Edits mades: Name of Imperial dropships – Changed to Shark Assault dropships.
Inquisitorial seal on Stormtroopers' armour.
Vincent Shultz's thoughts
Name of Ultrmarines Battle-Barge
Chapter 11 – Dawn Of Humanity
Know this, son of Guilliman. The father of our Chapter watches over us always. He knows your soul, your strengths and, aye, even your doubts. The chain of command must not be broken or we are nothing. Discipline and order are everything on the battlefield and the army lives by the credo will triumph.
- Marneus Augustus Calgar, Grand Master of the Ultramarines Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes
The concussions and tremors caused by the orbital bombardments and artillery hitting the earth could be felt from deep below the ground in the large basement as a female human seethed and cried in both pain and exhaustion as she attempted to bring her baby into the world. She knew that any minute now they would come and take him away from her, and she was desperate to at least hold him and keep him away from them for as long as her weakened, dying form would allow her.
Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to keep consciousness, where she then felt a kleenex wipe the sweat of her forehead courtesy of a kind soul. She could not remember, and didn't even care, who did that, but grateful that he or she was there. She gradually recognised whom it was that was helping her with the birth of her son, and upon realising she still had her mind intact she felt somewhat at ease.
The female Tau midwife smiled reassuringly at the young brown-haired woman who was spread out on the hospital bed. With sweat rolling down face and collecting on her hospital gown, she was struggling to breath as she gripped hold of the hand of a nearby sympathetic human, who was dressed in Tau battle gear with a scoped lasgun slung over his shoulder.
The female Tau, who appeared to resemble more of a human woman except for the flat face and sans the nose, said soothingly, "Come on, baby. Just one more push and he shall come to existence."
"IT HURTS! GAHHHHHH!"
It was at that precise moment when a Tau Fire Warrior Shas'ui bursted into the room, panic on his face and holding a smoking plasma rife, startling everyone present in the basement. Another nursemaid, a chestnut haired middle-aged human woman, angrily stepped up to him, having distinctively remembered telling no one to come into the room during this 'time.'
"By the Ethereals, what is wrong with you?" she berated him.
The distressed Shas'ui shook his head and cried, "It is over! They have taken the fortress. All is…"
The newborn infant's shrill cry pierced through the air, silencing the Shas'ui as he looked over the nursemaid and saw the Tau midwife holding the newborn baby in her hands, practically beaming with joy as she handed him over to his mother. Despite severe exhaustion over a forty-hour labour, the mother smiled as she cradled her child in her arms, letting go of the smiling Gue'vesa hand. The look of fatality on the Tau Fire Warrior changed to a relieved smile upon seeing life born again.
His look was suddenly that of pain as a bolter round tore through the door, into his back and pierced his spine, where he chest blew out and the blood spurted on the nursemaid. Terrified, she could only step back and allow the door to be kicked open as a squad of four black-coloured Deathwatch Space Marines stepped into the room carrying boltguns, and each with the Space Wolf insignia on their right shoulder pads, signifying their Chapter of origin. One of the Marines, a Sergeant with his helmet off, beared his sharp, canine teeth in a growl, causing the midwife, nursemaid and Gue'vesa to step back, but stay near the weakened mother and child.
"Inquisitor Kryptmann," the Sergeant spoke into his com, "We have penetrated the basement of the fortress and have secured Project: Avalon and infant."
Excellent, sergeant. I will done there shortly to requisition the infant personally, the other line spoke, Terminate everyone except mother and child.
"Yes, my lord."
The Sergeant raised his boltgun and shot the nursemaid in the head, splattering viscera all over the floor and onto the mother and child. She could nothing but hold onto her child and burst into tears once again as she watched him kill the midwife who helped deliver her child, followed by the Gue'vesa who comforted her, who was ripped in half as the Marine combined bolter fire tore through him.
The sergeant smiled as he blew the smoke away from his boltgun. He then turned towards the mother and stepped over to her, frowning down at her and holding his boltgun at her in a threatening matter. She glared up at him, holding the baby protectively. The Marine sergeant then eyed the infant and aimed his boltgun at him, causing her eyes to fly open and hold the infant tighter.
And all this time the baby still cried, which did nothing to turn the hearts of the Deathwatch. They heard light footsteps courtesy of leather boots followed by heavy, metallic footsteps of metallic boots as more Deathwatch accompanied him. The mother tried to keep her composure and her fear intact, knowing whom it was who came for her and her child, but more likely for her child as she no longer served her purpose.
Soon he came into light, Inquisitor Kryptmann of the Ordo Xenos – The Alien Hunters of the Inquisition. He himself was the leading exper in Tyranids, but has had other interests when it came to aliens. He was a short, middle-aged fair-haired man with his left eye replaced with an eyepiece apparatus and was adorned in Inquisitor-made Aesir Power Armour. His plasma pistol was in a holstered on his left leg which he wasn't compelled to use, seeing how all resistance on this pitiful, unclean colony world has been vanquished.
Accompanied by a red-haired young woman dressed in robes reserved for a Priest they stepped into the room, with two more Deathwatch Marines. The Imperials surrounded the bed where the mother and baby laid and looked down with vehemence at the mother, each believing her to be both a traitor and a damned woman in the eyes of the God-Emperor of Mankind.
Two Marines stepped outside to allow Kryptmann to stand by her side, and flash a rather devilish grin, especially at the infant, whom he was eager to wrest from his mother arms and fulfil the next phase of his inhuman, diabolical scheme.
He moved his face so that it was inches away from the mothers, who continued to glare at him, and he was still smiling.
"Perfection, milady," he said softly and evilly, "It is all going perfect."
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Outside the now desolate, ruined stone fortress on the fields outside laid the bodies of Tau Fire Warriors, Kroot and Gue'vesa Militia, the later equipped in Tau body armour and weapons, yet it wasn't enough to halt the Inquisitorial Stormtroopers' Hell lasers and Deathwatch Marines' bolter rounds. The stormtroopers were adorned in silver-coloured ceremite carapace armour over white BDU's with the Inquisitorial red 'I' insignia on theirs shoulder and steel helmets, and were patrolling around the fields, finishing off any wounded or dying Tau that remained.
A stormtrooper lit a cigarette and took a puff, exhaling smoke rings into the air as he privately celebrated his victory. He then flicked the match away and it landed in the fuel patch of a downed Crisis Suit, it's pilot still alive and barely breathing, only to begin to screaming when the suit was set ablaze, then exploded; scattering pieces of suit and body parts everywhere.
He then heard moaning come from in front of his feet, he looked down to see a Kroot Carnivore lying on his back and groaning in pain, his left leg missing and the bottom half of his right arms severed. The Kroot resembled a cross between an avian and a human, complete with vestigial beaks and what appeared to be feathers. He wore nothing except a yellow ammo belt around his waste and there appeared to be no reproductive organs present.
The Kroot looked wearily up at the stormtrooper who then smiled and cocked his hellgun, aiming it first at his crotch, before slowly raising it to his head.
"Time to die, dickless birdy."
"HEY! UP THERE!"
Another stormtrooper pointed upwards at the night sky, seeing what appeared to be a dozen small objects descending downwards from the atmosphere. The smoking stomtrooper reached for his binoculars and peered upwards, and upon seeing what it was the cigarette which had been dangling in his mouth dropped onto the ground as realised what was coming.
"Oh shit!" he exclaimed, "TAKE COVER! DROP PODS!"
Immediately the stormtroopers and Deathwatch scrambled for cover within as ultramarine-coloured drop pods made impact with the ground, just as the Kroot Carnivore drew his last breath and mercifully didn't feel a thing as a drop pod landed on top of him and crushed his corpse. The Inquisitorial troops evaded left and right as pods crashed all around them.
The cigarette-smoking stormtrooper picked himself up and dusted the entrails splattered on him as he had dove out of the way of a pod onto a Tau body with the torso blasted open and guts had rolled out. He looked very disturbed as wiped the blood off his face with back of his hand, ready to vent his anger out on the Space Marine emerging from a nearby pod.
"Oi!" he cried out loud, "The fuck are you metal lugheads doing?"
One bolt blast later his hellgun was sent flying from his hand and he cried out in fright as the Ultramarine emerged from the drop pod. His smoking boltgun was at the ready and bearing the seal of the 1st Company on his chest plate; which was the golden double headed eagle insignia of the Imperium, including the talons. The stormtrooper was stunned as he felt his now sore hand.
