[DW] Blackthorn/Swordhand: Episode III - The Sundered House

[Steel Company]

Tyber holds his breath, listening closely for any hint of movement as the trio enters the craft, his HUD swapping between vision modes as quickly as possible. Seeing no immediate signs of the bio-forms, he begins to search the various storage compartments, before heading deeper into the craft, again repeating the process all the way to the cockpit, again giving it a quick scan before leaving the door open for Sabaan.

 

Passing Vaidan as Solastion tends to him, Tyber thinks of Sabaan’s words about fulling the craft as he gives the all clear signle. Taking a moment to add an extra steep to his planning course of action to get off of the Voice of Thunder, he calls over the Vox, +Ahu, care to do some heavy lifting?+ his voice carries a touch amusement while he heads over the massive hose to begin un-spooling it.

 

Privately over a secure channel to Akkad, Tyber openly speaks his mind, +Ahu, this entire deck feels wrong, it should not be this empty… I also wonder about the Interrogator, part of me wishes that he will not be joining us for the rest of this mission and yet I wish to interrogate him for everything he knows… I do not think he has been honest with us.+

[Mazer Rackham]

+Ahu, care to do some heavy lifting?+ Tyber's voice came across squad vox, infested with what, in an adolescent, could possibly be an insolent grin.  Akkad smiled as he locked off the heavy bolter and moved out from his position, half striding, half jogging.

 

+You will have to forgive my old bones and take the heavy end.+ He sported with the young Marine, as much to try and leech some of the tension as to cover his own misgivings.  Astral Claws rarely had a sense of humour, honour, family pride, the eerie amethyst non-light of the hell-gate perpetually staring at them stole much of it.  Daon knew that few of his brethren shared a gallows humour, mainly the older ones amongst them.  It kept them sane. Especially after...Hellsiris.

 

+Ahu, this entire deck feels wrong, it should not be this empty… I also wonder about the Interrogator, part of me wishes that he will not be joining us for the rest of this mission and yet I wish to interrogate him for everything he knows… I do not think he has been honest with us.+   Akkad noted the switch from open vox to private channel, understood immediately that this was Tyber's inner voice speaking of his concerns.  He would not dismiss them, he shared them.

 

+I agree,+ he voxed, pausing a moment, his arms scooping up one of the linkages as Tyber hefted the huge maw of the fuelling line and they heaved as one to bring it to position.  The sound of the hose scraping the deck was deafening in the cavernous silence, although the ship was not truly quiet - the hull shook under the impact of the alien's blasphemy against her.  She had done her duty, she was a fine ship.  They stopped short, the hose was secured to the deck at this interval.

 

+I sense somehow that we must have great caution about many things here, but I also feel the time to get our arses off this ship has come.  Together Ahu.+  They heaved again and the retraining bands on the hose broke free, granting them free reign over it.  They moved much faster now, almost running, but taking care the hose was not damaged, nor entangled.  It was simple, pure teamwork.  Akkad enjoyed the simple, honest work.  Then he frowned as he remembered Tyber had asked him a question in the dorsal traverse, in what seemed like an age ago.

 

+You asked before about our Lugal.   Forgive me, I spoke out of turn.  I should not use the Tongue with those not our Kin.+ He was utterly sincere, his trust in the big Marine firm, not fearing derision. +Literally, It means "Big Man" but on the coastal towns of Symetra their wealth comes from the sea as merchants and fishermen.  There, it refers to "head of the boat" a man proven with great authority and responsibility, similar perhaps to a Captain, or Patron of a Navigator House, valued for shrewd decision making.+  By then, the two Space Marines had brought the refuelling line into position.

 

+As for your skills - our Lugal is no fool.  He knows your worth and he will both expect and demand the best from you.  As it should be and as you will receive.+ He bumped his hand off the huge Marine's pauldron, emulating Solastion in his earlier camaraderie.   He looked over to Sabaan and pulsed a chime for aid through his rune.  The Iron Hand looked over at him, malevolence and duty harnessed into ceramite warplate.  Akkad smiled behind his helm, then his face soured as he thought again about what Tyber had said and his hand strayed to the bolt pistol at his hip.

 

Where was the Interrogator?

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

+No harm Ahu, I understand about keeping some phrases with in the Chapter, I am honored that you would consider me close enough. I think I understand the meaning of that word now, like a Rector…+ he spoke over the vox to Akkad, while giving a heavy pull on the nozzle. +It is not that I expect more than my due, rather it is it seems our... Lugal+ he paused rolling that word around on his tongue, as he gave another pull, +seems more disposed to assume that I do not have the aptitude to make reasonable judgements in the moment. My plan to use the containers to disrupt your firebase in the exercise proved to give a strong distraction to you and Thavold after all.+ he finished with a smile and a lite tone of amusement in his voice.

 

Talking with Akkad eased his mind, so much like Adavan had been, but he could not shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong about the hanger.

[Dosjetka]

As the adrenaline faded, the Novamarines' breathing was strained. The damage the Tyranid xenomorphs had dealt was greater than he had initially thought, despite the Apothecary's anti-toxin shots and the Techmarines armour sealant. Amber runes had flashed incessantly on his HUD but his mind had been focused on not getting ambushed. He wasn't thinking straight, he was putting his squad in danger. Someone else needed to take charge until he could clear his mind. He initiated a vox-link to the Giant.

