Alpha Through Omega

[The 13th Goat]

My stab at some interesting Fan fic. Hope you like it:

 

 

Alpha Through Omega

 

Ingo Pech's short sword swung in a low, sweeping arc that slashed at the Eldar witches robes. Lightning cascaded around them as she brought her staff down with incessant speed, a blow only just missed by the marine. All around him he heard the sounds of his brothers dying, the counter ambush devised by the xeno's tearing them apart from all angels. She was on him again in seconds, bladed staff flickering in the gun fire as it launched for his throat. Bringing his blade down with a parry, he drove forwards with his fist, hammering the fragile, delicate features of Eldar leaders into bloody matter. She fell back clutching her ruined face. Capitalizing on her weakness, Ingo grabbed his bolter of it's magnetic clip and flipped it out towards her. Aiming in the split second it took to blink, he fired. Bolter shells hammered into the leader, blasting chunk's of pink and reddish flesh out to wall behind. Screaming a death cry that sounded at once horrific yet beautiful, she slumped forward, blood frothing out of her mouth.

Ingo quickly took stock of his surroundings. His tactical team had be selected by Lord Omegon himself, the spectre that lurked in his legions shadows, coordinating the stealth teams and information gathering units that gave their legion their unique battlefield info. Although the order to attack this supposed scout nest had been via equerry, it still shocked him the honour he was assigned. Break the nest and move down to support the main unit fighting on the river banks. Glancing around now, he only saw the death of his men. To his right Mecias, a lithe warrior that had fought many great battles, was cut down by snipers on the opposing building. A little further, Brother Argus fought a bone clad Eldar warrior bravely, despite the fact his left arm was severed below the elbow. Brother Tarkin and Flame Bearer Feaco were pinned behind a small wall by a floating tank, despite to reach Brother Gequi who was trapped half submerged in rubble. White shards showered the area, glittering the cold ferrocete walls around them like peppered diamonds.

Moving quickly, Ingo dashed down beside Tarkin and Feaco.

“Count?”

“Too many,” replied Tarkin sourly. “We have seven confirmed, but they have their ghosts in the walls. Tesh and Rone are gone, same with Heyu and Phicees.”

Phicees had been the Chaplain, and long serving Terran that had won the newly appointed title for his pious devotion to the Emperor. He was a respected member of the First company and the Legion on a whole. His loss was a greivious wound to their honour.

An explosion ripped out beside them, and Brother Feaco now topless corpse rocked back to the ground. Things were looking bad. Shapes in dark blue moved in the smoke and fog surrounding them, brothers or foe, each locked in this hellish combat in the dark, Arctic night. The recon nest the enemy had established was in an old imperial research facility, collapsed and abandoned years ago. The courtyard, trapped in the nights howling snow storms, was now graced with possibly 50 individuals fighting for survival.

“We need a plan,” Ingo yelled over the howling battle. “Move up and give suppressing. I'll move through buildings on the left and try and get behind the tank.”

“Careful, Brother. Through the Alpha...” Tarkin said whilst spitting a couple of rounds over the remaining wall.

“And the Omega” ended Ingo. With that, they broke from their cover. Tarkin dashed out of view into the clouded maelstrom the battles gloom. Ingo made for the nearest break in the buildings wall . Leaping through the gap, he landed with a roll onto his feet. His heightened eyesight almost immediately picked through the gloom, and he began to move carefully forwards. Dust and snow crunched under his feet as crept forward, his every sense scanning his surroundings. Outside the rattling of gun fire sounded distant and interrupted, indicating Tarkin was struggling. Pech started to move faster through the rooms, over broken walls and tattered doors.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a fizzle of noise erupted from behind him. The Ghost's were on him. The most feared of the Eldar's troops, it was said they were responsible for incidents such as Kaurvena II and Epilis XII. Both happened in minutes, with casualties high and damage sever. Like all their bizarre raids, the objectives of these remained unclear, but the damage had caused many problems for the Imperium. Now these deadly warriors were on him. Leaping forward and twisting round, he caught a look at the creature. Multi armed, like a spider, its armour was bulkier than the rest of its kind yet it moved with such speed. Pech pulled the trigger, sending round after round of explosive shell barking through the air. It was to no avail. The shells never hit the spectre, it fading out in and out of reality with such ease it looked like second nature. Rolling to his feet to try and regain his footing, Ingo looked up just in time to see it fade in above his head, coming down with two arched blades for his death blow. Darting to the side, one of the ghosts foul blades tore a groove down his left grieve leaving a ragged scar through his noble Legions insignia. Dropping his bolter, Pech ripped out his combat knife and dove at his opponent in one swift movement. In the second it took for him to cross the inches of space, the ghost was gone again, behind him to his left. Pech swung round just in time to parry the first blade, adjusting his position to take the second in his side. It missed the vital organs, but the pain that shot through him as it bore into him was excruciating. Kicking out with his boot, he sent the enemy flying back through the wall, it crumbling not so much due to the ghost weight but momentum. Time had eroded this place, and it was coming apart beneath the savage combat.

