Chapter III

Seth had the scarf tightly wrapped around his mouth and nose, still the stench disgusted him. Down here the air was poisonous, not to mention the garbage and stench of rotting bodies. Surprisingly he didn't see any, but there was blood here and there on the streets or at the concrete looking walls. He'd seen battlefields more comfortable than this place. The Underhive was cast in constant twilight, the sun's light unable to reach down this far through the dense smog, creating clouds above their heads, while fog at times gathered around their feet; wherever the light was coming from, it must have had an artificial source. The people here mirrored the conditions, with torn clothes in grey and brown, dirty, emaciated and surprisingly young. It would seem no one got old in the Underhive, and several people were missing a limb, sometimes just fingers or an eye. Of course, nobody could afford bionics, so Seth saw plenty badly healed stumps and scars. All in all, he felt highly unnerved and was glad for Brennan walking behind him and Jane like a bodyguard. Everyone here posed a possible threat, so the former Storm-Trooper often found his fingers tracing one of his guns. In a place controlled by gangs it was suicidal to go unarmed. In times like this, he missed a battlefield with a definitive enemy.

All three of them wore bodygloves underneath casual clothing in all variations the colors brown and grey had to offer. Within those layers of cloth they all had hidden as many weapons and ammunition as they were able to carry, along with a few explosives.

"Hive-world; why don't we ever go anywhere nice?" Seth asked grumpily after a while.

Jane frowned at his remark, though beneath the mask she wore it remained unseen. "You didn't like Vindobona, not Victoria Primus; what kind of world do you like?"

"Vindobona was a world made entirely out of ice; you can't tell me you've enjoyed it. Besides, I liked my home world, Cambria." Cambria was a green, almost idyllic Agra-World, lucky enough to have been spared war in the past three-thousand years. Seth had left it when he had joined the Imperial Guard as a boy and never returned. Undeniably his own fault, he acknowledged. "Let's just hope Basil send us the right way."

Hours earlier Nicomedo had withdrawn to his chambers, where he sat down cross-legged, unbothered by the cold floor. He shut out the sounds of the vessel around him and concentrated, his mind reaching out for the spire, for those living there. Within a short time he lost the feeling for his own body, but expanded his mind, reaching inside Obsaepio with focus on the Underhive, where the brood would have flourished. Despite not having any physical contact, he could sense what was down there, smell the poisonous air, feel the rust and taste the foulness; it was contaminating, still he reached out for the minds, some easier to invade than others.

A woman in her twenties crouched down in a shed. She coughed up blood, the red drops spreading over the feminine hand, as she was slowly dying from a hemorrhagic fever, with a few days left at most. She knew nothing about any xeno life-forms, and so left her in peace.

Then he was a low-life thief, hiding in the shadows of an abandoned house, listening intensely to footsteps outside. A gang was looking for him; they wanted the tech he owed them, at least the money it was worth, and he had neither. He gripped the small pistol in his hand tighter, his knuckles turning white. Aliens were the least of his worries.

Nicomedo continued like this, moving from mind to mind, seeing and feeling moments of their lives. They were all so young, so clueless about the world they lived in, their horizon not expanding over the mists of the Underhive, forever trapped there. He felt pity and resentment at the same time; the Inquisitor disliked ignorance, though keeping people in nescience about his works was mandatory. The common knowledge about xenos or the dangers of the warp was petty for good reason. On the one hand, many people would probably not be able to cope with such knowledge, realizing the numerous enemies, simply snap at the transpired horrors across the galaxy or at their own doorstep; even experienced Acolytes fought with what they witnessed at times, some snapping completely. On the other hand, learning about those dangerous powers could lead to heresy for some individuals, a risk the Inquisition would not take.

In a war-torn galaxy like this, ignorance was truly bliss for the common citizens, yet Nicomedo was glad for his knowledge; it enabled him to fight the enemies of the Emperor. Someone needed to do this, to risk his life and soul for Him, and Nicomedo did so proudly. For ten thousand year, the Inquisition had helped to safeguard the Imperium of Men, and it would continue to do for many centuries to come. Despite these thoughts in the back of his head, Nicomedo was focused on Underhive; he had to find the nest, and finally take action against the enemy.

