Hello true believers! If your reading this then you managed to survive the wait for this chapter. What can I say life happens. I won't excuse my self this took far longer than it should have but that's in the past now. Let us look forward to a bright shinning new future and once again drench it in blood.
Title: Kingdom of Dirt
Erixc: Thank you for the review. To address your concerns there will be chaos in the third book. As you said the gods still exist but they are sleeping. The only major psychic race was the Ancients/Ori and they had masterful control over their emotions. Secondly it has been said in canon that the Ori feed on the faith of their followers leading me to believe that Ascendants act as a sort of filter with the emotions to enter the warp. Thirdly as cool as Nurgle and Tzeentch screwing over the Ancients would have been it has already been canonised as the work of the Ori. But good idea! The future is trivia.
Anonymus: Well I obviously failed the first part. But here you go for the second. I had something like this in mind way back in chapter six or something but it got cut due to time constraints. Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment.
angry kid130: Thank you. As it says in my profile my spell checker hated me, but now that it is dead who knows? I've already alluded to chaos being in the third book and if I can work it in I would like the Tau to make an appearance as well but if I can't then I can't. Our mercies destroy us.
EdGuess: Thanks, it's always nice t be praised. I have to agree with you about the alliance thing but it's what I went with and hopefully the rest of the story won't disappoint. Pegasus was always going to be a problem because the local populace will practically throw themselves at the feet of the Imperium. No one has been able to even oppose the Wraith and suddenly this massive empire comes along that can beat them to a bloody pulp with what looks like no effort would inspire hero/god worshiping of even the most junior I.G.L. soldier. Truth is subjective.
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McKay awoke screaming. Rolling over to empty the contents of his stomach he groggily pulled himself to his knees. A feeling like his entire existence had just brushed the infinity of death permeated him with its ice cold claws. But waves of what his human mind translated as warmth and nourishment washed over him as the electromagnetic emanations of the human nervous system that are associated with the emotion of fear were savoured by his new star god imposed senses. Quickly sweeping his eyes over his surroundings he saw none of the others were with him. He was on top of a sheet of cracked glass surrounded by rapidly melting snow flakes; all this was contained within a blackened dent in the ground. Again a scream rocked the clearing, his false eye shifted through the information before overlaying the fastest path towards the sound across his vision. Standing unsteadily on the shards of glass he prepared to follow the ghostly path.
"Hunger." The thought drifted through McKay's mind making him spin around searching for the source of the growl. All that met his gaze were the singed ground littered with glass and the trees.
"Help!" The distinctly child like tone of the voice snapped McKay out of his reverie. He leapt out of his unnaturally carved ditch and raced through the massive trees towards the sounds of people screaming.
The woman pulled her child closer to her, cursing the inanimate root that had tripped her so hard it should have gone super nova right there and then. All thoughts of revenge on the tree and its underground limps died as the four soldiers bore down on her. Their armour was simple iron chain mail covering the torso, legs and upper arms. This was covered in turn with a bright red tunic with a light brown leather vest over it. Darker brown fabric trousers and black mud caked leather boots finished their uniforms. The leather armour was covered in odds and ends, ranging from small back up knifes to rolls of string that may be useful in future battles and maintenance. In the centre of their chest leather armour was the black outline of a hand with a diamond mark in the centre. Two of them carried large spears and small shields, one carried a simple long sword at his waist; the final one and obvious leader had a large axe, some bastard child of wood axe and meat cleaver swung lazily over one shoulder.
"Woman, what the hell are you trying?" The leader asked sardonically spitting out a black glob of mucus. "No one escapes the land of the Count."
"She's probably trying to get to the barbarians." The one with the sword said kicking the ground sending a rock skidding down the dirty path.
"No matter." The leader said quietly. "You know the laws. No one escapes the service of the gods." He said, looking forcefully at his men.
"Service is life!" The three bellowed back without even pausing to think.
"Service is life, and those who don't serve die." The leader said, lifting the axe from his shoulder and advancing on the cowering woman.
