-XXXVIII-
"Hey Del, come look at this." shouted Nurmol Öster.
Bruskia Pier 'Delivery' climbed atop the trench and joined his fellow Stormtrooper.
"What? I don't see anything." said Bruskia.
"See those lights." pointed Nurmol towards the dim yellow lights at the Ork held territory.
"You called me up here to look at lights?" said Bruskia looking at Nurmol in annoyance.
"Look closer." he said toying with a smirk.
"Warp your soul." Bruskia cursed and grabbed his binoculars to look at the flickering lights ahead.
"So?" Nurmol kept smirking.
"It's...stationary."
"And?" Nurmol asked waiting for Bruskia to figure it out as if its a joke.
"Just lights, a camp or something, I don't know." said Bruskia annoyed, he dropped the binoculars to dangle on his side.
"They're building something." said Nurmol as if its so funny, he looked like he would burst any second with laughter.
Bruskia looked at him blankly.
"What's so funny?" he said.
"He he." chuckled Nurmol jumping down into the trenches.
"Retarted idiot." said Bruskia behind him.
"He meant the Orks are up to something." said a voice nearby.
Bruskia jumped in his seat, startled.
Zenum Archo was beside him, he sneaked up on him without a sound.
"Curse you sneaking bastard." said Bruskia.
Zenum looked at him sideways and kept looking at the lights.
Bruskia turned back towards the lights again.
"What do you mean, they're building what?" he asked.
"No idea, but it's big, look at the distance between the lights. They're working even at night." Zenum replied.
"Aah, I see."
"Hope it's not something moving." said Zenum.
"Why don't we blow it to Terra come. We have artillery." Bruskia suggested.
"It's probably out of range, even Orks are not that stupid." said Zenum.
They left the trench top and walked towards their tent.
Bruskia was a muscled man. His muscles were barely contained in his shirt, he had a brown goatee on his chin that did not connect to his moustache. His head was bald except for a short brown mohawk. His vocation within the Spahkii was blowing enemy apart with his Missile Launcher.
On the other hand Zenum had a thin frame, he was silent even when walking next to someone, his voice came out barely as a whisper. His past none knew but it sure wasn't pretty. Sides of his hair were shaved all the way to his nape and he only had hair on the top trailing to his nape, even those were cut short. He was a silent killer, he valued knives over guns. He had a selection of knives he carried strapped to his leg. One was a long commando knife he favoured in engagements. Other two was throwing knifes that had a holding hole in the back but also doubled as karambits if needed. He also had a punch-dagger somewhere in his pockets but it felt clumsy compared to all his other babies. He also had a hand forged damascus bowie knife he strapped over his shoulder, now that was the one he did the Orks with for the big bastards did not stayed down otherwise. He really liked knives.
"So what did you guys found there?" asked Captain Jeliha without rising his head from what he was reading.
"Some lights in the Ork zone, Peasent thinks they're building something." answered Bruskia.
'Peasant' was Zenum's call sign. He get the name from his secretive past, his squad came up with the joke that he was some high-up aristocrat joined the Guard for some action. So calling him peasant felt ironic, but Zenum did not seemed concerned with his name. He came to embrace it over the years.
"Its clear they're up to something but what, I have no idea." Zenum said.
"U-huh." said Captain Jeliha not much interested.
"There were so many lights, so many." said Nurmol picking filthy between his nails using a combat knife.
At the other corner was a long table with pieces of a hellgun long-las sniper variant.
Henrietta was looking over the parts, cleaning them again and again with a clean sheet.
Zenum sat on a nearby crate while Bruskia started doing push-ups.
"Why do you even do that?" Zenum asked.
"Do what?" Henrietta returned.
"Clean them again and again, just clean them once and it's done." he said picking a nearby carb-paste.
"I want it in pristine condition, can't repair it in the field, everything should be perfect." she said cleaning a firing chamber.
"Heh." snorted Zenum "It fires or it doesn't. Just a stupid rifle anyway." he said turning one of his throwing knifes with his finger while sucking at the carb-paste.