"We are taking over!" the Ultramarine announced with much hostility, "Inquisitorial lapdogs."
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"You can't do this," the mother cried desperately as she struggled, "You can't do this to me. He's mine…"
Her arms were pinned to the side by two Death Watch on either side of the bed, allowing the priestess to reach forward and ascertain the still bawling child, which she immediately begun to whisper words of comfort to the child, but failing to stall it's infant, newborn cries. Kryptmann continued to smile as this was done, the mother immediately crying out in terror.
"NO!"
"Come now, Lucille," Kryptmann said rather calmly, "We all know that baby is not really yours by all rights, but rather a product of the Radicals and the Emperor of Mankind himself. In fact, you should count your blessings…"
He then frowned as the priestess held the crying baby to herself.
"…that we have decided to let him live at all, knowing quite fondly what it took to bring him to reality. But be assured…"
He was now calm and smug.
"…that the Registratum will overlook those facts, and the Schola Progenium will accept him with open arms, and in time his potential will be put to good use, specifically in the eradication of the xenos threat….your weakling friends and associates."
He then turned to the priestess, whom was still trying to silence the baby with kind, reassuring words. Kryptmann crooked his hand towards himself and she immediately complied, handing the infant over to him. The mother known as Lucille watched in horror as Kryptmann held the naked baby by the arms, where immediately it stopped crying and found the Inquisitor to be looking into his eyes.
Kryptmann smiled, "In the name of the Inquisition - the Emperor's divine will, I christen you 'Jacques', and once everything comes to order you will be a living saint in the eyes of the God-Emperor of Mankind."
He then turned to Lucille and frowned.
"As for you, damned woman," he addressed her rather crudely and with much vehemence, as if condemning her…which he was, "By Inquisitorial edict of the Ordos Xeno I hereby declare you unclean."
The Deathwatch at opposite ends of her bed let go of her arms to draw their swords. She didn't fear death, rather she embraced it, knowing that she could no longer live with herself with them taking her child and using him to their wicked, twisted ends. The Deathwatch moved their blades to her neck, forming a scissor.
And he was still holding her child, and smiling.
"Goodbye, Lucille Mortensen – Project Avalon. Despite all misgivings and complications, this was all a complete success."
"INQUISITOR! WAHHH…!"
Suddenly the door was smashed right open as a stormtrooper was hurled screaming right through and landed at the end of the bed. The two Deathwatch withdrew their blades to face this new threat, while the other remaining Deathwatch aimed their boltguns at the door, ready to face whatever threat was about to walk through that door into the basement. Kryptmann drew his plasma pistol and aimed it with one hand at the door, holding baby 'Jacques' in his other arm.
He narrowed his eyes, knowing who was coming for him.
"Calgar."
Sure enough the grey-haired Lord Macragge of Ultramar Calgar emerged from the doorway, all nine-feet of his power-armoured form with the Omega symbol on his chest plate, accompanied by two 1st Company Ultramarines. His attention was immediately drawn to the child in Kryptmann's arms, then to the Deathwatch holding Lucille hostage. His clinched his massive fists, known as the Gauntlets of Ultramar, and glared down at Kryptmann, then over to the Deathwatch, who each impulsively lowered their boltguns upon being given the mean look by a Chapter-Master.
"Kryptmann," he begun, "You and the Radicals should be ashamed of yourselves. Prying a newborn away from his mother, I figured the Inquisition were always moralistic."
The Inquisitor shook his head and lowered his plasma pistol, "You are too late, Space Marine. Project: Avalon has just been concluded and I hold in my arm her results. This is the Emperor's will made manifest in this tiny form."
Calgar crossed his arms, "I wish not to destroy the child, Inquisitor. Rather to protect him from whatever designs the Ordo Xenos and the Radicals have in store for him. You have gone too far this time, Kryptmann."
Kryptmann was now angry with the Lord Macragge, and it was evident with his seething face, "You dare defy and tarnish the Emperor's Holy will, Ultramarine?"
The baby then began to cry again.
"His will has already been tarnished through your project!" Calgar exclaimed, "You have risked contaminating humanity over these barbaric proceedings these last nine months! The Inquisition has now truly gone mad!"
Kryptmann raised his plasma pistol and aimed it upward at Calgar's face, his Deathwatch immediately raising their weapons at the Ultramarine, who in turn readied their weapons. The baby still cried and the mother watched on weakly.
"You aim your weapon at your fellow Imperial's face?" Calgar demanded, "I was mistaken. It is you has truly gone mad, Inquisitor. You and your perversion of humility and ethics that have come forth from your so-called project."
"Alien scum dare to threatens humanity, where it's survival depends on the preparation and adulthood of this infant," Kryptmann continued, "And unless you let us carry on with our grand task, we will be forced to take drastic action against your chapter."
Calgar smiled, "So will we. I'm sure the Administratum would love to know what you have been up to behind the Lords of Terra's backsides, Inquisitor."
Kryptmann's eyes widened as he voice then become soft, "What?"
"You heard me. I am sure that you would not have bothered informing the Imperial High Command of your grand task at the risk of them intervening and putting an end to your tampering of human nature, Kryptmann."
The Inquisitor smirked, just as the Deathwatch looked at one another as if feeling uncomfortable, "What proof do you have of any possible heresy, Calgar?"
Calgar mirrored the smirk, "All of it, Inquisitor. The Ultramarines have been around since the beginning of this whole affair, along with the Tau. We have everything recorded and shelved in our Librarium, and some suspicious Administratum and Ecclesiarchy officials are just dying to confirm their fears."
Kryptmann wanted to curse out loud, and especially at the Emperor for even creating the Space Marines in the first place. He knew his operations were unsanctioned by the Administratum, and the Ecclesiarchy, the church of the God-Emperor, would deem him as a heretic for going against everything the Imperium stood for when he and the Ordos Xenos started Project: Avalon.
"You wouldn't dare!" Kryptmann exclaimed.
"We would."
He closed his eyes tightly and grumbled, "What would it take to keep a lid on this whole 'travesty?'"
Calgar looked over at Lucille, who stared back into his right non-mechanical eye weakly. She smiled lightly and nodded with many acceptances, praying for this moment for so long. Calgar nodded back, returned the smile reassuringly, and sighed gently.
"The child, Kryptmann"
The Deathwatch all tightened the fingers on their triggers, even the stormtrooper who had been guarding the entrance to the basement and was sent flying down the stairs and into the room picked himself up and grabbed the lasgun from the fallen Gue'vesa and aimed it at the Lord Macragge. In response, Calgar's two escorts raised their boltguns as well.
"Do you seriously think I will turn him over to you, Lord Macragge?" Kryptmann responded harshly, "The sole prize of Avalon?"
"Do you seriously think you would survive a week upon being branded a heretic, Inquisitor?" Calgar countered.
As if understanding the human language at birth, the baby stopped crying and Kryptmann looked down at him and his vulpine green eyes as he still held him in his arms. He growled silently, knowing that both his project and his life were at stack. And knowing how influential the Lord Macragge Calgar was among the Administratum, his death by burning or being worn away on a Penitent Engine begging for redemption was assured
He turned to the priestess and handled over the baby, who passed it over to one of the Space Marine, whom handled the now calm infant delicately in his hands. Kryptmann was no doubt fuming, only expressing it through his next sentence.
"Mark my words, Space Marine," he threatened as he pointed his finger at the infant, "Some day I will have that baby. And when I do, I will make you, the Ultramarines, and every single xenos in this galaxy pay for your insolence."
Calgar kept the smile forming on his face, his arms still crossed, "You will not. We would have just saved the Imperium by keeping David from your grasp."
Kryptmann felt his anger increase tenfold, especially upon hearing what the baby would have been called. He raised his plasma pistol up at Calgar again, grinding his teeth together as he was consumed with rage. Years of secret planning and covering up the Ordo Xenos' activities were crashing down around his feet.
"For now Calgar, I must have SATISFACTION…"
He turned his pistol away from Calgar's face and aimed it at the bed, and Lucille Mortensen. Before Calgar could react, Kryptmann pulled the trigger and sent a blast of plasma hurtling at the mother, where it pierced through her chest, followed by the bed. She was too weak to move out the way, let alone scream. She just closed her eyes and drew her last breath, shedding tears as she tragically passed away from this life.