 

"Good plan, Tyber. Get us off this damned ship, fast."

 

While switching to the intra-squad channel, a flash of uncertainty made Vaidan wonder if he had made the right choice. No time for second thoughts. The Astartes showed initiative and this is his reward. Time to get out of this soon-to-be void tomb.

 

"Squad Blackthorn, the Dragon of Caliban shall organise our exit. Follow his instructions."

 

He continued moving towards the shuttle with an arm on Solastion's pauldron for support, both his mind and boltgun ready to blast apart some xenomorphs.

[Steel Company]

“Squad Blackthron, the Dragon of Caliban shall organize our exit. Follow his instructions.”

 

Hearing that over the vox puzzled Tyber for a moment, perhaps their Sergeant had some faith in him after all. Following Sabaan’s instructions on inserting the fueling nozzle into the port, he set about getting ready for the most dangerous part of his plan, over the open vox he stated; +Brothers Akkad and Thorvald, move to position yourselves at the base of the loading ramp for over watch, Brothers Greyseight and Atratus watch the flanks of our transport until ready for launch, brother Varvost stand by to remove fueling nozzle when the tanks are full, Brother Sabaan, when you think it is safe to do so, being the activation rites. I will head to the launch control room and stand by to open the void doors… Everyone that is outside of our craft, have your mag boots ready to engage.+

 

Taking a moment to thump one of Akkad’s pauldrons, as he moved past to a safe distance away from the fuel hose before using his jump pack to leap to the overhead catwalk that would gain him entry to the launch control room.

Edited July 28, 2018 by Steel Company

[Dosjetka]

As Tyber organised the Kill Team, Vaidan couldn't help but wonder where the Interrogator was.

 

He momentarily linked the squad's vox channel to Ryken's so all could hear what he said next.

 

"Interrogator, it is a matter of moments before we are discovered and under assault again. With all due respect, I suggest you make haste and rendezvous with us as quickly as possible."

 

The urgency in his voice was clear.

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad grinned again as the thunder of vambrace clashed with his pauldron.  Tyber's orders came in.

+Acknowledged - moving now.+  He stepped round to the shuttle ramp and stood facing the control room for launch.  He would make sure Tyber came out of there unmolested.

 

Akkad sets to Overwatch on 90 degree arc to front.

Conditions: Contact with Xenos lifeforms - Attack, Full Auto Burst.

 

MR.

[A.T.]

"Understood"

 

Atratus begins a systematic sweep of the vents and crawl-ways through his scope, though in truth he expected the next assault to be more direct. The smaller xenoforms had failed but would learn from the mistake of sending such against an Astartes.

[Nineswords]

THERE WAS NO sign of Interrogator Ryken. In fact, there was no sign of anything for that matter, Greysight thought as he scanned the empty hangar with his boltgun. 

 

Sergeant Vaidan was struggling even with the aid of Akkad, so it fell to Tyber at the vanguard to order both Greysight and Vârvost to sweep ahead, as the others discussed a plan to exit the beleaguered ship. 

 

Beyond the presence of the troop conveyor they had arrived in, the hangar itself was as Greysight had last seen it. Sparse and functional with little in the way of adornment, save for hazard markings on the well-worn steel decking and guide lights. There seemed to be no sign of power, save for the global ship illumination. Unlike the dorsal spine however, the deck strip lumens burned a sterile blue-green glow, rather than he flashing amber-Black of secondary emergency protocols. Either the tyranids had missed the hanger, which was unlikely, or they had simply concentrated their efforts on the main population centres within the ship. 

 

The banality of it all was cause for suspicion. 

 

Greysight’s internal box crackled into life. It was Tyber. 

 

‘Brothers Greyseight and Atratus, watch the flanks of our transport until ready for launch. Brother Varvost, stand by to remove fueling nozzle when the tanks are full. Brother Sabaan, when you think it is safe to do so, being the Activation Rites. I will head to the launch control room and stand by to open the void doors,’ he instructed. 

 

Greysight acknowledged the order with a non-verbal assent, before doubling back towards the conveyor. He spied Vârvost roughly hauling a large fuel nozzle towards the craft and Atratus taking up position on the other side. 

 

‘Have your mag boots ready to engage,’ Tyber added, his voice drowned out momentarily by the whine of his jetpack, leaping towards the hangar’s central control room. Akkad had quickly followed with his heavy bolter, Cadence, stalking towards Tyber’s intended position. 

 

Greysight looked up at the conveyor’s cockpit and observed Sabaan initiate pre-flight checks before Greysight continued his sweep around the back flank. Looking into the conveyor’s exit hatch, he noted the prone form of sergeant Vaidan being tended to by Solastion. The sergeant looked worse off than Greysight had presumed. 

 

Something was awry. 

Edited July 30, 2018 by Nineswords

[Slips]

As they entered the craft and found it empty, Solastion guided Vaidan to the cockpit of the vessel, turning the flight engineers chair so that the Watch-Sergeant might be seated.

 

With Novamarine going about delegating command to Tyber and making an open-vox callout to the Interrogator, Solastion finally had a moments respite to, once again, go over the wounds he had sustained in their last bout on the dorsal spine.

 

Sabaan had done good work to reseal the armor and bring it back up to full effective strength but, he himself, had not done as well when tending to the transhuman body underneath.