He took a quick peek to see a glimpse of her ass but he was caught by her angry eyes.
"Did you just called my sniper 'stupid'?" she asked in a calm voice with menace behind it.
Zenum pulled the carb-paste out of his mouth "I- no. I meant-. It's just a-" he babbled.
"And stop looking at my ass." she added.
Zenum sank in his seat with a red face.
"Sorry." he said rising and walking toward nearer to Captain Jeliha.
"Smooth." Captain commented.
"Shut up Stoic." Zenum said angrily.
'Stoic' was Captain Jeliha's call sign. He got his name by his calm and seemingly bored attitude towards everything. Even under combat conditions he seemed bored with the whole endeavour. His speech was also less inspiring with his asshole of an attitude. His snide and arrogant personality led to mocks and spiteful comments in social life and it was care-free and detached in combat conditions.
Captain put the book down and looked afar.
"There was so much to learn in this world." he said to himself.
"What are you reading?" asked Zenum still sucking on the carb-paste.
"Teachings of Macharius." he said.
"The Lord Commander Solar himself?" asked Zenum
"Yes, a partial text only however." answered Jeliha.
"So what does he say?" asked Zenum.
"I'll lend it to you when I'm done, read it yourself." Jeliha offered.
"No thanks, I don't do reading." Zenum said throwing the finished carb-paste aside.
"You never read?" asked Jeliha raising one eyebrow.
"Nope, no time for it, I spent all my time to hone my skills."
"You better hone them with women too." said Jeliha snidely.
"Frak you." swore Zenum.
"I read too. Lend it to me." interdicted Nurmol.
"No chance, you never read anyway." said Jeliha.
"The meaning of victory is not to defeat your enemy but to destroy him, to eradicate him from living memory, to leave no remnant of his endeavours, to crush utterly his every achievement and remove from all record his every trace of existence. From that defeat no enemy can ever recover. That is the meaning of victory." quoted Nurmol.
Zenum laughed silenty seeing Jeliha's expression.
"How? How did you-" Jeliha was shocked.
"I read." Nurmol said shrugging.
"You mess with me, but when you mess with the Seven he hands you your ass back, Captain." said Zenum enjoying himself.
'Seven' was Nurmol's call sign. They called him that because they claimed he only had seven brain cells in his head. Nurmol was a crazy bastard, he would dive towards gunfire and go against defying odds. He carried two thin combat knifes with him strapped to his belt. At one point he fought off three cultists in close combat and emerged alive. His skill was mediocre in Stormtrooper standards but his luck was amazing. He would survive explosions where he should be torn apart and he always had the luck on his side. Even though his squad made fun of him as 'stupid', they also realised that he was not completely stupid and knew more than he gave out. He amazed them still with his luck and the secrets locked in his head.
"He sure does, I still have no idea how that mind of yours work, Seven." Captain Jeliha said taking his book.
"So I get the book?" asked Nurmol.
"Fine. You can have it when I'm done." Jeliha said.
"Nice." said Nurmol leaving to get some sleep.
"So, Captain." prompted Zenum.
"Yeah?"
"What do you think about those new marines, Emperor's Spears?" he asked.
"What should I think?" asked Jeliha back.
"I mean, you know, general thoughts." Zenum said.
"I don't think anything about them, Space Marines are all the same." said Jeliha dismissingly.
"You think so?"
"I know so, they're all self-righteousi pompous ass-wipes, just because they got five livers and seven dicks."
"So why do you think they even came here. There is nothing anything of worth on this planet, well, except, you know."
"Power play? Showing the Lions who's the boss or some other macho shit? They're all so predictable." concluded Jeliha.
"Yeah, they probably are." he said and laid down on his mat to get some sleep.
"Oi! Pass me the seven-nine." Junior Engineer Semdek shouted towards someone passing by.
"Huh?" Zifor Yochan was traversing the make-shift garage to his bunk.
He was a Sergeant Armour Officer but the dirty mechanic called him like a common guardsmen, he decided to humour the man.
"That one, that!" Semdek shouted pointing eagerly towards a wrench on the floor.