Knowing he had to stay on top of his opponent, he leapt through the hole. The cold bit at him through the hole in his armour, chilling the now clotting wound the ghost had bestowed on him. Through the swirling storm, Pech saw his quarry was missing. A faint crackle was all he got before the ghost apparated next to him, use his momentum to knock the marine over. Leaping on him, both warriors, now armless and disorientated, wrestled feverishly for their life. Over and over they rolled down the into the courtyard where the battle raged on. Pech's strength was far superior, but the double jointed nature of his quarry meant grapples were deflected. As they rolled around in the snow, the floating tank that had been pinning Tarkin cannons announced their presence nearby, its operators firing into the bleak storm in apparent attempts to finish off what remained of Pech's squad.

Then they came. At first, the glints only flashed sporadically in the sky, but in Pech's peripheral, he could make out two streaks of orange. In seconds, the two streaks dripped and dropped out of the sky. The first black warrior smashed through the roof of the tanks gun placement, killing the gunner with terminal impact. The second landed squarely on the tanks hood, and proceeded to send his chain sword through the windscreen of the tank and the drivers face in one quick thrust. The ghost turned to witness these events and let out a horrific scream of anger. Using the distraction, Ingo grabbed the back of the ghosts head and smashed it down into earth. Using the last reserves of his strength, he hammered again and again into the ghost's head until all that was left was a bloody mash of skin and fractured helmet.

Raising weakly to his feet, feeling the wait of the nights long battle weighing on his shoulders, he glanced at the dark figures across the courtyard. More had landed now, clad in black with the new jump pack equipment. Through the haze he saw a three headed snake insignia on their grieves. Before he could wonder more on these newcomers, a familiar crackle filled the air. Ghosts, almost seven of them, faded into reality. This was it. He could not hope to hold out long against this many foe. The arrivals had moved of to pursue the rest of enemy, and they were to far gone to notice his predicament. Bolter and knife gone, he was weapon-less against a skilled foe. He uttered an oath to the Emperor.

As if an answer came instantly, the building behind him exploded. Through tortured wreckage came giants, clad in shaded blue with green trimmings. Taller than Pech, they ambled forward unleashing a torrent of fire that ripped through the ghosts opposing him like wind carving through smoke. The giants stomped closer towards Pech, dominating the landscape around them. As the others moved on to pursue the rest of the enemy, one strode powerfully up to Ingo.

“Need some relief?”, came the giants booming voice, its low metallic growl clear through the raging storms deafening winds.

“Captain Ranko, I have failed here. We were out manoeuvred and unable to adapt quickly enough. Squad Regalis lies decimated. Phicees has fallen.” Ingo let those words hang. Even beneath the Terminator armour, he could visibly see Sheed Ranko, his saviour and commanding officer, shocked by this.

“Let us see what we can do to salvage this situation then,” Ranko said, recovering. “We need this point if the plan to push in on rear guard is going to be successful.”

“You have my bolter!” said Pech, eagerly looking to avenge his brothers.

“By the throne, I'll have more than that if this goes wrong!”, roared Ranko, turning and marching to join his brothers.

“Sir, I have a question?”, Ingo said, quickly trying to catch his commander before he lost him in the oncoming fray. Sheed turned round and stared at him through the cold red eyes of his suit's optic visors.

