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Sons of the 13th


Walter Payton

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Sons of the 13th

 

"The warrior who acts out of honour cannot fail. His duty is honour itself. Even his death - if it is honourable - is a reward and can be no failure, for it has come through duty. Seek honour as you act, therefore, and you will know no fear."

Roboute Guilliman

 

"Bravery is stronger than Adamantium. One is the stuff of the soul-forges, the other an illusion of safety created by fools. Adamantium walls cannot keep us out! We have the courage of the Emperor! And in the Emperor's name... ATTACK!! ATTACK!! NO PRISONERS!!"

Chaplain Gonzago, at the onset of Operation Carthage

 

"We are the wolf that stalks

The stars in the sky"

 

"And swallows the star-fire"

 

"We hide amongst the night

When light is gone"

 

"The Light is within us"

 

"We run the ruin of Fire

In the darkness"

 

"Foes burn in our passing"

Battle-Litany of the Space Wolves

 

------------------------------------------------

 

Chapter I

 

Blood and Caffeine

 

++INCOMING TRASMISSION++

++ADEPTUS ARBITES PRISON WORLD KANKUN IV++

++STATUS: UNDER ARCHENEMY ATTACK, REQUESTING URGENT REINFORCEMENT++

++MASS BREAKOUTS UNDERWAY++

++BIOLOGICAL FAILSAFES COMPROMISED. REPEAT: BIOLOGICAL FAILSAFES COMPROMISED++

++THREAT LEVEL: MALEFIC ULTRA++

++TRANSMISSION ENDS++

 

Being a hero, some ancient Terran philosopher had once said, was the shortest lived profession in the universe.

 

Cato Sicarius, flying through the air, a power-fist sized dent in his chest plate, his plasma pistol spitting Throne-knew-what and his beloved Tempest Blade Throne-knew-where, could well believe it. His reverie was interrupted by a rather painful appointment with a brick wall. Of course, the brick wall didn't actually stop him, merely presented a short-lived and highly breakable intermission. Crashing onto his back, in the middle of a destroyed cafeteria, he couldn't help but laugh. Here he was, High Suzerain of Ultramar, Knight Champion of Macragge, surrounded by broken tables and lying in a puddle of stale caffeine. His laugh stopped abruptly when his antagonist smashed its way into the cafeteria behind him.

 

Clad in psychedelic and ornate terminator armour, festooned with skulls and fetishes to the Dark Gods of Chaos, the bastard Child of the Emperor stood over eight feet tall. Its oversized right hand was clad in a crackling power glove, its left ending in a bizarre combination of wires and amplifiers. The beast's exposed head, shaved bald and covered in scar patterns, the meaning of which Sicarius had no wish to know, was twisted into a brutal smile. It was enjoying this.

 

Sicarius raised his disobedient plasma pistol, and pulled the trigger, more in hope than anything else. As he had predicted, the pistol merely fizzed and sparked, then began to leak white hot plasma. Sicarius dropped his plasma pistol before the deadly substance leaked onto his hand. It began to melt itself in a puddle on the tiled floor of the cafeteria. Through his helmet, Sicarius felt an acrid tang of smoke.

 

The Child of the Emperor, seeming to tire of such futile games, raised its thrumming left arm. Sicarius heard the tell-tale whine of a sonic weapon powering up. He dived aside, just as a bow-wave of invisible force swept across the room, shattering tables and shredding the metal counter. The Child of the Emperor turned, the sonic wave ripping up tiling. This time, Sicarius was not so lucky. The wave of hyper-frequency sound clipped his boot, swinging him over the counter, where he landed in a crumpled and gilded blue heap.

 

* * *

 

Laeroton, Child of the Emperor, Consort of the Scaradame, Defiler of the Dead and Eater of Souls, heaved his spiked bulk across the smashed room. The Ultramarine had landed out of sight, behind the metal counter. Laeroton was ecstatic, and not merely due to the sensations filling his violated skull, nor the combat drugs coursing through his perfect body. It had been millennia since he had tasted the blood of the foe, smelt the cordite musk of war, and discharged the glorious sonic weapon that was his left limb. He stalked towards the ruined counter, his entire body shuddering with the joy of the impending kill.

