Deathwatch - Blood Oath

[cowboy3569]

Hey all, here is a little something I wrote for a submission.  Please read if you fancy it and enjoy.  Any constructive C and C is welcome, please exscuse formatting though, was a little problematic cutting it into the editor lol.

 

 

 

 

'I take no issue with his capabilities in the field cousin and you should know that.'

'Then what? His ability with a blade? His marksmanship? His knowledge of Team SOP's? '

The Raven Guards persistence is irksome. I find it hard enough to express my misgivings within the sanctity of my own head, let alone to form them into a coherent argument for another. We are moving at a brisk run through the outer decks of the Gatekeeper, our teams Fingal pattern cruiser. Our legs stretch and eat through the meter upon meter of soulless grey steel decking at a pace that would test even the fittest of unmodified humans. For us this is but a pre training warm up and our words come easily and without interruption.

‘Pitraeus, forget I spoke. You know as well as I do the chapters reputation. You also know through our work of the last five years that a soft hand is often needed in our tasks. Vaykaar has done nothing but I have misgivings still.'

Dracos 3. That planet will maintain a special area of distaste in my heart for some time. Epsilon kill team deployed to eradicate a nascent Ork settlement, small in size and numbers and supported with sub orbital strike craft it should have been a simple task but at the last their leader, an unimpressive Ork engineer had unleashed his personally devised weapon system onto the team as we closed to finish the cull. Red One; Brother Sergeant Morranis of the Ultramarines, was caught in the full blast of the improvised weapon system. Whatever insanity was inside the Ork’s head had produced a weapon that was capable of tearing a fully armored space marine into pieces and when it struck Epsilon lost its guide, its mentor. He was replaced a mere week later, by Captain Vaykaar a newly promoted captain from the Marines Malevolent, serving his attachment before taking command within his Chapter. He could barely fill Morranis’ shadow.

‘Be serious M’shen. To be here you know he has undergone the same trials; the same suffering, the same tests that we have. If he had failed or been found wanting he would not be in charge of the team.’

He is right of course. No one just walks into the Deathwatch. An elite within an elite, the unit is fed from across all the Chapters of the Astartes. In theory at least any Space Marine from any Chapter can be called to serve, although not all will be found capable of doing so. I sense that there is part of me that resents the fact that an individual from such a dishonourable chapter could be held in the same regard as me. It is true that since his arrival, posted in to take command of Epsilon Kill Team and to assume the role of Red One, he has done nothing to deserve my suspicion.

‘Pitraeus we have discussed many times the reasons I have to dislike his chapter, they are without conscience. They have no sense of honour. I would rather follow a ...’

‘What Salamander? What is the end to that sentence?’ We both slow to a halt as the voice catches us from behind. I turn and see the broad figure of another of our team behind us. A dark beard, close cropped and dark, frames his face and spiralling tribal tattoos cover his bare arms and shoulders. His eyes are shrouded within a sunken brow and he moves like a magna-bear about to pounce.

‘Well met Pitoshan.’ Pitraues hails the approaching Astartes. He is rewarded with a curt nod as our demolition specialist, a line soldier from the Executioners chapter approaches us.

“Come M’shen, finish your sentence.’ He rumbles.

‘Pitoshan, I will not have this argument with you again. You know my views and I have heard yours. This matter is closed between us.’

‘I think not Red Two.’ he uses my call sign sharply, to underline a point. ‘Your talk is brushing with sedition. Remember the vows you made when you joined this team. The promises you made. A vow is a vow. To break one, or to even think of it diminishes a man. And you stand here and talk of another’s lack of honour! Think on that.’

The Executioners tone is aggressive and it fans the flames of anger within my breast. I feel the cooling touch of the pale skinned Raven Guard. The gesture does not go unnoticed by Pitoshan yet he stands his ground. Always that level stare. I feel like I am being judged.
The standoff is broken by wailing claxons and the flashing of the emergency lighting. A roar builds in the background as the vessels manoeuvring engines fire into the void. A booming machine voice thunders over the sirens.

 

++++ EPSILON TO ARMING CHAMBERS. EPSILON TO ARMING CHAMBERS. STAND TO. STAND TO. RED ONE TO REPORT TO INQUISITORS CHAMBERS ++++

 

Red one strides into the arming chamber, ceramite boots ringing from the steel flooring. He sweeps his gaze over the team, all members stood ready, a scalpel cleansed and primed to excise a troublesome tumour.

‘The inquisitor’s agents have uncovered a Cabal of Eldar in the main city-state of the planet. Mid-range scans indicate that they have shown their hand and engaged local Imperial Guard forces.’ I see the contempt on his face then, a curl of the upper lip. I struggle to tell myself that it is contempt for the Xenos rather than the human soldiers who yet fight against them on the planet below. ‘The Eldar are attempting to reactivate some of their emperor damned machinery, probably looking to open a transit route through to their webway system. Our task is simple. We deploy into the heart of their forces and destroy the Eldar witches who would conduct this ritual. Are there any questions?’
Pitoshan and Vaykaar share a glance then. The executioner is looking in my direction now. Why?

 

+++++ PLANETFALL +1HR ++++++

As we breach into the main auditorium the xenos scatter. Pitraeus and Donal scream into the air, the thrusters of their jump packs burning white hot as they engage the lithe feathered figures swooping above us. Ornate columns stretch to the ceiling, framing the hall, funneling the full force of our wrath. Frail Elder bodies wither as they vainly attempt to stand against us.