“They are.” he said simply.

Pech knew of the Alpha Legions elite stealth squad. They were legendary. Rumour had it Alpharius himself lead them.

“Effrit.” Pech rocked in the awe of this for moment. Shaking it off, he moved back into the court yard, and into the unfolding chaos.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Ingo stepped into the Legion ship Alpha's cold apothecary, some two hours after the battle with the Eldar. His team, decimated and weakened individually by conflict, Captain Ranko ordered his team to depart for recovery. The shame of this still clung to Ingo's already battered pride, but he was Alpha Legion. His place was to stick to the plan, not argue personal pride like some child of Russ or the Red Angle. Looking around, noticed the banner colours of other tactical teams that had been forced here as teams. They hung above each of the alcoves that lead away from the main apothecary chamber. Along the long corridor, many such alcoves lurked, their maw ready for the wounded. It was decreed by Alpharius when the shipbuilders of Io were building the ship that it should be like this. In a bid to regulate who had knowledge of specific plan information, squads were split into each alcove to hear, in order to stop the spreading of information that could be leaked if captured. Space Marines would never divulge anything to an enemy, but still the practice enabled units to focus on their part of plan. Each squad on every Legion ship had their own alcove. Ingo walked down the white, luminescent flooring towards squad Regalis's own. Draped over the entrance was proud Regalis's crushing defeat of the Orks, recanting his legendary victory at Pual through the use of an incredible multi pronged skirmish battle. Such tales of tactical prowess were honoured amongst the legion, but currently they only made Ingo feel worse.

Slipping into the wing, he took stock of his squad. A young Apothecary Ingo had never met before was hovering over Gequi's bed, his armour shining white with blue grieves and a back pack with many folded up robotic arms. Just behind, venerable Techmarine Havis Gooch was talking at length with Hel Argus about his new synthetic arm, looking stern yet understanding. Across the ward Iso Tarkin, his oldest friend in the legion was already up and moving across to him.

“Squad reporting.” he said firmly. Ingo noticed bruises and cuts along his face and arms, apparent through his simple legion robe of dark blue. Nothing major.

“What's the word on our brothers?”, Glancing over at the mauled appearance of Tavail Gequi.

“Hel has been refitted with a synthetic. Gooch is going over the prayers to the machine with him. Tavail is bad. We don't know what's going to happen, but defiantly never to bear armour plate again.”

This saddened Pech. Gequi loved fighting, it was what he was built for. Without it, well, he didn't fit in. Gequi stirring himself snapped Ingo attention. The young apothecary glanced up and turned to call for assistance.

“Hold that call,” Said Ingo, holding up a stalling hand to the young chirgeon. “I will talk with my brother.”

“No, you will not. This is my patient, and he needs pain moderators.” retorted the young man, clearly angered by Ingo's demands.

“He is my battle brother, saw bones. My responsibility.” Ingo was in no mood for the apothecary's insolence.

Before anything else was said, another stepped into the room to break the tension. Grand Apothecary Kel North was old. Old enough to remember the last time the legion marched with the other legions under direct control of the Emperor. Originally from Terra, the only home he had now was tethered to welfare of his Legion. His face grizzled and gray, what remaining hairs he were white with age. Proof of the immortality they all faced.

“Quit your complaining, Paladius”, grumbled the older man. “Its his man on the bed, not yours.”

Kel moved slowly up to the bed with Ingo. The man Paladius, superseded by the Grand Apothecary, looked incensed, but managed a bow before storming out.

“Ignore him. A product of the multi-legion training program we tested a few years ago. You would think all the Legion's best apothecary's would have taught some of these youngsters manners!” chuckled Kel, his own white robe bouncing with his laughter. At such an advanced age, Ingo was aware most of the rock hard muscle had gone from the ancient Astrates, leaving him much smaller than the rest of the men in the room.

“His insolence was unlike our legion's etiquette” replied Ingo, crouching to kneel beside the waking Gequi.

“Teachers pet to apothecary Fabius, of the Emperor's Children. No surprise some of their legion's arrogance rubbed of on him, especially from that egotist.” Ingo was taken aback by his statement against a fellow Astrates, but quickly recovered. Kel had moved and picked up Gequi's chart.

