Boarding Action - A Tale of the Tigers Resurgent

[Tigris]

Here with the first piece of fluff I wrote about my DIY chapter, the Tigers Resurgent. C&C welcome as always.

 

T

 

BOARDING ACTION – A TALE OF THE TIGER’S RESURGENT

 

Despite the roar of the assaultcannon rounds impacting the bulkhead all around his position Sergeant Yanto Yollo, a 10 year veteran of the 675th Imperial Guard Regiment, could hear the relentless sound of heavy, metal-soled feet moving steadily on the deck towards him.

 

The bodies of his squad lay dead or dieing in the corridors around him. They had been sent to investigate the recent collision in case there had been a breach. They were operating in an area where ships had been hit by Tyranids and the Captain was taking no chances. He and his team had arrived at the site of the impact and as they watched a breach develop in the hull, huge volumes of automatic fire spewed forth tearing the squad to ribbons. Yanto had only survived by throwing himself into a door well. He had tried to get a call off to the bridge, reporting the hull breach but his vox-caster had been damaged in the initial volley and he could not get the message through.

 

He could sense the bulk of the Terminator only a few feet away. Abruptly the fire stopped. Knowing enough about assaultcannons to realise that his tormentor had suffered a weapon jam, and would have to take time to clear it, Yanto leapt out from the door well, in which he had taken refuge, and threw himself towards the bulk of the Terminator. As his chainsword reached out to touch his prey, everything appeared to slow down. He watched, amazed, as his target worked furiously to clear his weapon, apparently either unaware, or unconcerned about the threat he faced. The teeth of the chain sword bit into the shoulder pad of the arm holding the assaultcannon; only then did his target look towards him. Yanto brought his bolt pistol up to bury rounds into the armoured head in front of him but before he could pull the trigger he felt himself swatted off to one side, his sword torn from his grip. As the world returned to normal speed, he became intensely aware of the sharp piercing pains in his abdomen.

 

Looking down he saw the tangled mess of his chest and lungs as the second Terminator withdrew the lightning claws from his chest. The two Terminators moved past him and as the light faded in his eyes he saw the insignia on there shoulder. There must have been some mistake, these were loyalist marines of the Tigers Resurgent what where they doing boarding an Imperial Naval ship and what could they want with the 675th?

 

*****

 

Specialist Delmany took stock of his situation. Following the interception of the target vessel; he and the other members of Brother-Sergeant Moriton’s Terminator squad had been ordered to board it via torpedo, rendezvous and make their way to the bridge in order to take command. A skeleton crew of specifically trained officers would then follow them aboard to enable the ship to be recovered. They knew that the ship was commanded by a General Llewellyn of the Imperial Guard and that the General had been previously summoned to appear before the Inquisition to answer questions about his actions over the last year. When the call from the Inquisition had gone unacknowledged, and the General failed to attend at the allotted time, the Tigers had been ordered to bring him to justice, one way or another. The Chapter Master had passed the task on to the third company, who had just undergone a reorganisation following discussions between the Company Commander and the Chapter Master himself. His boarding partner, Specialist Orson, spoke over their team vox channel, “No sign of the other teams yet. What now?”

 

The recent reorganisation within the company had meant an departure from the Index Astartes. Not only did the Tigers have a 6-man squad of Terminators in each Company, a squad not lead by the Company Commander, their squad had developed new methods of operation for boarding operations. The squad operated as three pairs or Terminators, each pair containing a ranged warfare and a close combat specialist. This typically meant two pairs armed with stormbolter/powerfist and lightning claws and one pair armed with assaultcannon/powerfist and lightning claws. The tactics were simple, the ranged combat trooper stood to provide covering fire whilst the close combat trooper advanced. Then the roles were reversed with the ranged trooper closing the gap but never stepping in front of his battle-brother. Hours of training and practice had honed the skills of the pairs such that the shooter could happily engage targets beyond his partner without fear of hitting, never injuring him. This was even more difficult for Delmany and his partner due to their use of the assaultcannon rather than a storm bolter. The idea for the tactic came following a previous engagement on board a lone Tyranid vessel when, in a freak occurrence, both storm bolters of a Terminator team jammed at the same time and they were left to pound it out toe to toe with a brood team of genestealers, using the guns as clubs to accompany their powerfists. Now, a close combat specialist would always be between the shooter and the enemy, and they would be able to advance secure in the knowledge that a barrage of bolt shells would deal with at least the first threat they encountered.

