Author's Note: Hey everybody! Got another chapter for everybody here. I'm happy with how much engagement this fic is getting. WE ARE WORLDWIDE GRINGOS!
With all of that out the way... Lets get into the fic!
This was going about as well as she expected… Hathor thought to herself. She was not surprised that the marines had opened fire upon her when the first saw her, she wasn't that dense. However she had made a few observations of these marines compared to her memories of her men. Mainly the fact of their size…
These marines were larger than the ones she remembered, and it wasn't the armor they were wearing, which was also a model she didn't recognize. However her assumptions around these marines being some of Dorn's had been proven correct, with their weapons bearing the markings and armor displaying the standard of the Imperial Fist legion.
But with her musing out of her mind, she could begin to focus on her predicament…
There were three marines, all with injuries and or damage to their armor, with two more locked inside their damaged vehicle, likely radioing reinforcements…
Which would be at her location sooner rather than later.
She had to pre-empt their arrival if she had any chance to salvage the situation, lest she have to fight all of the Imperial forces of the planet, which would only put more stress onto her already weakened body.
As she was staring down at the marine, who was face first in the mud, she heard some chatter ring out over the empty battlefield.
The marine's helmet! She could pry the vox communicator from the helmet and attempt to speak with the commanding officer herself, since the marine in front of her wasn't being that forthcoming. The voice of a Primarch, even a perceived Traitor Primarch, on their vox channel may give the marines enough pause for her to potentially explain herself and potentially avoid another skirmish.
She didn't want to have to kill any of Dorn's men if she could help it.
She walked over to the destroyed helmet, its cracked visor from her mace swing laid in pieces on the ground, but she could faintly hear the Vox-caster from inside the helmet. She tried as delicately as she could in full Terminator armor to pry the communicator out of the helmet, which only worked in damaging the helmet more and rendering the vox-caster inoperable, a fact she learned as the panicked comm chatter died with a gravelly pop.
She sighed, she would have to get inside the tank to access their vox-caster inside then. She turned to face the damaged tank in front of her, its destroyed main gun in pieces from her lightning claw. All of the other armaments lay in pieces around the main chassis, torn out in her assault on the vehicle. Russ would have been laughing at her for going overboard… again… she lamented. Freya was one that would try to stir trouble, but was endearing enough for it to come off as good-natured fun. She missed that… She really missed that…
If only she had some of that jovial humor in an environment as desolate as this.
Her boots trudged through the mudded terrain over to the damaged tank, which now lay in the mud as its levitation system was likely damaged in her assault. As she walked past the unconscious marines, she saw the marine who laid face down in the mud. She slowly turned him over to his side so he didn't drown, as unlikely as she thought.
As she stood in front of an entry door, her enhanced hearing faintly picked up the panicked vox communication from inside the tank. She was right, they were radioing for backup. She powered up her lightning claw and with the precision of a surgeon dug its blades into the connection area where the door met the hull. As she got further, she began to drag the door to the right. It took a bit more effort than she would've liked, but eventually she overpowered the hydraulic pressure of the door, and began to force it open. As she was half open, the power to the door must have short circuited as shoved the rest open with ease, taking some bolter fire from inside as she did, all of which bounced off her armor with only small dents left behind.
She then quickly disarmed the two marines inside as well, and made her way over to the vox terminal inside the machine. It was a hulking beast of screens and wire, most of which she didn't recognize, which she gleaned was off. She reckoned this was the backup if the vox-casters inside the marine's armors failed due to an EMP attack or some other mechanical fault. She looked for a power switch to the machine, mainly by pressing every button she could find in the vicinity of it. Eventually the machine sputtered to life, and immediately she was assaulted with vox-comm chatter.
"Leane!… Leane respond! Sister Leane do you copy? Beta team do you copy?... Alpha and Gamma teams, move to position Alpha six zero to backup Beta team…" A female voice on the channel barked out.
"Copy, Sister Jullia" a male voice responded.
"Already on our way Sister." another female voice responded after. She had to make her presence known now before these marines were on top of her.
"Imperial Fist…" She said, choosing her next words as carefully as she could.
"Who is that?" one male voice responded.
"Maybe someone got into our vox channel?" another replied
"Unknown party, this is a secure military vox channel, any and all transmission is under the strict supervision of the Adeptus Administratum. Any unsanctioned listening to any military channel is punishable under…" The female voice over the vox began to rattle of jargon and phrases that only confused Hathor even more. Adeptus Administratum? That name didn't ring any bells for her. She decided to just go right out with it, save her trying to decipher all of the nonsense the marine was spouting. She hoped this would work…
"This is Hathor Lupercal, Primarch of the Luna Wolves. I came into contact with some of your forces when I arrived planetside. I wish to speak to the commanding officer currently stationed on this planet." She said with a tone that didn't leave much room for argument.
The vox channel went silent as the world seemingly went still. Inside Hathor was dreading the response from any of the marines to that hat trick. It lasted seemingly forever, as Hathor began to spin internally, this had to work… This had to work!
Or else she had no other plan left to go on…
"This is Jullia of the 3rd Battle Company of the Imperial Fist…" The vox rattled to life in response.
"Alpha team, Gamma team intercept the signal from our visitor, report back what you find." The female voice said, Hathor's face sunk… she would have to fight, and potentially kill more of Dorn's men…
"Lupercal" She heard, her attention brought back to the vox.
"If you are who you say you are, we have much to talk about. Surrender to the arriving marines, and we won't rain hellfire down on your position with as much force as the might of Dorn can muster. Closing the channel…" Static filled the vox…
Great…
Hathor had gotten to what she wanted, if the marine was being truthful. She would be able to explain herself.
She just hoped they would listen.