Everyone in the room save for the Inquisitor was in shock, seeing a mother die like that by Kryptmann's hands. Calgar's mouth was agape in shock upon seeing all this, if he could he would have shed a tear. Kryptmann smiled and signalled for his men to follow him, where they stepped past the Ultramarines and made their way up the basement stairs towards the surface.
But before Kryptmann left, still holding his smoking pistol, he said to the still devastated Grand Master as he stared at the bed and the corpse that laid on it, "And you Ultramarines swore to protect the innocent."
He then grinned and whispered tauntingly.
"Pathetic."
Calgar clinched his hand as Kryptmann disappeared and closed his eyes as he felt shame. Of his centuries of service to Imperium and the Emperor of Mankind, he had never met a person made of much cruelty and malice than Inquisitor Kryptmann. It was that at that moment that he swore vengeance against him for harming the innocent, and will ultimately make him pay for his crimes against this innocent woman and her child.
The baby's cries brought him back to reality as the Marine holding the infant addressed him.
"What should we do about lady Mortensen?"
Calgar turned to him and responded, "We will take her with us back to Ultramar, and give her a proper burial."
"What of the infant?" the other Marine asked, "Shall we send him to one of the secured orphanages?
The Grand Master shook his head and took the infant from the Marine who handed it to him, holding the newborn in the palm of his large, right hand. He studied him carefully, and especially his emerald green eyes.
"We shall send him some place safe," Calgar answered just as too medical Marines known Apothecaries stepped into the basement and tended to the body of Lucille, "Some place that will preserve him for the time being, both physically, emotionally and spiritually."
He then smiled down at the baby in spite of himself, hearing the zip of a body bag as Lucille was sealed in it, shutting off her physical form from the material universe forever.
"It is the least we can do, for an old friend."
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39 Years Later
The Battle Barge 'Emperor Incarnatus', Ultramarines Chapter of the Space Marines
Out of his highly decorated armour and with his arms stretched out on either side, Calgar laid naked strapped on a table, several wires and tubes connected to him as he endured his monthly medical checkup courtesy of the Battle-Barge's Apothecarion. Despite hundreds of years of life his body was still in the best shape and not exactly as exaggerated as his massive armour suggested, him still being over nine feet and a massively muscled form. He looked as if he was deep in thought as he stared up at the light shining down on him as Apothecaries tended to his examination.
He could not stop thinking about that fateful day and how he had made yet another powerful enemy, just for saving a newborn child from a life of probable slavery under the Inquisition. The same baby he and his brothers were now out to destroy, only that he was now a full-grown man exhibiting his most potent strengths and power, and possibly one of the greatest, most courageous yet complicated Space Marines to ever serve under the flag of Ultramar.
"Lord Macragge?" an Apothecary asked him, walking over to his side, "You seem troubled."
Calgar moved his eyes towards the Apothecary and responded, "It is nothing, brother. Continue with the tests."
"As you wish, my Lord."
A minute later the examination was done and the Lord Macragge was unstrapped from the table, and not feeling anything from the tests he nonchalantly stepped over towards his armour, several bio-mechanical Servitors waiting to help him put it on. They immediately went to work, applying the several pieces of his armour to him quickly and efficiently. Another two minutes went by, and he proudly stepped out of the Apothecarion, where a Chaplain and several stairs downwards leading to a hub/lobby area immediately greeted him.
"My Lord Macragge," the skull-shaped helmeted religious instructor adorned in very ancient dark-coloured power-armour greeted, "I have need to speak with you."
"Of course, Cassius," Calgar replied with smile, "Walk with me."
As they traversed down the stairs, the Chaplain known as Cassius said, "There is dissension spreading amongst our Battle-Brothers, my Lord. They have doubts about the upcoming mission in Lylat and of our target, Brother Mortensen."
Calgar looked surprised, "Doubts?"
"Permit me to say this, my Lord," the Chaplain continued, "They see it as madness to strike down the man who had saved Holy Terra and the Emperor barely a year ago, just because he would not conform to the Imperium's standards. Even I…"
He shook his head gently.
"…do not see any logic in purging him and recovering his gene-seed. He has given so much and asked little in return."
Their metallic feet touched the end of the steps when Calgar responded, "I feel the same way as you and our brothers. But we all know that he had signed away his life the minute he allied with the Ulthwe Craftworld in the Medusa System and our laws dictate he is a traitor who must be dealt with in the same matter as any other heretic."
He then stopped and looked up at the richly decorated ceiling depicting the Ultramarines' long, celebrated history in the service of humanity. It ranged from the final battle on Terra during the Horus Heresy to the Ultramarines' half-victory on Lorn V, where even though a decade ago the Titan Dominatus had been destroyed and Chaplain Varnus, had tragically lost his life. It was at least the Forces of Disorder, specifically that of Chaos and the Blood Legion of Khorne, did not get their prize.
Cassius noted that Calgar was now distracted with looking up at the ceiling. He exhaled slightly and got his attention again.
"Lord Macragge," the Master of Sanctity asked, "I dare ask: Do you have any second thoughts on the matter? Because if you do, now would be the time to alert me and the Chief Librarian."
Calgar looked back down at him and said while frowning, "Do you not think I do have second thoughts, Chaplain? I would want nothing more in this universe than to act on them. But as I said, and it is written in the Codex Astartes, that all heretics must be purged to ensure the stability of the Emperor's realm. Now…anything else?"
"Yes. How should I inform our brothers of your decision to follow through with our original orders?"
"How you have always preached to them. Do not think of this as any different from any of our other campaigns against the enemies of the Emperor."
Cassius bowed his head and responded, "Yes, my Lord."
The Chaplain then took his leave, leaving Calgar standing there in the lobby. After a few seconds delay as he pondered his thoughts, he turned and headed towards the Battle Barge's Librarium, which was located down another hallway. He knew that the Chief Librarian Tigurius would present there, reviewing the chapter's history and the events leading to their possible final purge of Lylat through getting to the Children of Eden.
Sure enough he was surprised to find Tigurius waiting for him as he stepped into the Librarium, where all the Neophytes that usually hung around the area were gone. The massive door closed automatically behind him as Calgar faced the hundreds-years old Librarian with what appeared to be strange etchings on his face, yet he appeared as if he was in his forties.
"You know why I have come, Librarian?" Calgar asked.
"No, my Lord Macragge," Tigerius responded respectfully, "As you know, I refrain from reading the mind of my Grand Master out of the respect for his years of leading our chapter to glory. But I must confess…"
His face was rather sullen.
"…I can only guess why you have come."
Calgar nodded, then asked, "Do you still have it in the archives?"
"I do, Lord Macragge. I personally saw to it's reference those two decades earlier," Tigerius explained as he led Calgar through the massive maze of what appeared to be large bookcases with large, heavy books and texts, "And I have made sure to maintain it's purity ever since."
"You really should leave that to the Techmarines, Brother-Librarian," Calgar noted, "Or our aspiring Neophytes. They could use the experience in maintaining a blade."
"Ah," Tigerius looked over his shoulder, "But the Techmarines do not see the significance of this sacred sword, believing it to be like any other blade wielded by the Angels of Death. And the Neophytes are yet to understand it's history. So I have taken it upon myself…"
They stood before what resembled a large vault, both men looked at it with the utmost unshaken defiance.
"…to personally see that it remains as unblemished the day it was placed in the sacred Librarium," Tigerius finished.
"Strong words, Tigerius," Calgar observed, "I wish to handle it. To know whom we will be truly facing."
"And whom may that be?" Tigerius asked as he imputed the sacred code into the vault through the keypad next to the door, already knowing he was going to say without having to read his mind.
The door slowly opened upwards and a bright light shone from what laid beyond the door. Calgar and Tigerius didn't flinch from the light shining on their eyes as they stepped forward into the vault. What greeted them was a artifact of great significance and a reminder of what the Ultramarines really stood for.
"The Blade of Eden, Lord Macragge," Tigerius reminded him, "Will always have a place here."
Atop a golden pedestal decorated with the Omega symbol over the double-headed eagle of the Imperium of Man was a silver longsword with a hilt made from pure gold. Though it was unpowered at the moment, one could see that it could slice through anything the blade dared to touch, whether it would be the hull of a Predator Annihilator Tank or the soft flesh of a mad Cultist.
