Chapter III: A Separation from Routine
"Imp Frags ready," shouts Sarge, while pulling his own pin.
We all prime our grenades and await Sergeant Clye's next order. The big chief and his horde are running toward our position. Our First Born sniper had seen them first and was nicked by a bolt in the shoulder pauldron. Apex Squad immediately dove for cover which luckily existed as crates and unused machines. Even the Acolyte had taken cover and waited to pounce. Us Stormtroopers carry Impact Grenades which are explosives that blow when they hit something instead of going off when a timer runs out. Seconds pass as we sweat in the hot, desert sun. Finally after what felt like an eternity Clye gives us the okay to throw. Spike and I toss ours over our heads but, Trotskav leans back to aim then forcefully chucks the bombastic ambassador. In a moment I hear the boom and a lot of yelling.
"AW DA HUMIEZ GOT ME FOOT!", is the loudest shout, right before Apex Squad springs up to bring on the real pain.
"Spike do not fire," barks the Sarge at seeing a certain blond chainsword user dash to the nearest greenie.
I open fire upon the wounded ones, their mutinous voices turning into sounds of gurgling blood. After putting the last one out of his misery, I join Trotskav and Sergeant Clye in handling the livelier brawlers. Most of the greenskins are too distracted by the blood thirsty woman among them to even glance at us. The Acolyte weaves through our gunfire and the orks' axe swings as if she is dancing. Her sleek, white armor becomes stained with blood, but none of it is hers. I instantly redirect my arc of fire at three green beasts that start sprinting toward Apex Squad's position, one of which is heading straight towards Spike.
Trotskav and I drop two of them, but the third hearty aggressor survives several sniper rounds to the torso and a few bursts from Pepper II to the legs. The green bastard crawls up to Spike clenching his axe tightly and spewing curses only to have his head disappear in a cloud of gory bits. I'm watching smoke from Spike's grenade launcher billowing into the air when I hear the distinct sound of a chainsword ripping through flesh. I glance over in the direction it came from.
"Are you all right Acolyte Porcia?" I hear Trostkav say without a hint of concern in her voice. I see the Acolyte nod and wipe blood off her brow with a cloth. She tucks the rag away into her belt pouch. The Nob lies diagonally cut in two at the Acolyte's feet. I notice the jaw of the poor bastard is open and gushing blood. I look down to drop my drum magazine containing only a little ammo left and load the next one. Spike is pattng me on the shoulder when the Sarge speaks.
"This is Apex Squad, we read you Sergeant Bluse," Clye answers into his vox-caster. Spike, Trotskav, Porcia, and I regroup around Sarge as he continues.
"Send the coordinates and we'll be there within the hour ,Apex out," replies our Sergeant to the other. The Acolyte walks away when Clye begins to relay what he just heard.
"Squads Eva and Panzer have found an area to rendezvous with all squads nearby, including us, to begin the full offensive on the main fuel depot," explains Sarge. I turn to Spike, ready to hear a complaint or a joke on how bad things will get.
"Yeah, that's just peachy, but where the hell is she going," replies the grenadier who begins pointing at the Acolyte several meters away. While wondering at that myself the green eyed monster turns to face us.
"I must go on a different path, for our objectives divide us," the Inquisitor's servant says in a loud voice. I stare in confusion as the Acolyte turns back around and resumes walking. I turn to Spike, expecting something to come out of his mouth, but he simply shrugs.
"Normand go with her," Sergeant Clye commands while pointing at the black and white clad woman. Suddenly Trotskav speaks up, making the Sarge turn to face her.
"Sir I don't think you should do that," she says to my surprise. "Normand leaving would lower our squad's fighting strength."
"My order still stands," remarks Clye with finality. "Normand catch up to Acolyte Porcia now!"
I quickly nod at my superior and begin running toward my designated target. I jog up to Acolyte Porcia's side, making her look my way. She stares at me with annoyance, but motions to come along anyway. While walking my heads-up display flickers with files involving codes. There's one file that isn't a code, but a recorded message from Sarge. The message explains that the codes are for access of every stormtrooper squad frequency. I imagine back up would be necessary in a manufactorum teeming with orks.
"Why does the ground have to be made of metal," is my first thought as I start feeling tired of trudging in the rays of an unforgiving star. I glance at my new partner in front of me, who somehow knows where we're going. She has no vox-caster nor wrist communicator yet acts as if guided by the Emperor himself. I reach her right side and snap my fingers to get the lady's attention.
"Ma'am, I don't mean to question your sense of direction, but where exactly are we going?" I ask hoping the next thing that goes through my head isn't a chainsword.
"It's confidential," Porcia replies, her green eyes seeming to interrogate my very soul.
"I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't just accept that," I state while feeling every part of my brain scream that I shouldn't. "Please ma'am, tell me where we're going."
We stare at each other silently for what feels like several life times until finally, my possible murderer speaks in a harsh tone.
"We are going to a meet with Inquisitor Talonius," she remarks with glare that could be pierce power armor. "That is all you have permission to know."
"Yes ma'am," I reply, feeling like a child.