The woman stared terrified at the spectre of her death, wishing beyond hope for some form of salvation, a miracle from the Ancestors. The last thing she expected was a slightly unfit man in a strange dark blue uniform with a silver arm to burst out from the thick foliage at the side of the path.
McKay skipped to a stop in front of four men who asides from being heavily armed and armoured were obviously stronger than him. Mentally kicking himself for leaping in without a plan or a decent weapon. Dam how he hated Sheppard's heroic streak rubbing off on him.
The woman observed McKay in the seconds of stunned silence that followed his entrance. Obviously not a fighter or a soldier of any kind, he lacked any weapons or armour and he just looked too kind.
"Hi." McKay said nervously.
"Who're you?" The leader demanded pointing the axe at him.
"A traveller" McKay replied, repressing the urge to fight them.
"A traveller?" The one with a sword said holding up his hand, palm facing McKay his thumb touching the base of his pinkie, behind him the two with spears tensed up.
"Yes." McKay answered, happy that no one had started attacking him yet.
The leader's eyes narrowed at the failure to return the identification gesture and then flickered down to the dull silver arm. He assumed it was a fancy glove; he couldn't have been further from the truth.
The woman made an attempt to scream as the large axe swung down on her "saviour". The sound died in her throat as the large axe cracked on contact with the silver limb which had intercepted the blurring axe head in the blink of an eye.
"What?" The leader screamed as he leapt back staring in horror at the large crack in his weapon.
Insane laughter flickered on the edge of McKay's perception but he paid it no heed, already lost in the waves of emotions that swirled around him. Having already burned off the energy taken from the plasma pistol his C'tan altered mind and body demanded sustenance.
"For the gods!" One of spear-men shouted charging headlong at McKay.
Moving beyond the limitations of human physiology, McKay sidestepped the deadly spearhead and its long shaft. Just as the charging man realised he had done the impossible and missed his target a long and thin strand of Necrodermis effortlessly ripped through his dual layers of armour covering his stomach, spilling his intestine onto the ground. The spearman staggered slightly before collapsing into the pile of his cooling entrails the blade of Necrodermis retracting back into McKay's forearm.
The leader watched in horror as one of his men was gutted in a second by a weapon that was impossible. His wide eyed gaze was drawn to the strange man as he let out a satisfied sigh.
"So this is the price of power." McKay said seemingly to himself, examining his Necrodermis arm.
"What are you?" The leader shouted as the man or monster before him began to exude a miasma of fear.
"I told you, a traveller." McKay answered with a serene smile as a sensation of pleasure and sustenance flooded him from the biological energy of the dead soldier.
A blur lunged past the leader; the swordsman moved his weapon in a huge arc intending to behead McKay from the side opposite of his deadly arm. The woman, frozen in place and stunned into to silence, began to shake in terror at what happened next. The sword was plucked out of the air by McKay's flesh and blood hand. In a situation similar to a Wraith, shortly after feeding McKay was now far stronger than his size would dictate.
A buzz of static lasted for the blink of an eye before arcs of deep blue lightening rippled across the swordsman's body searching to earth themselves. The tortured scream lasted a second before the man's vocal cords were flash boiled by his vaporised blood. The crackle of burning fat and dribbles of liquid iron filled the silent path as McKay casually let the body fall to the ground as a charred mess.
McKay cast a glance at the remaining two soldiers; the leader was holding his ground but barley while the spear man had soiled himself if the expanding darker patch was any indication. McKay was now drunk on his kills and whispers of a cruel god. With a contemptuous sneer the spearman exploded in a haze of red mist.
"This can't be happening." The leader muttered as he collapsed to his knees, the red haze of his subordinate settling to the ground.
"Do you believe in a god?" McKay asked, his face peaceful even after the slaughter. "Is this god perfectly omnipotent? Was this world created by such a being?" He continued advancing on the soldier. "Then you should consider all this to be an act of your god. So it is, no, must be happening." He added, his voice filled with infinite power and malice.
"But we served with faith and dedication." The soldier groaned, tears filling his eyes as he gazed upon death incarnate.