 

* * *

 

This was getting ridiculous, thought Sicarius, as his right hand closed around the one weapon left to him.

 

* * *

 

Laeroton gripped the counter, and threw it over his shoulder. Now, he would taste the blood of Ultramar again. He remembered the day, when Fulgrim, his primarch and father, had slashed the throat of Roboute Guilliman. The memory overcame him, and for a few seconds he knew nothing but such a potent mix of emotion that he blacked out for a few seconds. He was back again, watching the two gods duel, watching the roiling sky and seeing the battlelines clash, hearing the war-hymms of the Ultramarines and the whine of sonic weapons.

 

The massive terminator was brought back to reality by a sudden and dull pain across his forehead, followed by the almost orgasmic sensation of blood trickling over his forehead. He tasted it, recognising the impossible umami of combat drugs. Laeroton opened his eyes. The Ultramarine was standing before him, clutching a splintered table leg, through which several tiny nails protruded. Laughing at such a puny mace, Laeroton swung down with his power fist, smashing the pathetic weapon in two. Sicarius reversed it, and rammed it into the traitor marine’s face, puncturing one of its eyes. Howling in rage at the loss of sensation, Laeroton swung again, a pain-maddened overhand blow that crushed a table and sent a shockwave across the cafeteria. Sicarius stepped nimbly out of the way, and put out Laeroton’s other eye and ripped off his left ear with his makeshift weapon. He felt the Chaos beast's reinforced eardrums puncture.

 

Blinded, screaming in frustration, the Chaos Marine slashed its powerfist through the air, smashing Sicarius to the floor. The 2nd Captain heard the whine of a sonic weapon powering up, and knew that he was dead. In that moment, Sicarius felt fear. Not for himself, he had conquered self-preservation long ago, but for his legacy. Agemann had more entries in the book of honour. He couldn’t die now. He closed his eyes, waiting for the end.

 

* * *

 

Laeroton was distraught. He was blind and deaf. Already, the sensations of battle were ebbing away, to be replaced by a cool nothingness. It was agony. There was no sensation, no emotion. Laeroton screamed. Then he placed the muzzle of his great sonic weapon limb in his own open mouth.

 

* * *

 

Sicarius’s entire body tensed as he heard the discharge of the sonic weapon. He waited for oblivion. Perhaps ten seconds passed. Then he looked up. The Slaaneshi beast was still upright, held aloft by the rigid terminator armour. Its head was a shattered mess, and its great weapon limb dangled uselessly. Sicarius, ever wary, picked his way across the ruined cafeteria. Then, he gave the traitor a small push. The beast toppled to the floor. Sicarius laughed, and for a moment he felt almost human again. This would be a story to tell. Then his training and upbringing as a soldier and prince slammed back into place, and he stalked out of the ruined cafeteria to find his sword.

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Nice...though I pictured Sicarius in this story as a man with two minds: one mature, the other immature and child-like...weird...was the wanted effect?

 

Yes. Throughout the rest of the story (which will depict various Ultramarines), he will be presented thus. Mature in his grasp of war, the other immature in his desire for recognition and glory.

 

I was also trying to inject a little humour into the 'starch-arse' chapter.

It's a goodf story, if a little short.

 

My question is why exactly the Emperor's Child would lose all sensation just be being blinded. He can still hear far more than any normal Astartes. He should not be totally but off from all sensation.

 

Morehowever I really honestly can't picture Sicarius giggling. I can imagine him giving a ironic chuckle as he realizes what has happened, but giggling? Small children giggle. Not Astartes. I recognize that you are going for humor here, but it seems really awkward to me.

