Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 42

An Ork sprang out from behind a flaming building, trying to drive a notched cleaver into his armpit. Xavaar saw the Greenskin emerging, and time slowed in his eyes. He noted wisps of flame rising from the leather harness and the scorched glasses pushed up its head. He saw muscles bulging in its arms and spittle flying from its mouth as it roared a feral battlecry. The point of the knife surged upwards, stabbing towards his flank and promising to plunge into his hearts. He saw all of this in an instant, then his vision filled with the sight of his staff's head sweeping about, catching the Ork in the side.

Transonic waves erupted, washing through the Ork's flesh like ripples over a pond. Bones broke, veins burst and the face vibrated so hard it deformed. For a moment the two of them were connected by the length of his staff, then the Greenskin flew away in a tangle of ruptured flesh, slamming into a wall to splash gore far and wide.

Time returned to its normal flow and Xavaar turned his eyes to the fight. In the spaceport Astartes spread havoc far and wide. Following in the firestorm of the Deathstorm pods they found the enemy broken and demoralised, reeling in confusion. They continued to fight, as Greenskins always did, but they had no higher coordination. Every Ork fought his own battle and was swiftly despatched. Into this bedlam Sedaxus drove his squads, leading by example. His plate was splattered with gore and weapons fizzed as they burned off blood. The rest followed a pace behind, their armour smeared so badly their colours were indistinguishable. In the face of the Xenos their differences became moot, forced to fight together by circumstance, they were one, just as Sedaxus had intended. This was a trial of their ability to unite, as much as it was a strategic objective, the union of Night Lord and Raven Guard put to the test and proving a strong alloy, just like their new weapons.

Xavaar took a moment to examine his own staff, seeing the head blurring as Transonic resonance shook blood molecules off. Such a strange weapon, they all were, not forged for Space Marine hands but too cumbersome and potent for mere mortals. Some form of post-human first wielded these, an order of being he knew not. Powerful beyond the bounds of men, but not scaled to Transhuman dimensions. This staff was short by his measure, but too long for a man to grasp. Damolos' axe would have been a two-handed great weapon for a mortal but he wielded it like a short axe. Obsidian Blades would have been heavy swords to most, but were reduced to mere knives in Astartes hands. Who were these ancients, he wondered, what battles did they fight and what became of them: mysteries that would never be solved.

His musings were interrupted as Herran strode past, shouting over the roar of his bolter, "Quit daydreaming and get your head into the fight!" Xavaar started as he saw the battle moving on without him. The squads were advancing up a wide boulevard, leading towards the foot of a landed frigate. Small in void terms but a mountain of metal on the ground, an inviting target indeed. Unfortunately blocking their route was an Ork Mekboy and his gaggle of grots, defended by teams of Boyz with shootas, lurking behind sandbags as they let rip with thunderous retorts. The Mekboy was tending to some large contraption, huge barrels and crackling brass orbs hinting at a deadly weapon. Xavaar didn't know what it did, but judging by the tang of building ionization it was readying a lethal discharge.

From the cover of a workshop entrance Sedaxus yelled, "They're dug in, Xavaar do your thing!"

Bullets thumped rickety walls near Sergeant Gorth as he yelled, "He makes illusions, what good is that?!"

Yet Xavaar breathed calmly as he felt his staff amplify his power, "Every mind has a weak spot."

With the power of the Warp Xavaar crafted an illusion among the Orks, so perfect they would not doubt it was real. Light and shadow, the sound of breathing, even the smell was exact. With his mind he introduced two more Orks into the defender's ranks, fitting in seamlessly. The ghosts stood among their comrades, shooting wildly, until one jostled the other. The second turned and punched the first with a curse, then they both drew knives and went for each other. The real Orks looked on as the illusions fought a bloody knife duel in their midst, and then feral instincts drove the rest to pile in. Without thought the Greenskins turned on themselves, hacking and shooting with wild abandon. They forgot the Astartes as Ork fought Ork and blood flowed freely.

