they deserve each other."

"Enough," growled Furion in admonishment, "Mylos is a Sergeant and should command your respect. Honour the rank if you cannot admire the man."

The squad were humbled by the rebuke but thankfully were saved from further scolding by the emergence of three more Brothers. The first was Chaplain Wrethan, a stern taskmaster with an undercurrent of pride for the Marines under him. The second was Apothecary Memnos, a rational and level-headed Marine and the last was Captain Toran, a young officer and a rising star in the Chapter.

Persion had served with Toran for a long time, long before he was a Captain. Toran was a brilliant and innovative leader, with a surprising track record for one who was barely a century old. Yet he did have a tendency to overthink things and wasn't above a bit of theatre to get his point across. Persion was sure that Toran was destined for greatness and sometimes speculated if he too might rise higher in the Captain's wake.

As they watched the trio strode to the centre of the room and Toran called, "Company, give me your eyes."

Third Company came to attention as Toran waited, his red augmetic eye and cloak cutting a dashing figure and his weapon, the legendary Sword of Thiel, hanging by his hip. He waited for the Company, then declared, "There's been a complication."

From the back Sergeant Lorath asked, "What's happened?"

Toran responded by summoning a Hololithic projection, shining down from high above. It displayed a starfort, a large one, uncommonly wide and festooned with guns. Toran began, "As you all know, the Inquisition provided us with the location of this Alpha Legion base. It has been hiding under our noses for years, lurking here in the Serrati Stellas like a spider in its web."

"Ramilies class," spat Mylos, "How the hell did the Traitors hide something that big for all these years. The Imperium's incompetence is astounding."

Toran ignored the remark and said, "As we all know such a bastion is heavily fortified, a frontal assault will be bloody and time-consuming. The Chapter is still rebuilding following the recent Tyrannid encounters, we can ill-afford such a battle, but thanks to the Thunderchild we have other options."

Everybody nodded for their ship, the Thunderchild, was a rare breed. It was a capital ship but one equipped with the rare and exotic Reflex Shields, a form of stealth technology almost unheard of in this age. Even now the Thunderchild was drifting into position, closing upon the Traitor's base, unseen and undetected.

Sergeant Lorath called, "So what's the problem?"

Toran explained, "The Thunderchild cannot fight a starfort alone, so we were meant to infiltrate closer and insert a boarding party. Our mission was to break open the defences for the following Imperial taskforce under the authority of Inquisitor Zerban. Unfortunately as we closed in we detected this."

Persion leaned in as a red icon flashed in the Hololith, he read the binaric screed displayed next to it and gasped, "That is a C-101 Vigilia-model auspex array, it can pick up the beat of a gnat's wings in the middle of a typhoon from high orbit. They haven't made it's like in ten thousand years, how can the Traitors have got one of those?"

"Hardly matters" spat Mylos, "This destroys any chance to board via torpedo or gunship. They will detect us instantly and blast us from the void."

Furion mused, "What about a teleport insertion?"

Persion replied, "Not possible, the energy build-up can't be hidden by Reflex Shields. We're already running on minimal power as it is."

"Ram them," barked Lorath, "Use the Thunderchild as a battering ram and board directly."

Furion shook his head, "Not viable, the chances of making contact without being detected are practically nil. The Thunderchild would be blown apart by their guns before we could board."

"What we need is something smaller," suggested Sergeant Matheus, "Something too tiny to trigger an alert and low-powered to evade detection."

Toran nodded and said, "That was my conclusion too, which is why we're going to jump into the void."

"Jump," questioned Mylos, "On inertia alone?"

"Yes," answered Toran, "The Thunderchild will make one close pass and we will drift over, on inactive mode to avoid detection."

"Inactive," said Furion, "So no life support?"

Toran answered grimly, "Minimum heating only to keep out the void-chill, a single spark more will trigger the auspex."

Novak interjected, "I hope everybody knows how to hold their breaths."

Nobody chuckled at that, the situation being too grim for mirth. Furion asked, "What is our projected intercept velocity?"

Toran's face fell and he said, "Thirty metres per second." That brought gulps, it was a speed that would break the spines of any mortal who attempted it, this would be testing the Astartes to their limits.

"So we drift over as dead weight and hope not to glance off into space," Mylos spat insolently, "That's your plan?"

"Yes," answered Toran sternly, "Now we are barely two hours out, I suggest you all make ready."

Then the meeting broke up, everybody going to check and recheck their gear and Persion muttered under his breath, "Well… this should be different."