 

The second element to the new boarding tactic was to split the squad into pairs and board at three separate points, the idea being that each team was more that a match for any initial resistance they were likely to meet, whilst any resistance would also be reduced through having to face three breeches at once. The teams were then to make there way to a rendezvous determined by the first team to find a suitable location, before moving off together. In their drills to date, the rendezvous had usually only been determined just short of the objective, allowing them freedom to move within the ship and yet still present a combined force for the final push. However, this was the first time that they had done it for real.

 

“Let’s push on,” said Delmany, “we were the rearmost entry point so let’s head forward and see if we can’t pick up signals from the rest of the squad.”

He took up a position in the corner of the corridor, the long barrels of his weapon pointing the way. Orson moved forward, aware that when the team of guardsmen failed to report in, another would be despatched to investigate. One thing that was for certain, where there was one guardsmen, there were always many more.

 

As they progressed along the corridor, heading towards the bridge, they found the doors were all open.

“Looks like our efforts to fool the machine spirit worked,” said Orson, “these doors would be locked down if a hull breach had been detected,” indicating to his left.

“Well, we need to seal them as we pass; I don’t want any surprises from behind.”

“Roger that, Brother” came the response as Orson keyed the door controls and it slid shut. “Now what was that lock override code again? Oh yes, now I remember” he said as he rammed his lightning claw into the controls.

“Nice work Brother, now let’s move on.”

So they pressed on, Orson sealing any doors into crossing corridors and Delmany using his powerfist to do the same to any they passed through. Whilst it would take the guards some considerable time to open a jammed door, either of the pair could destroy a door in seconds if they needed to make good their escape.

 

They stopped at a corner. Delmany used the increased range of the sensors accompanying his weapon system to scan for both their squad mates and any threats.

“Still no sign of the others. I guess we press on.”

They rounded the corner and repeated their drill along another seemingly endless corridor. A faint smudge flashed on the Delmany’s scanner.

“Looks like company” he said ”I’ll deal with this.”

“Roger” came the response as Orson stepped into a siding.

A full squad jogged round the corner. They barely had time to recognise the shape in the distance before the high velocity rounds of the assault cannon tore them to shreds.

“All clear” was all it took and they were off again.

 

Another similar encounter a few minutes later left a guardsman alive to escape. He had been further back from the squad and had not turned the corner when the rest had been cut down. Sgt Daffydd fled, he knew he had to stay alive long enough to report what he had seen. He darted down a side corridor and opened a vox channel.

“Bridge, this is Sgt Daffydd, 3 Platoon, A Company. Contact. We have Terminators on board, hostile.”

Silence was the only response. There must be a problem with the system, he thought. He knew that reporting through the chain of command would take too long, his company’s officers were undertaking central training away from their shipboard headquarters and that only B company remained on board with C, D, E and F companies out on missions, and so he headed for the bridge on foot. He knew that the Terminators would move relentlessly forward, he had to outpace them, he had to get reinforcements, lasguns would be no use against this. A thought occurred to him as he ran and he altered his route slightly to take him past A Company’s quarters.

“Grab every heavy weapon you can find and get set up in the main corridor facing aft. Shoot anything that is not 675th and I do mean anything!”

The men around him looked confused, obviously the news of the threat had not reached this far. He grabbed two men by their uniforms and pushed them towards the weapon rack.

“All weapons, especially heavies, main corridor, facing aft. Now!”

The remainder leapt up, within seconds heavy bolters had been broken out of the racks and were being set up with squads forming up behind, their lasguns at the ready. Sgt Daffydd knew it was unlikely to stop the Terminators, but it might at least slow them down.

 

Orson turned a corner.

“That’s odd, the next door is shut.”

“I guess they finally realised we were coming, be cautious.”

Orson reached for the door control.

“Wait! I just got something on my scope. It looks like trouble.”

“What do we do?”

“I’ll stay here; you go back to that last crossing and make your way forward. I’ll tell you when you are close. I’ll engage them from here whilst you flank them.”

“Let’s do it!”

Orson headed back, burst through a sealed door and made his way on a course parallel to the direction of threat.

“That’s far enough, find a door.”

“The Emperor is with us, I am stood near a door right now.”

“I shall open my door and start firing. Allow me one second before you make your move.”

“For the Emperor!”