Calgar looked over the blade silently, as if paying respects. Tigerious stepped towards it and waved a hand over it, before he faced the Chapter-Master with a grim look of futility.
"Whom do we face, Lord Macragge?" Tigerius asked, "Whom it is that will suffer the Emperor's righteous judgement?"
Calgar narrowed his eyes and responded, no feeling evident in his voice now as he feel faith and determination grab hold of him and not let go. He reached forward and grasped the sword in his large hands.
"Our brother, Jacques Mortensen."
The Lord Macragge's communicator buzzed and he was quick to answer it.
"Orbital control?"
Lord Macragge, control begun, We have being hailed by the Pacifier and Fleet Admiral Nero. He informs us that we are just nearing the Lylatian border and the air defence zone.
"Thank you, control," Calgar responded, then haughtily added, "We shall be up there momentarily."
Affirmative, Brother.
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Welcome to the Imperium Administratum Records and Database
Any unauthorised access will be punished immediately by Cleansing Flame, by order of the Holy Inquisition.
Accessing Administratum Files…
Login: Sturnn
Serial Number: C3453-G35363
Password:
Limited access granted.
Search Query: Children of Eden
Searching…
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Query found…accessing
Children of Eden
Deemed heretical by the Radical Inquisitor Kryptmann following the destruction of the planet Eden during Operation: Xeno. These are believed to be remainder of the planet's traitorous xenos influenced Planetary Defence Force (PDF) and the few children having managed to escape from the cleansing flame of the Imperial Holy Fleet and the Inquisition's merciful recovering.
Commanding a fleet of six Imperial-produced ships, having requisitioned them possibly from the traitorous Cadian 301st Regiment whom they are suspected to have ties with. They travel the sector hopelessly lost on their own false, misguided crusade, fighting off our attempts to redeem them in the eyes of humanity and the Emperor.
It is believed they have been joined by the equally traitorous General Lukas Alexander, former Governor-Militant of the planet Kronus, and the remainder of his planetary guard, known as the 1st Kronus Regiment – The Kronus Liberators. This no doubt has increased their strength and leadership as a self-sustaining military force.
Consider the men, women and children of the last survivors of the heretical xenos world Eden, a product of Chaos social experimentation, tainted and incredibly dangerous. All standing Imperial forces in the sector are encouraged to destroy them on sight. Strictly no quarter must be given.
Having just awoken from his sleep and dressed in his underclothes, General Sturnn studied the words imprinted on his terminal screen carefully, sitting back in his cushioned seat, a glass of red wine situated next to his keyboard. The light emitting from the stairs shone into his quarters from the window, illuminating the whole room as he had not bothered to turn the lights on. Ever since he was young he somehow found the darkness very soothing, and always concentrated his hardest when the purity and silence of the dark bathed him.
He exhaled loudly through his nose when he thought about how that came to be; when his tutors at the Schola Progenium would lock him in a dark room when he would make mistakes during his studies for hours at a time. They would order him to think about his mistakes and to act on improving them. And having been inducted into the program at age six, he made a lot mistakes for his age, but he eventually redeemed himself.
Sturnn returned back to reality when he went back to his browsing, doing some last minute research on the enemy he was about to face in a matter of hours. Though he had been briefed on the enemy by the Imperial authorities on the planet Kew, he always believed to keep his mind on the query at all times. A single second that goes without thinking about your objective equals to a lifetime of regret afterwards.
That was what he was taught.
"Operation: Xenos," Sturnn said softly to himself.
Operation: Xenos
Carried out twenty-three year earlier by the forces of the Ordo Xenos with last minute assistance by the Ultramarines chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, this was the cleansing rituals of the planet Eden, which had been declared damned by the Radical Inquisitor Kryptmann. Under the command of the Ordo Malleus Inquisitor Mordecai Toth, having personally volunteered to undertake the operation, Deathwatch Space Marines and Inquisitorial Stormtroopers stormed the planet and carried out the operation through four phases.
Phase #1 – Pacify Resistance. The planetary defences composed of traitor Guardsmen, Tau Fire Warriors, Kroot Carnivores and Eldar witches supported by armoured ground weapons; were overwhelmed and destroyed completely, having been weakened through orbital strikes. Though providing admirable resistance, no quarter was granted and the commanders of the defence were immediately executed upon apprehension.
Phase #2 – Redeem the Current Generation. Most human Eden dwellers over eighteen years of age were made to redeem themselves in the eyes of the Emperor through voluntarily taking their own lives or submitting themselves to Arco Flagellation and Penitent Engineering, while the others were put down through force. The alien population was all cleansed through bolter fire and flame courtesy of the Deathwatch.
Phase #3 – Recover the Next Generation. Most minors under eighteen years of age that were not accidentally caught in the events surrounding Phase #2 were rounded up by the stormtroopers and were persuaded to board transports that took them off world to the safety of the Holy Fleet. The Ultramarines under the personal command of Grand Master Calgar assisted during this delicate phase. All alien minors were purged.
Phase #4 – Cleanse Eden. Finally the plant was virus bombed to eradicate all traces of life and vegetation, before being destroyed through Exterminatus carried out by the entire Inquisitorial fleet.
Aftermath
The planet was successfully cleansed by the Emperor's holy whirlwind of flame, exterminating every last alien scum and settlement on it's admiringly beautiful surface, which can be considered a fair sacrifice. Whilst all the human adults atoned for their heresy through their deaths, most if not all the children made their exodus courtesy of the loving Inquisitorial hands. Right away these children were convinced to forget their parents' heresy and the unclean lives they had lived; where given new identities and sent away under the supervision of the Schola Progenium. Later they would be called upon to devote the rest of their lives to the service of the Imperium and the God-Emperor of Mankind.
Once child case, however, has caused major concern, which is that of Jacques Mortensen, former Sergeant of the Ultramarines Second Company of the Adeptus Astartes, former Grey Knight of the Ordo Malleus and now one of the Inquisitions most wanted men in the sector. It is believed he has now joined with the Children of Eden and serves as their spokesman, if not their leader alongside General Lukas Alexander.
Session Timed Out…
Logging off…
…..
….
….
….
Shutting down.
The terminal screen immediately turned itself off, followed by the terminal itself as it automatically shut off, following Admin protocol. Despite the fact this knowledge did not affect him in any way the first time he had read through, he could not help but feel sympathy for the possibly innocent people that he had just read die all those years ago. The fact that their deaths were being over-empathised and sugar-coated disturbed the General, knowing that to the Inquisition only death was seen as the true form of redemption for heretics.
"Chaos social experiments?" Sturnn questioned lightly to himself, "That doesn't sound right."
He knew that could not be truth and immediately reasoned to himself that there were darker designs behind it. But he knew that if he dared tried to investigate the matter he would find himself tied to a post in the middle of a busy marketplace and burnt alive as a traitor. Besides, he had a reputation to recover following his massive blunder years ago back on Lorn V.
Sturnn's bedside communicator buzzed, so he regained his composure and stepped over to it. He hesitantly answered it, knowing he was possibly about to endure one of the most overbearing Imperial Navy officers the Imperium has ever produced.
Fleet Admiral Horatio Nero, the supreme commander of the fleet sent to Lylat.
"Sturnn."
Thank the Emperor you have finally dragged your lazy, worthless, heretical backside out of your warm, cosy bed, General, the other line blurted in a rather exaggerated classic American accent, The fleet is nearing the furry sector and I'm a little concerned you are going to miss all our glorious storming of Lylat's puny defences.
"Not likely, bastard," Sturnn muttered to himself, before speaking, "I will be right up to join your command immediately, Admiral."
See that you do, General, Nero said, And by the way: Kkeep your Commissar outside the bridge door and on a leash, I don't want him scaring the command crew.
"Yes, sure," Sturnn responded, slightly heated, "Sturnn out."
He switched off his communicator and sighed, before he clapped his hands together and the lights to his room switched on, revealing his rather elaborate quarters decorated with expensive carpet and furniture including a sofa and a fireplace, complete with mini-bar and a bathroom with shower and spa.
This also included the rather large wardrobe with enough military uniforms to adorn a parade of high-ranking officers and personnel. He stepped over to it and picked out his usual, trademark dress – a grey uniform with his medals and honours decorated on the chest with his red-coloured, gold-trimmed victory sash as well as grey pants; with a red-coloured cape or honour raiment. He then put on his leather boots.
