The Sickness Within - Deathwatch Story

[Captain_Volos]

- Hey guys, I'm writing this Deathwatch series, for fun and to improve my writing. If you want to tell me what you think or how I can improve, I would love to hear it, regards.

 

The Sickness Within

 

http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20111117163633/warhammer40k/images/1/1b/Deathwatch.jpg

 

Part I

 

The Plight of Dawn was ancient, crafted in an unremembered

time by unrecalled hands. The sole legacy of it's founder was itself the name,

a name he had chosen, and a name he had deemed fit, for the strike cruiser was

an like ebon spear in the night.

            Even as it sailed, its skin seemed one with the visage of the void, black, the twinkling

lights of it's windows and crew stations a dull mimic to the distant stars

beyond. The vessel was streamlined, no heavy cathedrals stood sentinel on it's

bow and no mass of glittering statues adorned its hull.

            The sole peculiarity that stood out, though one would have to squint, was a simple white

'I' that was mirrored on both sides of the night vessel. The icon was not vast,

rather small and simple. It was only there for it was custom in the Imperium to

have designations to factions, armies, trade-cohorts, munitions, classes, and

so on, upon the hulls of stellar vehicles. Few tarried away from this style.

            The meaning of the unassuming white 'I' was far from the modest and humble nature of it's

appearance, for it was the symbol of the dreaded Inquisition.

            Holding power over the rich and the poor, the slave and the king, even life and death,

the Inquisition were the harbingers of the God-Emperors will.

            Legends and tales abounded of the brutal means that this sinister 'tyrant' faction went

upon keeping the Emperors domain alive. To some, the worlds and billions of

souls that burned by their will, was enough to drive hatred, but also fear, and

it is fear that the Inquisition needed from it's populace.

            Yet for all the cruelty, for all the suffering, the Inquisition was far more knowledgeable

about the great threats to the Imperium and mankind, than any common or studied

man. The knowledge of the mutant, the heretic, and the xenos, drove the

sub-factions of the Inquisition to defend mankind by any means necessary. If

that meant the deaths of a million to save a billion, so be it.

            Upon the Plight of Dawn, Inquisitors and warriors of the Ordo Xenos have fought and lived for untold centuries, some

claim it in use at the founding of the Ordo itself. Had this been true, then

the black burnt engines and exhaust vents of the Plight of Dawn itself were

more likely cause of overuse, than paint.

            Likewise, perhaps once the ebon skin of the vessel itself had been a rich gold or a

vibrant red. After hundreds of years of battle, travel, atmospheric entry and

void debris, perhaps the hull was simply burned black. But that would make the founders tale false.

            Brother Sokol had sometimes pondered these things, as he gazed out of the thick glassed

window of the Plight of Dawn's command bridge. He sometimes let his mind

wander, though truthfully there was little in his mind to say or do at the

moment.

             Turning from the visage of the void, he looked back onto the command deck, which was busier than normal. Human servants,

completely dwarfed by his presence, scurried around, carrying mechanical

devices, parchment papers, or simply running to-and-from buzzing, green-lit

consoles.

            The humans avoided the ebon giant in their midst, whether this was out of duty to their

work, or intimidation, Sokol was unsure.

            He stood at the massive windows or the Plight of Dawn, bellow him the humans toiled. Their

work places where declined from the main floor of the bridge, so that officers

could scan the void, if need be, without having the crew in the way.

            At the rear-center of the chamber was a vast mechanical throne, the wide exit doors

almost looked like mechanical wings beside it.

            Upon the throne sat Vethor Hane, the captain of the Plight of Dawn, an older, scarred

man, who had kept the vessel flying for well over three decades now. Hane had

come from the Imperial Navy, his skill in void travel and space combat being

noticed by the Inquisitor of the vessel, who offered him the position.

            The brotherhood liked Hane, he was a tough bastard, hard as old leather. They had

fought xenos in void war, and while petty crewmembers occasionally went into

full-on panic, Hane would slap them calm, and retain a cold smile, always

pulling through to victory.

            Though he was impressed by the spectacle of the Astartes, he had never shown fear, and

the way he spoke to them itself was born out of mutual respect and comradeship.