Zifor picked it up and handed it to the mechanic, who disappeared under the Tank he was working on.
He leaned on the hull.
"You don't sound like a Napthali." he said.
Semdek's head popped out under the tracks with a face darkened by the machine lubricants.
"Whas that supposed to mean?" he said.
"No offense, it's just your accent. It's different."
"So it is, mother gave it to me."
"You're a half?"
"Is da a problem?" asked the mechanic.
"No, of course not. I just don't met with hybrids a lot." said Zifor.
"Aye but I'm as full Napthali as any of those shiny boots you have." said Semdek.
"Pass me the five-o." he said pointing to yet another wrench lying about.
"So what's the story of this girl?" Zifor said touching the hull with a hand, he immediately regretted it when the dirty hull turned his palm black.
"A beaut isn't she?" Semdek said happily working on something underneath.
"I wouldn't call it-" Zifor started.
"Her name's 'Never Ending'." he said proudly.
"You know the second armour group?" asked Zifor.
"Aye, I was with them this whole affair, we were pushed back by a horde of Orks. We manage to lead our way through the broken streets to reach the gathering in the inner cluster."
"I see."
"Officer of this broad here is a mess, he never stops for a field-check, he charges head on to anything. It's as if he is riding a Super Heavy." Semdek said still working.
"There are lots of scorch marks."
"Ork rockets of somesort. I've seen them. They hook up several to each other and launch 'em. She suffered at least seven hits during our journey."
"And she still runs?"
"She endures, Emperor protects." grinned Semdek under the tracks.
"Indeed he does." said Officer Zifor looking at the burn marks at the side.
This tank was an old design. It suffered through the ages.
"You seem to be an expert in Lemans." said Zifor.
"Not an expert." Semdek said tilting his head as if to consider the point.
"So you were with the 2nd group, curious I never see you before. Liorit is a good friend of mine." said Zifor referring to Liorit Aryeh, Officer of the 2nd Armour Group.
"You know the Sergeant, eh?" mused Semdek expecting another horrendous sexual fantasy tale about her.
Just because he was working as a mechanic people assumed he would be the guy to tell their tall tales about his sergeant and their dreams about her. He felt like a librarian of fictional sexual adventures.
"So, let me guess, you and her right?" Semdek said from underneath the tank with a mocking smirk on his face.
"What?" said Zifor.
"You and her did it in a closet or something didntchya. Or she has the hots for ye but she sends you away to see if you're worth as a man." Semdek kept mocking.
Zifor realised what was going on and decided to counter it.
"Yeah, she and me, you see we were together..." he started.
"U-huh."
"She was really on fire, like it was really hot, 200 degs or something like that."
"I bet."
"Her rack had turned red from the heat, but I kept coming closer, I had no choice, I rose the turret high towards her direction."
Semdek sighed waiting for the sexual fantasy to keep escalating.
"She was literally burning, I fired it and it was a close call but I hit the mark perfectly. The flame-tank behind her exploded violently, it showered her with burning metal but she endured."
"Explode-? Is this your kind of fetish? What are you even talking about?" Semdek made a confused face.
"The battle of Verdunis of course." said Zifor with a straight face.
Semdek pulled himself from underneath the tank and looked at Zifor's face.
"Verdu-? I was there, wha- who are you?" Semdek said.
"Zifor Yochan of the 3rd Armour Group, Sergeant of Archer." Zifor announced himself even giving out a salute to the Junior Engineer.
Semdek jumped to his feet.
"You- you're the archer? The Archer?" he asked anxiously.
"Aye, sir. Thirty two years and counting." Zifor said proudly.
"Sem-Semdek, Junior Engineer." Semdek said hurriedly wiping his dirty hand on his overalls trying to get the black machine lubricant out.
It was no use. He held out a half-black hand but Zifor shook it anyway without hesitating.
"Glad to meet you Semdek. I see you are in love with what you do." he said.
"Of course, these are my baby girls." Semdek said looking around to emphasise his tanks.