He then looked at himself in the mirror and found that something was missing. He frowned and then walked over to a dresser near his bed, where he opened the draw and found his weapons of choice: The Lightning Claws, one of which with a built in Storm Bolter. He smiled and put them on himself, loading his bolter and hearing the ammo click into place.
Feeling satisfied about his choice of dress, he stepped towards the doorway leading into the hallway which led into the other officer's quarters. He was greeted by the sight of Commissar Rowan Plymouth, fully dressed as well with his sabre sword in it's sheath and his laspistol in it's holster, where he stood there with diligently.
Sturnn smiled and jokingly, "Do you always wait for your commanding officers outside their own doors, Commissar?"
"I call it 'being on the watch,' General," Plymouth repeated, removing his helmet to reveal his short haircut and his scarred face. Also his grey colourless eyes which has seen and felt the heat of battle too many times, "And I assure you I will never stop doing that for as long as I live."
"Amen to that, Commissar."
Sturnn stepped into the hallway to find the officers in his commander in the same hallway standing outside their room doors. They all stood to attention as the General's door closed, with Plymouth standing aside and announcing out loud.
"SALUTE THE GENERAL!"
The officers did so, the swooshing of their hands being held as they raised them to their foreheads. They kept the salute going as the General stepped down the hallway accompanied by Plymouth towards the elevator, which would take them up to the bridge. As he walked he noticed the grim yet determined faces of his officers as they paid respect to him, each one having not lost their faith in him even after Lorn V.
Truly to Sturnn, the Cadian 412th was like his own extended family. Plymouth shared the same thoughts as he walked with the General, only that he saw himself as a sort of overseer to these unruly children, excluding Sturnn, his closest confidant.
----------
ALERT! ALERT! IMPERIAL STARSHIPS DETECTED!The defence station's commander, a black bear, shot up from his bed as the PA screamed through every passage, every nook and cranny of the station, the bright red lights from the alarms bathing every room on board. Having just had the most pleasant dream he could possibly ever have, he was shocked to have 'I' word wake him up with a start.
Commander Daytona, you're presence is required in the command centre.Daytona sucked back the feelings of nausea and panic as he threw his bed blankets aside and dove for his uniform on the floor, having being flung their the previous day following the celebrations of Victory Day. He pulled up his pants and struggled to button his uniform as he walked quickly over to his door and banged on the panel next to it, almost breaking it in the process.
Literal chaos was present in the personnel quarters as the technicians and staff from the previous watch hurried to their posts, the fear and panic spreading like wildfire amongst them as they struggled and pushed amongst themselves, some of which were half-dressed but fully awake. The experienced, middle-aged commander of the station didn't let his senses get fazed by all the negativity present as he struggled past them towards the command post
The alarms continued to blare everywhere, which bathed the control room in red as technicians headed for their stations, constantly being reminded that Imperial ships were half a light-year away. Panic and dissension was evident on each and every one of their faces, believing that Lylat's Apocalypse has now arrived, in the form of Chaos attacking from within and the Imperium coming from outside.
In short, humanity has come to wipe from out from the face of the universe. Daytona stepped into the command centre and was immediately greeted by shaky salutes courtesy of the crew. He saluted back and was quick to impost his authority once again.
"Alright, everyone present?" Commander Daytona asked loudly, before exclaiming, "Good! Status report!"
A vanilla-coloured female mink was behind the radar controls. She saw with her own two eyes on the grid about thirteen large starships approaching the Lylatian border, each one registering as Imperial craft.
"An Imperial fleet is heading straight for us, sir!" the mink responded.
"How many?"
"Thirteen, sir."
Fatalistic murmuring and cries sounded off all around command, which Daytona was quick to silence with a heavy, authoritative cry.
"Alright! Charge the Heavy Cannons and aim at the closest Imperial hulk."
The raccoon gunner behind his terminal imputed the commands on his terminal and gripped the joystick controlling the station's twin heavy charge laser cannons situated both on the top and the bottom of the circular-looking station. His heart was pounding; he perspired, the sweat run down his head and into his eyes as he faced his screen, which displayed the targeting cross and the space outside the border, waiting for the first ship to move into eyeshot.
The day before he had just turned 30, his wife back on Fortuna had given birth to his second child, and his death was now assured.
"Gunner Madison? Status!" Daytona shouted.
Madison looked over his shoulder towards the commander and shook his head, where one can barely hear him as he reported, "Nothing yet, sir."
"HEY! Keep your eyes on the screen, dickhead!" another technician, a purple frill-necked lizard, screamed out with panic from his terminal, "Those godless skinned monkeys could appear at any damn time!"
Daytona glared at him to silence, before turning towards the mink at the radar control, "Are the humans coming any closer, radar?"
"No sir," the minx responded, still looking at the screen and seeing that the fleet was holding it's ground just outside the border, miles ahead from the station, "They're still outside our cannon's range."
"Damn it," Daytona cursed softly, before saying out loud and reassuringly, "Alright everybody calm down. If they are out of range, there's no doubt their weapons won't be able to touch us as well, despite their high-and-mighty holy lance cannons and torpedoes. Maybe they'll ask us to surrender."
"What if they do, sir?" another technician, a red fox, asked.
"We turn em' down," Daytona responded firmly, "We've sworn to keep the humans out of our galaxy and that's what we're gonna do. Worst case scenario: They board this station and try to stick us with their bayonets. Heh, I say at least we go down like soldiers and not like friggin' bridge bunnies. No offence, Richards, Reeds."
Two rabbits, a male and a female, laughed a bit and the male said, "None taken."
The red fox glared and stood up, pulling out his blaster and charging it, "And if that happens sir, we'll give them Hell. I'm sure purebred human's skulls is not as thick as the Marine's brain boxes."
"Either which way, ladies and gentlemen." the commander said softly and sadly, taking off his hat and holding it to his chest and closed his eyes, ears drooped down, "This station gonna burn and we're gonna die, but at least we do it in style."
----------
All was quiet on the bridge of the Pacifier as the crew went about their business in keeping the ship running, the craft's Astropath psyker all wired up to the navigational equipment and keeping the fleet beacon active. The psyker was a sad looking creature, he was all frail and destitute from years tapped into the Warp, risking daemonic possession at every turn. He had long since lost his sight, evident from the large helmet he wore which covered his eyes, and was dressed in a rather miserable robe. Ever since the infamous Black Ships of the Inquisition had taken him, he had longed for the peace and stillness that was death, but he knew it wouldn't come easily for someone of his abilities.
Admiral Nero smiled him and Sturnn watching out the main window, the main computer screen beside it informing visually that the station was moving it's larger guns towards the fleet, but seeing as they were out of their range, they had nothing to worry about. But Sturnn didn't see it that way.
"I know what you're thinking, Admiral," Sturnn pointed out, "And when I said 'furry hunt', and I meant 'up close and personal' and not vaporising them half a light year out of their system.'"
Nero frowned, "May I remind you that his is my fleet, General. You, the Commissar and your troops are just along for the ride, and once your feet touch the ground you're out of my league. The Ultramarines aren't my concern. Now…"
He smiled again.
"Witness the true might of the Emperor's Holy Fleet and his wrath against his enemies. Admiral to gunnery stations…"
Yes, sir! the communication com link responded.
"Launch two Cyclones at the defence station. Destroy it!"
Right away, sir. Firing…
The Emperor-class starship loudly launched two massive cyclone missiles towards the Lylatian border, where they hurtled across the blackness of space towards the defence station. Sturnn looked on grimly, somewhat dissatisfied with not valiantly storming the defences in person, while Nero still had that weird on his face, which disturbed the General.
In the border defence station the alarms blared even louder as all eyes were fixated on the main screen, the master computer's P.A announcing that…
Warning! Incoming Imperial missiles approaching station! Brace for impact!
All hands grabbed hold of their terminals, door handles and their bolted-down seats as they did what the computer told them. In a panic the gunner quickly aimed the main cannons towards the approaching missiles and pressed the fire buttons his joystick hard, where the whole station vibrated as the cannons powered up and were made ready to fire. The commander's head looked up upon feeling the station vibrate, and could somehow sense the cannons and the energy they were about to unleash.
"NO, YOU IDIOT!" he exclaimed in panic, "DON'T FIRE THE MAIN CA…"
Too late, the cannons fired two blasts of red-coloured heavy laser, which traversed in a straight line at the torpedoes before vanquishing them and lighting up the air-less vacuum of space. From the bridge of the Pacifier Nero smiled, having anticipated that desperate move by the furries, while Sturnn nodded gently.
