Ask not what the Emperor can do for you...

[Aqui]

The flames had finally died down. The Prometheum dump had taken a direct hit from a falling Roc, the resulting explosion sent a plume of fire incandescently hot over a mile into the air. The fireball could be seen for miles around, the pitch darkness suddenly becoming blinding brightness within a moment. A loss, which whilst expected, was a sign that the upcoming battle would be much, much more difficult. The ground shook, as a procession of Baneblades drove past, squashing anything in their way. They did, however, take extra care not to go over a wrecked Sororitas Rhino. Heretics Woe was ancient, and a relic of the Orders forebears, the Order of the Valiant Heart. Its shattered chassis was a blackened wreck. A small group of Sisters knelt before it praying, led by an Ecclesiarchy adept. An Adepta Mechanicus priest was in deep communion with its machine spirit.

 

“Can it be saved?” A voice asked. The servant of the Machine God didn’t not make an acknowledgement. The owner of the voice stood by impatiently, until the priest finished it’s unknowable craft. Finally, mechadendrites disengaged from a service hatch and the creature faced her questioner. Her face, if you could call it that, was almost entirely metallic. A singular eye and a portion of cheekbone was the only organic part visible. Her frame was hunched as was the case for many of her kind. Red robes concealed her form almost entirely. Only the appendage used to communicate with the relics machine spirit was revealed.

 

++Unknown.++ squarked the voice emanating from the mass of wires, chromed plating and plastics. ++It may be possible. The machine spirit is old. It might be better to retire it entirely. We could take it back to Mars for study...++

 

The other lunged so fast, even the battle computer portion of her brain had only a microsecond to compute possible retaliation strategies. She mused rather darkly, that any hostile action would result in her death. The woman facing her was extremely volatile, as was a lot of organics, but her unpredictability made her an unknown danger. Having witnessed her on the battlefield earlier, she had no intention of being her next target.

 

“There will be no study. It will not be locked away as a curio for your people to prod and poke at.” The woman snarled, her trip tightening to emphasis the point. “If it is beyond saving, it will be taken back to our Chapel and be given the respect it deserves!”

 

A warble of binary emitted from the Mechanicus priest. The other turned slightly and saw four Skitarii in a standard combat stance, weapons raised.

 

“I hope for your sake, your last data burst was to tell them to stand down...”

 

++Yes, Canoness Sera.++ The distortion in the affirmation was due to either a minor deception, or genuine fear. The latter didn’t matter. The former, however...

 

“Good.” Releasing her neck, Saffron Sera of the Order of the Dauntless Spirit stood back. “Let me know of your findings the moment you have them. I also want the other vehicles battle ready by this time tomorrow. The day after we chase the Greenskins and drive them off this planet!”

 

The Priest bowed as best she could. She had no legs and floated on suspensor units build into the lower half of her torso. More tendrils could vaguely be seen within the robes. With a Luck of undiguised contempt, Sera walked back to her command post. The sooner she was back to killing the Orks, the better.

Watching her leave, Magos Dominus Mirosa squarked another burst of Data cant to her Skitarii. They returned to their posts. A pair of Servitors accompanied two lower ranking Priests. Setting to work, they tried one more time to appease the Machine Spirit of the fallen Rhino.

 

++++++

 

Entering the command centre, Sera noticed that three of her Imperial Guard opposites were arguing over their strategy for the fight ahead. The holovid showed projected Ork movements. None of them offered encouraging counter measures. The area was a mixture of barren waste land with mountainous rises on either side. Beyond was more of the same, safe for the erratic weather patterns. The Bazarn stretch was a long flat dust bowl for more than five hundred miles in all directions. Electrical storms often raged out of control, appearing suddenly, leaving convoys wrecked and deposited now where near they started. They also disappeared as quickly as they arrived. No one, not even the green skins wanted a fight there. It would be a waste of resources even trying.

 

“Options?” Her clipped tone was abrupt and to the point. All those weeks ago, when this campaign had started, she had restrained her distaste for her fellow commanders, but in the time since, their incompetence and pathetic desire to out do the others, brought her to breaking point. After the commander who tried to belittle her, found out, one does not argue with the Ecclessiarchy. Not in front of her at least.

