Scaran was hard pressed to keep up with his Brother-sergeant, his breath coming in controlled bursts from his lungs, his knee's burning with the push of adrenaline. A twisted corpse sped away behind them in the corridor, a smoking crater punched right through its chest. Scaran checked the small digit-counter on the side of his shotgun, four rounds left. His eyes flicked up to see the bulk of Tiberius dart around a corner ahead of him, suddenly he was superimposed upon the metal walls of the star ship, the bark of his bolter spitting death at whatever foe he'd encountered. The scout skidded round the corner and came to a crouch behind his masters armour, risking a quick glance around the side of the large combat shield. Streaks of blue light speared towards them, erupting in sparks and dizzying blue flame off the surface of the shield. Scaran grabbed the sling his auspex was on and dragged it round into his hand, he consulted the numbers and thermal imaging.
He raised it to Tiberius who cast it a glance and then hefted his shield, sending another bolt soaring down the tunnel, he was rewarded with a crumped explosion and a synthesised scream. One less line of gunfire howled down the corridor at them. Scaran couldn't help the feral grin that flickered across his blunt features, his dark eyes, his cracked lips and hooked nose all reflecting the glare of the auspex. He could see his brother-initiates on an intercept course towards the xeno's at the end of the corridor. He couldn't determine how but they were going to turn this situation in their favour. He heard the thud and scrape of metal and lifted his face to see Tiberius torso smouldering, a hole punched clean through his combat shield and into his breastplate. His chest tightened momentarily, apprehensive that his master had come under serious harm, but Tiberius merely grunted and slammed the muzzle of his bolter into the hole and unleashed a hail of rockets at the foe.
Scarans eyes were fiercely fighting to compensate for the strobe effect of the bolter flare and rail rounds. The noise was deafening and dirt rained down through cracks in the hull plating or through broken doors. He clutched his shotgun close to his chest and offered a small prayer to the Great Father. Tiberius began to take shuddering steps forward, his shield scraping sparks from the decking beneath them, streaks of fire whipping past their heads. Scaran truly felt in awe of this moment, him and his master against the odds, advancing into suppressive fire and defying the Emperors enemies. He would hold this dear to his heart for a long time to come. He consulted his auspex once more and almost laughed aloud at the readout, he slapped a gloved hand upon his Sergeants massive shoulder guard and pointed.
The roar of shotgun fire erupted at the other end of the corridor, the Tau dancing like marionettes as the armour piercing slugs burst their plas-tech carapaces open. The ceiling above the xeno's sheared open under the weight of fire, there was a clang and then a vent cover crashed into the floor followed by the other scouts. Gellus brought his boot down upon the neck of a slow dying xeno, the sickening crack loud in the silence after the brutal fire fight. Tiberius left his crouched stance and held his shield at ease to his right. His booming laughter cut out of the portcullis grate on the front of his helmet, his footsteps stressing the decking beneath him, he slotted his bolter into the large steel holster bolted to his left thigh. His chainmail tabard rustled and glistened with the watery blood of the Tau, he reached the carnage at the other end of the hallway and nodded his approval.
++ Fine work, my children. Scaran, consult the auspex, you lead. ++
Scaran nodded his bloodied head and pressed a glowing rune upon the auspex, it clicked and whirred for several seconds before chiming in a series of short blips. Scaran took point, hefting his shotgun and bracing it over his forearm, the auspex displaying a screen similar to sonar, sending out short wave pulses to determine bio signs. He mentally counted each click of the auspex, scanning for shorter times between the chimes. Tiberius watched his favourite scout hang a left in the corridor and un-holstered his bolter, gesturing to the others.
++ Well children, seems we've picked up a trail. Move. ++
Scaran could smell them even as the auspex chimed his approach to the life signs. He'd taken off before his kin, leaving them in the darkness of the corridors. He was eager, perhaps too eager to end the foe before him.
