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Silver Knights ~ Gladius II
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Strike Frigate Pegasus. The Gryphonne Sector.
Dovah sat in the darkness, his only light other than his eyes was a blue-green flame emanating from his fingertip like a candle. The Salamander, like the rest of his Chapter, always liked fire. It fascinated and comforted him ever since early childhood in Nocturne.
His warplate was silver, polished to a high gleam. He wore a crimson drakeskin mantle over his armor plate, taken from a hunt twenty years ago during his Epistolary initiation trials. His own MK VII helmet sat at his side with his own dragon-hilted force sword and bolter in his lap.
The Fireborn was a hundred and seventy-two years old, most of that spent in the service of the Salamanders. Three years ago he was inducted into the Silver Knights at the Chief Librarians recommendation after services rendered against the Dark Eldar.
An Epistolary, Dovah was both an accomplished pyrokine and a telekine. These talents made him highly useful for front-line combat. He was bald, covered in ritual scanning and branding. His features were broad set with a nose that had been broken and reset countless times.
"We have arrived. Docking procedures completed,'' droned the flat voice of the pilot over on the intercom.
"Thank you,'' He said, even if the pilot could no longer hear him. The shuttle door disengaged and Dovah stepped out, bolter locked to his thigh and sword sheathed.
The deck of the Pegasus was filled with various bondsmen and chapter serfs as they finished unloading extra equipment in the landing bay. The walls were a plain steel grey with crisscrossing support structures and pillars. Huge glob-lamps illuminated the area below in a harsh light. Ammunition and replacement pieces of armor were directed away by silver-robed workmen.
However Dovah's attention was turned to the tall Silver Knight in the center of the room. Judging from his armor markings this was Marcus Vandius, his new team leader. The Knight-Captain had his eagle-winged helmet under one arm, exposing his pale cold features.
"Epistolary Dovah, glad to have you aboard. Welcome to Gladius,'' Vandius greeted him, his voice deep and rich. Dovah studied him, noting that the Ultramarine's features remained perfectly composed. This was one in control of himself.
"I trust you have read the profiles and data on the upcoming mission?'' Vandius asked.
"Indeed. I am at your disposal Captain. I have heard of your reputation.'' Dovah told him, walking besides him.
The Silver Knights as an organization were drawn from dozens of different chapters with different cultures, beliefs and fighting styles, so a certain amount of compromise was needed. Despite this they functioned relatively smoothly, at least in part because no one dared disappoint one of the Senshi.
However one of the main facts about the Silver Knights was that each team leader tended to shape his or her team. A Captain from the World Eaters tended to favor combat tactics that focused around close quarters, while a Salamander Captain might be choose more reserved and grounded tactics as befitting the nature of the Fireborn.
While not every Chapter followed the Codex Astartes quite so strictly as the Ultramarines or their successors, Dovah was still quite familiar with it. Guilliman's work had effectively permeated most of the Astartes chapters on some level.
Dovah's own former Captain, Haggi Ironwolf was about as opposite as to an Ultramarine as you could get. The headstrong Space Wolf was very lax in his commanding style and never paid much attention to protocol. Working with Vandius, by comparison, should prove to be…interesting, for lack of a better term. Hopefully he would not have any problems.
"I don't suffer poor performance or mavericks,'' Vandius's eyes remained focused on him. It was like staring into a laser, Dovah thought.
"Rest assured I am no fool. Lady Esin can vouch for that,'' The Salamander replied calmly.
"Good. If you have Lady Esin's faith then you have mine. Now report to Khaden in the forge. We need to refit your armor.''
The forge-armory of the ship was typical of Astartes warships, an area filled with the sound of machinery and the smell of oils. Dovah missed that smell. Forgework was in the blood of any Salamander. All around were dozens of blue-robed adepts rushing about their business.
Racks upon racks of weapons filled the area along with various suits of power armor lined up alongside the wall. Dovah's trained eye spotted several suits of power armor in various marks hanging off the walls. He even spotted a few suits of Terminator armor and jump packs.
"Ah, our new teammate,'' A silver figure with the symbol of the Iron Warriors on one shoulder guard turned to meet him, a friendly smile on his features. Or half a smile anyway. The entire left side of his face was replaced by an augmetic facemask. Judging from his synthesized tone, his voicebox had to be replaced.
Next to him was another Marine, a blonde-haired Astartes with his face tattooed with a double-headed Aquila. He handled a power sword with expert grace, the blade flashing at eye-blurring speed before he promptly sheathed it and put it on the weapons rack. Dovah recognized the symbol of the White Consuls, one of Guilliman's successor chapters, on his shoulder guard.
"Mark IX, Librarian variant eh?'' The Iron Warrior looked it over.
"Hand-forged,'' Dovah told him. He was a Salamander after all.
"Oh, and before you ask, I got this face from fighting Tau forty years ago. A shot from a plasma gun actually,'' The Iron Warrior mentioned to his mutilated face.
"You should have seen the battlesuit pilot after I got my hands on him. Where are my manners? I am Iulus Cestus of the White Consuls.'' The Consul remarked, walking over from some of the weapons racks. Dovah had seen his type before, the kind of prodigy who was confident in his skills.