 

The Holovid feed distorted for a moment, and a different image appeared. A beach head for the greenskins and only a few miles behind them, to the south. It was too close to ignore. Meanwhile, the Orks were also ahead of them. They were pinned inside the Bazarn. Both groups were huge, the Roc which had tumbled to the ground had made both exits even more narrow than before.

 

“Ahem.” Commander Larin of the 121st Invigilators began. “we do still have a few ships intact in orbit. They had to back away to avert boarding actions. We have tried to contact them for many hours, but thus far nothing. If we can re-establish contact, we could request a bombardment on one of the targets.”

 

Sera narrowed her eyes. “Imperial Navy aren’t known for being that precise. Even as much as a degree off in their co-ordinates could devastate our forces as much as the Orks!”

 

“Indeed!” Larin replied. “Which means that we should send a small team to ensure that the targeting data stream is uploaded in real...” He didn’t finish, mainly due to Sera punching him in the face.

“We have too little in terms of materiel and personnel as it is! And you wish to sacrifice more lives?!” Sera was incensed.

 

Larin got up off the floor and tried his best to remain composed. His nose was bloody and his left eye showed signs of closing, a dark bruise already forming.

 

“The Sisterhood has shown no inclination to compassion in war before. Least of all you!” he spat. “Why would you be so concerned now?”

 

Sera leaned forward, her cybernetic eye seemed to glow brighter than before. “Have a care, Commander. We do not have the luxury of wasting lives. And if we did, who would you propose to carry out such a task?”

 

Larin smirked. “We do have the remnants of the Penal legion. We could use them, and perhaps one or two of our most pious Sisters to keep them in line...” as Sera turned her back to him, he flinched violently, having no wish to bear the brunt of another violent admonishment.

 

None came.

 

“Order the Commissars to report to me at once. You are all dismissed.” The look from another Guardsman warned Larin against argument. Fuming, he turned and marched out of the command centre. Celestian Superior Motoko, Sera’s second approached.

 

“We will have trouble with that one.”

 

“An inconvenience for now,” Sera replied softly. “He will be dealt with soon enough...”

 

It was cold at night. The winds blew up sand and whipped against bare skin, leaving it sore and prone to infection from the insects that seemed, despite everything, to thrive here. Penal Trooper #114-NB-267B was taking his turn at guarding the small area assigned to his unit. Well, unit was a generous word. Penal Legion #114-NB started off as having over eight hundred souls. Now, they barely numbered 110. His real name was Aron Styck, or it was. After hearing his serial number so many times, he often wondered if his life before incarceration was naught but a dream. His wife, Maylor, his daughter, Lylly. Both are dead, victims of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Trying to get through the Capitol of their home world, Naturna Bayloris, when there was a riot, demanding justice for victims of a vicious and uncaring overseer, they got caught in a crossfire. The Arbites were instructed to fire upon the crowds to force them to disperse. His wife and child were torn to ribbons. What was left was shown to him, when he was summoned to identify their remains. He had been a calm and measured man, well liked. His small business of repairing cogitators was popular, and honest enough to earn his family a modest income. But when he returned home to an empty house, eerie silence, he snapped. Not with a fury hot enough to burn, but slow to build, cold, logical. He closed his shop, and spent days within, patiently undoing a few wrongs. A little virus here, a bit of scrapcode there... They located him after four days. He was surprised it took them so long. He had been deliberate in leaving just enough to get himself caught. Finally dragged before the Overseer himself, he had managed to sink a sharpened piece of circuit board into the fat, bloated wretch, before the Arbites beat him senseless. He didn’t care what happened to him after. God-Emperor willing, he’d see his family again soon.

 

He didn’t. Locked away in a prison on the planet's northern pole, he was left to rot. Days of pure, back breaking work in a mine, digging ore, nights of more agony, as the temperature dropped to levels he didn’t think were possible. Then, the transfer to the Penal Legions.

 

As planets went, this wasn’t such a bad one. It was his first time away from Natura Bayloris. He knew he wouldn’t return. Adjusting his eye piece to keep the silica from his face, he looked out over the Sandy tundra. In the distance, he could hear the dull crump of weapons fire and even a few voices. Orks. They were many miles away, but their activity was so loud, it sounded like they were merely a fraction of the distance. A glowing light approached, startling him. It was at head height, and he knew who was coming. Standing to as much attention he could muster after so many hours at guard, he hoped she would be passing by. She didn’t.