Xavaar grinned as he let the illusion fade and watched the two squads advance up the flanks unopposed. It took mere moments for them to bracket the squabbling Orks, then a volley of bolter fire culled them all, their line of sandbags doing nothing save bunching them up to be shot. Last to die was the Mekboy, roaring in fury as he hit his device with a spanner, his efforts wasted in death. The killing was exact and ruthless and so the way was opened to move up.

Arkqas hefted his bolter and cried, "See what we can accomplish when we work together!"

Gorth snorted, "Don't let it go to your head, it's just some Orks."

Arkqas replied solemnly, "In the face of the Xenos, all men are equal."

"Only until the Orks are dead," muttered a warrior named Meske, "Once we've dealt with the Greenskins, we'll deal with you."

"You'll see things differently in time," Arkqas replied confidently but Xavaar wasn't so sure.

Any further debate was cut short as Sedaxus moved on, drawing the squads to the very foot of the frigate. It loomed over them like a vertical wall, all gaping thrusters and bulging pipes. Rust and oil clung to the sides and Xavaar gulped as he wondered how many Orks were within, a challenging test by any measure. Sedaxus however ordered, "We find a hatch and fight our way to the Enginarium, can't be more than forty decks up. We set Magma bombs then fight our way out again. I estimate thirty minutes round trip and we'll be fighting every inch of the way."

Everybody braced for the coming fight but Engar sniffed, "That's one option, or…"

Xavaar's head turned as he saw the sniper lift his rifle and aim high, then asked, "What do you intend?"

"See that plasma canister behind the big thruster?"

"Yes, so?"

Engar fired his rifle with a soft sigh, followed by a tiny plink of impact, then he spun about and legged it, shouting over his shoulder, "Run!"

Everybody looked at each other in confusion but then Damolos tore off, running for all he was worth. The rest followed, sprinting as fast as an Astartes could move, which was remarkable. Xavaar didn't know why they were running but the rest seemed in no mood to argue, so they ran. A minute passed, then another and another and still they ran, covering ground as fast as a scout-tank. Xavaar was starting to wonder what the hell was going on but then light filled the sky behind him. Shadows were etched into walls and his eyes ached with brilliance. A moment later a shockwave rolled over them, filled with the air with the hammering of a million drums and his armour wailed with Radiation alarums.

The squads were thrown to their knees, buffeted by a howling wind and pelted with shrapnel as buildings collapsed around them. Xavaar rolled over and saw the frigate consumed by a rising fireball, its structure melting as thick clouds rose high, creating the distinctive mushroom cloud of atomonic detonation. His jaw fell in amazement as the frigate died, collapsing into itself as its innards burned.

"What the frak was that?!" Herran yelled from where he was sprawled in the dirt.

"A packet of fissionable materials covered in a pressurising core of Galliunium-Veratam," Engar replied calmly.

Sedaxus grabbed his gorget and pulled him close hollering right into his faceplate, "A pocket-nuke?! You've been walking around all these years with a pocket-nuke?!"

"It was only a small charge," Engar protested, "Not even a megaton."

"Well that makes it all better," Arkqas scoffed, "And they call me mad."

Xavaar shook his head as he stood up and said, "Hadn't we better get out of here?"

"Yes, we've spread enough havoc," Sedaxus growled irately as he let Engar go, "Sedaxus to all strike teams, commence withdrawal. Shadowhawks, be advised landing grounds are hot, in every sense of the word."

The squads gathered together as a gunship emerged from the fuming clouds, somewhat battered by the scouring heat of the blast. It fell into the boulevard on howling landing thrusters, ramp opening ready to greet them. It was swift withdrawal but not swift enough, for a party of Orks came pouring out of nearby buildings, burnt and bleeding but frothing for revenge. The Shadowhawk's Heavy Bolters culled them mercilessly but they charged on regardless, braving the torrent of firepower to return fire with bullet, shell and rocket. The Astartes were beset as they withdrew, racing death itself and feeling its cold hand reaching for them. The squads fell back in pairs, racing for the gunship then spinning about to cover the rest and in moments were at the foot of the ramp.