Gequi opened his eyes and moaned. Looking around he saw Ingo sitting beside him. Reaching out a shattered hand, he grasped Ingo shoulder.

“We...showed them....brother..” he rasped weakly.

“We did, my brother.” Ingo clasped his comrades hand.

Gequi looked down at his destroyed body. His legs were destroyed beyond recognition, arms horribly mauled. His body itself was a patchwork of scars and open wounds that struggled to heal. Larraman's cells or not, his body was dying.

“So....this is to be.... my end?”, he said, the sadness of this fact apparent in his voice.

“Perhaps not.” No one had heard Gooch or Argus approach, but now they joined their brother's above Gequi's cot. “There is another way.” The techmarine's voice rasped through a vox unit that covered his mouth. His rust red armour echoed the sands of Mars, the only break being his left grieve, holding the heraldry of the Alpha Legion's stylised A insignia.

“NO, Havis.” Kel's shot a look of pure venom at the Techmarine. “I will not condone that. No man should have to...”

“Continue to serve his legion and his Emperor?” Havis let the words hang, as if daring Kel to push any further with what could be seen as Heresy. “We all know the stance you bone saw's take on what I am suggesting, but it is a chance for soldier's like Tavail here to fight on.” He looked down at Gequi, staring deep into the man's eyes. “You do wish to fight again?”

“Of course!” Gequi starred desperately at the techmarine.

Gooch turned to Ingo, ignoring the obvious anger of his apothecary brother. “The choice is yours, Sargent.” he said plainly.

Pech turned to his fallen brother, and saw the pleading in his eyes. The longing for war was built into every marine's being, and to be denied a death in battle was sad end for any Astrates.

“So be it, make your preparations Techmarine.”

Havis Gooch left the room to make his preparations, followed by Kel. Ingo shared one long, judgemental look from North, and hoped he had done the right thing. He turned to leave. Meditating was the most important part of a Space Marines life. It allowed time for the body and mind to rest and refocus. Perhaps he would find solace whilst doing so.

“I don't understand, what was he talking about?” Argus asked. He was brave and noble, but young. He had only just finished neophyte training when he was drafted into Regalis. Ingo looked round, but it was Tarkin to speak first.

“He is to be interned.” he said coldly. Ingo was well aware that Iso Tarkin feared, or something akin, a similar fate.

“Interned? To where?” Hel Argus's look of confusion was wearing Pech's patience.

“To what, you mean. Tavail Gequi has been selected by a Techmarine to don our most powerful weapon. The living weapon. Dreadnought armour.” The hush that fell over the room was at least partially due to the annoyed tone Ingo had used, but he knew the significance of what he had said was more than enough to silence the young warrior. With that, Ingo turned and left the room.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Ingo awoke quickly when the rap at the door came. His meditative state was something that he was trained to use as a tool, reflecting on all things in a bid to designate and understand his own flaws. It was Alpharius himself that stated that all things, by their nature, were flawed, and that by understanding and preparation, one could plan a strategy that could work around those chinks in the armour. The Alpha Legion were not as blind to their own short comings as the Emperor's Children or the Ultramarines. They were not immortal, invincible warriors. And that's why they good at what they did; quick, effective attacks that put few men in danger and were almost impossible to defend against. They may not have held a particularly long record on the Crusades, still some way behind the trailing numbers of Lorgar's Word Bearers, but the quality was their. Roboute Guilliman may not be able to see that, but by the throne the Emperor would.

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, he put on his robe and turned to face the newcomer, who had already entered. Standing a full head taller than him, dressed in heavily decorated Mark II plate of Chief Librarian Onivaar Menx filled Ingo's small quarters. Honoured amongst the the Legion, he was one of the psykers that presented to the Emperor on Nikaea. He had been a constant presence in the chapter for many years, leading many men with his visions to victories some deemed impossible. But when the Librarian role was created, he truly took his place amongst the Legion's greats.

“Greetings, Brother Pech.” He said gruffly.

“Master Librarian.” Ingo replied with a nod.