"I also repair engines and structural piping, I wanted to check on the Basilisk engines but the Enginseer Nuzilliad didn't le-" he babbled on until Zifor cut in.
"I hope you come and check on our Lemans too." said Zifor with a winning smile.
"Check the Archer? Me?" Semdek said.
"Well maybe not the Archer but we have two other Lemans you can mingle in."
"Of-of course, I'm done with these anyway, they're in pristine condition, he he." he said slapping a hand on the hull of Never Ending.
The side-door handle dangled on the floor as if to object his statement.
"I see you got a lot of work to do, I'll leave you to it." said Zifor clapping the Junior Engineer on the shoulder.
"Yes, yes, lots of work." Semdek agreed.
"Night then." Zifor said and left the garage.
"N-night." Semdek said behind him.
A clang clang.
Semdek turned to see a servitor of Enginseer Nuzilliad walking towards him. It was the one with the Heavy Bolter attached to his side.
It was obvious that he would sent the most useless servitor he had in this safe environment to do menial tasks.
Servitor walked towards him with a clang clang.
He stopped awkwardly and stood still as a statue.
"Damn things creep me out." thought Semdek looking into the dead-expressionless face of the gun-servitor.
"You have a message from Lord Nuzilliad to be delivered, ID code 5-7-3-Alpha-4-7-9-Gam-"
"Just play the damn message." shouted Semdek.
Servitor stood silent for a moment with expressionless eyes as if thinking something.
"Do you accept the-"
"Yes, yes I accept the warped message." sighed Semdek.
Servitor opened his mouth to talk but the voice was a recording of Nuzilliad.
"Junior Engineer Semdek, report to my presence at Basilisk garage due 0-7-0-0, I require the following items: Wrench set, hydro-..." servitor listed the items for a full minute.
Semdek was already underneath the Never Ending fitting the pipe into it's position.
When the servitor finished his list Semdek rose back.
"The message is delivered, do you comply with the action demanded of Lord Nuzilliad, in the case that you decline I am authorized by Lord Nuzilliad to fire upon your person." said servitor with a blank face.
"Yea, yea I heard the all knowing Enginseer, I accept the damn action and whatever."
Servitor looked blankly as if he couldn't process the meaning behind the words.
"I will be there with my stuff, better?" said Semdek.
"Affirmative, returning to master for further orders, Hail the Omnissiah." said the servitor and turned to leave the garage.
"Hail." said Semdek disinterested in the leaving servitor.
He listened to the clanging of the servitor for a minute. His thoughts strayed to something other than engine parts or the stupid Enginseer.
He was thinking about sergeant Liorit and her lean body.
"Damn I really could use a tall tale right now." he said and turned back to his duty.
He was standing in blood.
He looked right, there was blood.
He looked left, there was blood.
Blood leading to blackness.
Wherever he was it was black.
He started walking upon the sea of blood.
He could see his face twisting in the surface as ripples go by.
"Death" something said.
"Blood" another voice from a different directions.
"Who are you?" he asked to the voices.
"I am fate." an answer came.
"I am what is to come." another answer.
Voices sounded the same but somehow different.
"There is no fate." he shouted back at them in defiance.
A dark throaty laughter, so human but so sinister.
"Does your worthless choices matter?" replied one voice.
"They do not." said another.
He felt his guilt like hot water pouring upon him.
"They did not die because of some twisted fate." he said.
"They died because it was ordained." said the voice.
"It was ordained." agreed the other.
"There is only the E-" he began.
"Do not utter that meaningless name here." said an angry voice.
"The Em-" he tried to spell out only to be choked as his lungs spasmed and locked.
"No lies now, just the truth." said the voice.
He felt the lock release.
"They died because of me." he said.
"They died so that a seed can be planted." answer came.
"A seed?" he asked.
"Fate is the ground which the seeds take root on." came a voice.
"Fate is a lie." sneered Julius.
"We shall arrive and then..."
"What?" he roared into the black.
"...then all shall burn."
He woke up.
Julius stood upwards sweating.
His hearts pounded.
