Blood Angels Short Story

[5thCompanyDaemonbanes]

*CLACK*

 

Tsekouri glanced up from the monitoring panel.  The twin branches of the tower above him split from their trunk twenty meters above his head, a flow of blue green energy bouncing back and forth between them, making the deafening crack in the air when it energized. The energy snap was more felt than heard.  The panel showed increased draw from the power core as the energy field activated more frequently. 

 

The tower was a recent invention of the Mechanicum.  As a techmarine, Tsekouri had knowledge of its components, and he rarely left the shadow of the tower, lest the secrets need to be protected.  Tsekouri placed his helmet on his head and opened his vox broadcast with a series of eye movements.

 

“Captain Lepides, activity has increased by 17 percent.  We should expect a response soon.”  

 

 

 

 

The command vox channel went silent in the Captains earpiece, as he looked out from the bunker that had been his command post for the past months.  The terrain was barren, with few scratches of plant life fighting to stay alive in the rust brown rock and dust.  The old star of the Silron system left the planet in a darkened, hazy state, its sky was orange gray that cast dim shadows on the surface. 

 

The bunker was sparse, a large auspex return display dominated the wall that backed into the small hill, and a hololith table sat on a trio of rocks in the center.  Three chapter serfs sat at the vox array control opposite the bunkers exit, facilitating the company's communication.

 

“My Lord, Captain Firik has a contact to report.” Said one of the serfs. 

 

“Put her through.” replied the Angel.

 

 

 

 

“Captain, we have visual and auspex returns on an enemy approach to your south.  Much larger than the previous attacks.  They are moving fast through the canyon system, and will be on your vanguard positions in 7 minutes at current speed.  Bombardment cannons are prepared.”  Captain Esma Firik closed her vox channel. 

 

She knew Captain Lepides would not require the cannons to speak to the surface of the world, but she needed to keep her crew busy during this long wait.  The strike cruiser Deus Imperi was in a low atmospheric orbit above the Angel’s area of operations, and had been for the last 107 cycles. 

 

“Gunnery, report targeting and weapon status.” Esma said into the bridge vox.  She could see the movement below her in the gunnery pit, and its officer on duty was reviewing the newest status report to relay up to her command throne in the center of the bridge. 

 

“All batteries online, we have primary and secondary targets calculated to the south of the bulwark, standard payload, targets on your screen now.” The gunnery officer made a smart salute as he transmitted the target locations to the surface tactical display.

 

“Very good Lieutenant, inform me of any new contacts'' She replied.  With a word she could shatter the surface of this planet, end all life on the world, and leave it a husk orbiting the dim star.  The enemy had nearly accomplished that already, she thought. Silron II was still habitable, and had valuable mineral deposits.  This world would be made clean by the Angels on the ground, not the Imperi’s guns.

 

 

 

 

*CLACK*

*CLACK*

 

Tsekouri knew his responsibility was to remain with his machine, but each cascade of energy that bounced between the tower’s prongs made his blood rise.  He wished to join his brothers to the south and face the enemy, he needed to feel their deaths with his hands.  The head of his order inside the chapter, Master Incarael, had often remarked that the only reason Tsekouri had wanted to be a techmarine, was because he liked the big axe.  That was only partially true.  He took a deep breath and continued to adjust the power from his control console.  Glancing to the south, his enhanced sight could see hill the command bunker was dug into, further south the bulwark, and the short tower where Lieutenant Uccello stood. 

 

Tsekouri’s station was on top of the highest point in this mostly flat peninsula.  The land to the south was a maze of deep canyons, carved by long dead rivers, the east and west were flat to the horizon, and to the north, two kilometers to a dead ocean, its water toxic from the enemy’s work on this world.  At least they didn’t get to take it all, he thought.

 

The machine he was in charge of had a Mechanicus designation, a series of code that would identify it and its purpose to those fluent, but had no official astartes name.  To the task force it was The Clacker, to the enemy, it was an irresistible voice calling to them, making them lose all sense and reason to reach it. 

 

The Clacker had three main components, the geneatorium, base, and the tower. The tower had two functions, first, to amplify the signal, and second, to vaporize any organic matter that passed through the tuning fork like tongs.