The air fills with the singing of return fire as the Eldar’s defence reorganises. Monomolecular discs clatter like hail from our jet black armour or score whip thin lines in the paint work. They do not slow us. Behind us Inquisitor Samonev’s Storm troopers burst through the opening, breaking into fire teams and pepper-potting forwards. No movement without fire.

Pitoshan and I surge into a group of black and bone clad Eldar as they flow around the fluted columns at the halls edge. The Executioners power axe carves effortlessly through the first pair, bodies splitting like overripe fruit. He uses the remaining momentum from his swing to launch himself into the next group, ceramite clashing with flexible weave. At a sprint I power my armoured form into the closest enemy. I crush it into the chamber wall and pirouette low to remove the legs of another with Firespite. The blade’s power field flares as it passes effortlessly through plate armour and bone, xenos blood boiling from its edge as I return to stance.

The rest are dead, torn to pieces by Pitoshan’s axe or caught in the overpowered beams of the Storm troopers guns. I glance to the Executioner and catch him staring. Again. I hold his gaze for what feels like a lifetime before a roar of pain pulls my attention to the centre of the cavernous space. The Minotaur is in trouble. Advancing slower than the rest of us, encumbered by his heavy bolter and laying down suppressing fire to cover our advance, Drakine has been flanked by a group of green armoured Eldar. The bulbous pods at their cheeks and the chain blades in their hands mark them out as what the Eldar call Striking Scorpions, ambush specialists, cowards but effective. Their stings have humbled the Heavy weapon specialist. We move as one to assist him, Pitoshan and I vault over fallen rubble and sprint toward the contact. We will be too late. Their leader, ornate armour distinguishing him, slides fluidly through the melee, his blade poised to deliver a killing blow. I bellow a warning and Drakine turns to face the threat, weapon rising to block the strike. With preternatural speed the Exarch redirects his thrust, finding the soft microfiber joint between armour plates. Blood spurts. Drakine’s leg buckles. His neck is exposed and the Scorpion pulls back to strike again.

 

Before it gets a chance to connect the blade is turned, caught on the haft of a power maul. Vaykaar comes from nowhere, unseen and unexpected. He reverses the swing and thunders the maul into the side of the baroque helm. The warrior crumples, blood running from the cracks in his skull and helm. Vaykaar pulls the xenos from the floor, the piglike grille of his helm mere inches from the exarchs lolling head.

'Where is she? Where are the witch and her kind?'

The exarch sprays the captain’s faceplate with misted blood as he replies. 'Fool. Monkeigh. Your fate was sealed the moment you came here. Nothing shall stop, what must be done. You have no understanding.'

Vaykaar's reply sneers from his external vox as his mace taps lightly on the ruby jewel at the centre of the helpless Eldars chest.

'My next blow will fall here scum. I will make sure it is not the last. Answer. My. Question.'

The Eldar squirms against his grip, wailing, terrified beyond my expectations. Surely it must know its life is forfeit? The xenos glances almost imperceptibly towards the central grain stores.

‘You will be too late monkeigh.'

‘We shall see!'

The mace descends, power field flaring as the head crashes through the gem and the chest underneath.

+++++ Planetfall +2HR ++++++

 

We soar over teeming throngs of humanity as our Thunderhawk hurtles towards the Grain silo. The Black armoured hull showers sparks as anti-air fire from weapons emplacements score into its flanks, leaving welts in the plate but not slowing the machine. As soon as it was clear that the ritual of awakening was taking place at a secondary site the team had re-deployed at speed, outstripping the supporting Storm troopers and their slower transports. As we pass the target area I can see a flickering power field over the store. It is not human in creation. Blue light streams from the outstretched hands of lithe, long crested figures. Red one sees it too.

‘Pilot, set us down on the high ground over there’. His voice cuts over the inter-team vox. And our craft touches down moments later.

 

The team disembark and take up protective positions as the flyer powers back into the darkness. Rain lashes the ground and splashes of dark red mud streak the bottom of my armour.

‘Pitoshan. On me.’ Vaykaar’s voice cuts over the strumming rain on my helm.

 

As the Exectioner closes with the captain. I focus my gaze on the target area. Thousands of civilians are corralled around the dome of force. Driven there by the Eldar. Getting into that without going through them will be problematic.

‘Red Two this is Red One’ the vox chimes and shakes me from my thoughts. ‘co-ordinate the extraction pick up for five minutes time.’

‘Confirm? Five minutes? Are we abandoning the mission?’

‘Don’t be so obtuse M’shen’ Vaykaar bites back over the vox. ‘We are extracting. The mission will be complete in four minutes. Our mission is to disrupt that ritual and that is exactly what we shall do’

‘We will never get to the site in that time. What is the plan?’ I struggle to understand his order. Even for us this is impossible.

‘Orbital bombardment will proceed on my mark, the xenos will be purged.’

‘There are thousands of people down there!’ My heart runs cold at the callousness of his actions even as I protest.

‘Red two this is not a discussion. I will not tolerate any further dissent. Ensure the pick-up is organised or I shall issue a full report and censure to the Inquisitor on our return.’

The anger in my chest burns bright hot, my hand dropping to the pommel of Firespite. My entire upbringing, all my training has taught me to preserve human life wherever possible. We are the weapon to be broken and tested in their stead. This action is the culmination of my concerns and my distrust of this so called Astarte who now leads us. I know my duty, this must be stopped. And yet. My muscles strain against action, I am at war within myself as I think on the vows that I have taken to serve in this team. They leave no room for doubt. I must follow the order, but... I look up and I can see the Executioner looking at me. Again.

I turn away and make the call. We are all damned by our inaction.