            Presently Hane did not look so pleased, his expression was ornery and clearly annoyed, as

he briefly spoke with two massive shadows that stood aside his throne.

Occasionally he barked out orders to faltering crewmembers, who always flinched

when they heard their names.

            That made Sokol smile.

            One of the shadowy figures beside Hane broke away from the throne, walking towards Sokol. Some

of the crew members glanced up at him, as he walked over the bridge that linked

the throne to the window side of the Strike Cruiser. Sokol noted an uneasy look

upon their faces, he was unsurprised.

            Gaius was always a hard one, his sarcasm renowned well among the brotherhood, as was his

enmity for the cowardly and foolish.

            Astartes of the Ordo Xenos, collectively called the Deathwatch, all bore the same heraldry,

representing their duties to the Inquisition. Their armour was jet black, save

for the left arm and pauldron which were silver, emblazoned with the symbol of

the Inquisition.

            The right pauldron too, was different, it bore the heraldry of each marines home chapter.

Sokol saw the gleam of light from the stars behind him illuminate Gaius, his

chapter pad a deep blue, with a golden lion head snarling as it's visage. The

chapter icon of the Astral Claws.

            His own pad was black, black as coal grinded onto white paper. Over the black field was the

swerving visage on a white dragon, fanged maw agape for the strike. The symbol

of the Black Dragons chapter.

            Sokol glanced down at his forearms, rubbing them casually, his vision caught on

strange slits that seemed built into the power armour. A twinge of shame, and

worry caught his mind. His chapter was not hailed or famed in the same way the

Astral Claws were.

            'Brother, are you well?' asked Gaius as he approached Sokol.

            'Yes,' Sokol smiled under his helm, 'Wandering thoughts, is all.'

            The Astral Claw remained silent and motionless for a moment, before turning briefly to

face the command throne.

            'Old Hane is upset with us,' grunted Gaius, clearly annoyed at the mans attitude.

            'His annoyance is not our concern, duty drives us all, and the Imperium is what

matters. Not Hane's worries,' stated Sokol, crossing his arms.

            Sokol turned his head, to peer out at the side of the ship. He glanced at rends and

tears on the flank of the hull. Sparks

flew from gouges and wounds that were torn into the steel of the vessel, and

cables from unknown compartments hung out, like entrails of the ship.

            'Though his point is valid,' added Sokol.

            'The Necrons who caused those wounds are on a far worse footing,' sneered Gaius.

            'Agreed, but I understand where the man is coming from. This has been his vessel to

command for over thirty years, and we are risking it to this sudden errand.'

            'Would you rather ignore the call, brother?' questioned Gaius, tilting his head mockingly.

            Gaius' insults were often little more than spikes, but they were common, and they bore

into the victims pride, as Sokol had known. He spun his head to the Astral

Claw, the emerald green of his visors seeming to have brightened in their

intensity.

            'I will do my duty,' he hissed, 'I will suffer no disgusting alien in the Emperors realm!

However, If we lose our vessel, and lives, in an ambush, I would place the

blame on us for going with such haste.'

            'Vyetar Secondus is thirty days away, real-time, brother. It is luck, or perhaps fate,

that brings us there.'

            Sokol scoffed, 'Fate? Such beliefs are foolish Gaius.'

            'Ironic, coming from a Black Dragon,' laughed the Astral Claw.

            'What do you mean,' he asked, puzzled.

            'How many times, have those "gifts" of yours saved your hide? And still you

despise them?'

            Sokol remained quiet.

            Before he could reply, a warning siren buzzed once across the vessel, timed together with

a red flare of light.

            'Attention, all stations,' Hane's voice was a mechanical growl through the comm. array,

'Brace for entry into the void, we make for Vyetar Secondus with all haste.

According to our Astropaths, we should be there in roughly four days, so make

ready!'

            The two Astartes ended their chat, looking over to the command throne, where the last

of the Astarte trio was leaving the bridge. The black warrior bore the heraldry

of the Black Templars, and was marked Sergeant of their Deathwatch squad.

            'Brothers,' the vox chimed within their helmets, 'Group on the training deck, Afonso out.'

            The two spared a glance at one another once more, before making their way out of the

command bridge, following the Black Templar.