 

This enemy, even when defeated, would leave traces of itself on a planet.  Micro organic cells with little autonomy, to multi celled particles and spores that would keep rebuilding their presence to plague a planet until it was finally conquered and scraped of all life.  The Clacker was a beacon to the enemy, from the smallest microscopic forms, to the hulking beasts that Tsekouri could feel pounding the ground, racing to him. 

 

The airborne forms would be drawn into the energy field at the top of the tower and vaporized when enough had gathered for the field to activate, and make its namesake sound.  The larger organisms would have to be killed by his brothers to the south.  Both had to be removed to fully cleanse a world of this enemy.

 

The signal being broadcast was generated in the heart of the device. Inside was a prison with both physical and psychic walls, held inside, a monster of the enemy.  The tortured psychic cries to its kind were being controlled and amplified.  The Clacker would be set up on a planet, and all organisms of the enemy, both seen and unseen would be drawn to it, and destroyed.  

 

With this device a planet could be fully cleansed, and returned to the Imperium.  The micro organic matter was the herald of the larger beasts, the more matter that was being drawn into the field, the faster the energy field activated. 

 

Alarms fired from the console, more power was being drawn into the psychic shields.  Something was attacking the containment, trying to reach the prisoner.

 

“Captain,” Tsekouri vox’d, “I believe our primary target is approaching.”

 

 

 

 

Lepides had been waiting for the leader of this planet's enemy to come to them.  With the powerful psychic beast dead, the enemy would be little more than animals.  The company could range out and clean up the remaining xenos instead of sitting behind a wall as if they wore yellow armor.

 

Captain Lepides focused the tactical display to the south, auspex returns were starting to show, the enemy still deep in the canyons.  The southern approach was a series of earthworks that funneled the twisting canyon exits into a main trench that the enemy would have to follow to reach their objective.  The path narrowed as it came north, and approached the bulwark. 

The ground in front of the bulwark was a killing field, the dead burned away after every slaughter, but still they would come. 

 

This was not the kind of battle he wanted to fight, a defensive war with walls and traps, funneling the enemy into a kill zone for his heavy guns, but this was the battle he was tasked with prosecuting. 

 

The Angels wanted to wage war in the open, using their speed and aggression to bend the enemy to their will and destroy them with powerful surgical strikes, to rend and tear.  There would be no great stories told about this planet’s war, no tales of heroism, Dante would not be praising any of his warriors for their valor.  This was a custodial operation. Some other captains of the Blood had balked at this duty, said it was beneath their warriors, a waste of resources.  The Astra Militarum were able to cleanse planets of the enemy, but it took thousands of their soldiers what less than a hundred of his could do.

 

He could feel the ground rumbling, the advance forces of the enemy were less than a minute away from contact.  Lepides gave one last look at the auspex, east and west were clear of returns, the beasts were coming straight up from the south, driven mad by The Clacker’s call.  His helmet and rifle were on an arming station in the corner of the bunker, his twin blades always on his hip.  If this was to be the last battle at the bulwark, he would be there to lead it. 

 

“Arkhiel, the enemy is coming in force, ready our brothers.” Lepides closed the vox to the company chaplain, and made his way out of the bunker. Lepides and the First Squad Intercessors, along with Brother Jerian, the company Ancient, banner waving, started a fast run to the south.

 

 

 

 

Dirt and rocks started falling from the ceiling of the small room underneath the command bunker.  The structure was dug deep into the rock, and its occupants could feel the approach of the enemy through the earth.  Arkhiel was aware of the eyes on him, measuring him.  The tremors in the ground were secondary to the pounding of twin hearts in this small room.  His brothers sat in steel alcoves, five to a wall, staring straight ahead with glowing green eye lenses.  Arkhiel listened to the squad's vox channel. Most of them were quiet, but breathing heavily, some uttering curses at unseen foes, and some were weeping.

 

“Brothers!” cried Arkhiel, his vox amplifier overpowering the beating hearts and the rumble of the approaching enemy in the tomb, “The enemy is at the gates! We unworthy sons are called to WAR!”

 

Arkhiel could feel the walls of the chamber groaning against the pull of his brothers, their maglock restraints keeping them in rigidly in place.  Their black on black armor’s servos grinding with protest against the super human muscles they strained to contain.  The red saltires on their shoulders barely visible in the dust and darkness.

 

The chaplain would lead his brothers to glorious deaths, if the enemy was worthy of it.  He hoped this day would bring his flock the rest they deserved. Soon brothers.