 

“You are with me.” Her accent was rich, clipped with a slight breathiness to it. Looking straight ahead, he replied “I am to remain at my post, Mistress. Until I am relieved.”

 

“Consider your self so. With me.” The slight lilt in her voice brooked no argument. Falling in line, he followed her inside the Penal Legion compound. Inside, the lights made him recoil slightly. They should have been out hours ago. Standard regs, even for regular troopers, but the guys and girls of the #114-NB didnt much care. What was the worst that could happen? Courtmarial? Summary execution? The vast majority of this diminished regiment had become resolved to dying quickly. At least they would be at peace...

 

The sight of the Canoness made everyone panic. Her unreadable face looked at each and every one of them. Walking between the bunks, her measured steps made the floor boards creak, her armour pushing the dilapidated wood to bend and stretch. Footsteps behind them indicated the two Commissars had arrived. Late. Looking sheepish at their tardiness, they waited on the threshold.

 

“Whilst we have engaged this war together from the beginning, we haven’t formally met.” No one dared move from attention. She continued to walk slowly, taking in the faces of some, ignoring others. “I am Canoness Saffron Sera, of the Order of the Dauntless Spirit.” Everyone knew who she was. It was impossible not to know. She was the epicentre. She had faced over ten Ork Warbosses. Ten. Each died to her chainsword, or to her Inferno pistol.

 

“You’re a Penal Legion. And a pretty damned pathetic one. Even amongst the expendable, you have the least discipline, the least will to redeem yourselves to Him on Earth!

 

“Pitiful.” She carried on her pacing. “There is a mission. One that could help us get back to having an advantage over the greenskins. I need...volunteers.” That word. It was always used. One was never “cohersed” or “forced” into volunteering, but it was the same anyway.

 

“I’ve read your records. I know what each of you has done to be here. I know what you’re capable of...” She turned. Aron felt sick to his stomach. He was going to be one of the volunteers. She would not have pulled him away from his guard post otherwise. He didn’t want to know what pBaht he was going to be involved in, but it wasn’t good. Sera pointed at seven individuals and instructed they be taken to another building. Aron almost breathed a sigh of relief. He opened his eyes, not realising he’d closed them. The Canoness was standing there. “You. You are going to be instrumental in this operation. You will follow me for your briefing.”

 

His entire body numb, Aron filed out after her. He wished, again, more than ever, that the Arbites who restrained him after murdering that fat carbuncle, had shot him where he stood...

[Bjorn Firewalker]

Well done.

[Tarvek Val]

Very good read, I thoroughly enjoyed it! 
 
Somewhat ironically, I am now in the midst of James Swallow's Sisters of Battle omnibus, so there really could be no better time for some well-written Sisters fan-fiction!
 
Great work fleshing out all of your characters; the interactions between Canoness Sera and Magos Dominus Mirosa / the Penal Legion troopers were well put together and intriguing. I would certainly love to see a further segment detailing the process / aftermath of Aron Styck's mission, as well as the end results of the battle against the vile greenskin scum!
 
A piece of constructive advice: be careful with double negatives.
Early in the text, you state:

 

 

The servant of the Machine God didn’t not make an acknowledgement.

This sentence reads: "The servant of the Machine God did not not make an acknowledgement" when it ought to read "The servant of the Machine God didn't make an acknowledgment".

 

I would also advise putting a line break between these two following sentences, simply to establish that you are changing scenes and transition from the Guard headquarters to the thoughts of Aron Styck:

 

 

“An inconvenience for now,” Sera replied softly. “He will be dealt with soon enough...”
++++++++++++++++++++++
It was cold at night. The winds blew up sand and whipped against bare skin, leaving it sore and prone to infection from the insects that seemed, despite everything, to thrive here

All things considered, well done! 

[Aqui]

Thank you both ^_^

 

The didn't not was a typo :doh: Mirosa is a character (albeit very briefly) from another bit of writing I had done elsewhere. I won't spoil it, but she'll feature a lot more eventually. Styck's mission will be a focus to this story as well :) The break between one point of view (Sera's) and then to Styck should have been separated, certainly. It was really early in the morning and I wasn't paying enough attention :lol:

 

If you're looking for more Sisters related GW stories, the check out:

 

Signal to Noise

Whispers

Mercy

Soul fuel

 

All are eshorts and I like them a lot :)

[Tarvek Val]

I'll definitely keep an eye out for those eshorts!

