Brother-captain Michael grimaced as he looked down at the two new craters in his shoulder plate.
He had been too confident and sluggish, there was no question about it, they shouldn't even have been allowed to raise their weapons before he and his marines had wiped them out dammit! Now he would have to repair this one...the machine spirit would not be pleased...not to mention techmarine Fichus!
Looking about himself he silently noted the chapel insides. Not much in the marks of bullets...a few weak holes where a bolter round had punched through someone and then struck the wall...and of course a few missed shots from the sisters.
At least his brothers hadn't wasted ammunition.
Which was evident by the blood splashed over the walls. The armour piercing kraken bolts used by six of his marines had torn the sisters on the ramparts apart, limbs and entrails hanging from the second floor like obscene decorations. Of the others there wasn't much left, the bolts used on them had practically torn them to shreds, blood and pieces of bone covering what was left of the bodies.
Kicking the top half of a head aside he turned to look outside, casually noting the way his brothers had fanned out in a semi circle against the outside of the chapel. Far away he could already see a new wave of the unclean approach, the plague zombies were too many to make any real dent in them with the firepower at his disposal, even with The Pure in artillery support it was stupid to resist.
He and his brothers had...he eyed the avalanche of foes approaching...three minutes though, nothing to worry about.
Sighing he shot out a mental impulse to his armour, activating the communicator. "This is captain Michael, our mission here is complete, what is the status for the relic localisation?"
The communicator crackled as the dark sky above him interfered with the signal...then came through clear: "This is techmarine Fichus. We have a negative on that, there are a magnetic storm that is making localisation difficult, we are narrowing the signal down though."
"I urge you to hurry brother, I do not wish to be caught red-handed by any nosy inquisitor." Michael growled, annoyed. This was such a waste of time, when the barge arrived they would purge the planet...though at least they now had a new recruit. Though considering the Fire Spectre's failure percentage it wasn't much...too many were too weak when it came down to it. Too many weaklings nowadays... "And send a thunderhawk down for pick-up, we're done here."
Then he heard a slight scrapping sound.
Turning he noticed one of the sisters stir from where she lay in a corner. He remembered her, she had fallen from the second floor, bounced against a bench and then slid down into the corner...spraying blood over him and his brothers all the way. No surprise there, with her left leg blown off by the knee and a huge rip diagonally across her stomach...the surprising part was her being alive.
Taking a step towards her he raised his pistol, though he didn't fire, curious how far this one could make it.
With a squelching sound the woman fell unto her stomach, gauntleted hands reaching out towards the middle of the chapel and pulling...a weak moan escaped the cracked helmet as she slowly slid forward.
Silently following Michael watched her hands blindly reach out for a bolter obviously too far away...then come down, dig into the edge of a tile and pull her onwards. Three sounds reached his ears when he focused on her, the sound of ceramite dragging against stone, flesh crushing against stone...and a whispered prayer.
"Surprisingly tenacious aren't you?" He asked, cocking his bolt pistol while following.
The sister ignored him, or perhaps she couldn't hear him anymore? Either way she continued, praying all the way while leaving a trail of blood and torn organs in her wake, a part of her intestine having wrapped itself around her wounded leg...yet she moved on, apparently not realizing that she was supposed to die.
"Impressive, a miracle or the first hint of becoming one of the unclean?" Michael shrugged, crushing an end of the woman's intestine and grinding his foot down, tearing it apart. "Doesn't really matter though."
A mere moan was the sister's reply. Through the large crack on the top of her helmet Michael could see the top of her skull...perhaps she was blonde, it was hard to tell with all the dark blood in her hair. From the hole he could also smell vomit and tears...he snorted, weakling...
"Brother captain." Turning his head Michael found the apothecary saluting him, white helmet stained by blood from one of the tests where the subject had struggled too much.
"Ah, brother apothecary, how is our patient?" With a new sloshing sound something fell out of the battle sister as she continued her useless struggle.
The brother shrugged. "He is still sedated..." Yes, sedated, Michael remembered the blow that almost knocked the man's skull off. "...but he is stable and I have tended to his wounds, he will make it, I recommend that we hold training for two weeks."
"You're recommendation is noted." Michael dully replied, damn apothecaries...their duty really affected their judgement, a Fire Phoenix did not hold training because of a broken jaw...so neither should a new recruit. "Anything else about him?"
"He shows a high probability for organ failure during future procedures, so I recommend additional testing." The apothecary shrugged, that problem was common after all. "Yet...I must also mention that two of the inhabitants in the chapel escaped down into the sewers."
"I'm not blind brother, I saw them fall out the window as well." Michael snorted. "They are not worth the trouble however, one of them was a sister...and with the zombies approaching it's just not worth to find them. The probability of the man being a potential recruit isn't high enough to excuse the expenditure in time and ammunition. Let the unclean eat them."
"Yes brother." The apothecary nodded, his opinion on the matter concealed behind a neutral tone. Before them the sister's prayer turned into a whisper as something new dropped out of her, only to get crushed under her still moving armour. Smelled like...a kidney? "Master, why haven't you executed that thing yet?"
Michael chuckled, looking down at the sister whose fingertips now brushed the grip of her weapon. "Just fascinated by her strength, a shame we can't recruit women isn't it brother?"
"Yes captain." The apothecary hesitated. "Um...should I?"
"No, let me, her strength should be rewarded." Stepping forward Michael put a foot on the battle sister's back, drawing a wheeze from her and letting another piece of organ drop out by the pressure. "A bolt instead of bleeding to death...a great honour."
The sister probably didn't hear him, instead she continued reaching out, he could almost smell her frustration as the trembling fingers pushed her weapon out of reach once more. Her hands begun to drop, shaking uncontrollably as shock finally begun to set in, though she was still muttering that prayer...
Heh, cute.
Her skull exploded, the bolt entering through the hole in her helmet and slamming right into the inside of her faceplate before exploding, creating a small fountain as the blood gushed up through the hole.
Holstering his smoking gun Michael stepped away and turned to his brothers in time to see the thunderhawk come in low, engines screeching as it came down for a hard landing. A glorious sight...Michael found himself smiling, he always loved the sight of a good extraction, especially when there were no losses.
"So lets toss this useless new recruit into the ship and go to the next group of survivors..."