An astarte's body grows mr Gree. Their maturity doesn't. No one really knows what Sicarius is like, not even Sicarius himeself and Brother-Captain Alecto here is doing it himself :cuss. We like stories that a little bit different from the norm.

thanks

antique_nova

An astarte's body grows mr Gree. Their maturity doesn't. No one really knows what Sicarius is like, not even Sicarius himeself and Brother-Captain Alecto here is doing it himself :). We like stories that a little bit different from the norm.

thanks

antique_nova

 

Actually yes, it does grow to an extent. Astartes are chemically brainwashed and battle-hardened even before they go join the Reserve Companies. Even before that Sicarius was raised to be a noble ''stiff upper lip'' and all that. Not to mention he is at least three centuries old. It's just strange to me that he giggles. That's how I precived it.

An astarte's body grows mr Gree. Their maturity doesn't. No one really knows what Sicarius is like, not even Sicarius himeself and Brother-Captain Alecto here is doing it himself :P. We like stories that a little bit different from the norm.

thanks

antique_nova

 

Actually yes, it does grow to an extent. Astartes are chemically brainwashed and battle-hardened even before they go join the Reserve Companies. Even before that Sicarius was raised to be a noble ''stiff upper lip'' and all that. Not to mention he is at least three centuries old. It's just strange to me that he giggles. That's how I precived it.

 

Changed it a bit. :P

An astarte's body grows mr Gree. Their maturity doesn't. No one really knows what Sicarius is like, not even Sicarius himeself and Brother-Captain Alecto here is doing it himself :P. We like stories that a little bit different from the norm.

thanks

antique_nova

 

Actually yes, it does grow to an extent. Astartes are chemically brainwashed and battle-hardened even before they go join the Reserve Companies. Even before that Sicarius was raised to be a noble ''stiff upper lip'' and all that. Not to mention he is at least three centuries old. It's just strange to me that he giggles. That's how I precived it.

 

Changed it a bit. ;)

 

 

Cool. I like the part about ''feeling almost human'' It's very good.

An astarte's body grows mr Gree. Their maturity doesn't. No one really knows what Sicarius is like, not even Sicarius himeself and Brother-Captain Alecto here is doing it himself ;). We like stories that a little bit different from the norm.

thanks

antique_nova

 

Actually yes, it does grow to an extent. Astartes are chemically brainwashed and battle-hardened even before they go join the Reserve Companies. Even before that Sicarius was raised to be a noble ''stiff upper lip'' and all that. Not to mention he is at least three centuries old. It's just strange to me that he giggles. That's how I precived it.

 

Changed it a bit. ;)

 

 

Cool. I like the part about ''feeling almost human'' It's very good.

 

Thank you. I'm off to play Halo: Reach beta now :)

Tigurius and Cassius 'discussing' the point of how best to approach the subject on inter-chapter minor heresies and their best disolution and repentance. :D

 

Must say I enjoyed that thoroughly, makes a change from re-reading my grimdark ultraviolence for my own fiction. Keep up the good work!

TEASER:

 

She felt ill. Not ill as one of the prey-bests might even now be writhing in the dirt beneath her claws, vomiting bloody scraps of lungs might feel the touch of disease. But slow, sluggish. It was agony. She was a goddess of war, a colossal, nine-hundred tonne behemoth, tearing talons and implacable carapace. She saw, through bloodshot eyes leaking ichorous and alien rheum, the prey-beasts, the khaki soft-fleshed ones that milled like ants beneath her, fighting and killing the children, her children, that strove to protect their mother from attack. And still that invasive mental presence clawed at her insides, disrupting her link with her young. Amongst the soft-fleshed ones, she saw the others, the threats, those humans that wore the blue metal-skin and carried the shrieking banshee-guns.

 

* * *

 

Tigurius was in agony. Every second he remained in the huge Tyranid Dominatrix's mind was another second in which the Hive Mind could overwhelm him. But he was better than that. The soul-guarding rituals that Illyian Nastase, his mentor and predecessor as Chief Librarian, kept him sane. Think of the dirt at his feet, the screams of the wounded and dying, stay real. Gathering his strength, Tigurius returend to the hungry mind of the Tyranid mother-beast.

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