"You have been cast aside by your patron. Thus, I give you oblivion." McKay whispered, placing a hand almost caringly on the side of the man's face.
The once brave soldier let out a faint whimper as his mind broke and out poured the chemical cascades of purest madness. Revelling in the flavour, if a human mind was to understand the godly perception of the universe that the C'tan held, of madness McKay fed upon the soldier.
A sigh escaped McKay's lips as the lifeless husk of the dead man slumped to the ground his eyes dull. A desperate scraping came from behind him, turning to face the woman as she desperately tried to get up and flee in the face of doom.
The woman stared in terror as the monster in a man's skin advanced on her; suddenly he didn't look so kind.
"Tell me where I am." McKay demanded, his voice aloof but terrifyingly powerful.
The woman stuttered as she covered her child with more of her body as if the flesh would protect better than the armour that had been sliced apart like so much sodden paper. McKay shivered as the haze in his mind faded and the realisation of what he had done started to sink in.
"Bravo." Whispered though the fog of his mind, followed by a mocking applause.
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A grunt rippled through the military flat bed truck as the sweat stained reporter braced his massive black case against the tarp. His once clean pressed white shirt was now transparent with sweat down his back and around his arm pits; his silk tie was tied around his forehead to absorb the rivers of sweat that had threatened his eyes. The ID badge that hung from his shirt identified him as Norman Reign. The truck lurched again as it roared across the open plains of the Mojave Desert towards the supposed landing zone.
A snicker followed almost instantly and the reporter was quickly trying to suppress the urge to garotte the insolent young airman. The other members of the squad smiled at their youngest member's antics.
The eleven soldiers that sat in the vehicle consisted of a single Sergeant, who had threatened to throw Norman out of the moving truck if he got in his way, nine other men who had either glared at him or ignored him and the youngest of them who had taunted him the moment he saw him, before jumping into the truck with an unnatural familiarity.
A column of twenty other trucks followed behind theirs throwing up a huge cloud of dust behind the convoy. Norman had been given the apparent honour of accompanying the first detachment of soldiers to officially leave the surface of Earth or Terra.
The public reaction to the revelation had been extreme, strings of anti-alien murders and riots had swept over the globe while hundreds of cults had proclaimed the coming of their dreadful gods. Thousands more conspiracy theorists had come forward predicting the death of the Earth or the destruction of its planetary identity. However the mass hysteria and general doom that so many military advisors had predicted had not materialized. If it was from a bizarre sense of security that came from being the centre of a galactic empire or if it was the threat of the deadly ships, Imperial or otherwise, that might be hanging over head no one knew.
Now the public was clamouring for off world reports, pictures and travel. Demanding to know what they were a part of and how much they really controlled. So here he was riding through the desert in a truck towards God knows where and he hated it. Surprisingly enough the desert was distinctly different from New York.
The vehicle suddenly ground to a stop sending dust billowing up around it. A gruff voice shouted from outside the tarp. "We're here, get out!"
"But there's nothing here." Norman moaned as he looked out at the empty landscape.
"Just get out." The squad's Sergeant barked, looming menacingly over the reporter.
The moment the entire squad was unloaded from the truck its engine roared into life as it sped away from the now stranded mass of humans.
"Well shit." One of the squad said as he watched the dust cloud fade into the distance.
"Just give it a second." The youngest member of their squad said, memories from a life that was not his own informing him that the faint whining on the wind was from an inertial dampener not the retreating trucks.
Norman was about to snap off a remark when a soldier somewhere shouted a warning. Casting his gaze upwards he saw six black dots descending at speeds that exceeded sound. The solders began to scatter; no craft could pull up from that death dive. All except for the youngest among them who watched patiently as the boxes with wings and I-301s screeched towards him.
Suddenly the I-301s pulled off, accelerating even faster as they headed towards the closest military base. The Imperial Landers noses rose in unison presenting their underbellies to the planet below as technologies alien, ancient and extra-dimensional decelerated them to approximately Mach one. The mass of airmen and women looked on in awe as the large ungainly craft that by most human definitions shouldn't be able to fly slowed gently to touch the ground.
