OMAKE WARNING!

First of all, I just want to thank everybody who has stayed with 'And They Shall Know No Fear', even though I don't update very often. Actually, I have an excuse: schoolwork. However, now that it's the Christmas holidays (MERRY CHRISTMAS!), I should be able to write some more. (Of course, I also have a brand new unit of terminators for my 40K army to paint up…..)

Anyway, to celebrate the festive season, get myself back into the writing, and to give you all a little something, here's a few little bits and pieces I've decided to do:

Chapter Three and a half: In the Grim darkness of the 41st millennium, there are only small light bulbs.

Ritsuko was tired. As much as she hated to admit it, the fleshy parts of her body still needed rest, and her brain was still mostly organic. Closing her non-bionic eye for a moment, she rubbed the bridge of her nose before continuing.

At that moment, she was cooped up in a small, dark alcove, delving deeper into a previously unknown computer archive. It had been found when the EVA bays had been opened, but in the haste of organising the project the files had only been glanced at before put aside.

Access denied.

The techpriest frowned slightly, as the system seemed to have a powerful firewall protection around it. Quickly typing in an amendment to the hacking program, she let it run through again.

Access granted.

Smiling in triumph, Ritsuko scanned through the files that had previously been locked. Soon, her smile became wider, as she found that the data type matched that which had been decoded from the EVA computers.

Excellent. She thought, as she opened up a file at random.

Instantly, a harsh bashing and screaming noise assaulted her ears. Quickly resetting her hearing implants to the lowest possible setting, Ritsuko tried to make out what the noise was. She had heard enough dark-age 'music', if that's what it was even called back then, to recognise the sound of the percussion and stringed instruments, but the language being used was completely incomprehensible to her.

Moving her hand to the computer terminal she had brought with her, she typed in the command for the language translator.

After a few moments, a message appeared on the screen.

Main Language: Ancient Terran 'English.' Sub-category: 'Heavy Metal screaming.' Translation: Impossible.

xxx

Meanwhile, several hundred light-years away…

A soldier was sitting hunched over in a trench. He was cold, he was wet, and he was tired. But as a member of the glorious Imperial Guard, he was supposed to be above such trifles. Well, that's what the commissar had told him, at least.

Several feet away, he could hear Simmons, a member of his platoon, cursing softly to himself.

"Emperor-damned darkness, how the hell am I supposed to use a bloody vox-caster (AN: radio) if they don't put a light on it?"

"Having trouble there, Simmons?" asked the soldier lightly.

"No, I'm having the time of my life, Griff. Thanks for asking."

Ignoring the sarcasm dripping from his friend's voice, Griff continued.

"You want a light?"

"You got one?"

"Sure."

Turning his lasgun to "high", Griff passed the weapon over.

"Its not much, but it should give you enough to find a real flashlight with."

xxx

Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet….

A Warrior sat on a piece of broken masonry, examining his heavy chainaxe for any deficiencies. Finding none, he worked his tired muscles around in slow arcs, his power armour creaking slightly.

Must ask Santa for some new shoulder pads thought the Traitor marine of the World Eaters legion. Removing his Helmut, the scars he had ritually gashed into his own face were blaringly obvious. Unclipping a hipflask from his belt, he took a long swing of the red liquid contained within.

Blood for the Blood God, I know, but having a little for myself won't hurt.

Lying back, he soon fell asleep, only to awake to the faint sound of jingling bells. Up on one of the demolished buildings, he could make out a rounded figure, dressed in a fluffy red suit, alongside what appeared to be an animal-driven transport. The person was looking around and scratching his head.

"I'm sure it was around here somewhere… there is definitely a chimney on the map…"

The marine standing below raised his bolt pistol, and screamed "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" as he emptied a full clip of .75 calibre shells into the direction of the figure on the roof. Charging to the top of the building, he saw that one of the bolts had hit its target.

The fat man in the fluffy suit opened one eye slowly, and said "You've been a bad boy this year…", trailing off as he died.

The traitor marine stood there for a moment, slightly embarrassed.

Ah. I just killed Santa.

After a lengthy pause, he opened the sack lying next to the sleigh, just to see if he was getting the new shoulderpads.

xxx

(Chuckle) Ok, I know that some people wont be getting some of the jokes, but any 40K fan will. And no, I couldn't resist the 'flashlight' joke.

Hopefully Santa didn't get a mortal wound after all, and he visits every one of you. Merry Christmas, a happy new year, and I'll try and get a REAL chapter written!

P.S. this was written before Christmas, shame I couldn't get it posted before, but didn't want to let me publish it! Something error or something….