 

 

 

 

The command vox clicked open “Uccello, report.” Uccello could see Captain Lepides exiting the bunker and starting to jog south.  “Captain, the Spirit and Hammer are in position, Brother Antaro is awakened, Oath and Duty will be here shortly.  We have first picts from orbit, nothing but chaff on visual, but we can hear the beasts behind them.  We are ready at the bulwark.”

 

Lieutenant Uccello was standing on an observation tower, using his wrist mounted command interface to track his troops movements, he glanced to the north to see two trails of dust streaking toward him, the impulsors Oath and Duty were carrying the company’s squads of plasma rifle wielding hellblasters.

 

To the south the ground hummed with the oppressive force of repulsor fields, two executioner tanks were pointing their payload into the mouth of the canyon exit.  The blood red hull of the Unyielding Spirit was glowing against the orange brown of the planet's dirt, and next to it the Hammer of the Lost was black as the void, with red saltires on its front hull and its exit hatches.  The tank’s turrets bristled with weapons, macro plasma and heavy laser destroyer main guns, onslaught gatling cannons, heavy bolters, storm bolters, heavy stubbers, and grenade launchers. 

 

Brother Antaro’s thunderous footsteps were moving him toward the hovering tanks.  Antaro’s body had been broken beyond repair, but he was able to live on, and fight, entombed within the dreadnoughts sarcophagus. The massive red form’s right arm was a long barreled heavy gatling cannon, its left arm ended in a great killing fist, with a smaller cannon beneath it.  The top of the slab armored torso sprouted a missile pod and small sensor array.  Uccelo could hear the booming mechanical voice of the dreadnought yelling orders at the chapter serfs that were charged with his reloading operations.  The walking tank would not suffer any delays.

 

A rockcrete cliff dropped off in front of the tanks and Antaro, giving them a clear line of fire into the mouth of the canyon. To the sides, firing positions for the intercessors, hellblasters, and gravis armor clad aggressors.  The killbox would soon be full of xenos dead.

 

Uccello opened the tactical vox channel, “Contact in three minutes.” He could hear the tower to his north, its cracks of energy growing louder and more frequent.

 

 

 

 

“Raelal, report” the command channel clicked into the skull faced helm of the company’s other Lieutenant.  The enemy had started streaming past him and the squads of incursors that held positions high in the canyon walls. 

 

“Captain, the enemy moving past us, more large beasts than the last engagement, no sign of any primary targets.” He replied to the command channel, “There will be some leftover for you today Uccello.”  Then clicked off the vox with a glance inside his helmet's display. 

 

Raelal’s blood was up, he was hungry for the fight, but not this fight.  He was high up the canyon walls designating targets and herding beasts.  While Uccello had the bearing of a tactician, Raelal was a brawler, leading the charge. The pair split responsibility of the Daemonbanes under Captain Lepides, Uccello commanded the main line squads, and Raelal commanded the phobos armored vanguard units.

 

It was a matter of honor that the vanguard had claimed more kills on this planet thus far, but the tally was closing as the hordes of the enemy grew larger as more of the enemy was drawn to them.  Long past were the days where the only thing to reach the bulwark were the wounded and dying beasts that Raelal’s men let pass to mock their brothers.

 

Lieutenant Raelal and his men were in a series of open air earthworks dug into the canyon walls south of the bulwark.  His vanguard units were above the enemy tide, relaying targeting priority, marking targets for long ranged fire, and triggered mines when they would do the most damage.  He could hear the big guns of the Hammer and the Spirit picking out the larger beasts that had gone past their position to the killing field.  Aerial death dropped from the sky and crashed into the host from the smaller vehicles, the transports Oath and Duty, their small missile arrays reaching out to touch the targets his squads were marking for them.  The large beasts had rends torn into them by the attacks, and they died as they ran to the north, to the object of their unwitting desire. 

 

Far south of even Raelal, Librarian Mordros and a squad of infiltrators were the first to make contact, and the most exposed to the enemy.  The librarian would be deep in concentration shielding the small forward group from the eyes, and other senses of the enemy.  These beasts were fixated on The Clacker, but they were still predators, and if the forward group was spotted they would be attacked from all sides.  Infiltrators were fitted with high power comms arrays and targeting beacons in case the Deus Imperi’s guns were needed.  Mordos was with them to identify and target the most psychically active of the enemy, trying to disrupt the beasts even further.