"Told ya." The young soldier said with a smugness that was out of place at his age over his shoulder, before walking towards the opening maw of the closest Lander.
Neophyte squad Ghost team leader Sachiel holstered his bolt pistol, no need to be overly aggressive with their new charges. An interaction with the Terran soldiers was to be a useful experience in their training. As the only Imperial envoy to these new recruits he would be technically in charge until they made planet fall. Around him the remainder of his squad got ready to assert themselves, even though they were all above two meters and could easily kill a human with one hand they were only about fifteen years old.
The moment the large plasteel door thumped to the sandy ground Arad, Crocell and Tannis walked quickly out towards the other three Landers intent on herding the Terrans onboard as quickly as possible, even though all Imperial captains respected Marines as the Emperor's right hand it was not good policy to annoy them.
Sachiel placed a finger in his ear the vox caster snapping to life with a hiss. "Greetings Terrans." He bellowed over the dying whine of the Lander's engines.
"Sup'." Was the flippant response from the young Terran waiting at the Lander's entrance.
"Would you care to begin boarding?" Cennobi asked from behind Sachiel.
"Sure." The airman said happily walking onto the Lander like it was all natural.
Norman Reign was ecstatic four extraterrestrial ships had just landed in front of him. As fast as possible he had pulled out his camera from its black case which was filled with every sort of journalistic item known to man and several spares. Scanning over the boxlike craft he noticed two figures standing inside its hold. Now he was recording the men who could only be them who had become legends over night, the Space Marines. However other names had circulated such as Astarte or even Angel of Death, no one knew were these came from but the terminology had started to cling. It sounded better than Space Marine on the news, Angel of Death even had a slightly forbidding tone to it.
Sachiel spotted the man in civilian clothing panning around a small hand held device that their briefing had identified as an audio visual recording device. The advice from Stein floated to the top of his mind. "Don't harm them in any way no matter now annoying they get. Terrify, threaten, encourage I don't care just keep them out of the way. A civilian has no place on a ship of war." The next part had been whispered to him alone. "However accidents do happen." With that the Brother-Drill Sergeant left for the front lines.
"Cennobi, motivate the civilian." Sachiel said as the air force personnel filtered past him.
"With pleasure." The Neophyte responded setting his sights on the man who had yet to move since the Landers started loading people.
Norman panned the camera over the large craft one last time, once again trying to impress onto the digital machine just how real these things were. Suddenly a large figure in black armour detached itself from the crowd of military personnel, most of whom were nervously chatting about going into space. He lowered his camera as the man approached.
"Hello." Norman said enthusiastically while still recording away.
"The time scale of this operation is short, the ships need to transport you and then relocate the planetary garrisons in two days. You need to be on the Lander in a few moments or you will be left behind." Cennobi said sternly as clicks from his ear piece signalled the Landers were loaded.
"Sure, okay." Norman replied clipping the camera to his waist and struggling to life the large black case.
With a sigh Cennobi grabbed hold of the piece of luggage and lifted it effortlessly. Norman stared at the display of strength for a second before running after the long strides of the Scout. Sachiel almost laughed as the grumblings of his teammate reached his enhanced hearing. Sachiel gave a knowing smirk to the rest of his team as they awaited their final member and the 'special' passenger.
The whine of inertial dampeners drowned out everything as the other three transports kicked up clouds of sand and dust, detaching themselves from the planet and raced towards the stars. As the air tight doors clamped shut with a loud metallic bang, Sachiel signalled the pilots to take off.
Murmurs of fear and anticipation flowed through the gathered soldiers as the transport lurched upwards. Men and women pressed themselves against the small windows to watch as they climbed further and further away from the home. Sachiel watched them with humour; it was hard to imagine Terrans to be so fallible. In the Imperium to be born on Terra was one of the highest blessings and to live on its surface as a permanent resident was an even greater honour. Then again the Terra that housed the Emperor was a lifeless waste land filled with decaying ruins of a civilisation that had been blasted back to the Stone Age twice in the span of ten thousand years. Not the green and blue orb of beauty that displayed its vigour to the universe unabashed. However no righteous Imperial citizen would even think of making the comparison.
