Fame Cimex Chapter 20

The third world of the Angle's Redoubt system was a vision of hell, a broken fiery wasteland of cracked rock and spewing lava geysers. The Methane soup of an atmosphere was toxic enough to kill an unprotected man in moments, if the heat, lava and the constant earthquakes did not do it first.

This was in every way that counted a failed world, astronomically fated to die. Its mass was too small and its density too low to form a stable body, its violate core was slowly ripping it apart one earthquake at a time. In as little as a million years there would be nothing here but a broken asteroid field, a testament to a failed planet and barely a footnote in history.

That life could exist here seemed doubtful, the conditions far from ideal, but despite all that a primitive form still clung on at the marginal edges. Algae bloomed in toxic rock pools and tiny cephalopods grazed freely, while around sulphur vents molluscs and crustaceans fought for space in the tiny boundaries between broiling heat and freezing death. Such hardy life was remarkable, in a tiny unappreciated way and in a more enlightened age may have brought study and interest from afar, but in this age of darkness it was utterly ignored.

Nevertheless the faint signs of life had attracted the attention of the Tyranid race, the splinter fleet descending in droves to reap what little bounty there was to be found. Swarms of Rippers festooned the landscape, devouring all that was to be found and scouring it down to the bedrock. Not even bacterium was spared, all was taken and consumed by the Hive Mind. Their task complete the Rippers congregated around vast artificial reclamation pools, throwing themselves in to be dissolved in steaming acid baths. Around the pools Capillary towers had formed, soaring structures that rose into orbit despite their spindly appearance. Already these were sucking up the planet's bounty, conveying it into orbit for the hungry Bio-Ships to guzzle. Soon this world would be stripped bare, left a dead rock in space like so many other worlds the Tyranids had consumed. It was a process they had performed countless times since entering this galaxy, but this time it was not unobserved.

On a barren plain was a mineral extraction facility, a collection of towers and pumps that stood free and proud. It was a cluster of arcane machinery, much of it dating back to antiquity and largely Servitor operated. This site had been carefully selected for its geological stability, but so violate was the land that it still required layers of geomagnetic stabilisers, core pressure vents and harmonic compensators to prevent a catastrophe occurring.

Standing on a high metal gantry was Captain Toran, confidently poised upon the bare surface without the aid of a handrail. He was wearing his helm, for this atmosphere would have tested even a Transhuman's limits, looking out over the plains for any sign of activity. Slowly he panned his head from side to side, sweeping the area and was not entirely happy with what he was seeing. Abruptly he spun about and stepped off the gantry, falling thirty feet effortlessly in the low gravity to land in a plume of red dust. He straightened up and found himself looking upon a bevvy of activity, squads of Astartes making preparations for war. There were a variety of colours on display; half of them in Storm Herald blue the other in the dappled shades of the Smoke Jaguars. This was a joint task force, his Third Company deployed alongside the visitors and sharing the risks as one.

The combined forces had made a discrete landing on this planet several days earlier, before splitting up and heading to their objectives. There had been three targets to secure so Toran and Imix had agreed to divide their forces evenly, trusting that the brotherhood between Chapters would strengthen each force. Toran commanded this primary force, while the second was under the leadership of Sergeant Matheus, a gesture of trust and respect to those Marines who had not served under him before. The third force was under the command of a Veteran Smoke Jaguar, but Toran had sent Chaplain Wrethan along as a gesture of solidarity and trust in their cousins. Shade-Seer Imix himself had accompanied Toran's force, a situation the Captain was ambivalent about. Toran had never been comfortable around Psykers, but experience had taught him their value and he trust Imix implicitly. If nothing else he was certain that the Psyker's power, probably rating high Gamma or even the terrifying heights of a Beta level, would be needed soon.

Toran began walking through the facility, observing the squads making preparations, most of the blue-clad Astartes were new to him, their heraldry still gleaming from the new markings. He passed a Devastator squad lugging missile launchers and Heavy Bolters into elevated positions and then an Assault Squad, testing their chainsword mechanisms. It seemed odd to him to be commanding Marines he did not know well at all, the new influx had placed immense demands on him and left little time for personal chats. Toran was beginning to understand why Captains always seemed so distant from those they commanded, a gulf was growing between him and the ranks, one that set him apart in more ways than one.

Toran was reassured though when he spied his Command Squad standing guard at the perimeter, Furion, Novak, Bylan, Jediah, Persion and Apothecary Memnos, all locked in animated discussion. Toran strode up to them and heard the distinct clicks of voxs chattering, he opened his own link and said, "Care to tell me what's so interesting?"

Brother Persion answered, "We were just debating whether this plan can actually work."

Toran asked, "Is there any doubt?"

Brother Jediah replied, "If we were confident, then why did no Tech-Priests accompany us?"

Sergeant Furion answered, "Three reasons, one the Techmarines are quite capable, two the Cogboys are hardly sneaky enough to slip by unnoticed and three the Mechanicus would pitch a fit if we asked them to make the modifications necessary to the Machine Spirits."