"I'm impressed," Sturnn said, rather truthfully.
"What? The furries' desperation in using their charged main weapons against measly projectiles? Or the cunningness that runs in my family through generations tending to the Emperor's holy navy?"
Sturnn frowned, "Mostly number one now."
Nero exhaled through his nose as he frowned, before opening the com to the entire fleet, "All ships. Move forward into Lylat, full speed."
The ten Imperial Navy starships accelerated forward towards the border of Lylat, the thousands of Guardsmen feeling their trigger/blade-fingers itch with each passing second with now skinning a furry and taking their fur back home as a souvenir. Unlike fighting other aliens such as Orks or Eldar, most Guardsmen were keen on taking on the furries, believing rumours of their military to be weak, or in the words of an Imperial Commander, 'half-arsed.'
The space-faring monastery of the Ultramarines known as the Battle Barge and her two supporting Strike Cruisers followed close behind, though not going the same speed as the Guard controlled Imperial ships. Calgar watched the main screen nearly sadly, from his chamber as the ships carrying their Imperial Guard counterparts drew themselves further away from the Space Marine craft. He shook his head gently and muttered incoherently under his breath.
"There is no honour in this," he uttered, "Against a system this size, against a collection of races that have helped us in the past despite the 'handicap' of being alien, I just see no honour in all this."
He sighed.
"Perhaps there is logic within Jacques' beliefs after all."
He had forgotten that Cassius was standing beside his throne, his helmet off to reveal a middle-aged grey-haired man with technological implants all over his face and on his neck. The Chaplain looked over at him and their eyes made contact.
He nodded in agreement, "I believe so as well, Lord Macragge."
----------
The Imperial Fleet pushed forwards towards the border, with the mighty Emperor-class battleship known as the Pacifier in the lead. Following behind it and making up the fleet of eleven ships were two Imperial cruisers (Mars-class and Mars-class), one Avenger, one Exodus, one Vengeance, one Dauntless and 3 Firestorm frigates. The Space Marines ships that counted towards the fleet were two Strike Cruisers and the massive floating Space Marine monastery known as the Battle-Barge – The Emperor Incarnatus. Each ship ran on a plasma drive engine, which took up a third of the ship's length, commonly in the aft section, which consisted of drive tubes, engine compartments and the plasma reactors.
And each ship carried enough weapons ranging from normal laser batteries to lance cannons and torpedo launchers to devastate an entire star system
Just as the heavy cannons on the defence station desperately charged up to fire again, the Pacifier readied it's powerful Nova Cannons, huge weapons situated on the prow of the hull. Once the Pacifier was not far from the station it fired the deadly projectile which hurtled across space and towards the Lylat defence station.
All those on board didn't know what hit them as the shell imploded once it made contact, shattering the station and everybody on it into splinters of both metal and flesh. The resulting explosion then wiped them off the interstellar map forever, sending souls screaming to whatever nirvana or hell that Lylatians believed in.
Smug, Nero exclaimed, "Now that's done with, Lylat will soon tremble before the might of the Imperial Navy! All ships…CONTINUE FORWARD!"
Not wanting to spend another second standing beside the lout of a admiral, Sturnn excused himself from the bridge and stepped outside, Nero not noticing he was gone. Sturnn muttered curses under his breath, disappointed with not being able to capture the station personally and beside his loyal Guardsmen. Sturnn has always had a fractious relationship with the Imperial Navy, berating them for pounding the hell out of battle zone, which could easily be captured with about a thousand troops. To him there was more honour in looking your enemy in the face as you kill him, not by sitting in a comfortable chair thousands of miles above in orbit and ordering a full planetary bombardment.
The fleet then moved forward into the Lylat system and passed what remained of the border defence station, namely the two large heavy cannons which remained, sadly floating there in orbit, surrounded by shreds and pieces of metal, fur and flesh. The Ultramarine vessels followed close behind, the Strike Cruisers covering the Battle Barge from both sides.
The Astropath on the Pacifier suddenly began to choke violently as he begun to sense disturbances within the Warp. All eyes turned to him, Admiral Nero grasping his hands behind his back as he addressed the psyker.
"What can you sense, Cesar?" Nero addressed him bluntly.
"I…I…I…I…sense…sense…sense…tainttttt, myyyyyy lordddddd," Cesar responded, his echoing, nearly inhuman voice chilling the blood of everyone on the bridge.
Surprised, Nero asked, "What? Where?"
"C…c….can not….can't….say…for sure, myyyyyyy lorddddddd," the Astropath Cesar answered, "Rea…research station…Beltino…."
'Beltino Space Station?' Nero pieced it together in his mind.
"Sir?" one of the technicians from his terminal cried, "We're detecting a Cornerian space station four clicks from the fleet's position. The Astropath may be referring to it."
Nero smiled, realising that there was life within that raspy-voiced psyker after all, "Thank you, Cesar."
Cesar shook his head and attempted to yell, "B…b…b…but I…!"
He suddenly lost consciousness as a powerful sedative was suddenly injected into him from the navigational equipment, silencing him and his seemingly half-crazed rambling, much to the relief of the admiral and much of the crew.
"My lord," one of the junior officers standing by addressed, "What will we do with the Cornerian space station? Do we destroy it?"
Nero shook his head and frowned, "I think for once I should agree with the General's policy on seeing the enemy die before you. You can tell him and the Commissar that they can wrest control of the station and make the furries squirm and give up whatever Emperor-knows godless projects they are working on.
He became sterner as he raised a finger and threateningly stepped before the officer
"We can not afford the events of last year to happen to the Imperium again, understand?"
Unfazed by Nero's gestures, the officer replied calmly, "Understood, my lord."
----------
Beltino was practically snaking on the fingernails of his left hand as he silently and nervously paced the floor of the control room. His eyes switched from focussing on the floor at his feet and on the windows near the terminal consoles, the equally terrified techs busy working the terminals whilst keeping their composure.
Beltino dared asked, "Has there being reports of any survivors?"
"No, sir," the lead canine technician responded, "Scanning twice over Defence Station #11 has confirmed there are no survivors. They've been completely obliterated."
Beltino took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, before reaching for the handkerchief in his right pocket to clean the lens. But he rubbed it tot hard and inadvertently cracked the left glass, the sound of shattered glass tugging at everyone's heartstrings and causing them all to flinch slightly. He nonchalantly put his glasses back on his face.
The door into the control room opened and in stepped Slippy, who looked just as nervous and uptight as his father was. It was a far cry from his rare burst of bravery just hours ago upon hearing what was believed that Corneria had been invaded by the Imperium and his intention to take on the many motherships of the Imperium with the prototype Bullfrog fighter.
"Dad?" Slippy begun slowly, "Did I just hear the public announcement system blurt out that the border station near here had just gotten blown up?"
Beltino nodded, expecting Slippy to continue, which he did.
"By the Imperial Navy?"
"We…we cannot confirm that detail right now," Beltino said shakily, "But I'm pretty certain that it can't be the Imperium, because they're attacking Corneria right now and there is no logical way that…"
He squealed out loud in panic as an alarm blared out and the panicked radar man broke the news.
"SIR!" he exclaimed, "IMPERIAL FURY INTERCEPTORS ARE HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE STATION!"
A holographic representation of the fighter displayed itself in the centre of the control room. The Fury Interceptor almost resembled an old Earthling World War II fighter, only that it was beefed up with lascannon's and anti-starfighter missile launchers. The computer revealed that a squadron of six ship was gunning straight for the station.
In fact, they could see them approaching now. Beltino acted fast.
"Initiate defences!" Beltino ordered, "Drive them away from the station at all costs!"
----------
The pilot of the leading Fury focused on the approaching space station and gripped his controls tightly. The gunner stood by, ready to unleash the fighters deadly arsenal upon the station whilst the navigator kept on task with making sure the fighter kept in line with the others in their squadron.
This is the Pacifier to Commander of Epsilon Wing. Prepare to receive incoming defensive fire.
"I copy, control," the wing commander pilot responded, "Proceeding with attack. All ships…"
Yes, sir.
"Engage!"