 

As he plugged his Exsanguinator into the thigh-port, he injected first a minor stimulant and pain-suppressant cocktail followed by another dose of synthskin to make sure that any lacerations or burns were properly tended to before finally applying another tyranid bio-acid/parasite counter-agent.

 

"As of this time, Watch-Sergeant, I've done all I can with the tools available to me. Any more treatment will require a properly equipped facility and time; both of which we do not possess."

 

"Otherwise, Sergeant, what are the odds that the Interrogator might have been subverted by the cult?" he asks using his helmets speaker unit instead of their vox.

[Commissar Molotov]

GM: Vaidan will recall the Interrogator's words from the briefing at Azurea; that he had not visited Syndalla himself, that he had not been a part of Inquisitrix Lythea's investigation, and indeed that he had only accompanied you to the world at your request.

 

The Interrogator's voice comes across on your vox-channel. As he speaks, you hear the sounds of gunfire and the screams of men and beasts.

 

++We are pinned down on the way to you, and the xenos creatures are not making it easy. Your assistance would be appreciated to ensure we can reach Syndalla in time.++

Edited July 28, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Dosjetka]

The Novamarine was relieved to sit though at the same time this worried him. Something needed to be done, he couldn't accomplish his mission in such a stated. As he doffed his helm and was getting his words ready, the Apothecary connected his wrist-mounted tool to the thigh-port of his Mk VII armour and released a cocktail of chemicals. The relief was instant and welcome. The haziness and loss of focus that had plagued his mind earlier cleared like the morning fog when the sun rose over Honourum's vast oceans.

It had been many years since he had set foot upon the planet's surface, felt her dark blue and icy cold waters against his olive skin. Such was the fate all Novamarines would face. Once they set sail into the Great Void, rarely would they see their own home again. Often, they died on some Emperor-forsaken planet and their remains were returned to their home to be cremated and cast into the raging seas. From the ocean they came, and to the ocean they returned. The cycle was complete and could start anew.

 

The Apothecary's question about the Interrogator potentially being subverted snapped him out of his melancholy-tinged reverie. As the answer formed on his tongue, a vox-message cut him off. As he listened to the Inquisitorial agent, it was clear were in a perilous situation. Damned mortal.

He regretted that thought immediately. The Tyranids were bio-engineered to exterminate all life. It was unfair to expect an Interrogator and a handful of Armsmen to be able to defeat a horde of such beasts.

 

He looked at the Solastion and flashed a grim half-grin.

 

"Speak of the Daemon."

 

His mind raced, they had precious little time and ammo, but they could not just abandon the Interrogator. There would be no way it could be brought against them as he would surely die if they left him on the ship, but it would haunt Vaidan and no doubt a few of the others. On the other hand, if the Interrogator became too much of a burden and put mission success into peril, the Novamarine would have to make a decision.

 

Glancing at the HUD map he noticed that the Interrogator was not far from the hangar bay and there was enough of them to aid the mortal.

 

"Affirmative, Interrogator. Reinforcements inbound in sixty-two seconds."

 

He relayed the information to the Giant.

 

"Send however many Astartes you believe we can spare, Tyber. If need be, I can go too. Just give the word."

 

He closed the link and turned his thoughts back to the Apothecary's query. His green eyes gazed at Solastion's crimson helm.

 

"Given that he did not participate in the Inquisitrix's investigation and has never set foot on Syndalla, I doubt it. Besides, I'm sure someone at the Watch Station would have noticed.

Now, I am also unsure just how much we can trust him but we must remember that he is a servant of the Throne of Terra and despite the shroud of secrecy that seems to cling to his form like a second cloak, we must trust that our goals are aligned and that he will not interfere with our mission."

 

He half-grinned again and passed his armoured hand over his scalp.

 

"Does my answer satisfy you, Solastion? I know the decision to bring Ryken with us was not a popular one but I do think he will be useful to us in the end. If not, I shall find a Pain Glove at the Watch Station and spend some time in it as penance."

 

Third half-grin. His mood has visibly lifted since a few minutes again. Whatever Solastion had given him was powerful stuff.

[Mazer Rackham]

Upon the orders being relayed, Akkad stilled, his whole body smoothing into quiet.

 

+Send me.  One Marine can deal with this.  The Armsmen can cover me and my heavy weapon will allow us to have a chance at breaking them out.  Keep everyone else here in case a cavalcade of xenos filth follows our extraction.+

 

His tone was carefully neutral.

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

++We are pinned down on the way to you, and the xenos creatures are not making it easy. Your assistance would be appreciated to ensure we can reach Syndalla in time.++ came the reply over the Vox network.

 

Damned mortal, you are being more trouble then you are worth… thought Tyber, as his Rector responded with:

“Affirmative, Interrogator. Reinforcements inbound in sixty-two seconds. Send however many Astartes you believe we can spare, Tyber. If need be, I can go too. Just give the word."

 

Gritting his teeth under his helm, Tyber again read over the squad readouts, seeing who would be in the best shape, as well as whose positions could be covered without too much stress on the safety of those that would remain.

 

+Send me.  One Marine can deal with this.  The Armsmen can cover me and my heavy weapon will allow us to have a chance at breaking them out.  Keep everyone else here in case a cavalcade of xenos filth follows our extraction.+ came the voice of Akkad, plugging his removal from the firebase, Tyber looked over the coverage circles his onboard cogitator overlaid, the range was reduced as well as the intensity over the loading hatch, but Thorvald should be more than enough there. The rest of the craft seemed to be well protected, no need to remove another brother for this task.