Delmany keyed the door open, took a split second to register the absence of the distinctive orange and black markings of the Chapter and depressed the firing stud. The flaming finger of the Emperor’s wrath reached out to pluck at the guardsmen arrayed before him, the massed ranks that stood before him started to fall. The two heavy bolter teams lying prone on the floor opened fire, initially protected from the withering fire. As the first rounds hit home on Delmany’s chest and legs, Orson burst out of the side door and fell amongst the weapon teams. Delmany ceased his fire to allow Orson to cross the corridor before reengaging, this time his rounds passing behind his partner. The entire engagement lasted seconds. Delmany suffered slight damage from the bolter rounds and Orson some from the handful or so of lasguns that had been brought to bear whilst he dealt with the heavies; but neither marine was injured and their armour was fully functional.

“Any sign of our squad mates Brother?” asked Orson as Delmany approached.

“I cannot be certain, but I am picking up a strong mixture of signals ahead, I think I saw a Tigers IFF but it must have been at maximum range because it is gone again.”

“Onwards then Brother.”

“Wait, I am picking up the rendezvous beacon from team one. It is ahead on the right, approximately eight hundred metres.”

“Let us join our Brothers and continue our quest.”

 

In the main, port-side, loading bay, four Terminators stood together. Teams 1 and 2 had breeched the hull in adjoining bays and, having met up, moved forward into the main bay. Unfortunately when they entered the bay they came face to face with two whole companies of guardsmen conducting live firing practice. Within seconds they had come under intensive fire from every weapon system available. They had realised that luck was really against them when they saw that the two company commanders had been watching the session from the turret of a Leman Russ. Armed as they were, they had little choice but to close with the enemy as quickly as possible. Sgt Moriton had triggered his beacon to attempt to draw Team 3 towards them and then led the other three members of his squad into the fray. The two stormbolters were making an impact, you couldn’t really miss in such a target-rich and confined environment but until he and Specialist Garmon got close to that Russ they were all in trouble. The only positive so far was that apart from the two majors on top of the vehicle, it was unmanned so it had yet to power up or move. With only two of them they could only move or shoot if they also wanted to see what was happening and direct the battle. The two shooters were careful to fire at anyone attempting to climb the vehicle. If they got a third crew member then things would go down hill very rapidly. Also, whichever of the two senior officers was behind the controls of the gun couldn’t hit the broad side of a battlebarge, as a shot went past overhead, and so the four marines had yet to face the serious issue of heavy armour, but it was only a matter of time. Progress across the bay in the Tactical Dreadnaught Armour was slow and the massed lasgun and heavy bolter fire was taking its toll. Garmon had already had a heavy bolter round penetrate his left shoulder plate without injury, but a second pierced his right thigh deep enough to wound. He had stumbled but his advanced physiology was doing as it had been designed to do all those thousands of years ago and so he was still on his feet and still fighting. The two shooters were drawing the most fire as he posed the biggest immediate threat to the guardsmen. Specialist Belspits’ left arm hung motionless, his powerfist useless following a glancing blow from a frag missile. Specialist Pummick had immediately despatched the firer, but had been riddled with heavy bolter rounds as a result. He was still combat effective but was struggling to move with the intense damage to his armour.

“Belspits, Pummick; form a fire base there. You will be no use in close combat. Give us maximum supporting fire as we charge,” Moriton ordered.

“It is his will!” came the dual response.

The gunmen took positions a few feet apart and began to pour a sustained rate of fire into the target ranks. Garmon and Moriton surged forward, muscles and servomotors pumping furiously. Neither their bodies, nor their suits, could maintain this for long; they just had to close the gap. Lightning claws flashing to life, they finally reached the front rank and set about equalling the odds further. Moriton had assumed that they would draw less fire once they were amongst the guardsmen, but now, guardsmen continued to fire past, through and into their fellow defenders; their commissars screaming rhetoric at them.

 

The two marines fought as though possessed. Cutting men down all around them. Men were falling by the dozen and still they kept coming.

“Stoppage!” cried Belspit as he started the litany of clearance.

Moriton gritted his teeth as he started his own litany of combat knowing that the battle would be that much harder in the precious moments it would take Belspit to placate the machine spirit of his weapon.

“Stoppage!” cried Pummick a moment later.

By the Emperor’s broken bones! How could one squad be so unlucky? He and Garmon now stood back to back, slashing and clawing, screaming litanies of hate and fury as they fought.

“It is no use Brother,” said Belspit, “the machine spirit is unwilling, better I use the cursed thing as a club than watch helpless from here.”

Leaving his ammunition with Pummick he advanced across the deck, taking hits from weapons, his armour taking damage, his body taking punishment. Pummick’s stormbolter burst back into life as he frantically fired, trying to offer some protection to his brothers.

