Chapter Two
Warp Current, Urliam Secundus, Ultima Segmentum
"The spaceport?!" Kevus bellowed in rage. "It's burnt to hell! Not even Nurgle himself could bring the remnants to life again!" A sharp psychic spear plunged into Kevus' mind at this statement, and he crumpled to the steel floor, writhing and crying in agony. Juurich stepped forward, keeping the mental shackles on Kevus, and knelt to look him in the eye.
"None shall degrade the abilities of our Father," he whispered and released the curse.
Exhaling immediately, Kevus fell flat on his chest to the floor. "Yes, lord, forgive me," he gasped. His armor wriggled in happiness at their wearer's punishment.
Juurich stepped back to face them all and continued, "The Eye is in the spaceport. Although our batteries may have pummeled the fortress into oblivion, there are still tunnels intact, thousands of them. The Imperials knew that such an artifact would be invaluable to Chaos or Xenos, so they buried it, far below what an orbital scan or bombardment could reach."
The ten marines sighed to themselves in relief, and one finally asked, "So what is our course of action, lord?"
"I've been thinking of that myself, but after searching the Warp and surrounding space, it seems that this planet – Urliam Secundus, as the Imperials call it – is completely cut off from support by at least three weeks. If we eliminate that docked ship, the Hammer of Dawn, then the Eye will be ours for the taking as easily as Nurgle could bring a single soul back from the grave."
Nathaniel Hawkins woke at 7 o'clock in the morning, according to the ship's time cycle, in the infirmary. His chest was wrapped in bandages, and psyk-probes were poked into his skin at every pressure point to relieve the wounds inflicted by the Death Cult techniques of the captain.
He looked around the pure white room and found no familiar companions among the twenty men who lay asleep. Despite this, Hawkins was optimistic, remembering the times he spent with his nineteen wingmen, and knowing that the happiness would continue made it all the better.
Suddenly, the airlock opened with a hiss, and Samael Charter, Hawkins' main wingman, stepped in with a slew of medi-servitors, their whirring tracks grinding them to other men's beds. Charter stepped up to Hawkins.
"You really got lost, didn't you?" Charter laughed.
Hawkins narrowed his eyes.
"Right, sorry." He cleared his throat and pulled a data-slate from his jacket. Punching in a code to the screen, he handed it to Hawkins. "This is the review of the tactics we received of the Chaos ship from debriefing."
Hawkins looked over it, and after awhile, Hawkins finally piped up, "This is the work of the Death Guard."
"What?" Charter sat dumbfounded. "How do you know that?"
"Plague torpedoes. They were launched both at the spaceport and us, in the fighters. That must explain my condition. But you guys are lucky they only shot about twenty of them…"
"Wait, slow down!" Hawkins' companion seemed exasperated, "How do you know those torpedoes were plague variants?"
"The trails they left! See?" He pointed to the data-slate in specific areas, but Charter just rocked back on his chair, exhaling in fatigue.
"I guess the captain wasn't joking when he said you were good…"
"What? The captain said what about me?" Hawkins asked, looking up from the screen.
Charter just ran out of the room, nearly taking a medi-servitor with him, as he realized what he had said.
Cultists milled about the bridge on Eternal Decay, adjusting warp drive systems for a re-entry to material space above Urliam Secundus. Tainted servitors sat inanimate at stations, connected by immense cables to even larger machines, and the occaisional Traitor Marine stepped among them, filtering out any attempt to sabotage the vessel.
An airlock opened, and a draft of demise blew in, alerting the Marines to the new presence. Lord Juurich stepped in, and everyone that had knees knelt, but Juurich simply waved them back to their stations.
"We have business to attend to immediately," he stated, looking out over the rows of stations. "The human ship Hammer of Dawn is docked, immobile and defenseless. We're going to destroy it before it can be repaired or brought to battle-ready status. Once this feat has been met, the true task may be taken in full force."
One of the marines serving guard stepped up, knelt, and reported in. "All preparations are complete, and the ship is ready to enter material space broadsiding the Dawn on your word."
"Do it," Juurich ordered, sending the sentry off to the lead astropath.
After a few seconds, the astropath nodded to the marine and then Juurich.
With a sudden jerk that tumbled some to the steel grating, the Eternal Decay entered space just two kilometers from the Imperial battleship, just a hair's breadth in relative terms. A moment later, every battery on the right side of the Decay unleashed their payload across the void, impacting and causing thousands of explosions to ripple across the hull. Void shields flickered and failed in some places, and in those breaches, precision lances fired, detonating fuel and munitions just inside the adamantium hull.
Meager defense satellites turned their batteries on the Death Guard's barge but were soon silenced by intercepting fighters, their lascannons shredding through the pitiful orbiting turrets.
"Keep up the bombardment, gunners," Juurich boomed across the bridge. "Stop on my word and then launch the boarding craft."
"Move, move!" Hawkins yelled to the servitors, who mindlessly shuffled along programmed. Imperial technicians obviously weren't expecting a situation like this. Hawkins awkwardly pulled on his pilot jumpsuit as he ran to the hangar, and he ignored the robotic pleas of the medi-servitors to remain in the infirmary.
Blaring warning vox-casters filled the air with their shrieks, and crimson glow-strips glared down onto the steel floor, reflecting and casting a blood-red tint over everything. As Hawkins ran past quarters, he saw every door indicator read vacant. He just pushed himself harder, and before long, he reached the hangar, where hell reigned over all else.
Pilots were frantically trying to launch, but techpriests were adamant that their ships were not ready, stating that the previous engagement, the bombardment on the spaceport, had left many craft below operating status. Instead, they suggested the dropships, which were shuttling the 31st regiment of the Urliam Imperial Guard, were much better.
Just outside, more bombardment came, rattling the entire vessel.