 

+As much as I commend you Sargent for suggesting that you could go, I think that would put the greater mission at risk as you are not in optimal condition to go. Akkad; do what you can for the Armsmen and our Interrogator charge… I would like him alive, I have questions for him.+ spoke Tyber, doing his best to keep calm and direct his squad, this was the first time he’d well and truly been placed in command of fellow Astartes.

 

Over a privet vox to Akkad, he added “Ahu, I place the armsmen’s lives just as if not more important than the interrogator, try to save as many of them as possible and lead them to our transport.”

 

Closing the link, he was left to his own thoughts for a moment as he reached for the door to the control room, Grandfather I can only do my best in this, do not judge me too harshly, I understand that some lives must be spent, but these few could be better spent at a later time. All are subservient to the Legion, the Legion is subservient to the Emperor and only the Emperor.

Edited July 30, 2018 by Steel Company

[Xin Ceithan]

Their sweeps had produced nothing. The Auspex returns were inconclusive. The unease remained. With no direct hostile contact, Sabaan moved into docking bay and begann assessing the situation. Data tethers and generatorum lines were in place. Apparently initial pre flight rituals had been begun before whatever event had left the bay deserted. Nycax exloaded basic instructions to his brothers and supervised the attachment of the refueling linkage, chanting the Praise of Infusion. This was a critical moment in pre-awakening protocols. Adding the liquid component of the motive force carried the risk of ignition and volatile expression of said force. He added a prayer him of thankfulness to the wisdom of the Omnissiah to encode his wonders in STC patterns, reducing the risks of such unwanted occurrences. Once he was satisfied that the sacred promethium flowed in the designated liquid pattern, he turned and went through the prana regarding inspection of the blessed hull. His optic cluster whirred but scans showed the integrity of the craft within tolerable levels. The bolt pistol remained in his left.

The Interrogator's distress call found him while adding another layer of blessings to the entrance ports. He ignored it and focused on maintaining the ritual binaric cant.

If flight readiness could not be achieved, they would all be dead within the next 2.6543hours. That was unacceptable.

++ Basic void readiness preparation in progress. External linkage engaged. Refueling procedures at 40 %. Hull integrity tolerable. Advancing to assess flight control elements prior to awakening machine spirit. Maintain defense patterns++

Sabaan closed the vox and strode into towards the cockpit.

[Slips]

”A pain glove? I thought your line was of Guilliman, not Dorn.” he replied in a grinning tone. ”but, yes the answer is sufficient and once we have him at arms length, there is little he’ll be able to do to stop us from meting out justice should he put he mission, us and the inquisitrix in peril.” he said, stretching out a hand to help the Novamarine to his feet.

[Mazer Rackham]

+Akkad; do what you can for the Armsmen...+ Tyber's voice was distorted and obviously the proximity of the Tyranids were creating vox distortion.

 

+Ahu, I place the armsmen’s lives just as if not more important than the interrogator, try to save as many of them as possible and lead them to our transport...+

 

Akkad envied him a little.  On the Sentinel Worlds, he had believed all humanity had to be protected, even if it cost the lives of the humans holding Lasguns sometimes that cost more than they did.  It was a common Chapter maxim.  He had tried to change that earlier - it hadn't worked so well, but - he would do what he could.

 

The command rang in his ears, like a hound slipping the leash, he snapped Cadence onto his back and drew pistol and knife.  If could get the Armsmen to form a firing line, he could set up the heavy bolter and cover their fallback.  Once they were established they could cover him and so on - known in the Codex Astartes as Reverse Bounding Overwatch, but colloquially to the Tyrant's Legion as "Pepper-potting".  He smiled.  He preferred the latter.

 

He pulsed a message of compliance - no more - as he covered the distance quickly to the main access hall, interfacing with the noospheric data-link that gave the floorplan of the ship.  As it was dying, the machine spirit was plagued with interference, a blizzard of static snow frustrated him every few seconds, lasting random intervals.  He countered this with his own eyes stinging and vexed by the black-and-amber hazard buoys along the corridors.  Unlike those at the dorsal spine, these were functional before form, bare metal and stark steel in that weird light.

 

He fought against lurches in gravity as the aliens drove their claws further into this iron-skinned prey, first to port, then rocking to starboard in a terrible struggle between life of man and death by the Tyranids.  His earlier insight brought forth a natural hatred that was whetted to a razor edge at the nature of them.  He did not use his magboots this time, he was barrelling along like a sable missile, shouldering debris and detritus away and trusting his gut for direction around the tangled masses of torn pipe and cables, ripped from the floor, the ceiling, the walls.  He thanked the Emperor briefly as he sailed through the air in a patch of local gravity loss, some 30 metres in length, the extra impetus in his mad dash carried him forward without restraint.  He was stopped forcefully after his freefall by a stanchion breaking through the deck above, propelled by a thick, mucous covered flesh-tendril.  It was hugely muscled and he cannoned into it, his shoulder absorbing the impact with a brutal jolt that nearly repelled him back down the corridor.  He knew that would result in a terrible bruise and had jolted his shoulder painfully.  Without conscious thought his mind fed him the information he needed: Feeder Tendril.  Peristaltic Motion, Simple Organism, Boarding Vector, Magnitude Moderate.