Norman filmed everything he could; the clouds racing past them, the ground retreating away at phenomenal speeds, the soldiers as they grinned and paled. It was gold. Suddenly the blue ether that had signalled the sky his entire life fell away to be replaced with the dreadfully beautiful black of open space. The sun shone in the distance a quirk of technology allowing him to look at it without his eyes melting to soup. The blue and green orb of Earth hung below them like some precious jewel surrounded by diamonds. But what got almost everyone's attention were the three dark shadows that blemished the yellow orb of the sun.
The three Imperial ships were still tiny specks in the distance, but closing fast. Huge constructs of arches and columns; stone angels and iron demons; weapon ports the size of cars and a single golden twin headed eagle. His mouth hung open at the gothic majesty of it all; never in his wildest dreams would he have believed that men could build such things.
All around their Lander others from across the world holding troops from the majority of the IOA countries swarmed towards the three ships. At this distance he could make out the names lovingly painted on the side in huge elegant gothic letters. To his left was the Lady Ceras, to the right was the Mysterious Typhoon and finally they were heading to the open landing bays of the Crimson Strife.
"Welcome to the Terran Defender Crimson Strife. This will be our home for the next day as we take you to your new garrison. Welcome to the Second Imperium of Man." Sachiel said to the gathered Terrans glad that they were so enraptured by the glory of the Emperor.
Norman swallowed hard as the Lander he had thought was so huge was swallowed by the Imperial Cruiser. He was in for one hell of a ride.
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The man bolted through the woods panting heavily as he ran for his life. His weapon was long discarded along with his fur coat to decrease his weight but the thudding of his pursuer's boots continued to get ever closer. He had been waiting to ambush some of the Count's soldiers so they could get some information on their strength in preparation of their attack. Instead of the lone or dual party he had expected a huge behemoth of a man in full plate armour came wandering down the path. In his panic he had fired off the new weapons their leader had taught them to make, he had seen the cross bow put one of its bolts through plate armour at a longer range but it just bounced off without even scraping the ridiculously bright blue paint.
Levi on the other hand was slightly enjoying the mild jog through the woods. The man who had shot him would tire soon and then the superhuman Psyker would get some answers. The Lymans ear picked up on the sound of metal clashing against metal, filtering out the natural noises of the wood and his quarry's panting and muttered prayers. They were heading directly towards the noise; frowning Levi reached out with his warp senses feeling the mass of anger and fear that waited ahead.
The fleeing man burst out into the middle of a skirmish. All around him about a hundred of the Count's men in their iron mail and red tunics were locked in battle with a smaller number of men and women dressed in a wide collection of garments. Some wore little more than animal furs with war paint covering their bodies in geometric patterns that resembled the designs found on Ancient architecture, others were wearing mail like men fighting them but it was the lighter colour of steel and finally some wore what looked like stab-proof vests woven out of thatch over an assortment of the peasant rags so commonly found throughout Pegasus. The rag tag force was armed with everything from sharpened farm tool too delicately crafted cross bows.
The Count's soldiers were tearing through the irregular force. The disciplined formations and properly forged weapons hacking through the rabble arranged against them. The man fleeing from the Librarian dove into the melee tackling an unaware soldier before laying into him with his fists. Levi stopped at the edge of the combat zone observing the combatants losing interest in the man as he vanished into the swirl of the battle. Both sides were human and there were no obvious mutations or Chaos markings to designate which side he should take.
"Service is life." A man shouted at Levi raising his hand thumb across the palm, assuming that the huge warrior was with the Count's forces or a gift from their gods.
Levi looked at the man the phrase sounding like something from so many Imperial psalms. "The Emperor protects." The Space Marine replied automatically to the address.
The man blinked at the foreign words. A moment later his training both religious and military kicked in, those who do not reply with the correct words and motions were enemies of the gods and should be destroyed. Lowering his spear into position he charged the superhuman shouting a war cry at the top of his lungs.