“You have been summoned to account for what happened down on Nivea III” he said, moving slowly into the centre of the room. His features, creased and hard, were a sharp comparison to the deep, green eyes that shone even in shadows. “As you know, the conflict was a hard one, and we lost many brothers. Tactical analysis is needed to ascertain our mistakes.”

Ingo knew what this meant. He was to be held responsible. The shame that he held in his heart just got heavier.

As if sensing this, Menx's hand reached out and clasped Pech's shoulder.

“You did the best you could, lad. The Eldar were always going to be a costly foe.” He turned and sat down on Ingo's cot. “You cannot understand what I see, brother. The destiny of each individual, each proud warrior in our Legion, spinning out into the future. I have seen glimpses, but even without them I would have you ear marked for great things.”

“Thank you, Master Menx. Your words are kind, but I do not feel I am worthy of such praise. Nivea was a black chapter in my squads history, let alone the Legions. I feel no honour was deserved in a conflict that cost us so much.” Ingo went over to his armour. Chipped and battered in places, Ingo had yet to take it to the techmarine's for repairs. Despite the damage, the Mark V power armour still stood imposing. Being the last Legion to leave the Emperor's side, they had been gifted the benefits of advanced armour that was expected of troops serving directly under the lord of mankind. As a result, they had all worn the now outdated Mark IV. With the release of the new Mark V, the Alpha Legion were amongst the first to receive it, due to many years of of service they held directly under the Emperor. Their gene father, Alpharius, had been the last Primarch to return to the Emperor's side, and as such the Legion had spent the most time standing beside the Adeptus Custodians under command from the Emperor himself. Ingo gazed in wonderment at the older armour, seeing awards and trophies from campaigns he had never heard of. Hardly surprising, he thought to himself. The legion is so secretive, most of the time entire chapters worked alone and in silence, so not to hold to much information least they be compromised.

“Careful with your thoughts, brother”, warned Menx. “You never were the best at shielding your thoughts from our own. Laxity spawns complacency, and that spawns failure.”

“I apologise,” Ingo said, suddenly ashamed of himself for such doubting thoughts.

“It is fine. Your mind asks an important question, one fellow Astartes and even great Primarch's have asked of our Legion. Why do a race of super soldier's use tactics and deception to win? Why do we invest time in sabotage and infiltration, rather than stomp them out with our superior power? It is because, unlike our belligerent brethren, we understand that no soldier is invincible, no force unstoppable. Our counter measures and attack patterns vary so much to not only provide the us with the best weapon in surprise, but the best protection of secrecy. One broken marine is usually sufficient to learn the secrets of an entire chapter!”

The last sentence hung peculiarly in the air, Pech wondering whether this astounding theory had been tested. But that would have meant...

Menx smiled. “You've been summoned. I am no Chaplin, so my ear is not an excuse. Prepare for your meeting.”

“Yes, sir,” Ingo gave the sign of the aquilla.

“And forget this combat. We won the day, no shame in that.” Menx said, returning the salute.

Menx stood up and moved to the door, but paused as he left.

“Space Wolves, after the Norrain Campaign. They got drunk, we abstained. The Great Wolf himself told us most of their secrets, before tossing one of our field commander's out of the third floor window,” he chuckled.

“Ah,” Ingo laughed. “Thank goodness. By the Emperor, I held the fear you had...”

Menx turned casually. “Their are many ways to read the truth. You should have seen what we had to do to crack the Blood Angels!”

And with that, he left.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

 

 

The current section is Part 1 of Alpha Through Omega. I am currently writing part two, introducing the Iron Warriors to the mix!

[Firenze]

It is very good. I have one niggle. Ingo Pech is the 1st captain. Ranko would actually call him sir.

[The 13th Goat]

This tale actually cover Ingo's raise to first captain. It is also an attempt to look at the first Alpha Legion Marine to be made to look like Alpharius and Omegon.

[Captain Kael]

I liked it. I have been a fan of the Alpha Legion since day one. I think you presented them very well. My only quirk is that during the second passage, I was a bit confused on who was who. I had to re-read it to understand who everyone was. Other than that, it was good. Pech is one of my favorite marines, his rise to power shall be interesting. I look forward to the next installment.

 

Captain Kael

[Sons of Horus]

It was entertaining :confused: I've always been fond of the Alpha Legion