 

He found his arm slamming forward despite the pain, like a piston bolted to a Servitors' steam hammer.  Again, again, combat knife hacking, a razor edge of adamantite laminated steel bit into flesh meant to be flexible, not proof.  The muscles started to come apart like coiled wire unspooling, his hatred fuelling the edge as he frenziedly sliced into the meat left-handed.  Suddenly, without any indication, it split open like a ripe boil, splurting red and grey innards across the deck and his ebon mail.  A strange shriek accompanied the incongruous dull splatter and several small beasts tumbled out as it withdrew, ripping shards of the ship with it and causing the deck to quake in its retreat.  A large fanged and dripping maw thrashed a moment in the corridor before disappearing altogether.

 

"Die!" He roared at the smaller aliens that before had wounded him in the defence of the Novamarine and had been dispatched so skilfully by Tyber, Atratus, Greysight and the others. His anger, denied then, finally voiced as Sonnet spat her wrath.  The Bolt shells blossomed in the slime covered beasts, mired in the gore from the burst tendril, giving him the advantage.  He crushed the last beast with his right foot, bringing it down like a falling boulder and his face writhed in utter contempt under his blank helm.  He took but a second to gather himself, then set off again.

 

Edited: To match posts.

 

MR.

Edited July 29, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Nineswords]

GREYSIGHT WAS LOOKING directly at the Astral Claw when he suddenly changed direction, heaving the heavy bolter and heading swiftly away from the hangar, no doubt to collect the beleaguered interrogator and whatever naval security were still alive. Clearly Akkad was eager to engage with the Great Devourer once again.

 

Making a decision of his own, Greysight resolved to follow the Astral Claw to assist if needed, though questions still lingered over Akkad and the Interrogator. There seemed to be no obvious danger after all, and there were enough of the others to defend the hangar if it came under attack. Rescuing Ryken was now an operational priority. He glanced over at Vârvost, who was waving over Atratus to assist with the refuelling. Tyber was inspecting the void door controls. Sabaan, sergeant Vaidan and the apothecary Solastion were preparing the conveyor.

 

Time to move.

 

Outside the relative safety of the hangar, the ship had gone dark. Where power had not been cut in its entirety, access corridors were bathed in red, indicating primary emergency protocols. The ship was dying at a catastrophic rate.

 

Following the familiar scent of the unguents and oils Akkad used to tend his weapons, the Storm Son followed on the heels of the Astral Claw out of sight, at several points encountering zero gravity, and using momentum to hurl him forward. Soon, scent gave way to sight as Greysight followed the path of destruction caused by the tyranids. As he progressed, he noticed the telltale detonations of bolter fire that could only come from Cadence, the Astral Claw's treasured heavy weapon.

 

Up ahead, Greysight could hear the tumultuous noise of battle as he heard the rhythmic patter of Akkad's bolter. Framed behind the silhouette of the Astral Claw were Interrogator Ryken and several navy ratings, enveloped by the familiar swarm of claws and teeth racing to consume them.

Edited July 30, 2018 by Nineswords

[Mazer Rackham]

Vaidan and Sabaan had taken a moment to ping the interrogators' location.  A flashing crimson rune marked him and gave Akkad the distance.  He relayed the information back to the Kill Team and continued to run.  The other beasts had gone, but up ahead he could hear orders and lasguns barking in defiance.  The roar of a chainsword and the sharp staccato crack of a Bolt pistol being fired on Semi-automatic put the spur to him and he continued dashing, slowing down as he came nearer - mostly to assess the situation and avoid friendly fire - if any was left to be had,

 

He stepped around a corner, flickering glowlamps and lumen strips casting shadows at crazy angles, sparking conduits and buzzing relays popping and cracking all around.  Cables broken, but carrying power snapped and snaked from the floor like the Tyranids that had sheared them.  The Voice was dying noisily.  It was somehow fitting.  He felt more than heard a salvo at point blank range from the Port guns - at least some of them were still killing the enemy -  or trying to.  If he had the time, Akkad would have banged his fist onto his plastron in warrior's approval but there was only one objective here and time was against him.

 

Holstering his pistol and knife, he unlocked Cadence and advanced around the corner.  What greeted him filled his heart with pride and dread in equal measure.  There, in the centre of a formation of Armsmen was the Interrogator.  His face was flush, but not with fear - Akkad could admire that at least.  He knew his situation and was trying to make good on his promise to his mistress: Reach Syndalla, find her, find out what happened....but what bothered him was the fact he knew not how many other promises had been made - and to whom.

 

Around him were Armsmen, putting up the fight of their lives.  Armed not only with a few Lasguns, these had heavy Naval Pistols and Boarding Shotguns and were tearing into the mass of vermin that assailed them, bayoneting where they could.  They had assumed a formation of three-hundred and sixty degrees defence and the wounded in the middle of the circle were reloading the spent weapons as fast as they could.  It was a heroic sight.  In the middle of them stood Ryken and beside him, a warrior whose face was a mask of blood, chopping artlessly with a chainsword she didn't know how to use - her sheer determination making up for it, her will not to live - but to make the aliens die.