 

I can't wait to see Mirosa's reappearance and am excited to see the outcome of Styck's mission!

 

Again, very well done!

[Aqui]

Styck found himself in a large room, underlit and foreboding. The walls, like all of the units on this temporary base were painted in a gun metal grey. He could make out a few icons of the Order. A relic or two of some note were reverentially placed behind the desk. A helm, battered and old. Bullet holes had torn it open, some of the paint had been scorched away. Whomever it belonged to had been under some serious firepower at the time. The Canoness was sat behind the wooden desk, her hands steepled in contemplation. To her left was a giant of a woman, who dwarfed even the Canoness in height and stature. Her dark eyes met his and he felt intimidation he had never felt before. There was no malice to her features. Quite the reverse, her smile was not bitter or angry, but that of supreme confidence in herself. No arrogance, but belief honed by a lifetime of warfare. For the most part, she looked like a woman in her prime, but there were tell tale signs. She was far older than she appeared...

 

The Canoness continued to look at him. He was still at attention and had been for over fifteen minutes.

 

“Sit.” The voice was warm, but the undertone of that voice brooked no argument. He did as he was bade.

 

“You have talents, I need.” The Canoness began. “Talents crucial for this mission. The results will most likely decide on whether or not we survive the upcoming assault.”

 

Styck licked his lips. “Cogitators?”

 

Sera smiled slightly. “In a manner of speaking. We have devices that could penetrate the static hampering our communication systems. Unfortunately, no one has enough experience to calibrate and use them.” The Canoness knew what he would say next.

 

“The Mechanicus will not send a Priest into what is most likely a suicide mission.”

 

“I see.” Styck looked up and met her gaze. An eye of pure emerald gazed back. The other was cold and mechanical.

 

“How long would I have to acquaint myself with it?”

 

“A few hours. After which, the other seven volunteers will escort you to the co-ordinates where you will set up the device.” She continued to gaze at him. Her natural eye seemed to pierce into his very soul. It chilled him to the bone.

 

“Dismissed,” Motoko ordered. Styck saluted and turned to leave.

 

“Why did you do it?” Sera called after him. He knew what she meant. “Why did you kill the Overseer?” Styck’s heart raced, in both joy and panic. The Bastard didn’t survive. The following years, he had never confirmed it, but there it was. Closing his eyes, back still facing her, he replied.

 

“I lost my wife, my child,” he managed to keep the sob from his voice, with such effort. “Hundreds dead, more maimed and dispossessed. I don’t figure much into His plan, but I knew that fat lump of pBaht had to die. If I must die now, I won’t regret it. He’s dead, the Orks will feel His wrath.

“And I will see my wife and daughter again.” At that, Aron Styck left, his fate seemingly certain.

 

+++++

 

The air was still cold. The winds had fallen, but the temperature of this mudball stayed very low at night. In fact, daylight only numbered at seven hours. The rest of its rotation of thirty-one point eight hours were in darkness.

 

#114-NB-718X Was gazing out into the tundra. Her previous life as a ganger in the slums of Natura Bayloris meant she was used to darkness. But the open sky made her panic. When she was apprehended for her part in a raid, she had a violent episode and passed out at the sight of the sky. Her family and gang members hadn’t seen a sky in over three hundred years. The concept of such a thing was beyond her. Even now, after seeing her own planet’s and this one, she was not the same person she had been. The confident ganger had been reduced to a nervous wreck, the device in her neck automatically gave her tranquilizers to try to stabilise her. It was hit and miss. The device had also been fitted with another function. Quite aside the typical penal legion deterrent of an explosive charge added, hers also had a dispenser for a cocktail which would bring her to near a psychotic blurt of limbs. She was known in the slums as someone who excelled with blades. She had five or six about her person now. Their weight helped her to focus. She hadn’t needed a tranq in weeks. Running a hand through a blonde Mohawk, she felt the multiple scars to her scalp. So many times she had avoided death. So many times, the others looked to her to win. And then incarceration and nearly losing her mind over seeing the sun.

 

“Son'Eyah.” She turned and saw a figure in the gloom. “Ugh. What you be wantin’, Bysahl?”