 

* * * * *

 

Upon the combat-training level, the lights were off or

dimmed low. Visibility was poor, and the extreme combat training and simulation

machines were cloaked in darkness. Humans would have a hard time navigating the

deck at the current state, but thanks to their enhanced vision the Astartes

easily pierced the gloom.

            Although half a company could train here at a time, only two warriors were now testing

their mettle, and it was upon one another.

            Within the confines of a simple combat circle, they stared at each other, taking in every

move and nuance of their opponents strides and posture. A single beam of light

shone weakly over the circle, enough to show the heraldry of the Lamenters and

Guardians of the Covenant upon the duellists.

            Both held dull Gladius swords, their real weapons being taken care of by serfs in the

armoury. However, in Astarte hands even these weapons could kill men with

relative ease.

            The slow circling motion turned into a whirlwind as the Guardian leapt at the Lamenter, a wry

smile on his face. The sword came down in a killing arc but was deflected,

before the Lamenter quickly brought forth a harsh elbow to the gut, sending his

attacker sprawling back.

            The Guardian maintained his footing, and regained composure, even as the Lamenter

made his counter charge. Right before impact, the Guardian side stepped out of

the way, and thrust his blade into the Lamenters back.

            'Another one for me,' he smiled.

            The Lamenter sighed, and nodded solemnly.

            'I shame my Primarch,' he muttered, his sentiment half honest.

            The Guardian of the Covenant patted his brothers shoulder, 'Come now, we're simply

working on those combat skills. We all know you can outshoot the entire squad!'

            'Your words are kind brother, but I must become skilled in both methods of war,' he walked

away letting his brothers hand fall from his shoulder.

            'If I am to return home,' he whined.

            The Guardian shook his head, 'Lamenters...' he thought.

            Clapping resonated across the room, an echo filling the Guardians ears, he turned, and

had almost forgotten that two of his brothers had been watching the fight for

some time. Sokol and Gaius walked into the brief light of the arena, laughing

slightly.

            'Well, brother Raziel, you show your virtue again. This is, what, the tenth time you

have bested brother Basilio?' questioned Gaius, stopping a metre away from

Raziel, with Sokol behind.

            'I am trying to open his eyes to melee combat tactics Gaius. I am aiding Basilio in

bettering himself,' the surety of his voice and purpose seemed to annoy Gaius,

who quickly nodded his head.

            'Well then, how about a different demonstration?' questioned the Astral Claw.

            Raziel lowered his helm, 'What do you mean?' he replied.

            Gaius motioned for Basilio to come to them, reluctantly the youngest of the marines

joined his brothers, upset by his loss he had dropped his gladius onto the

floor.

            'How would you like to see two experts fight?' pondered Gaius, looking over at Basilio.

            The Lamenter, looked back between the Astral Claw and Guardian of the Covenant.

            'I would enjoy such a spectacle,' he answered, a hint of adrenaline to his voice.

            'How about it brother?' questioned Gaius, giving Raziel a questioning gaze.

            Raziel, feeling somewhat surrounded and beset by, nodded simply, 'Very well. Claim a blade then Gaius,' he responded.

            Gaius broke into a short burst of laughter, that caught everyone off guard, 'Oh you thought I meant myself? No brother, I'm more of a sharpshooter, as you know.'

            Without turning, he knocked onto Sokol's chest-plate, the dull clang of the armour

seeming to resound louder in the echoing training level.

            Sokol was caught off guard, he had been zoned out of the conversation for more than half

of it, and wasn't entirely sure what was going on.

            Raziel smiled, revealing sharp white teeth, that almost gleamed in the low light.

            'Brother Sokol, shall we demonstrate?' he asked.

            Sokol, looked back at Gaius, and then at Basilio, their faces hid behind Mark VI

helmets. With a sigh, he nodded, walking to where Basilio had dropped his blunt

Gladius. As he grasped the weapon, a familiar surge fell upon him, the thrill

of battle echoed in his mind, as it always did when he once again held a

weapon.

            He rose, slowly, and as he turned to face Raziel, Gaius and Basilio left the circle,

returning to shadows to spectate.

            The two warriors inspected one another, Raziel was slender and fast, he was also damn

good with a sword, they all knew this.

            Sokol, however, was big, even for a marine, and he was strong, in battle he would

allow himself to go berserk, punishing any enemy.