He looked into the darkness of the night. He rose up and mounted atop the trenches. Some of his brothers were asleep while others hibernated.
Achagon was atop the trenches keeping watch with his sniper rifle.
Achagon always hibernated, even back when he was with Tempes he never had a full sleep. He said it slowed his senses down. Julius wasn't even sure if such a thing was possible with Astartes metabolism but Achagon kept doing his way anyway.
"Sleepless night?" he asked as Julius climbed up the surface.
"Sleep is for the weak." Julius joked although he wasn't smiling.
"I can tell you had a bad dream."
"How so?"
"Your jokes get worse when you're upset."
"Were they even good to begin with?"
"No." said Achagon directly.
They looked towards the Ork territory over the long stretch of trenches in silence.
"See those lights?" Achagon said without pointing.
Julius could see them clearly with his enhanced vision.
"Yes."
"Orks are doing something."
"Another Xenos trick I bet."
They watched the lights for a minute.
"Do you believe in fate?" Julius asked out of nothing.
"Fate?"
"That things are preordained and we all have roles to play."
"I believe that the Emperor rules the Imperium as best he can and we are here to make sure his job is easier." Achagon said.
"Not much place left for fate."
"We all have roles to play but I believe it depends on our performance that what the outcome is."
"So if we did better the fate would be better?"
"Exactly. You can't blame everything on some higher power when you don't put the effort in it. Without will what are we but...dust." said Achagon.
"Never took you for the philosophical one." mocked Julius.
"Isn't Codex Astartes philosophical?" asked Achagon.
"I wouldn't think many would agree."
"Like Modius?" Achagon asked remembering their old brother.
Julius stood for a moment before answering.
"Do you think I am to blame for Idagenia?" he asked.
"Are you trying to find a criminal to pin this on? Will thinking that fate did it make you feel better? Or maybe if you blamed yourself for all eternity." Achagon said.
Julius didn't reply.
"Would any of those things will bring our brothers back?"
"No, they won't. But do you think I am to blame?"
"If I did I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you."
Julius nodded.
"You are to blame however." Achagon said.
Julius looked at him.
"You are a Space Marine sergeant and in that regard it is your fault."
"I know, if only-"
"There are no 'if only's, there is a fate to act upon before us and the shadow of our actions behind us." Achagon said.
"I shouldn't have been absolved. I would have been executed." Julius said.
"Maybe you should have been. But you're here now and we are on a duty for the Emperor. Nothing else matters."
"You're right. Not many get a second chance to redeem themselves, the cruel world keep it away from them."
"There is only war for us, brother." Achagon said presenting a hand.
Julius grabbed it strongly.
"Thank you, Achagon." he said.
"Always."
Tent was dimly lit and empty save for Colonel Ibrahim Adva of Napthali. The old men kept peering at the maps even at this late hour.
Cold night air seeped in through the opened door as a figure entered.
"Sir." saluted Bridge Captain Aaron Talamud.
"Come my lad, come closer." said Colonel Ibrahim waving a hand keeping his gaze on the maps.
"Lord, you asked for me." said Aaron closing.
"I did, come sit. Care for a drink?" asked Ibrahim.
"I don-"
"Pour yourself one." said Ibrahim without waiting for a reply.
Aaron didn't grab a drink instead took a seat nearby.
"Tomorrow, son. It's going to be one of those days." said Ibrahim sipping his drink.
"It would be a day of glory I hope." replied Aaron.
Ibrahim looked at him without replying.
"Youth dreams of glorious future, old glooms over cruel past." he thought to himself.
"I called you because I wanted to tell you that I will be leading the Armoured Fist into the fray tomorrow." Ibrahim said.
"Sir, there is no need-" said Aaron.
"I am getting old Aaron, don't you think?" said Ibrahim.
Aaron's silence confirmed his thoughts.
"I know you and the men see me as somekind of a token, maybe a stone that shall never be moved as your fellow comrades die around you. You think I am forever here to guide you."
"You're like a father to us." said Aaron.
"Listen, Aaron. You're a good Captain, the best I've ever had. But I am not eternal, I shall pass away one day like everybody else."