 

“He’s here.” The man known, according to Penal records as #114-NB-561T shifted from one foot to the other. He was still coming down from Frutbute, a native narcotic. Highly addictive, and a risk every time someone took it. It could shut down a person’s cardiac system within moments. Even the pure stuff was potentially lethal. Somehow, Bysahl had been an addict since birth and survived. The outward signs were there. Rotten teeth, the thin skin, emaciated musculature and the twitching. Constant twitching. His was severe, due to his body being dependant from before birth. Son’Eyah couldnt stand the sight of him.

 

“Ain’t ya comin'?” The rat-like man asked. His twitching got worse.

 

“I’m not in a hurry to met another who's gonna be the death'a me,” she spat into the dust. “Death has followed me for as long as I can remember. The pBaht can wait a lil longer...”

 

+++

 

“What did they want with you?” asked #114-NB-407G. Aron Styck looked at the small woman and sat down. “They want me to set up some equipment to vox our ships in orbit.”

 

“Sounds easy enough,” sniffles Bysahl. “See, Anber? It was not a death sentence! Tell her, mate. Tell the deeets!”

 

Styck turned away from him, the smell of his breath was nauseating. “I’m to be escorted to these co-ords, where I’m to set the vox unit up and manually calibrate to boost the HQ signal.”

 

“See?! SEE?!” Bysahl squealed in delight. “Reinforcements, see?! We'll be in and out in no time! Perhaps even a pardon for us all, eh? Eh?!”

 

Anber looked at the scrap of paper Styck had dropped onto the table. Sighing deeply, she muttered “Ratty. Look at the numbers.” Bysahl looked, and then again in disbelief. “What?!” he squealed. “No, no, no, no! This ain’t right! They can’t do this to us! It’s NOT RIGHT!”

 

“We're Penal Legion,” replied Son'Eyah. “They can do whatever they pBhating well feel like.”

 

“No!” Bysahl moaned. “They...theyre wrong! Surely these numbers are wrong!”

 

“I got these from the Canoness herself. And she got them from the metal heads. They are correct.”

 

Taking the scrap from his trembling fingers, he looked at them again. Smack bang outside the Orks northern encampment. They were as good as dead...

[Bjorn Firewalker]

Good setup for the coming battle. Hopefully, it'll be worthy of the effort you put into this scene.

[Tarvek Val]

Again, a beautiful job of fleshing out your characters and their beliefs, habits, and personalities. I like Anber already; she almost reminds me of the female version of my comrades in the VIIIth Legion (being unable to stand the sight of the sun, being a fearsome gang killer, etc). 

 

I believe that this segment tops even the first and cannot wait for the next section! Keep up the excellent work!

[Aqui]

The Chimera rattled as it made its way towards the outskirts of the Ork camp. It was battered, would not shift into the highest two gears, and was so hot inside due to the coolant system being shot full of holes. It had hastily been repaired by Mirosa and her team. The Canoness wanted to send them in something smaller, but there was nothing of the sort. The eight person team, plus weapons and the vox equipment needed a vehicle of its size to get them to their destination. It was doubtful the Orks wouldn’t see it. The smoke from the exhaust system alone would ensure that. The noise was unbearable, teeth set on edge by an engine that sounded like it would shake itself apart in seconds.

 

The driver was #114-NB-226F, otherwise known as Corporal (Formerly) jHang ku Lo. Fighting with the controls, he swore in a language non of the others recognised. Unlike the majority of #114-NB, he was an off worlder and a former Guardsman. He would still have been, if he didn’t have a perpetual habit of helping himself to other people’s belongings. He should have been shot for his crimes, but his regiment was attacked just before sentence was carried out. His superior officer untied him from the upright log he was tied to, and given a lasgun. To his own surprise, he stood and fought. In the confusion, he could have easily slipped away, donned a civilians garb and made it off planet. He found out soon after the battle, that over a hundred transports were destroyed trying to leave orbit. The Imperium didn’t take chances when a Genestealer Cult was discovered. He spent weeks being prodded and poked by surgeons, interrogated by the Inquisition. But in the end, his only crime was that of theft. His efforts to repel the attack was noted, and his sentence was changed to life imprisonment. Then, he was inducted to this motley crew...

 

“How much further?!” Bysahl chittered for the hundredth time. His nerves was getting the better of him already and they were barely halfway to the co-ordinates. Ku Lo pondered again on what the rodent-like little man could contribute to this mission. He could barely hang on to sanity in peaceful conditions. Having monsters like Orks nearby would send him into convulsions.