 

A colossal explosion sent him sprawling on the deck. The officers in the Russ had finally been joined by a gunner in the lull in the firing. Shaken inside his armour, Pummick had dropped his weapon. Moriton knew that things had gone wrong, but there could be no retreat, there was no way off the ship until they had taken control. He saw the turret of the Russ track towards him; even in his blessed Terminator armour he could not withstand a direct hit from such a weapon. Only sorry that the chapter would lose the precious armour and geneseed, he fought on, waiting for the explosion that would end it all.

 

Boom! Moriton was ashamed that he had flinched before realising that the dead do not feel shame. Where a tank had stood seconds before was now a burning hulk.

 

Delmany and Orson had arrived at the main bay doors, the sounds of battle clear on the other side.

“Our brothers need our assistance” said Delmany.

“Let us go. I will engage anything close by and then act as a shield for you brother. We need maximum fire power for as long as possible!”

Starting a litany of destruction, Orson keyed the door open. In a fraction of a second Delmany took in the sight of the two orange bulks swarmed by the grey masses of the guardsmen. He could not see the other two members of the squad, but he saw the Leman Russ bringing his weapon to bear. His decision was instant and his reactions equally fast. He opened fire on the tank, his rounds causing a large explosion as the vehicle burst in to flames. He switched fire into the massed ranks on infantry, Orson calling priority targets as he spotted heavy weapons teams.

“Tigers! For the Emperor!” cried Delmany.

The guardsmen faltered as their ranks were decimated from an unexpected flank. Moriton and Garmon leapt forward, using the lull to tear into the confused guardsmen.

 

With the tide of the battle turned, Sgt Moriton turned on the external speakers mounted to his suit.

“Men of the 675th lay down your weapons. We of the Tigers Resurgent are here on orders direct from Holy Terra. We have come to bring your General before the Inquisition.”

“We will never surrender!” screamed a Commissar.

“We will destroy you all if we have to, our orders are worth more that the lives of a few more guardsmen, but if you are faithful to the Emperor you will let us pass.”

“Never! The General brings glory to the Imperium through his actions, he does not answer to the Inquisition nor to the Adeptes Astartes!” replied the Commissar, “675th att…”

He was cut short by a laspistol shot to the face.

“Ceasefire! Order arms!” a voice rang out.

The voice was obviously that of an officer as the men stopped fighting and stood to attention.

“Who is the commander here?” asked Moriton.

“I am,” a young Captain stepped forward, leaving the body of the Commissar on the deck. “I have been unhappy with the General’s orders for some time. Our last mission had us firing on unarmed civilians but the General pushed us forward.”

“You have done well Captain. I am Brother Sergeant Moriton of the third company of the Tigers Resurgent. News of your last mission reached the ears of the Inquisition. As they had no forces nearby, we were dispatched to bring the General to account. He has already ignored an order to report to the Inquisition in person for his prior actions.”

“My Lord, we will help you tend your wounds and weapons and I can offer you information about the rest of the ship, but I cannot take up arms against my fellow Guardsmen”

“Thank you Captain. Secure the area, tend to your men. We will ready ourselves once more then we should talk.”

The Captain set about organising the remnants of the two companies, whilst the six marines moved together. The quickly removed each other’s armour panels to examine and bind wounds and effect hasty battlefield repairs. They took stock of their ammunition and prepared themselves for the coming hours.

 

Having completed battlefield repairs, tended to their wounds and gathered in prayer; the Squad was ready to go. Sgt Moriton called the Captain over.

“Captain, we will shortly move on from here to find the General and bring him in. Any information you can give us would be greatly appreciated. Fighting your companies has taken its toll on us, so if we can avoid prolonged fire fights it would make our lives easier.”

“Well my Lord, it would appear the Emperor smiles on you today. The remainder of the Regiment is currently deployed away from the ship. We were retained from the mission as a reserve. If you proceed directly to the bridge you shouldn’t encounter too much resistance. I have just transmitted a schematic of the ship to your auspex.”

“We will get to the bridge, resistance or no; but it will certainly be quicker if you are correct. I wish you well Captain, the Regiment will need someone to lead it when the General is away; I will put your name forward as an honourable man suitable for the task.”

“Thank you my Lord, good luck!”

“Squad, form up. Let’s go!”