The Furies accelerated forward towards the station, their target gradually becoming closer every few second that passed. The station's guns turned towards them and opened fire, prompting the fighters to initiate evasive manoeuvres as they begun to dodge laser fire by swerving left and right, nearly dodging ever blast that was hurled at them. One ship took a massive blow to the left wing, but kept on pushing forward.
After a minute they were in range of the station, so they begun to open fire on it's defences in a attempt to disarm the station and render it utterly defenceless. They begun spiralling around the cigar-shaped space station shooting out the guns while at the same time dodging all return fire with professionalism, assuring the reputation of the entire Imperial Navy Pilot Corps.
The technicians in the gunnery control room of the station desperately gripped their joysticks as they tried to keep the enemy fighters in their crosshairs long enough to blast them. But soon their guns were destroyed and they could do only one thing: Sit back in their seats and wait for the station to be sent spiralling into oblivion with them on it.
The Furries pulled back from the station and regrouped into an X shaped formation, where they dived straight towards their target. Those in the control room could seem them approaching as if they were going to smash into the room. Beltino and Slippy looked that freaked out it was nearly hysterical. Instead the fighters fired a payload of missiles which struck the massive antenna ray situated at the top of the station, and seconds later after the shockwaves had passed over the station and sent almost every feet unbalanced in the station, those in control found that…
"Our communications have been destroyed, sir!" Beltino immediately heard after uncovering his eyes.
"What?" Beltino questioned, "We're not dead?"
"No sir," the science officer responded, seeing that the fighters were now withdrawing back into deep space, "But our defences are down. We're sitting ducks here."
Slippy sighed, "It's a million-to-one chance they are gonna board this float. That would explain why they didn't just wipe us out."
Beltino gritted his teeth and his covered his face with his hands, trying his best not to burst out in tears as he felt completely overwhelmed with anxiety and fatalism. If they were coming to take over the station, they were going to possibly die whole lot slower, knowing all too well the human's policies towards captured aliens.
"So," Slippy related softly, "What do we do now?"
Beltino shook his head slowly, before frowning and announcing, "All security personnel are ordered to arm themselves and fortify the hangar area and first floor immediately. Prepare to repel boarders."
He turned to Slippy, still with a serious look of contempt.
"Take Amanda and hide yourselves."
"But dad…" Slippy attempted to protest, "What about you and…?"
Beltino glanced over at the window, seeing the approaching Imperial fleet in the distance from the darkest reaches of the surrounding universe. He had never seen that many human-made ships in his life, and he could do nothing but fear the worse.
"Don't argue with me, son," he finished.
Minutes later the balcony area of the hangar and the entirety of the floor connecting to the hangar was fortified, teaming with armed security personnel behind makeshift barriers and covers. The civilian personnel all retreated to the other floors and hid themselves in whatever would seem discretional from behind locked doors, closets and even lockers
The canine security chief was among the guards hiding on the balcony overlooking the fairly large hangar area, gripping a blaster rifle in his gloved hands. He and his men were adorned in the latest in Beltino's experimental body armour which relied on a power battery stored on their back, much like how Tau body armour works.
The chief grasped the cross necklace around his neck and muttered a silent prayer, along the lines of protection and prevailing against the odds. Others noticed him doing this and immediately begun to blame religion for this whole entire predicament. The chief knew of there feelings, but didn't say a word, knowing that not everyone believes in a higher force at work, whether it would be God or the Imperium's so-called Emperor.
'Give me strength,' he thought determinedly, 'Against these evil non-persons. Give me strength.'
----------
The Furies jetted past the two Shark Assault dropships as they returned back to the fleet, allowing the troops to take over the operation, much to their eternal chagrin. The Guardsmen within the two dropships wondered out loud why they were being sent to secure the station where the navy could have demolished it and they could have continued on into Lylat.
Sergeant Paul Armiel, Private Vincent Shultz and their squad had the luck of being on the same transport as Commissar Plymouth himself. Vincent closed his eyes as he muttered a silent prayer to the Emperor, wondering why the other Guardsmen were not joining him in prayer. Plymouth smiled gently to himself, not just because of the fact that the Imperial Guard and the Navy once again co-operating peacefully in the name of the God-Emperor of Mankind, but that the young was definitely about to go into battle with the Emperor in his heart and mind.
Ten seconds to touchdown, Commissar, the transport pilot announced over the ship's PA, Go skin some furries.
"Soldiers of the Imperium!" Plymouth shouted out loud, "Load your ammo, fix your bayonets, and prepare to give the enemies of mankind the hell they deserve. FOR THE EMPEROR!"
"FOR THE EMPEROR!" the Guardsman all relayed loudly as one, this time startling Vincent as he was shaken from his prayer.
He drew his sharpened sabre and gripped the handle tightened just as the dropships entered the hangar and touched down on the hangar floor loudly. The ramps lowered and out stepped dozens of Guardsman, lead by Commissar Plymouth and squads' leading sergeants. They were the first to step off the transports, Armiel scanned the large hangar area with his eyes, having expected the furries to make a dash for it. He gripped his laspistol in his left hand as he adjusted his communicator headset with his free hand. He smiled.
"Knock knock knock!" he taunted, eyes darting left and right, "Anybody home?"
Plymouth stepped forward from the troops; sabre gleaming in his right hand and his laspistol brandished in his left. He frowned, not surprised the Lylatians to have made themselves upon detecting their fleet approach the station. He figured that the furries were almost like animals, where they would run off as soon as they see a human. Only a few brave, ferocious beasts would stand their ground and fight; he and the Imperium would be there to put them down.
"Spread out!" Plymouth barked the order, "If you see a furry with a gun in his hand, do shoot it off. The hand that is."
The forty Guardsmen from the two dropships dashed forward from the two Shark, lasgun in hand. Vincent made sure to stick close to one of his fellow Guardsmen, seeing how a furry space station was no place for even a scary looking yet young and inexperienced human. Armiel immediately felt niggly about having this youngling cling onto to either him or his more experienced men.
By chance he noticed the security camera situated at the ceiling corner of the hangar, so the bearded sergeant closed his left eye, took aim and fired one shot at camera and destroyed it, which grazed the ear of one of the hiding security guards in the upper balcony. He made his presence known by a sharp yelp and stood up. The lasgun-packing Guardsmen then promptly gunned him down.
"FURRIES!" Armiel cried, "UPPER BALCONY!"
The security guard chief gritted his teeth, gripped his machine-gun tightly, and cried out at the top of his lungs a wolf cry. He and his men then broke cover and immediately begun firing upon the Guardsmen, immediately killing one. The humans impulsively took cover behind the cargo crates and machinery present, while the Commissar stood his ground and fired upwards, scoring a headshot and splattering his brains on the wall.
"TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH, IGNORANT DOGS!" Plymouth shouted up at them.
"FUCK YOU, COMMISSAR!" the chief exclaimed angrily, "TAKE HIM DOWN, MEN!"
The Cornerian guards and the Imperial Guardsmen exchanged frantic fire, the defenders appearing to have the upper hand as they had the high ground as they rained plasma fire on the Guardsmen below. Two more Guardsmen fell before Armiel noticed that the Commissar charged forward towards the spiral stairs leading upwards.
"COVERING FIRE!" he ordered, "WATCH THE COMMISSAR'S BACK!"
"SIR YES SIR!"
"YES SIR! COVERING FIRE!"
A Kasrkin Stormtrooper Guardsman fired his rapid-fire hellgun up at the crates that the furries were hiding behind, hoping to get lucky and hit one of them. The hell-laser instead melted through one of the the crate and hit the guard behind it, pelting him with and rendering his arms off. The screams echoing from the Cornerian drove the other security to fight harder, which one Cornerian broke cover for a second and shot a Guardsman through his chest and snuffed him out.
Plymouth reached the spiral staircase, having not receiving a single hit. Two of the Cornerians quickly ran over to the top of the staircase on the balcony and panicked when they saw the threatening looking political officer frowning up at them. Before they even thought to aim and fire their blaster rifles Plymouth fired his laspistol and put two bolts through their shoulders, wounding them.
Gripping his sabre tightly Plymouth traversed up the stairs quickly, the other security Cornerians aiming their guns at him and firing. They completely forgot about the Guardsmen near the dropships and opting to concentrate on one of the most infamous of all the Imperial officers to ever be heard about in the Lylat System.