 

-- Brother Raelal, the primary target is approaching, cautious, straining to control the horde --

 

Raelal knew the touch of the psyker, as if thinking about him summoned his presence in his mind.  They did not communicate over the vox, anything that could expose them that far from support could kill them.   The Lieutenant sent a notice to Uccello via vox runes from his helm display, and concentrated thinking about the librarian.

 

-- Hunt well brother --

 

He knew he would not receive a reply, the librarian would be under immense stress from shrouding the squad from the approaching psyker beast.  He looked down to the tactical display on his wrist, the bulwark was holding, the beasts killed by missile fire and the big guns of the tanks, the intercessors, aggressors, and hellblasters were picking off the chaff and finishing the wounded.  Brother Antaro was requesting reloads from the servitors attending him.

 

The tide was growing, as more and more beasts streamed under their positions.  Raelal saw an unexpected movement on the canyon floor below, like a shallow wave of dirt, rushing beneath the enemy.  The ripples of earth were pushing the larger beasts forward, and some of the smaller xenos were knocked aside. 

 

“Asteon, subterranean movers heading north, marking for your squadrons, engage now.” Raelal sent the command to the First Sergeant of the suppressor squads, and his incursors started marking the targets.

 

 

 

 

Sergeant Asteon and his men were awaiting an order to commit to the fight, three hundred meters to the east of Lieutenant Raelal, in a deep cave that opened high above the canyon floor.  The cave was close enough to the bulwark and Lieutenant Raelal’s positions to quickly engage, and return to rearm and refuel.  The canyon below was empty of the enemy, it had been blocked off by the earthworks months ago.  Raelal’s incursors were tracking at least seven of the creatures moving at high speed, under the gravel of the canyon floor.  The bolters of the men above would not be able to penetrate the ground and cause any real damage to the beasts, but the foot long shells of his autocannons would have something to say about them.

 

Asteon blinked commands via vox runes to the two other sergeants under his command, designating each of them two of the targets, and taking three for his squad.  Acknowledgements were returned, and Asteon nodded to the men behind him. 

 

Three at a time the astartes sprinted toward the opening of their cave, and leapt off the edge.  Powerful boosters on their backpacks and legs activated and rocketed them forward and up.  Staying low over the ground, they landed on the canyon rims, making great rocket assisted leaps over the maze of canyons below toward Raelal’s targets.  The three squads had spread out to confuse any enemy that might react to them, and give them a clear line of fire on their targets once they were on top of them. 

 

He was approaching the main highway that the enemy was driven down, and adjusted his flight path to land on the edge of the canyon, his grav-chutes activated to slow his descent.  As he landed his servo assisted shock plates dug into the earth, then he activated his boosters and made a high arcing jump that would take him across the width of the flood of xenos.  The targeting beacons lit up in his helmet display, showing his squads three targets running north, his enhanced vision could make out the shift in the ground.  Asteon smiled as he flew over the canyon, rotated his body so that his autocannon pointed almost straight down, taking aim at the lead target, and pulled the activation lever.

 

 

 

 

Raelal was tracking Asteon’s movements towards his position.  Two months ago, he had been the First Sergeant of the suppressor squadrons.  His power pack still had grav-chutes for low orbit drops, but lacked the powerful rockets that allowed him to soar over the battlefield.  He longed for the freedom of flight, emptying his cannon on the enemy before rocketing into them with his blade.  Lepides had been promoted from Vanguard Lieutenant to Captain, and since that black day Raelal had lost his wings.

 

The ground started erupting below, and the familiar barks of the autocannons from high above followed.  Three of the seven target runes had vanished.  Looking west towards the edge of the canyon, he could see the nine suppressors slam into the earth, take a few running steps to slow down, turn and leap back towards him for another high arcing pass over the enemy to finish the last four of the burrowing creatures. 

 

 

 

 

Epistolary Mordros knelt in the middle of a shallow crater on the canyon floor far to the south of Lieutenant Raelal’s position, and as far away from the cursed Clacker as he could get.  The psychic pain that was broadcast from that machine made the shadow in the warp almost bearable, and he always stayed as far from it as possible.  The infiltrator squad lead by Sergeant Metrin crouched down around him unmoving. 