 

The Squad formed in a loose formation with two Moriton and Garmon in the front. Delmany, with his longer range weapon took position in the middle of the shooters and slightly to the rear and Pummick and Belspits took rear guard. They moved through the various holds and hangers along the outer edge of the vessel before taking a path inwards towards the bridge. They met no resistance along the way and were soon stood in formation outside the doors to the bridge. Moriton pounded his fist on the blast door, “In the name of the Emperor, I, Sergeant Moriton, third company, the Tigers Resurgent demand entry to the bridge of this vessel. By order of the High Lords of Terra we have come to collect General Llewellyn for delivery to the Inquisition. If you stand aside, and raise no weapons you will not be harmed. If you offer resistance you will receive no quarter. General Llewellyn, this is your final chance. Comply with the orders of the High Lords of Terra or prepare to receive the Emperor’s justice!”

“The General is not on the Bridge my Lord. This is Captain Bulgariss, commander of this vessel. The General holds court in his cabin. I will open the doors so I can pass you the information, it is about time the General was made to answer for his actions.”

The blast doors slid smoothly open.

“Teams 2 and 3 wait here, if there is trouble come in and spare no one. Pummick, with me!”

The two-man team entered the bridge to find an entirely orderly environment, the very image of the Imperial Navy.

“My Lord, the General is located on deck Sigma 7 Epsilon. I will send the route to your auspex. May the Emperor guide you in your endeavours.”

“Captain, I shall return. Currently the remaining members of two companies of the 675th are in the port hanger. They have provided us with assistance, but will not bear arms against their colleagues. I would request that you confer with their Captain in order that you can secure your ship.”

 

The squad moved out on their new route. They stopped short of the General’s cabin.

“Team 2, you are first in the door. Orson and I will be right behind you. Team 3, follow me in and hold the door. Remember, the General is unlikely to be alone. I will announce our presence as before, but I do not expect this to be resolved easily.”

The marines readied themselves for this final event.

“General Llewellyn, this is Sergeant Moriton of the Tigers Resurgent. I have come to call you to account in accordance with the orders from the High Lords of Terra. Surrender yourself into my charge. If you resist then I am authorised to exercise the Emperor’s will and judgement.”

A voice, barely recognisable as human responded, “I know who you are Sergeant and I welcome your visit.” The doors slid open, “your skulls will make a fine sacrifice to my master!”

When the doors were fully opened Moriton saw the General in his cabin, or at least he saw what had previously been the General. A hideous daemon, with barely recognisably human features and the shreds of an Imperial General’s uniform hanging from its limbs, roared as it saw the marines.

“For the Emperor, charge!”

The marines surged into the room, Moriton slightly faster than the other two assault brothers. He charged into the daemon, and was swatted to one side, landing slumped against a wall.

“Fire!” screamed Delmany, depressing the firing stud on his weapon. Three weapons opened up; at this range they could not miss. The remaining two assault marines met the daemon in close combat, bellowing litanies of aggression and hate.

“Belspit, Pummick, close with the fiend; use your fists as well!”

As his four battle brothers fought in close combat, stormbolters firing at close range in the melee, Delmany raised the barrels of his assaultcannon, to aim for the daemon’s upper torso, and cast a glance towards the body or Moriton. There was no movement from the Sergeant. Delmany returned all his attention to the target at hand. The daemon seemed to be weakening slightly. Just as he the thought passed his mind, the daemon reached out and forced Gorsan up to crush him against the ceiling. Another thrust freed the daemon of the attentions of the remaining marines in close quarters. Seeing his squad mates fall, Delmany let fly with renewed litanies of hate and, keeping the firing stud depressed on his weapon he closed with the daemon. Despite knowing that his weapon load was unsuitable for close combat, Delmany was determined to destroy the foul creature and complete his mission. The daemon lashed out, missing Delmany by the narrowest margin. Delmany stepped close, pressed his weapon close to the chest of the daemon and fired a sustained burst from immediate range. The daemon let forth a foul scream, like a thousand tormented souls before vanishing completely.

 

Looking around, he saw his battle brothers stirring. Smoke rising from their armour, the came back to their feet. Sgt Moriton, however, did not stand.

“Garmon, get to the bridge and inform the captain that we have completed our task. Ask him to set a course for our fleet rendezvous. Signal the fleet also,” he commanded. “Belspits, help me move the Sergeant.”

The two marines moved the Sergeant on to his back. He was alive, but clearly badly injured. His left arm hung loose and his legs were bent at unnatural angles.

“Its okay Sergeant, rest easy. We have completed our tasks for today. We are on our way back to the fleet; we will have you with an apothecary soon. We will move you to the hanger shortly ready for immediate transfer and treatment.”

“Is everyone else alright?” rasped the squad leader.