"I am Vatave Khaden of the Iron Warriors.'' The Iron Warrior stepped up and offered a single bionic arm to him.
"Glycon Dovah of Nocturne.'' The Salamander returned the shake. It was redundant information but Dovah thanked him anyway. He already was given the team dossiers prior to his transfer and at least knew the basic service records of these Marines.
Vatave Khaden was one of the Iron Warriors' best combat engineers. Age two hundred and eight years old. A two-time winner of the Iron Halo and an apprentice to some of the Mercurians best Tech-Adepts. He had served in the Silver Knights for over fifty years.
Iulus Cestus. Age a hundred and thirty-two years old. Despite being the youngest member of the team he was widely regarded as one of the best swordmasters produced by the White Consuls. He was expected to do great things.
"As you've probably already figured out, I'm the heavy weapons and demolitions expert of Gladius. Cestus here is our close-quarters expert. And that fine lady over there is Shayera, my assistant and the Mercurian Tech-Adept assigned to oversee weapons repair.'' The Iron Warrior told him.
"Captain Vandius specially requested Mercurian support for his team.'' Shayera told him. She was a rather tomboyish looking woman with short close-cropped brown hair. Dovah's enhanced vision detected the hint of some sort of neural implant under her hair and a single bionic hand. It was the kind of limited mechanical augmentation typical of the Mercurians.
One of the serfs almost dropped a nearby axe.
"Careful with that! That's Captain Vandius's weapon!'' Shayera suddenly shouted at the two serfs who handled it more carefully. She turned back to Dovah, "Sorry. Ultramarines honor-relic, a gift from Guilliman himself to the Silver Knights. I would be a shame if I mishandled it. Anyway, nice to meet you.''
"A pleasure. Now the Captain said something about refitting my armor?'' the Salamander asked.
"Yes. Chapter and squad markings need to be put in,'' Shayera gestured to some of her serfs who stepped forward to assist with his armor.
"Serenity and Neptune's symbols on one shoulder guard and your chapter symbol on the other. Breastplates customarily depict a winged trident,'' Cestus told him.
"My thanks,'' Dovah nodded. It was always nice to get quality work.
"I take it you met our glorious leader then?'' Khaden asked.
"Indeed. He was…stern,'' Dovah responded.
"He's just very dedicated to his work. Don't feel off-put. He means no insult or malice. He just sets everyone to high standards, "The Consul told him.
"He doesn't have time to suffer fools. Your archetypical son of Guilliman, no offense,'' Khaden offered a side glance to Cestus
"None taken,'' Cestus shrugged.
''Oh, after you're done here I'll give you a tour,'' The Consul added. ''Might as well meet everyone right?''
The elevator to the Apothecarion opened up and Vandius stepped out. The entire place was painted a stark medical white, with dozens of medical beds and healing tanks dotting the walls. Tables and cabinets filled with medical equipment were everywhere, all carefully organized in precise fashion. The snake and staff of the Apothecarion dominated the walls.
"How have his physicals checked out?'' Vandius asked. The teeth-aching thrum of his power armor filled the air of Nicander's Apothecarion as he waited for an answer. The other Astartes got up, lips pursed in frustration.
'' I'll get it in a few seconds. It's the damn printer. A galaxy-spanning Empire and nobody can make a printer worth a damn,'' The Emperor's Child frowned.
Asclepion Nicander had served the Imperium for almost two centuries. Always having a talent for the biological arts he had cross-trained in medical and biological warfare. In fact the reason he was inducted into the Silver Knights was because of his work in halting a particularly dangerous Nurgilite virus that was devastated an entire sub-sector. Now he focused his work on combating Tyranid bio-weapons.
Nicander was a splitting image of his Primarch, pale and handsome, his features almost elfin in their perfection. His hair was snow white and carefully groomed to shoulder length. In many ways the Emperor's Child was much like his workplace, sterile and coldly perfect in appearance.
The printer beeped as it spat out the results. Nicander snatched it up.
"Good. Gene-seed is table. Psychic mutation is stable. Genetic drift typical of the Vulkan gene-line and Nocturne's radiation. Not quite as stable as mine but we can't all be perfect now can we?'' Nicander smirked as he showed Vandius the results.
He was also rather full of himself. He was that good and he knew it.
"Good, we've been without a Librarian for too long. His pyrokinetic talents will be useful,'' Vandius nodded. He had already formed a fairly positive opinion from the rather quiet Fireborn so far.
"Ah yes, our upcoming fight against the Tyranids. I wouldn't mind taking a look at some of the data we need to recover,'' The Apothecary mused.
''I'll make sure to send you a copy, barring any security reasons,'' The Ultramarine told him.
''Thank you. I've been trying to solve an antidote to some Lictor poisons, but I haven't quite figured out the necessary helices for the genetic solution…'' Nicander trailed off.
Suddenly the communications rune flashed briefly in Vandius's armor. He paused before opening a channel.
''Captain Vandius, we have reached the Daeron system. We will be at the plenty in fifty minutes.''
''Excellent. Prepare for a combat drop,'' Vandius responded. He looked at the Emperor's Child again.
''Let's go.''
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