 

For their part, the Tyranids were not fazed by this display of the purity of the human race.  Countless, countless beasts chewed at the edges of the circle, spat acid into it, flung flesh-hooks and living, explosive glowing maggots into it.  They were nothing but teeth and howling chitin and it echoed to Akkad of the things he had seen, the great slavering hunger in the darkness between stars of the Devourer.  They rent humans apart, split their flesh, buckled their armour and spilled their blood.  It was nameless screeching horror, the like of which Akkad had never experienced before - and this from a survivor of Lycanthus Axiom, where Daemons cavorted in the vented entrails of his brethren.

 

He could end it.  Here in the maelstrom of battle he could finish the Interrogator and remove a thorn in their side.  The decision to bring the Inquisiton Agent had not been his, it had been a majority one.  The decision to take the Armsmen had been overruled and, without a watcher this agent could do more harm than good.  Just one pistol shot, lost in the darkness...he froze, Cadence half-tilted to allow him free reign to commit murder, but something was wrong.

 

Akkad looked around.  No-one could be seen, but he felt eyes burning into his back.  In the distance he could hear the Armsmen calling out to the Emperor for aid.  He could hear Ryken barking orders and doing his best to keep morale high.  The beasts.  Nothing else.  He was alone.  Akkad's hand slid down to Sonnet at his waist, he used the darkness to mask it from the Interrogator, his movements, his mind, both filled with murder.  Suddenly there was a sound.  It was a safety catch being released and Akkad's head spun at the noise.

 

"Tell me, Brother, why are you so eager to wander in the darkness?"

 

Akkad's blank helm gave no reply.

 

"The others will keep for the time being, Akkad. I know you have seen into the mind of the Great Devourer, and I think, like you probably do too, that Interrogator Ryken is not what he seems." said the other, levelly, voice too deep for a human, movements too artful to be anything but a Marine.  He stepped out from behind a twisted spur of metal that had partially obscured him.

 

Greysight.

 

He should have known - taken more care - the others, they would have been too busy - although Atratus may have also been another candidate.  The Watcher, seeing all, ready to strike down.  His Chapter an expunger of sin through violence, the smallest detail unmissed in judgement.  The Storm Son had approached masterfully, no doubt timing his movements with the sparks and sputterings of failed power supply, the creaking of the ship.  Akkad had been too pre-occupied.  Another failure he chided himself for.

 

The Storm Son just stood there, crazy light pinging and bouncing from the golden lightning bolt and circlet on his arm.  His traditional adornment, his sulde pinned to shoulder plate.  He opened his mouth to reply, although it had only been two heartbeats since the other Marine had spoken.  The words were never born as with a panicked shout, suddenly the line of Armsmen split apart, Ryken stepping forward and Akkad sensed he would have no need to do anything - that this was it and they were all about to die, when it happened...

 

MR.

Edited July 29, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Commissar Molotov]

For Sabaan, entering the cockpit of the shuttle is akin to returning home to the arms of your parent Chapter, to his previous station aboard the fleet. At least here, in the confines of this chamber, everything has a purpose and a place. Even the injured Watch-Sergeant. Lobotomised servitors acknowledge the fuel counter ticking upwards, tonelessly uttering numbers that are mirrored on your helm display. The machine spirits seem to hum as the shuttle comes alive and pre-flight checks are completed. Through the armaglass of the cockpit, you can see Tyber as he crashes through the hangar deck's control tower window and - having encountered no resistance - searches for the controls to the armoured shutters separating you from the void. 

 

Successfully leaving the Voice of Thunder seems increasingly likely - if only the Interrogator can be successfully extracted...

[Mazer Rackham]

The world turned dark, lights began to wink on and off more slowly and a chime in his armour announced the temperature had plummeted - not by a few degrees - but by two dozen.  He looked at his hands and Cadence and saw a rime of frost creeping all over the weapon.  The Armsmen began to shiver even in the hot crucible of battle and their breath became as mist.  Ryken grew taller, not just to his full height, but suddenly huge in that cramped space, he clapped his hands together and time froze.

 

Then, a surge of temperature, too hot to hold onto anything metal burst from his fingertips, wreathing his hands with heat distortion and with a great whoosh of displaced air that would have stolen the breath from Akkad and Greysight were they not helmed, some 20 metres away, a monstrous surge of flame erupted in front of the interrogator.  It spewed out from his clawed hands like the issue of a mighty drake from legend.  It filled the corridor before him, a roiling cloud of napalm death that clung to materials it had no right to and defied any notion of physical law.  It was catastrophic in vehemence, a word of vengeance uttered by the Emperor himself - it consumed in seconds what promethium would have taken minutes, immolating and charring, driving the xenos back with a fist of man's first and best weapon against the darkness: fire.

 

He's a damn psyker...Akkad stared, watching the Interrogator slump, obviously exhausted, he had been saving himself for that moment.  Perhaps he knew Akkad was coming?  It was possible.  The thought chilled his blood as to his earlier motivation.  Similarly Greysight seemed to be rooted to the spot - although not so from guilt.

 

He would have to warn Tyber.  His instinct to do so didn't last.  The aliens were coming again.  More of them.  He looked across at Greysight, who prepared himself for battle without any need of further word.  They nodded to one another, conveying all the meaning required between warriors.  He broke the silence, with his best parade ground voice.