            They both entered combat stances, and in a burst of lightning speed, Raziel flew towards

Sokol. His blade glittered in the low light, coming around in an uppercut that

Sokol barely managed to deflect.

            The Guardian did not stop his assault, rather drove it forwards, every strike

became faster and more frenzied, and the Black Dragon found himself hard

pressed on the defence.

            Sokol managed to parry the blade away to the side, and using his strength he tackled

into the guardian, sending him reeling. The battle seemed a mimic of the

earlier one, and just as then Sokol went to charge his disoriented brother,

knowing that knocking him flat would spell his end.

            Raziel barely avoid the bull-like charge, and with a lower cut managed to send his

larger brother tumbling to the floor, however, Sokol rolled to the side fast

enough, avoiding the blow that ended Basilio.

            The Black Dragon fought on one knee, desperately parrying lightning strikes with each

motion, until finally Raziel sent the blade flying from his hand.

            Raising his sword overhead for a killing blow, Raziel knew he had won. At least, he would

have won were it any other marine in the galaxy.

            Just as the sword descended, Sokol brought forth his left arm, and with a twist of his

wrist, a long bone-blade shot out from his forearm, from the strange slot forged

therein.

            The bone blade, parried the blunt gladius, and knocked it aside, while at the same time,

Sokol's left arm flew up, another blade emerging from his forearm, and the

sword-sharp end flew right onto Raziel's throat.

            The Guardian of the Covenant was shocked, he stood motionless, feeling the ice cold

steel-like bone edge against his neck.

            'You lose, brother,' remarked Sokol bitterly.

            As he rose. the bone-blades returned into his arms, with a grunt of pain barely audible from Sokol.

Without word, the rest of the party emerged from the gloom,

Gaius patting both fighters on the shoulder.

            'Brother Raziel, perhaps you should heed your own words,' said Gaius aloud.

            'What do you mean?' questioned Raziel, clearly upset by the turn of events.

            'Perhaps you should "Try to open your own eyes, to different melee tactics,"'stated Gaius.

            Insulted, Raziel threw him a glare, Gaius bowed his head slowly, 'I meant no offense

brother, but this is a proper lesson for us all. Expect the unexpected.'

            There was a brief silence for a moment, until Basilio broke in, 'I see now, so to survive

in melee, I need to grow blades within my arms? Where is the nearest

Chirurgeon?'

            The others gave a long chuckle, though Sokol was somewhat uncomfortable, the sinister

grows within his arms were a dark shadow over his chapter. The Black Dragons

were always hounded by the Inquisition on this, and he was tested before being

allowed to join the Ordo Xenos himself. Finding him pure of body, the Ordo

Xenos accepted him into their ranks, though always kept a vigil, and he knew

it.

            'Impressive

display, if I admit so myself,' came a voice from behind the four warriors.

They all turned together, and through the darkness, two figures slowly emerged.

Just how long the Sergeant and Librarian had been watching was lost to the

others.

            Coming

close to the light the Librarians shoulder pad shone red, a black winged

teardrop was his icon, the icon of the Blood Angels. The tall force axe he

held, and the psychic hood revealed him as a Librarian to any who would not

have known prior.

            'Brothers,

he intoned, our duty must be discussed.'

            The others

rarely saw Sveti anymore, the Blood Angel was embittered about the loss of

their most recent comrade, Vlord the Space Wolf. He blamed himself for the

Wolfs demise, for Vlord was overcome by many Necron flayed ones during the battle,

and in haste Sveti had unleashed a torrent of psychic energy. Vlord had died

all the same, and to some degree Sveti had blamed it on himself, and his

reckless attack, though the others believed it was more the cause of Necron

blades.

            They nodded

asking what the duty was, where they were going, and who they were fighting.

            Sveti raised up a quelling hand, allowing Afonso to move in front of the group.

            With arms held behind his back, Afonso looked like a military leader of the Imperial

Guard, he slowly paced in front of the rallied Astartes.

            'Yesterday, as Sokol and Gaius know, for they were with me, we received a transmition,

almost as soon as it was sent. It came from a research colony on the

winter-locked world of Vyetar Secondus. The colony is built around an old

archaeological dig-site that they believe possess some relics from the

legendary era of the great crusade. Some believe it is a warmachine, some that

it is the Emperors claw, some even that is a relic of the Salamanders.'