"Why are you telling me this?" asked Aaron irritated with this talk of death.
"I will be leading the Fist, I need to be at the front so that I can be...released." Colonel said.
"But, you can retire, you can go back to the homeland, you can join your grandkids. You can-"
"You know guardsmen rarely retire. There is only one honorable discharge for us and that is the Emperor's mercy."
"You don't need to do this, I can lead it."
"I know you can, but I need you with the infantry, I don't want that Commissar to have the need to dispense his own discipline on our men."
"I understand." said Aaron.
"No you don't, you only will when you grow to be my age." said Ibrahim.
"I wish there was another way."
"Don't think I have a deathwish. I love this company, I am proud to be leading such a group of devoted men and women." Ibrahim said tapping Aaron on the shoulder.
Aaron looked helpless.
"Go get some sleep, I need you sharp tomorrow." Ibrahim said.
"Yes, sir. Night, sir."
"Night my lad." said Ibrahim raising his glass.
They crashed to the trench wall, embraced.
"I've missed you so much." said Zeevka Preta kissing her.
"I can tell." replied Hilaa kissing back.
They were enveloped in shadows. They made sure the trenches around them was empty.
"I've thought about you every day." Zeevka said.
"You were chasing after Orks with that tank of yours." she replied smirking.
"And you?"
"Not much, just blowing Orks apart." she said.
"I love it when you talk like that."
"Some were stupid enough to try and cross the Red." she said kissing in intervals.
"Damn I hate that place, isn't it about time we leave this rotten world?"
"We will, someday."
"Together I hope." he said.
She smiled.
"You're so hot." she said putting a hand on his chest.
"It's the longing." he replied smiling.
"I know." she said as they slipped deeper into the shadows.
He came in firing. Unloading boltpistol rounds one after the other onto a Lion Warrior's chestplate. They exploded violently on the surface unable to penetrate the thick ceremite, no matter, their explosive power was enough to down the marine.
A chainsword roared towards his face. He ducked skilfully his robes spinning about. As he ducked he unloaded two rounds into the assailant's knee-back blowing apart the leg from it.
Huge Lion Warrior marine clanged onto the floor. He stepped onto his head and bending the neck aside with sheer pressure. He shot the squirming marine through the exposed neck with his boltpistol. A huge bloody mess licked his robes.
The other Lion Warrior was already rising, boltgun in hand.
A shape appeared behind the Lion Warrior with a blazing power knife in hand. It was an assassin's device. The blade slipped in from the Lion Warriors back without any resistance.
The power-field boiled his hearts and clogged the entire system inside.
Lion Warrior shook for a moment then collapsed.
Towering above the corpse was a dark shape in dark blue-green power armour power-knife in hand.
"You did well." said the robed figure.
He got no reply.
They moved towards through the corridors. Ahead came gunshots, plasma from the sound of them.
A Lion Warrior fell towards them through the corner, a huge boiling plasma wound on his chest.
Another power armoured figure came to light, half his face had melded into bionic parts.
He joined them as they strolled through the hall unopposed.
Robed figure stopped when they reached the dais in the middle of the hall.
"This will give us the location of it." he said raising a hand.
Bolt rounds exploded around him. He crouched firing his boltpistol at the Lion Warriors sergeant that was hiding behind one of the pillars.
"Get him." he snarled and the two figures beside him sprang into action.
Bolt rounds landed around the Sergeant but he kept resisting the invaders.
"You won't get what you came for." he said rising from cover to fire at the dais.
He never got the chance.
His chest exploded outwards in a bright blue plasma burst.
Robed figure lowered his plasma pistol as the Lion Warrior sergeant fell on his knees and then collapsed.
He hurried to check the cogitator built within the dais.
"This is locked." he said.
His head turned towards the dying Sergeant and moved fast towards him.
"Tell me the code." he roared.
Lion Warriors Alpha Sergeant coughed "Heh, you will never...never get it from my lips." he said smirking and dying.
Robed figure leaned in closer.
"Then I will take it from your corpse." he said in a whisper.