"Warriors of the Emperor - to us!  We shall cover you!  Keep Left!"  New thunder filled the momentary gap in noise.  What it lacked in the raw power of Ryken's psychic blast it more than made up for in effect.  The crack-crack-crack of the more disciplined Bolter fire spat from the Storm Son as he picked off ambitious or foolhardy beasts that came a little too close.

 

It was working.  The heavy gauge shells began to reap the whirlwind of claws and fangs and filth that had sought to come on.  Rousing her comrades, the female with the chainsword pushed them onwards, hacking backwards at the nearest enemies.  The humans stuck to the wall in a corridor that gave the Astartes munitions right of way.  Akkad kept the trigger down, the ammunition hopper cycling as he sent long, deadly bursts into the hordes.  Greysight finished a magazine and with a flick of his wrist tossed the empty into his palm.  He maglocked it to his thigh, drew a fresh and locked it home, his movements smooth and fluid.

 

Akkad blink clicked runes and fought the interference that blitzed across his autosenses.  He selected places easy to defend and barked his instructions.

"Regroup at Intersection 12-Gamma-Six!  50 yards - firing line!  Go!"  The humans hurried past the Marines as quickly as they could.  It seemed like an eternity before the lasguns and pistols began to prickle at the mob again.  He looked to Greysight, nodded once and they broke, sprinting away from the danger.  Suddenly, he was very glad the Watcher from Nakaris was there....

 

It was not a battle - it was a slaughter for both sides.  The raging tumult of war took minutes, but felt like days.  The Imperials would fall back, as far as they could, the intervals becoming shorter and shorter.  Finally, they had taken to scooping up handfuls of grenades from dead comrades and hurling them like pebbles over a lake at the beasts.  In great clumps and fury the enemy died, huge gobbets of slime encrusted chitin erupting, volcano-like from hardened flesh.  What could not be killed by the monumental amount of frags the humans were lobbing, Akkad and Greysight tore down with Bolt shells, Warrior upon warrior, Hormagaunts without count.  The hungering maw, now mercifully thinned, finally receded, looking for easier prey than the hard hearts it faced.  It was beaten back, but it was merely gathering strength...Akkad knew....he knew.

 

It was not without loss however, what had been a platoon had been decimated down to nine and a couple of walking wounded and they were lucky at that.  Any who could not move under their own power had been abandoned to their fate.  This was not unexpected by the Astral Claw. He consoled himself as he had before, that their lives had been spent, not wasted, earlier shades of the previous soldier he had been returning, clinging like mist - ready to vanish in the dawn.

 

He sent the Armsmen ahead and stowed the heavy bolter.  He picked up a Shotgun, a Naval Pistol and collected several shells for both from a dead sailor.  Then he stood and marched to where Ryken had been leaning against the wall.  The Marine towered over him, the man turning an unhealthy ashen grey.  Greysight was near.  Akkad remembered something of his experience with the Storm Sons before...the sulde - it had some kind of property or a wyrd upon it.  He could not recall clearly - but that would have explained a lot - Ryken's sickness, his nervousness around the Kill-Team may have been down to the Chapter talisman of the Marine beside him.  He fought the urge to smile.

 

"So, a witch as well an agent of the Inquisition."  It was spoken in a low rumble, obvious and heavy from the Astral Claw. Not internal vox.  He wanted Ryken to hear.

"I am sanctioned by my Mistress," the human retorted, although markedly more tired than he probably intended, "and I have not been blind to...your dislike of me.  Nor of that brute Varvost.  Nor Tyber for that matter."

"Why did you not disclose this?"

"Knowledge is power - hide it well." The Interrogator smirked in triumph.  Akkad's reply was icy cold as he pushed the mortal towards Greysight, who clutched him under the arm.  He never took his eyes off the interrogator.  He pushed the weapons into the human's hands.

"Take him to the shuttle Brother.  I will guard our withdrawal."

 

Minutes later, he emerged from the tunnel to see Greysight pushing the Interrogator onto the shuttle ramp.  The Armsmen were stunned, then realisation dawned they may escape and the relief was obvious in them.  Akkad's armour came into the light and was slick with viscera, blood, ichor and all manner of alien fluids.  He was scraped and scarred from a dozen wounds, but thankfully none had been serious.  He nodded thanks to the Storm Son - the cover fire had been exemplary.

 

+It was a bit of a scrap Ahu - but I did what I could.  We do not have long before they come.  I'll explain more on the way off this slagheap.+ There was a faint smile in his voice.

 

MR.

[Commissar Molotov]

The armsmen, the Interrogator and both Akkad and Greysight spill through the doors to the hangar deck, clattering heavily. It takes only a few moments for them to orient themselves and charge up the shuttle's boarding ramp. 

 

The time to escape the Voice of Thunder, it seems, is now. 

[Steel Company]

Looking over the controls, it quickly sunk in to Tyber that doing this placed him vastly outside of is training, activating the command and control link in his Mk VIII plate, he sent a video of the controls to Sabaan, along with a request; +Brother, I want to set a 10 second delay prior to the shutters opening this hanger to the void, can you let me know what actions I need to perform to do such?+

 

Sabaan didn’t so much as speak, as give an irritated hiss-click, while highlighting the controls that Tyber needed to use, in the order he should do it in. Following the instructions, Tyber is half way through the procedure when a commotion on the deck catches his attention, a dozen bodies crashed down, two of them larger than the rest, in sable and quicksilver, in a spilt second Tyber’s HUD places identification markers over them, Akkad and Greyseight. It takes him a moment, looking back to the flank of the craft where Varvost and Greyseight had been, cursing to himself for having failed to notice Greyseight sneaking off. Out of the mortals that were with them, two stood out, the Interrogator and a woman who’s hair was matted and slick with fluids of the bio-forms, it didn’t take long to place her as the one that had lived through the battle in the spine of the Voice of Thunder.