Among the chaos, however, Hawkins spotted Samael Charter gathering Wing Primus together, obviously waiting for their commander. He reached them and reassured his wingmen that he had recovered.
"If I'm still weak, then how in the Emperor's name could I have gotten here?" Hawkins asked them.
Laughter and grins were their response, a light in the abyss to Hawkins.
"Okay, then," he continued, "let's show these Traitor Marines how the men of the Imperial Navy treat heretics!"
The response now was a roar of approval by all nineteen pilots, and they all rushed to their Fury interceptors, bypassing the pleading techpriests. In a thunderous boom, Wing Primus entered the fray to save their dying ship.
"Lord," one of the guards relayed from the mute servitor, "this one reports resistance from the hangar bays. Interceptors are eliminating the fighters we sent, and some are even heading for our ship."
"It is of no concern." Juurich grinned in his Terminator armor, finding the humans' futile attempts of heroism amusing. "Let them come closer, if they dare, and focus blast weaponry on them. Try to take multiple interceptors at a time to weaken their morale."
He knew how the humans felt, how they strove to see the Emperor's light, but after Juurich had seen the truth of it all, he realized how pointless his single life was in the grand scheme of the universe; this wing assaulting the Eternal Decay embodied that idea. Nurgle seemed to call to him from the ranks of the Blood Angels chapter of Space Marines, allowing him perpetual life to see the end of time, despite the many diseases that plagued the marines of the Death Guard for eternity.
Suddenly, Juurich's Terminator suit bleeped, and he pulled out his pict-vox unit. Kevus showed on its screen, helmeted head bowing to his Lord.
"What's the situation, Kevus?" Juurich asked.
"There is no problem, Lord," Kevus replied, "but my squad grows impatient, I apologize a thousand times over…"
The Terminator Lord chuckled. "There is no need for apology. Your men are anxious to bloody their hands; I commend them for it." He paused to glance to a servitor, who nodded, signifying that the launch area was clear. "You may launch when you're ready, Kevus. Remember your objective and place it at top priority."
"I will, my Lord, thank you. For Nurgle…"
"And all his children."
The pict-vox faded to black, and Juurich looked up to a viewscreen showing a tank-sized assault boat jettisoning towards the Dawn, who was beginning to leak fuel and air, flames licking around its surface.
The interior of the Viruso-class boarding craft was dimly lit with a single green bulb, its sick green light barely reaching the outer walls. All ten of the marines sat on the edge seats, each checking and rechecking bolters and chainswords, praying to Nurgle, and walking through the battleplan in their minds countlessly.
The pilot in the forward cockpit pushed the boat to its limits, throttling to the maximum, even using a hint of psychic power to coax the engines into putting out more thrust. Remnant fighter wings buzzed above and below them, attempting to save the Dawn. Some of them tried to intercept their assault boat, but the countless turrets on the Eternal Decay were easily able to pick them off, hurling their flaming adamantium carcasses down into the atmosphere of Urliam Secundus.
A winking light flashed inside the troop compartment, signaling the coming impact with the Imperial battleship. The marines gripped their weapons and braced themselves. With a jolt, the boat collided against the hull of the Dawn, passing through the disabled void shield with ease. Demolition charges blew, and the ten Death Guard marines stormed the breach.
Two dozen naval security troopers, each fitted with an Arbites suit and hellgun, were waiting at an intersection of corridors behind the corners and makeshift barricades comprised of steel crates and sheet adamantium. They unleashed a relentless hail of lasbolts at first sight, ripping through one of Kevus' marines in an explosion of blood and gore.
The remaining nine surged forward, unloading bolters and pistols as they ran. Plague-infested bolts melted through the makeshift defenses, Warp-spawned acids hissing as the rounds penetrated the unfortunate troopers behind. In seconds the Death Guards were in close combat, shredding through the plates on the Imperials with mighty chainblades.
In a matter of seconds, every arbites trooper was dead save the lone sergeant of the squad, a veteran armed with a hellpistol and a power saber, who was hiding just beyond a corner. Kevus motioned to the squad to stay back; this human was his.
He stepped forward towards the intersection, heavy adamantium boots crunching on the steel grating floor. The sergeant could be heard breathing heavily, obviously anticipating his terrible death.
Suddenly, Kevus issued a mighty battlecry and charged around the corner, chainsword chattering wildly in his armored gauntlet. The sergeant, however, yelled back and dived forward between the Death Guard's legs, missing Kevus' swing by millimeters. He unloaded his hellpistol up into the marine's leg, and it yelped as a flurry of las-bolts ate through the armor.
With a thrust of his adamantium boot, Kevus stomped down, attempting to crush the arbites in one fell swoop. The sergeant was still quick, though, and he was already on his feet behind the traitor marine. He charged forward, power saber vibrating with strength, and plunged into Kevus' backpack, power coils erupting in a plume of green smoke.
Kevus roared in anger and swung back with his chainsword, just missing the sergeant's head, who immediately ducked and rolled forward in front of Kevus; this was his last mistake. The Death Guard saw the opportunity and dove forward onto his chest, crushing the sergeant under the sheer magnitude of the power armor.
A moment later, all was quiet. Blood and chunks of human flesh were scattered throughout the hall, and the mutilated corpses lay on the cold, steel floor, decomposing at an alarming rate; Nurgle was pleased and had manifested himself in the stench emanating from the marines' suits. The nine grinned under their helmets as the carcasses shriveled to a wrinkled pile of tissue.
Charging down the corridor, they gunned down a group of fleeing technicians, running in terror from the death approaching them. Onward they went, eliminating more feeble humans, and in five minutes, they had reached the main reactor for the Dawn's engines.
Kevus unclipped a pouch and removed a small, green sphere.
"Stand back," he said, readying the bomb.