 

“Told you thirty seconds ago.” Ku Lo replied, annoyed. “Six kay, Imp standard. Go and sit down!” Bysahl muttered to himself and reluctantly obeyed. The only available space was at the back, by the equipment. Passing three brutes of men, he nearly stopped to chat, but the look on their faces told him to keep moving. They had kept to themselves since being picked. In fact, they had never been seen talking to anyone, save themselves. Styck checked his chrono. They were behind schedule, but it couldn’t be helped. The Chimera was making even less time than the metal heads had estimated, and they had planned in extra time for the machines damage. Their total lack of empathy was not lost on any of the team, having more concern for the machine spirit that allowed it to function at all than their lives.

 

“The machine spirit is most displeased.” Styck remembered Mirosa lamenting. “It took many hours to convince it to even allow the engine to start.”

 

“I’ll be sure to thank it when we get to our destination.”

 

“Hollow thanks will only enrage the machine spirit further.” Mirosa squarked, her voice unit betraying irritation. “You are certain you can operate the device?”

 

“Operate it?” Styck retorted. “I’ve built better pieces of junk in my shop!”

 

Mirosa’s vocal unit made additional squarking noises, a high pitched burst of Data cant stood her Skitarii down, who had noticed her distress. Styck could barely hide the amusement on his face. Metal heads really didn’t like anyone not of their ilk creating things from scratch, did they?

 

Canoness Saffron Sera stood some distance from the exchange, but the look of amusement was far more evident on her visage. “Aron Styck. You are hereby given overall command of this mission. Your chance of redemption. Do not let it slip through your fingers.”

 

Styck glanced at his hands. They were curled up into fists so tight, his nails drew blood. Saluting, he turned and followed the others into the Chimera.

 

“May the God-Emperor allow you to reunite with your family.” Muttered Sera under her breath.

 

A sudden jolt brought him back to the present. The Chimera had scraped against a rock formation. It seemed they were closer than expected after all...

 

“Corporal.” He called to the driver without irony. “if you have to make this heap of scrap explode getting us to the co-ords in time, then do it. We can’t risk being careful any longer.” Without looking behind, Ku Lo mock saluted him, and cursed as the gearbox resisted being changed to a faster gear setting. An additional jolt as he kicked to lever into place, meant he had managed to find it and the Chimera whined, but picked up significant speed. The vehicle lunged forwards and down, throwing everyone not buckled in to the floor. They had found the ridge edge. There was definitely no turning back now. The Chimera wouldn’t be able to get even a quarter of the way back up. Ku lo slammed in another gear and a burst of even more acceleration, down a slope at thirty degrees. The back end started to swing out, losing traction in the dust coloured silica. If he didn’t get this crate back under control soon...

 

The vehicle swung wildly, as another rock formation seemingly came from out of nowhere. Ku Lo snarled angrily, struggling to keep the damaged transport steady. Banking left slightly, the equipment jostled in its webbing. Styck snarled at Bysahl to keep it all steady. The little rat like man complied, through pure terror if nothing else. They were still accelerating, the incline boosting their speed. Ku Lo hadn’t even tried to use the brakes. The momentum was helping them and he didn’t dare risk bringing them to a complete stop. He was sure if the engine stalled, it would refuse to start again. After ten minutes of barely controlled sliding, the incline started levelling out. Styck could see ahead. Below there was a rocky canyon, with numberless Orks milling about. The edge of the canyon would keep them hidden for a while, at least until they could set up the vox.

 

“Corporal. Best slow down now. Were getting very close to the canyon edge.”

 

The former Guardsman didn’t reply. He was too consumed in his attempts to slow the Chimera.

 

“It won’t stop!” he cried out. “The braking system has been damaged. Most likely when we went over those rocks. We aren’t going to stop!”

 

“Everyone! Emergency disembarkation! Grab your packs, weapons and a piece of the vox equipment each! When you land, remember to roll!”

 

“Roll?!” squeaked Bysahl as he grabbed his pack. “What do you mean?!”

 

Styck opened the rear hatch of the Chimera. When it was nearly full lowered, he pushed the other man out.

“I mean after that!”

 

He helped the others get ready at the door. The vox pieces were flung out first, then each jumped. Ku Lo was still trying to steer.

 

“Come on, lad!” he shouted. “Its a wasted cause!”

 

Ku Lo ignored him. “Look! I’ll stay. See if I can get this piece of crap to hit something vital. Will give you a distraction!”