All doubt left the Marine as he unsheathed his force sword and swung in a single motion. The tip of the spear clattered to the ground leaving the charging man staring at his suddenly useless weapon for a second before the destructive field of the forty first millennium weapon vaporised his lungs. Levi ripped out his force sword from the dead soldier's ribcage kicking the body away. With swift prayer to the Emperor he waded into the battle.
The commander of the Count's soldiers overseeing the route of this last raiding party smiled with pleasure. His gods would be pleased with this result, promotion was almost guaranteed. He rubbed his arms as a faint prickling crept over his eyes and a sudden tension filled the air. The first clue that something was amiss when his flank exploded in blue flames and his men started to rain down through the trees in tiny pieces. Whirling around he saw an image straight from hell itself. Ploughing through his men was a giant in blue, clasping a huge sword in one hand that cut through men like air and launching gouts of blue flame that burned like the sun from the other.
Levi swung the force weapon with implacable skill honed through decades of war in a universe that was actively out to get everyone. Eviscerating men all around him with contemptuous ease before incinerating the remains with waves of warp fire Levi advanced towards the heart of the enemy army. Behind him stretched a charnel house of charred and blackened corpses. He was the Emperor's wrath, His right hand, a one man army; he was a Space Marine born to kill and he was flawless in the pursuit if his calling.
The commander stared at the giant as lightening danced merrily around his head and forces beyond his understanding tore apart his men. Already the barbarians had counter attacked his distracted forces and he could hear the frightened whispers of demon and monster throughout the ranks. His forces were almost in total route, already most of the soldiers running terrified from the blue giant or fighting desperately with the barbarians. With a muttered prayer for salvation he drew the Count's gift to him, a weapon of the gods. The small brown coloured device was held in a single hand and had a deep yellow core that glowed from the centre of the weapon. Letting off a single prayer of thanks he fired the Wraith stunner, the rippling blast striking Levi in the chest.
The fleeing soldiers turned and cheered as the godlike weapon was unleashed halting the human engine of destruction in his tracks. Their cheers died in their throats as the Librarian lunged forward, beheading the closest soldier, an eerie light pouring forth from his eyes.
Levi now had all the information he needed; no human in Pegasus could have taken a Wraith weapon alive. So the only conclusion was these were Wraith worshipers, the saddest example of humanity, those who followed the Xeno to survive rather than fight in His name. It was time to educate them of their error.
"I render judgment upon you; you who have fallen from His grace. Doing this is no joy; it is necessity that compels me." Levi voice boomed over the battle field as he drew more power from the warp a billion colours dancing around him as reality fractured.
"Beautiful." Was the last word to pass from the commanders lips before his soul was wrenched from his body and thrown screaming into the depths of the warp.
The Psyker assault struck like the angel of death itself. The entire force of almost a hundred men slumped lifelessly to the floor as all that they were was torn asunder and cast down. It was over in less than a second, the remaining humans staring in shock at the sudden victory. Levi collapsed to one knee breathing heavily, his psychic hood trying desperately to decant off the excess power before it could fry its users mind. Steam rose from the Marine as the water vapour in the air that had suddenly condensed on him vaporised again.
Slowly the humans that remained alive approached the blue warrior. "You fight well." The closest and obviously bravest said. He was clad in furs with half his face blacked out and a blue hexagon over his heart both done in war paint.
"I try." Levi replied humorously with a wiry smile standing back up to full height scanning the minds of the people around him.
"I am Kevl of the Bolo Kai." The man said, staring at the Librarian.
"Adeptus Astartes Sons of Sol Brother-Librarian Levi." The Marine answered, satisfied with the scans he had taken, anything deeper would have been noticed.
"You should come with us. Our leader will be glad to have such a powerful warrior." Kevl said, turning away and walking into the trees followed slowly by the remains of his group.
"Who's your leader?" Levi called after the retreating man.
"Ronon Dex." Was the gruff answer before he disappeared into the trees.