A laser bolt hit Plymouth in the shoulder, but he was barely fazed as he reached the top and sliced through the nearest guard, hacking his head off and sending his body flying off the balcony down to the hangar floor. The security chief watched helplessly from the back as the Commissar hacked his men all up at close range. He watched the politically officer gracefully turn, parry and thrust his sword as he disarmed the Cornerian security guards before slicing through them like butter, relieving them of their limbs and heads.
The screams were horrible to hear and the blood ran everywhere, including off the Commissars blade as he killed all eight remaining security guards, excluding the two other guards he wounded and whom also watched him slaughter. The Guardsmen from below lowered their guns as they saw the security chief fearfully face off the Commissar, who had a smug grin on his face.
"Er…uh…oh…er…" the chief stumbled over his words as he felt his grip on his gun loosen.
Plymouth tapped his foot on the balcony floor as he frowned. He told him, "Your move, furry."
The security chief gulped, and figured he rather not suffer a humiliating death through a decadent weapon such as a sword. He dropped his pistol and put his hands behind his head, smiling nervously as the Commissar stepped closer to them.
"Wisely done, Cornerian…
He then pointed his sword at the chief's neck.
"…you will be put to good use before you are ultimately sent to your Hell."
Two Guardsmen who had followed the Commissar up the balcony once he had dispatched all of the Cornerian security guards pushed the chief to the ground. Just as the Imperial soldiers padded the chief down and handcuffed him before tending to the two surviving wounded guards, Plymouth stepped over to the edge of the balcony and gave his men a salute; the sergeants took this as a cue and quickly rallied their Guardsmen.
"Alright, squad," Armiel cried, "Let's take this station. You know the plan, now stick to it! Round up any furry scum you find and bring em' back here!"
The Guardsmen all dashed off in squads through the many dears leading out of the hangar towards the many different sections and rooms of the space station, weapons drawn and ready to deal with whatever hostilities they would face. Plymouth made his way down towards the dropships and up to the Guardsman carrying the communication equipment on his back.
He reached for the communicator and said, "Command, this is Plymouth. We hold the hangar and will momentarily bring the entire station under our control."
Nicely done, Commissar, Sturnn's voice could be heard on the other end of the line, We'll be joining you momentarily and seeing whatever the hell the Cornerians are, or were, working on. No doubt it would have something to do with Chaos.
Looking grim, Plymouth responded, "I do not doubt that either, General."
----------
"SURRENDER FURRY SCUM! IN THE NAME OF THE EMPEROR, YOU WILL SUBMIT!"
Slippy and Amanda held each other tightly as they sat in the dark locker in the janitor's storeroom, hearing the sounds of Imperial Guardsmen tearing through the station. They were barking orders, smashing equipment and firing their lasguns, forcing scientists and other base personnel out of the rooms marching through the corridors of the station, hands behind their heads as they felt the bayonets prod at them from behind, urging them to walk faster. The security guards had all surrendered immediately without putting up much of a fight, practically handing the station over to the humans on a silver platter.
The two, terrified frogs had the same, dark thought running through their heads. It has finally happened. Humanity has finally come for the people of the Lylat and it's superior tides of soldiers, both purebred Imperial Guard and beefed-up Space Marines, will now wash the system in a storm of blood, violence, laser, flak and lance cannon.
'Jacques,' Slippy thought bitterly, as he looked mad, 'You better not be among the jerks taking the system down.'
They felt their blood freeze as the door into their room was kicked in and they heard an older, Anglo-sounding voice order…
"Clear this area, Shultz. Then meet up back with us at the hangar, got it?"
…and a younger, inexperienced voice comply…
"Sir, yes sir."
They heard footsteps leave the area, before they heard someone turn the light on in the room and scan the room, slight nervous humming being heard from the intruder. Amanda squeezed Slippy tighter in comfort, knowing they sooner or later they were going to be found. Slippy could feel her fear seep into him, but did his best to keep his composure. But were surprised when they swore they heard the Guardsman talk to himself.
They heard the human mutter, "Pull yourself together, Vinnie. This is for Karl and the folks back home. You're doing this for them, but especially Karl…"
Slippy opened the locker slightly to see the young human grasp his lasgun tightly as he looked around the room, appearing to be slightly anxious and taken back. It was when he closed the locker door that he and Amanda's luck ran out.
The Guardsman looked their way…
"HEY!"
…and the locker door was flung open and standing before them was the purebred human in flak-armour with the Imperial Guard and 412th symbols on his shoulder pads. The young man looked surprised at seeing the both of them, which actually surprised them as well. When their faces let their feelings be known the Guardsmen shook his head, frowned, and aimed his lasgun at Slippy's face, causing him to cringe.
"ALRIGHT, FROGGIES!" he exclaimed in his rough voice, "HANDS UP! OUT OF THE LOCKER, NOW!"
"Ok! Ok! Ok!" Slippy cried in a panic, "Just…point that thing away from me!"
"Please…don't hurt us," Amanda pleaded, "We're just scientists…"
'I'm not going to hurt you,' the Guardsman known as Shultz thought, before he shook his head and cried again, slightly trembling himself, "Out into the hallway. To the hangar area, MOVE!"
Slippy and Amanda complied, stepping out into the passage and joining the line of other station personnel being escorted at gunpoint to the hangar area, all the while trying to stay close to one another and not let each out of his sights. Just as he was shoved painfully forward, Slippy couldn't see his father anywhere, but he was relieved to see him in the hangar with dozens upon dozens of the station personnel...
"NO!"
…and was horrified to find him being strangled by a skinhead Guardsman sergeant. He was lifted lifted off his feet and dangling in the air, the sergeant practically screaming in his face.
"ALRIGHT YOU GREEN TURD!" the sergeant shouted, "TELL US WHAT KIND OF DAMNED TECH YOU AMPHIBIAN FAGGOTS ARE SCREWING AROUND WITH OR I'LL PUT MY FOOT RIGHT THROUGH YOUR UNUSALLY DRY CORPSE!"
Beltino gasped, "We're…not…experimenting…with Chaos…"
"LYING FUCKING XENOS!"
The sergeant punched Beltino in the gut, eliciting a gasped cry of pain. He then dropped him on the steel floor and aimed his laspistol at his head. Slippy was about to charge forward from the line when the Commissar grabbed the sergeant by the shoulder and gave him a stern looking, almost causing him to jump.
"Control yourself, sergeant," Plymouth groused.
Before he had a chance to think about what he was doing Slippy broke out of the line and dashed towards his day, skidding onto his knees to help him onto his feet, not realising he was before the shined boots of the Commissar.
"Dad…dad?" Slippy said, "Can you stand?"
Catching his breath, Beltino moaned as he shakily stood up with help from Slippy, "You and Amanda hid in the janitor storeroom, didn't you?"
Slippy suddenly cried out in shock as he found he was standing before Plymouth, a dreaded Commissar of the Imperium of Man. He had heard so many stories about these fearless, political officers of the Imperial Guard. They were all that terrible and nauseating that they couldn't possibly have been true. But seeing Plymouth stand before him clad in his black and scarlet greycoat with large hat, allowed him to quickly deduced that they were all true to the letter.
"Startle you did I, amphibian?" Plymouth mocked with a smile, his eyes obscured from his hat, "I thought as much, knowing someone of your immediate…character."
Angrily, Slippy demanded defiantly, "What do you want from us, Commissar? I thought we had nothing to do with you any more because of Papetoon!"
"You should ask that to the General when he arrives, alien," Plymouth responded camly, before ordering loudly, "Now join your fellow anthropomorphic cretins on the floor!"
With his lasgun a Guardsman shoved the pair back towards the large group of Lylatian personnel sitting on the ground, Guardsmen keeping them packed together, patting and stroking their lasguns ready to club any one who dared tried to stand up from cramps or even complain. Slippy and Beltino found they were separated from Amanda, who sat in the very edge of the group from the other end.
Slippy started to feel ill, all too well knowing what their fate will eventually be once the humans get around to it. He had seen what humanity does to it's enemies, pointed out by Jacques as he had taken his sword out to both Venomians and Orks last year; he could only imagine that it would pale in comparison to what the Imperial Guard would do to him and those around him.
'Fox,' he thought sadly, 'Where are you? Jacques?'
He felt himself shiver fearfully.
'We need the both of you...now…'
He was then suddenly clubbed across the face by the butt end of a Guardsman's lasgun and was immediately sent spiralling into the place where there is no pain or thought, formally known as unconsciousness.