Styck moved closer to the driver, to pull him from the controls. Then he saw The gaping hole in the floor and the mess of his legs.

 

“The rocks we went over did more than ruin the brakes,” Ku Lo shouted in pain. “Go. And may you live to make that metal head regret giving us this scrap pile!”

 

Styck didn’t hesitate. Running from the cockpit, he leaped from the door edge, and braced for impact with the ground. The wind was knocked from him heavily, and he got copious amounts of dust and silica in his mouth. But, when he stopped rolling, he had managed to avoid injury. The smoke stack plume from the ruined Guards vehicle could still be seen for a moment, before disappearing from sight abruptly. Another thirty seconds later, a fireball erupted, marking the passing of the Corporal. Lying on his back, Styck felt a weariness he hadn’t felt in years. Remaining still, he waited until his unit caught up with him. Two of the brutes were carrying more than one piece of vox equipment. Son'Eyah knelt by him.

 

“You alive, old man?” Nodding, he strained to get up. Pulling out a blister pack, he stabbed it into his leg. The cocktail of stimms flooded through his veins and he could get up unaided.

 

“Let’s go.” He muttered. “Dying here will serve no purpose. We still have a job to do.”

 

 

++++++

 

 

The destroyed Chimera had attracted the Orks attention. The small group of Penal Guard had to hide in small channels eroded into the rock for hours. More time wasted, but it couldn’t be helped. Soon enough, the Greenskins got bored and went back to their encampment. It was getting dark. Slowly leaving their hiding places, they regrouped at the bottom of a rock face.

 

“Status report.” Styck demanded, his nerves frayed after one group of Orks coming within feet of where he and Bysahl had hidden. Bysahl’s own nerves were at breaking point. His tremors were violent and he had to be heavily sedated. His eyes rolled in shallow sockets, flecks of foam flung from his mouth as his body convulsed from both panic and still coming off Frutbute.

 

“He’s no use to us now,” Son’Eyah muttered, discarding an injector tube. “We should leave him here, where he won’t bring those brutes down on us.” Styck didn’t like the thought of leaving him alone, but she was right. They had less than an hour before the window to send a vox through was up.

 

“Up there is the best place to get the Vox set up and running,” he confirmed. We'll have to climb up there and haul that equipment up after. Son'Eyah grabbed some rope, a couple of climbing axes and slung her las rifle to her back. Spitting on both hands, she started to climb. The three still nameless brutes followed her. Anber went into overwatch, scanning the area for intruders. Styck fell back into the gloom, his eyes better accustomed to seeing in the darkness. Bringing his own las rifle to bear, he glanced up wards. Son’Eyah had already climbed half way up. The three lagged behind, carrying the Vox, far more wary of trusting the soft rock face with their weight. Ten minutes later, a soft click repeated on the portable vox. She had reached the top. Within seconds, two ropes had fallen the distance from the apex. He motioned Anber to climb first. She took little time getting to the top either. Strapping the rope to his harness as he was shown, he pulled himself up. As he was older, it took a lot longer to get half way. The rock face stuck out quite a distance and required to almost climb upside down to get past it. Sighing with exasperation, he made a start. The rope had become slack, and he pulled on it to tell the others to tighten, but as he did so, one of his boots lost grip. His face slammed into the rock face hard, stunning him. His body went limp and fell ground wards. A sudden jerk and his fall was arrested. Unconscious, he was dragged unceremoniously to the summit.

 

“Wake up old man!” Anber hissed into his ear. Groggily, he managed to sit up. The vox equipment had been assembled, but it was only receiving static. Shaking his head, he pulled a lever and twisted a few dials in both directions. Good, it wasn’t damaged. He just had to find the Canonesses signal and then amplify it.

 

“I need you to grab that wire with the metal pole on the end!” he called to one of the man hulks. “Take it as far in that direction as you can, and hold it straight!” The man followed where his finger was pointing to and ran off as fast as his bulk could manage. The other two got the hint, grabbed another pole and did the same. Furiously, he went through all of the wave bands he knew. There was nothing.

 

“The static is too great!” he growled “A vox signal isn’t going to cut it!”

 

“Forget a vox signal then!” Son'Eyah said back. “Repeating message! Text only! The Canoness did give you a valid authorisation code. You just need to add these co-ordinates for the bombardment!”