“We all picked up a few more wounds, but we can carry on.”

“Good, and the General?”

“I guess we will never know for certain but it looks like he had pledged himself to Khorne and ascended to daemonhood. I guess him sending all those guardsmen to their deaths had a purpose, but we have put a stop to that.”

“So end all traitors!”

“As is his will, as is his will!”

 

*****

 

The ship rendezvoused with the third company fleet, and Moriton was transferred directly to the Apothecary’s ward. The armour and weapons of the entire squad were returned to the Techmarines for repair and storage. Reports were filed by all members of the squad and they returned to their duties within the company. The company chaplain gathered them together after their evening meal and led them in a session of veneration and blessing following the successful completion of their mission. The company Epistolary also interviewed them all to ensure that they had not been tainted by the chaotic entities during their conflict with the daemon. The remaining command structure of the 675th were each examined for taint before returning to duty. The 675th would form part of the Tigers’ fleet until their comrades returned. If the returning companies accepted the current situation and were free from taint then the Regiment would promote internally and continue its role for the Imperium. If there was evidence of taint, or mutiny then the companies would be razed and the remaining loyal guardsmen transferred out. The Regiment would be scrubbed from Imperial records and never mentioned again.

 

Delmany received a call to attend the cell of the Company Commander. He rose and dressed in his robes, before making his way along the corridors to the Commander’s cell.

“Welcome brother, come in” the commander called to him.

He entered the room, the table behind which the captain sat was covered in reports and other documents.

“I will be with you in a moment Brother; I must finish this document first.”

As Delmany stood waiting, the door to the cell opened and the company Chaplain and Epistolary entered the room.

“Ah, Mortarion, Lysander you are here. Welcome. Let us begin. Brother Delmany, I have been reviewing the reports submitted by your squad mates, and more importantly by Sergeant Moriton. Obviously this was a successful mission; I cannot believe that the chaotic influence on the General was kept so securely hidden for so long. At least we are rid of the foul creature. The reports are quite conclusive in their content; there can be no denying it, you acted above and beyond the level expected of even one of the Emperor’s finest. Your courage and zeal in the face of overwhelming conditions and that you saved you squad from the ravages of the warp are to be commended.”

The company Chaplain stepped forward.

“Brother Delmany, for outstanding valour and faith in the face of the enemy, I am proud to present you with this seal of purity.” He handed Delmany an intricately scribed parchment, detailing his actions during the recent mission. “The company techmarines are attaching the battle version to your armour once it has been fully repaired.”

“Thank you reverent one.” Was all Delmany could manage as a response.

“As you are aware,” continued the Commander, “Sergeant Moriton was badly wounded in action against the daemon. He will be a long time recovering. Despite his Adeptes physiology, the Apothecaries were unable to save his left leg. When he returns to combat readiness, he will join my headquarters as a tactical advisor. His understanding of the abilities of Terminators is greater than that of any other Marine I have ever met. In the interim, he will form part of the Chapter’s training wing, passing on his knowledge to the other companies and training future squads of Terminators. This leaves us with a slight dilemma. The Terminator squad is now without a Squad leader. After great consideration I have decided that the position is yours if you want it. You will be promoted to Sergeant with immediate effect and will be responsible for the training and deployment of the company’s Terminator squad. Do you accept?”

“It is my honour to accept the Emperor’s will sir!” Delmany replied.

“Good, Mortarion the robe please,” said the Commander, motioning to the Epistolary.

“Brother.” The Epistolary held out new robes, marked with the badges of a Sergeant of the Third Company. “Wear them with pride Brother-Sergeant, you have earned the right. Now if I can just ask you to come and talk to me another time about the creature you vanquished, I am keen to know the dangers we face in this sector?”

“I shall Brother, I shall. For now I need to gather my squad. Sir, without Brother-Sergeant Moriton, my squad is one man short?”

“Brother, as a Terminator Squad leader you can recommend anyone from the company for your squad. I would suggest you hold trials, but the decision is yours.”

“Thank you sir, I shall let you know my choices within a week. We shall operate as a five man squad in the interim.”

 

Delmany left the room.

“Brothers, one day that marine will be sat in my chair,” commented the Commander.

“Only if he isn’t sat in mine Brother!” replied Mortarion.

“Agreed Brother Mortarion, agreed. Now the next item on our agenda for this evening is the monthly communiqué from Brother-Sergeant Germanus with news from the Legio Bolter and Chainsword.”

 

THE END

[KEEPER]

Great story!