Toran stated, "Which is why we sent Magos Castabore on with the rest of the fleet, we can handle this by ourselves."

Novak spoke up to say, "What I want to know is if we will get to see any action this time."

Apothecary Memnos rebuked him, "This mission depends upon stealth, if we wish to succeed we need to go unobserved as long as possible."

Novak replied, "Sneaking about is for our cousins, we should be slaughtering Xenos!"

Toran stated, "I would not worry on that front, I suspect we will be seeing plenty of bloodshed before this is over."

Jediah spoke up to say, "You think the Xenos will notice us here?"

Toran answered, "I am certain of it, the Techmarine's activity is hardly subtle and will draw notice. The Techmarines in all three groups are working hard but time is short, no matter what we must buy them the time they need to finish the job. The Imperium demands that this facility must not fall."

Bylan was holding the Company Standard proudly, the fabric-metal shimmering in the chemical-laden atmosphere, and he said in his mechanical wheeze, "+Captain, how did you come up with this idea?+"

Toran had a reputation for unorthodox thinking, but he honestly replied, "I didn't, this was all Imix's scheme."

That made everybody pause and take a blink, to fight alongside another Chapter was one thing but to let them dictate strategy was another altogether. Persion sounded startled and said, "You didn't mention that in the briefing."

Novak piped up to say, "He probably didn't want to hear Mylos' moaning about it all the way here."

That made everybody chuckle, Sergeant Mylos had appointed himself Company Naysmith and was fond of pointing out flaws in the Captain's plans. Toran personally believed it to be a step up from their previous, acrimonious relationship but even so still found it wearying. Nevertheless there was a line between comradery and openly disparaging a decorated Sergeant so the Captain changed the subject saying, "Persion, any word from the other strike groups?"

The communication specialist replied, "None, but they were only to break Vox silence if they ran into trouble. No news is good news. And before you ask there nothing from the Silent Hunter either, she's busy pretending to be a hole in space up there, with luck the Tyranids won't notice her at all."

Jediah snorted in derision and spat, "You have clearly failed to notice how our luck usually turns out."

Furion crossed his arms and stated boldly, "Astartes do not believe in luck, we grab destiny with both hands and forge our own fate."

Toran was glad to hear the firm reminder and said, "True words my friend, I am glad to see you have lost none of your steel. Now has anyone seen Imix?"

Everybody shook their heads and Bylan replied, "+He said he needed to meditate, something about the Hive Mind pressing upon his mental defences+"

Toran sighed at the mysteries of the Psyker's art and said, "Well keep alert for danger, the Tyranids could notice our presence at any moment. Persion keep that beacon handy, we will need a swift extraction once the Techmarines are finished."

The squad saluted with a clenched fist over the heart and Toran moved on, seeing another squad hunkered down in cover and scanning the horizon. It was Sergeant Priyar's tactical squad, the only members of the old formation Toran had brought with him. Priyar was gripping a power maul, engraved with Litanies of Detestation, tightly and sweeping the perimeter.

Toran walked up to him and said, "Anything to report?"

Priyar's autosenses must have detected the Captain's approach for he did not sound surprised as he said, "Auspex is detecting a lot of movement out there, the Tyranids can't be far off."

Toran replied, "I know, the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up."

Priyar didn't look away from the horizon but still said, "Having Psychic premonitions now... Should I report you to the Librarians for taint?"

Toran sighed at the jest and said, "Don't you start, I get enough of that from my Command squad."

Priyar tilted his head fractionally and said, "All this time I thought you liked an informal company, but now you go and lose your sense of humour. Soon you'll be as humourless as the late Sergeant Starn."

Toran chuckled at that, their late First Company sergeant had been grim and unyielding in all matters, especially familiarity in the ranks. Toran smiled under his helm and said, "I don't think I could insert the stick far enough up my rear to achieve that, besides who said duty has to be grim?"

Priyar replied, "Not me, once we destroy these beasts I am looking forward to being carried through the streets on the shoulders of cheering citizens."

Toran knew the Sergeant was joking but still the image made him shake his head, he opened his mouth to query the likelihood of that but sudden one of the Squad hissed, "Contact!" Instantly all thoughts of camaraderie were buried, the Astartes' mind snapping into focus like a well-oiled machine. Toran stepped forwards and magnified his autosenses, boosted considerably by his Augmetic eye and gasped at what he saw. The horizon was seething with blurry shapes, skittering mounds of flesh and claws that heaved and undulated like one living thing. The distant sky was silhouetted by fanged, chitin clad beasts, running on hoofs and spikes of bone while dark flapping shapes wheeled and soared overhead. Dotted amongst the mass were singular forms, much larger than their brethren, bulky and hunched over as they ran. Toran instantly recognised them as the terrifying forms of Carnifex's, Tyrant Guards and the nightmarish shape of a Hive Tyrant. They were headed this way and moving fast.

The Captain opened his vox wide for all to hear and called, "All squads to arms, hold the line and do not let the foe advance. The Tyranids have found us!"