            'Are we going in there to retrieve this relic for the Inquisition then?' interrupted 

Basilio, his tone dull and mocking, clearly hoping this wasn't some petty

errand.

            Afonso shook his head, 'No, the relic has not even been uncovered yet, and such things

do not fall to Astartes,' he growled.

            'Well, if we are going to battle, I pray the enemy do not possess space craft, for the Plight

of Dawn has been sorely injured in the battle against the xenos Necrons,'

intoned Sokol, expressing the concerns of Hane.

            Afonso's brow furrowed, becoming instantly annoyed, 'I know the worries of Vethor Hand,

but the Inquisition requires our duties done! And I would not leave a world to

suffer at xenos hands,' he snapped.

            Sokol shook

his head, 'This is the most foolish gamble in history,' he remarked bitterly.

            'And a

gamble it will be, this world is not far from us. Fate, or the will of the

Emperors, brings the angels of death so close, are we to limp away to lick our

wounds so readily?' intoned the Black Templar.

            The others shook their heads, knowing the value of both opinions.

            'Well do we know what we are fighting at least?' Raziel asked.

            'Negative, Research Chief-Castor sent the call for help. From what we know, civilians,

scientists, and dig crew have been going missing over the past two weeks. The

snows and blizzards have intensified and dozens of people are claiming seeing

strange black figures in the white wild,' explained Afonso.

            'Strange figures? In what way?' inquired Sveti, holding his chin in his hand.

            'Tall, lithe, one man claims to have had an encounter. From his description, it almost

sounds,'

            'Eldar!' spat Raziel.

            The Templar nodded in agreement, 'I believe the same.'

            The others looked at one another, knowing what lay ahead if Eldar were the foe, for they

were a deadly race.

            'If it is indeed Eldar, then we may not be enough to stop them,' stated Basilio, 'Their

kind always travel in military cohorts.'

            'I believe if there were a sizable Eldar army they would have already destroyed the colony

by now,' explained Sveti.

            'Perhaps they already have, who knows. We do not even know if it is Eldar just yet,'

added Gaius.

            There was a moments pause, as they contemplated the situation, and realized they would

probably have to hunt down the Eldar, and in a blizzard. Never more was Vlord

so missed.

            'Dark Eldar,' chimed in Sokol.

            They looked at him, though he returned none of their gazes.

            'Dark Eldar take prisoners, slaves. They drag women, men, children, all back to their

shadowed torture chambers, where they make their prey suffer unfathomable

agony.'

            'Dark Eldar do make far more sense, they are adept at quick attacks, even more so than

regular Eldar. This could also explain why the colony is intact. Perhaps they

are enjoying spreading fear amongst the populace,' explained Gaius.

            'I've seen the bastards do vile things like this across the Maelstrom zone. They strike at

undefended prey, make them suffer in any way imaginable, then drag them

screaming into a nightmarish hell, that they will beg to die from,' he added.

            The others were disturbed by this news, the thoughts of the colony already being an empty

ghost town became a very real danger. But they would do what they could, it was

the duty of the Deathwatch after all.

            'If it is Dark Eldar, I want you all to spend the next three days training hard. Our last

great battle was against the vile Necrons of Heliopolis X. They claimed one of

our brothers lives, and many lives from our allies. The Eldar however, are

different from the Necrons. They are fast as quick-silver, bearing weapons

equally as deadly as the life-takers of the Necrons, and their vehicles move

with a supernatural quickness and manoeuvrability. You will all have to be like

a knives edge. Now prepare my brothers, and remember: The Emperor Protects!'

            With Afonso's speech complete, the others quickly went about their duties. A vox

call to the bridge by Afonso had the lights illuminate the training floor as

electricity ignited the machines into renewed life. Bolter targets came into

motion, combat servitors entered the training circles, and serfs marched in

bearing the holy weapons of the Deathwatch.

           The Deathwatch would fall upon Vyetar Secondus, they would be prepared, and they

would deliver the people to salvation.

[deathspectersgt7]

I like it.

[spjaco]

Great read, keep it up.

[Wulfkry]

indeed good read.