 

+It was a bit of a scrap Ahu - but I did what I could. We do not have long before they come. I'll explain more on the way off this slagheap.+

 

Sighing to himself, Time is up he thought before using the vox, +Sabaan, we are out of time, begin engine start up, Varvost, pull the fuel line and get on board. Thorvald get inside the ramp and over watch while everyone gets on board. Once I am on board, close the hatch, I am setting the doors to a ten second delay before opening this hanger to void.+

 

Finishing the final steps for the doors to open, Tyber launched himself down to the deck, once Greyseight and Akkad were the last two Astartest to board before him. Running up the ramp Tyber thumped Thorvald’s pauldron as the ramp locked into position behind him. With the internal lights coming on, Tyber made his way to the cockpit, removing his helm as he gave Sabann two quick raps on his right pauldron while he spoke to both Sabaan and Vadian, “Nine Astartest and roughly a dozen mortals on board, we are ready to go, the doors should be opening in five seconds.”

Edited July 31, 2018 by Steel Company

[A.T.]

Atratus backed into the shuttle as the inquisitor and his entourage approached, studying each carefully for any sign of infection or parasitic attachment - it would not do for one of the wounded to become a threat once the shuttle had been sealed against the void.

[Xin Ceithan]

Preparing a Zharkov Pattern Intersystem Transport for launch would have required the guidance of a Senior Adept, the presence of at least four lesser Enginseers, a choir of twelve biocogitae and about two scores of naval servitors. Necessary rituals, material purification and binharic blessings invoking the machine spirit would have taken nine hours, six minutes and fourteen seconds at optimum conditions.

Needless to say, having the surrounding carrier vessel ripped apart by an invasive xenos species did not necessarily qualify as optimum conditions.

Locked inside the cockpit, Sabaan had access to none of the required resources, which also was less than optimal. He was also running out of curse words in his Clan's native dialect, but there seemed to be an untapped reservoir of Medusan curses inside him, which he tapped freely between binharic chanting. In a very much way too organic sense , he was enjoying himself immensely.

The cockpit area held a hard wired crew of three servitor frames, slave nodes to the Zharkov's machine spirit. Two faced forward, their pale vat grown flesh covered in dark green body gloves where it was not encased in the crash protection armour of their acceleration seats. Their eyes had been replaced by oversized optics oddly reminiscent of ancient aviator goggles. Tubing and data tethers snaked in and out of their bodies. Their atrophied arms and legs had been augmented with heavy industrial hydraulics. They stared ahead blankly, unmoving except for the odd twitch when the inloading data spikes triggered a long dormant nerve reaction by accident.

Just behind them, on the right hand side of the cockpit area, a tryptarch data alcoven provided access to the machine spirit of the craft as well as to it's navigational cogitators. The third servitor took up the center of the machine shrine, flanked by cogitator banks and pict screens. It's legs and arms had been amputated, unnecessary for it's ordained function. It resembled a mutilated man inside a tight sleeping bag who had become hopelessly entangled in netting of data cabling, feeder tubes and prayer strips, then chained to the wall in an upright position, the trophy catch displayed by a mad cyborg of a fisherman.

It's eyes had been covered by binharic prayer scripts and sealed beneath waxen purity seals. On it's forehead, the blessed cog symbol of the Omnissiah was framed by the eagle wings of the Imperial Navy, stitched into the flesh by silver circuitry threading.

The Iron Hand kneeled in the middle of the cockpit, the space barely able to fit the bulk of an armoured warrior of the Astartes. To his left stood the empty accelerator seat which would normally be taken up by the craft's flight officer. Crouched low, mag locked to the deck, his left hand still held the combat knife. His right arm stretched out toward the alcove, the palm of his cybernetic hand was resting on the servitor's forehead. The circuitry of the Electro-Crafts build into his augmentation sparked in bright blue where he interfaced with the craft's machine spirit. A sacred warrior monk, kneeling in communion with the Divine. The air smelled of ozone.

Vox Chatter kept him updated to the attempt to rescue the Interrogator.

He became aware of the Dragon's request. Grunting, Sabaan exloaded the necessary schematic. Then he returned his focus on bringing the Zharkov Pattern to full awareness.

His helmet faced towards the armaplast of the canopy, his vision filled with interface data streams. He offered Another benediction to the Omnissiah between the Prana of Awakenings and then enforced the Psalms of Penitent Acceleration under Distressful Circumstances. He channeled the runes of Activation and the Motive Force surged along the generatorum lines, lending the strength of the Voice of Thunder to the awakening voidcraft. A shudder ran through the deck. A low droning started somewhere, lost among the death throes of the warship at first. Then it rose to a high pitched screech as the machine spirit awoke fully and the test cycling of it's ramjets rang out into the docking bay. Had Sabaan still retained the necessary anatomical features, he would grinned madly.

++ Pre flight systems - operational. Prepare for ignition.++

Edited July 30, 2018 by Xin Ceithan