Next he was a boy, remembering something he had seen the previous day. There had been a dead body, not an unusual sight even to the eight year old, but there had been a beast, six limbed, with claws like crude daggers, dragging the corpse into the tunnels. The boy knew the place, it had lain dormant for longer than he was alive, and led far beneath even the Underhive. He had heard about many disappearing close to these tunnels, they all had thought it to be gangs or mutants. That beast had been the most terrifying mutant the boy had ever seen, so he'd vowed never to go back there. Good for him he most likely didn't need to, Nicomedo however now knew where to send his team.

Seth knew they were being followed, a hand ready at one of his holsters. Several men had been following them over the past fifteen minutes, armed as far as he could tell and some even equipped with a bit of Flak Armor. Further down the road, the main street split into two directions. Seth exchanged looks with Jane, who nodded towards a street to their left, only a few feet ahead of them and took her own weapon, a Laspistol. Brennan tapped on Seth's shoulder, directing his attention to a shade coming from the street to their right. By his estimation, they'd be facing at least a dozen; luckily most civilians had disappeared by now, since they had been heading further down the hive, closer to the tunnel and sewer system.

"Brennan, would you introduce us?" The Storm Trooper asked, drawing his Hellpistol, an old friend from his time with the Guard.

A grenade hit the ground, and grey smoke filled the narrow streets. Several las-shots passed over their heads, as the Acolytes went for cover, accompanied by a few screams of fleeing civilians, the few still around, who now ran for the alleys along the streets. While Brennan had thrown the grenade, Jane had killed a gang member behind them, before taking cover behind a turn ahead to avoid enemy fire.

Seth was taking care of the two coming from the street to his right, the first shot ripping apart a throat, as the other one used a large chunk of debris on the street as cover. With a short look over his shoulder, Seth saw, through his night goggles that he had kept underneath his hood up to this point, how Brennan killed a young boy, who had been foolish enough to attack the bounty hunter with a rusty knife. Brennan had taken position across the street from Jane, both keeping the rest of the gang at bay.

Seth turned back and approached the rock, carefully watching for any sign of the other men. A shot from behind however, though it was way over his head, got his attention long enough for his enemy to jump out and charge. Seth aim was off, but still hit the right shoulder, causing his attacker to lose his grip on the gun, and stumble but he was already too close.

A powerful kick sent Seth flying backwards through a door behind him, which had only been leaning against the doorframe. It broke under his weight, smashed into splinters and dust. Coughing up dusk, Seth shot at his enemy coming after him through the doorway, one bullet going in the abdomen, the other into the chest, before the gang member could make use of the knife he'd just drawn out of his boot. A scream to his right caught Seth's attention, he turned quickly around, by kicking the floor with his feet, only to find his Hellpistol aimed at a woman, who was guarding a little girl with her arms, both cowering in the corner. He relaxed and got back on his feet. "Sorry ma'am." Seth apologized to the still completely shocked woman. She reached for something hidden beneath the mat. Lucky for him, her fear affected her aim, and two las-shots dug into the wall only a few centimeters beside his head.

Seth practically jumped over the body out the door again, taking a few shots at another gang member, who at the time was keeping Jane in cover. Though Seth's target didn't die, the medicae could fire back, almost decapitating a man with an archaic gas-mask for a face, launching bits of his brain, rubber and plastic to all sides. Brennan had picked up another corpse, using it as a shield. The young boy was already quite tattered, while the bounty hunter just had a few scratches, calmly clearing the road from where the three Acolytes originally had come from. Seth quickly counted: of the initial fifteen gang members, only six were still alive. One was hiding behind the corner of an alley, though his shank was showing, which Jane shot, making the man stubble into the streets where she finished him off.

"Not your day?" The medicae asked, referring to Seth's lacking performance.