 

Styck ’s hands shook as he raced to comply with her suggestion. It was a much better idea. More concise and far less likely to be caught by the Orks. The vox was set to automatic transmission. There was nothing more they could do now...

 

The group was reassembled at the transmitter. There was no reply.

 

“How long have we been here?” one Man brute rumbled.

 

“At least five hours,” replied Styck. “If there is anyone up there, they would have done something by now.” He looked at Anber and knew what she was going to say.

 

“Perhaps no one survived up there. Perhaps...” She paused, straining her ears. Son'Eyah did too. “We need to get out of here!” she called panicking.

 

“What is it?” The main brute spoke finally.

 

“I hear something. Sounds like engines of some sort!” she was gathering her things and pushing them into her sack. “The Orks are getting reinforcements! We did what we could, but this whole area is going to be swarming with their flying machines soon! We need to go! NOW!”

 

The group left the Vox and ran, as far away from the cliff edge as possible. The sky was lit up with streaks of light in all directions. Some went straight down, shaking the very ground in all directions. Others went over the Ork headquarters, explosions going off.

 

“They must be pBahting crazy!” Styck cried out, “They’re attacking their own base!”

 

A beam of light came screaming down to the ground a mere five hundred yards away. The concussive force knocked them all off their feet. Dust, flames and smoke completely enveloped them. Barely able to breathe, they huddled up closer together. This was it. The Orks had destroyed the Imperial Navy and had finally launched their final assault. This world was lost. More explosions, closer this time hit the ground and an awful noise like metal being torn to pieces rung in their ears. Thudding footsteps came closer and closer. A roar like a demonic Dragon made them cower in fear. In the darkness, dust and smoke, glowing eyes appeared. Blue in hue, they steadily advanced, slow, but assured. Styck took a hold of his rifle, and despite being utterly terrified, he snarled his defiance.

 

“In the name of the God-Emperor of Mankind! Move no further, Greenskin filth!”

 

A voice laughed in the gloom. It was harsh and metallic. It seemed to appreciate his bravado.

 

“Your words do you credit, human!” it spoke. “A Penal Legioner? Even more impressive!” The owner of the voice paused. Realising the humans couldn’t see him, the voice came closer. A spotlight nearly blinded them all, but as their eyes adjusted, they could see him finally. A tall figure in armour, grey in hue.

 

“I am Iron Lord Hubros of the Steel Wings. We answer your call...”

 

++++++

 

The Land Raider was making good time. They were already half way back to the Imperial Outpost. Behind them was A flaming wreck where The Orks made camp. Nothing was left but corpses and scrap metal. Styck had found Bysahl. He was still unconscious, but alive. The Apothecary injected something into his arm, and his ticks had stopped immediately. Even in sleep, Bysahl suffered. But his body was entirely calm.

 

The Marine who called himself Iron Lord Hubros removed his helmet. His face was a crude looking fusion of flesh and steel. A vox was hardwired to the lower part of his face, and his left eye was an augmetic. A black set of wings, feathers outstretched was painted on his left shoulder; On his right, a stylised heraldry quartered, with a metal fist in the bottom right, with wings in the top left, and finished with red and white checks filling the other two parts. An Aquila painted in red adorned his chest. More heraldry adorning his knee plates. The armour was scarred and scratched, but in full working order. Styck looked closer and noticed that it looked like the entire left half of his body had been replaced.

 

“Indeed.” The voice was metallic and guttural. The remaining natural eye give him the appearance, that had he been able, Hubris would have been smiling.

 

“Lord, we thank you for answering our vox!” Styck bowed low. “But...”

 

“There were no Space Marines in your fleet? Affirmative. We were delayed. My ship was attacked by a Chaos raider. We made too and destroyed them. Alas, the battle had been waging here for sometime before we could catch up.” He leaned forward. “You must get me up to speed in all that has happened. No matter how trivial. You must do it quickly...”

[Aqui]

Damn it! I'd posted out of sequence. I've edited in the part that should have been posted into the last post, so double content :lol:

[Bjorn Firewalker]

Not bad.

Then he saw The gaping hole in the floor and the mess of his legs.

 

“The rocks we went over did more than ruin the brakes,” Ku Lo shouted in pain.

I find this difficult to believe. If the rocks concealed land mines and other explosive traps, then the damage done would be plausible.

[Aqui]

I'll be sure to address it soon :)