His finger tightened on the trigger to his shotgun and he leapt around the corner, the darkness of the hallway penetrated by the light coming from inside the command deck. He eased towards the cavernous mouth leading onto the bridge, taking up position to the left of the door, he slung the auspex and gripped the shotgun in both hands. He wanted the glory, he decided this was the chance to earn his Sword. Scaran mentally geared himself and then jumped in through the doorway, his shotgun barking off two spreads of fire. He took two Tau from their feet before they could react, a third had its helmet ripped apart, its face a bloody mess as it hit the floor. The scout threw himself into cover behind a bench of terminals, racking the slide on his shotgun and sending another hail of fire over the top, he was rewarded by the sound of bursting plas-tech. Scaran risked a glance over the terminals, sighting down the angle of the command centre to the figures clustered in the middle.
Confusion burst inside his mind, he felt a bitter taste creep into his mouth and he pumped the last round home upon his shotgun. They knew he was here, it was impossible not to know, yet they did not react. Scaran eased himself forward along the terminals to one of the four sets of stairs that led down to the centre, then he bolted. His pumped his legs as fast as possible and lifted his shotgun, the roar of it ringing around the circular combat room. He discarded it the armour piercing shot peppering into two of the four cloaked figures crowded around something. One went down, bright blood spurting from its wounds. He tore the blade that hung at his side free, pressing his thumb into the activation stud, the foot long combat blade was lined in a humming glow of amber light. He leapt onto the last row of terminals and dived forward, bringing his knife down in an arc. His target whirled faster than his eyes could cope with, the cloak revealing bone white armour and flame red hair and suddenly he became the target. Unable to stop himself, Scaran was imbedded on the blue scimitar, pain erupted in his body causing him to go blind for a moment, he could feel the power field around the blade searing his insides.
He crashed into the ground, the slender figure in front of him using its foot to slide him clear of its blade. Scaran coughed frothed blood onto his chin and looked up with wide eyes at the foe stood over him. Its armour was curvaceous and form fitting, small gems glittered and pulsed at various points upon its torso, the curve of its armoured breasts catching the dim light in the command centre, causing the armour to gleam pearlescent. Wraith bone, it dawned upon Scaran like a hammer blow. He tried to force himself up but the Banshee stamped her foot onto his wound, slamming him back into the metal. She possessed a strength that belied her fragile seeming form. The air filled with the sound of flutes and the drop of winter dew, his ears twitched, his mind hurt as he realised the Banshee was speaking at him.
'Mon-keigh, you know not what you meddle with. Welcome your corpse god.'
Then she raised her scimitar, shirking the cloak from her shoulders and revealing her deadly beautiful form. Scaran could not accept his death at the hands of this Eldar, he would not accept it, then as if in answer to his thoughts her chest erupted in a gout of flame and blood, shards of wraith bone glittered like tears as they shattered from her form. He watched the pale flesh of her chest shear and tear under the assault of the bolter rounds. Hot, steaming blood splashed his front, splashing into his face. His kin had arrived and so had something else. The metallic taste of the blood burnt through his body, sending his system into overdrive and a red haze descended upon his vision. Clutching the humming power knife in his hand he let out a truly terrifying scream that caused the Eldar to flinch momentarily, his dark eyes shot through with gold and blood, his skin bulged at the muscles trying to break through, his carapace armour strained to contain his bulk. His mind was on fire, an inferno of noise and screaming filled his head, scratching claws and cackling energies. A pale face with daemons eyes swam in his mind's eye, blurring his vision, he witnessed the death of a god and the struggle of titans. He was there and it was killing him, an urge rose in his throat, something was telling him there was only one thing to slate the mind-daemons assaulting him, and that thing was blood.
Tiberius lowered his bolter as it belched smoke from its barrel, his scouts engaged the phantoms of the Eldar, their whistling blades and vicious screeching filled the command centre, but what he was staring at was his favoured son. He witnessed what had been a mortally wounded initiate rise up from the ground, screaming and clawing at his own face, then lunge upon the nearest hooded figure, he saw his scout plunge his knife into the foe again and again, drawing gouts of blood and shreds of organs put with each rend. The two figures crashed into a huge metal crate in the centre of the command deck, the Eldars cloak heavy with its own blood, Scaran rammed his forehead into his foes, the sound of wraith bone cracking audible even over the shotgun bursts and screaming. He watched as his favoured son lifted the Eldars broken and battered head, ripping free its helmet and then with a blood curdling howl, he watched Scaran sink his teeth into the Eldars throat.