"I had better. Maybe I should've taken a mask as well." He wasn't sure if it really was the air he'd been breathing the past two hours, but he would need to improve quickly. He calmed his breathing and aimed; three more fell dead to the ground, all of them with a new hole in their heads. "There we go." Seth began to feel dizzy, and supported himself on the nearby wall.

Jane checked the streets, realizing that Brennan could take care of the rest, before she removed her mask, and pressed it on her partners face. "Try to breathe calmly." She advised. This happened quite often when visiting a new planet; the air pressure, and composition varied from world to world, and of course it differed from the condition in a starship. They all would need time to get used to the air here on Victoria Primus, time they probably didn't have. The bounty hunter, finished off the last one, and rejoined them, letting the boy's body he'd used as a shield hit the ground.

"Had enough already? The fun is just beginning."

Seth smiled tiredly underneath the mask. "Don't worry, nothing a bit of oxygen couldn't cure."

While the three Acolytes were scouting in the Underhive, Apothecary Seneca was preparing the Genestealer body he had received. The dark red skin and bluish skeletal-features told him the brood came from a Behemoth splinter-fleet, like Hive Fleet Gorgen, which had been defeated not too long ago by combined forces of Tau and the Imperial Guard.

Seneca looked up from the dissection table, to look at Taylor, who was watching with keen interest. The Untouchable seemed undisturbed by the open body, or the strong smell, though it probably wasn't as bad for Taylor, since he was lacking the improved senses of an Astartes.

"Do you fear the alien, Mr. Taylor?" The Apothecary asked him.

The Acolyte directed his eyes up to Seneca, and shrugged. "As a blank it's said I lack a soul, and am not even capable of feeling fear...though I can say that I'm not looking forward to going down there and face these things in combat; especially in confined space." He regarded the Apothecary for a moment. "I've heard that Space Marines don't know fear, or is that just an exaggeration?"

"Yes and no." Seneca admitted. "People develop most fears as a result of learning, regardless of whether they themselves have experienced trauma, or if they have observed the fears in others. Space Marines are recruited and conditioned from a young age; you could almost say we never develop fears in the first place, or at the very least our response to a usually fear inducing stimulus is so minor, to the point of being imperceptible."

"Huh; I once heard someone saying, Space Marines get the part of the brain responsible for fear removed."

To Taylors surprise Seneca laughed, even if it was short lived. "As far as I'm concerned, the part of the brain mainly being involved is the amygdale, very close to the Brain's center; it couldn't be removed without damaging other parts. Besides, it has several other functions, rendering its removal into rather foolish endeavor."

At first Taylor didn't reply, and it was silent in the medical bay, except for the humming sound of the ship as well as an occasional cracking of Tyranid bones. "This may sound strange, but I sometimes would like to fear, to be afraid." He began quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself.

Seneca raised an eyebrow at this unusual wish. He himself had never found the lack of fear to be a disadvantage, and he was curious why someone else would. "Why, Mr. Taylor?"

"Oh, I don't mean fear in the sense of panicking, just a little fear…to make me more cautious. As long as I was on my own, I could be reckless, get myself in all kinds of trouble, and it was only affecting me." He sighed, as he continued there was something grave in his voice. "It's different as part of a team; I might be able to keep a cool head in any kind of situation, but at the same time I don't always realize a dangerous situation. It just seems like a matter of time until I get one of them killed."

"You can't count on fear to solve this problem. Take advantage of your calmness, and try to be rational, reconsider rash actions whenever you can. We Space Marines may know no fear, but we still possess caution." The Apothecary paused, with a thoughtful expression. "At least those with more experience."

Taylor gave him a grim smile. "I don't think I'll live long enough to gain that much experience."

"But you have a rational mind; make use of it, and get accustomed with the idea of losing those at your side. All wars demand losses, no matter your own efforts, the difference we make, is whether it will be few or many."

longum iter est per praecepta,breve et efficax per example

Long is the way by lecturing, short and effective by using examples