"Into the gunship!" Sedaxus roared as a rocket soared past his head, missing by scant inches.

"I can cover you!" Xavaar cried as he took up his staff.

"Just go!" Gorth shouted as he blasted away with his bolter, "I don't want to have to… oh frak."

Xavaar's head snapped about as he saw Gorth freeze, a squat warhead sticking out of the ground at his feet. It had misfired on impact, but only for a second. Gorth stood over it in shock, and all knew he was about to die, but then from nowhere came Arkqas, bodily throwing himself onto the warhead before anyone else could react. Xavaar drew in a breath to shout a denial, but then the rocket detonated with a wet crump, tearing Arkqas apart. Bits of him went flying everywhere, legs blown into splinters as his upper torso flew back, hitting the ramp of the gunship in a gory heap. Intestines hung from the truncated stump of his belly, gushing blood at a rate that even an Astartes could not survive and he slumped weakly as he bled out.

"Arkqas!" Xavaar yelled as he dove to his friend.

"We have got to go!" Damolos hollered as the Orks charged.

"I'm not leaving him!" Xavaar shouted as he grabbed Arkqas under the shoulders and dragged him up the closing ramp.

Darkness engulfed them then the floor shook as the gunship took off, pinging bullets bouncing off the hull all the while. Xavaar felt engines kicking in, tilting them back as the Shadowhawk leapt for the sky. He cared nothing for this though, kneeling over Arkqas' remains, knowing this was a wounding no one could survive.

Xavaar leaned in and pressed, "Arkqas, speak to me!"

"Xavaar…" came the weak response, "My helm…"

Xavaar reached up and removed the helmet, revealing a face going paler than a sheet as blood loss took its toll. "There you are, you look fine. We'll get an Apothecary to fix you up in no time."

"You lie… terribly," Arkqas breathed, "Want you to have… something. Downloaded my… manifesto… to the ship's logs… they're yours now..."

"You can't die," Xavaar protested, "You haven't finished your writings."

"Up to you to write the epilogue," Arkqas wheezed, "Want to thank you… you made me believe. I dreamed such things… but never truly believed they could happen. Until you came along… you who showed me true Brotherhood. A Night Lord… who harboured nobility. You made a believer of me… you made me believe we could be redeemed."

"You were right," Xavaar breathed in a hoarse rasp, "About everything."

"To die in a noble cause… at the birth of something wonderful…" Arkqas gargled faintly as his eyes beheld realm unknowable, "Not Night Lords, not Raven Guard… but Smoke Jaguars."

His head flopped back at last and Xavaar knew he was gone. He let the body drop as he stood up, his hearts turned to stone. Everything was numb and cold, and this seemed impossible. Arkqas, the mad dreamer who thought Night Lords could be better was gone, and without him the universe seemed so much bleaker and cruel. The other stood in silence, honouring the passing of a noble soul, all heads bowed, no matter the colours they wore.

Gorth broke the silence as he whispered, "He saved me, why did he do that?"

Xavaar however turned to Sedaxus, staring into the eye of that feline mask as he hissed, "Arkqas is dead. If you do not want to make an enemy of me, then make this mean something."

Sedaxus nodded solemnly and said, "A promise is made, I shall honour Arkqas. He gave his life for us all, and we shall not forget him. His name will live on, so long as any of us draw breath."

With that the gunship took them back to the stars, leaving calamity in their wake. The Orks were struck most cruelly and their suffering was dire, but greater was their anger. No matter how far, no matter where they hid, the Orks would chase the humans to the ends of the universe. Just as the Smoke Jaguars had planned.