 

Mordros was deep in meditation, fighting the darkness in the warp coming from the enemy, and the numb pain that was radiated from The Clacker.  In his brief time training under Chief Librarian Mepheston, he had learned how to look past the shadow in the warp the enemy created, to pinpoint the source of the psychic beasts of the horde. It was much harder to do while maintaining a psychic shroud over his position.  The crater the eleven astartes occupied was completely exposed to the enemy, but all of the enemy's senses saw it as a solid rock.

 

The enemy was driven mad by The Clacker the closer they got to it, but this far away they enemy leaders still had some level of control of the swarm.  Mordros could feel the movement in the shadow of the warp, he knew his prey was approaching.  He could sense its frustration as it lost control of its forces to the call of The Clacker, and the constant death screams of its warriors.  He was unsure just what form this would take, but he could feel it reaching out and probing the area around his position, looking for a shadow under a shadow, he thought.  Gripping his force sword Confessor with both hands, he funneled his concentration through the blade, as he refocused his efforts on the shroud.  The Librarian, his power armor and psychic hood under a cloak of shifting camouflage, longed to face his enemy, his blood urging him into the fight, his training keeping him in meditation, and he and his brothers, alive.

 

 

 

 

Captain Esma Firik was watching pict feeds of the battle below her, the Angels were efficient to a terrifying extent at their task.  Waves of the creatures rushed the walls of the southern bulwark and died, cut down by bolter, plasma, and lascannon. 

 

The Angels had been engaged for just over eight minutes, and she had already sent two flights of resupply to them, food for those big tanks, she thought.  The dreadnought Antaro was not cautious with his ammunition.  Empty magazines for his onslaught gatling cannons were being placed on a dropship, flown back to the Deus Imperi, reloaded, and sent back down, in a constant rotation.  The machines necessary to complete the task quickly were too bulky to move planet side unless there was grave need, and the enemy on this planet had no real air forces to speak of, it was much more efficient to ferry them back and forth.  Her logistics team had become very adept at making sure the redemptor dreadnought never ran dry, as well as the rest of the ground forces. 

 

The Deus Imperi had a small group of aerial assets it could lend to the fighting, but on this world’s deep winding canyons, and lack of enemy air assets, they had been reduced to high orbit picket duty.

 

The battle was going well, this appeared to be the last of this world's enemy, the big ones at least, The Clacker would continue work on cleaning up the atmosphere as the Blood Angels started operations to clean up any portions of the enemy that resisted the call, or couldn't reach it.

 

Soon they could send ships full of settlers back to this world, the Mechanicus would rebuild factories and mining operations, maybe the oceans could even be cleansed, and this world would thrive again.  The Red Scar region of space had been ravaged by the enemy, its proximity to Baal made it a strategic imperative that it be free of any taint. Esma longed for void combat and hunting the arch enemy that had split the galaxy in two, but she knew her duty, they would cleanse this world for the Emperor, and move on to the next, until Dante called on her.

 

“Captain, new contact!” Shouted the lieutenant in the gunnery pit.  Esma looked at her tactical hololith, seeing the same thing she had seen for the last eight minutes, a steady flow of creatures up from the canyons into the Angels killzone.  “Where?” asked Esma. 

 

“To the north Captain. Auspex scans barely caught it, we are re-tasking a secondary array to that area.” Replied the lieutenant.  To the north? Thought Esma, the only thing north is the toxic ocean and, she instantly opened her voxlink to the ground. 

 

”Captain Lepides, we have auspex returns coming from the north, in the water, contact imminent!” She cut the link, streaming the information to all the Angels below. 

 

“Gunnery, calculate for targets along the shore, I want guns on The Clacker in one minute.” The gunnery pit reacted immediately, having them on constant alert for the last few months was keeping them sharp.  She looked at the tactical hololith again, north of the bulwark was The Clacker, the techmarine, and a single squad of intercessors.  She had orders, the device could not fall to the enemy.

 

 

 

 

*CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK**CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK*

 

Tsekouri knew this level of activity was the beginning of the end of the enemy on this world, the last dying gasp of a defeated foe.  They were throwing everything they had left at his brothers to the south.   The psychic attacks on The Clacker’s containment had increased, but was not at a concerning level yet, its occupant was still well under control.  The creature inside was not communicating past its tortured psychic screams.

 

A data stream was injected into his helmets display, contact to the north? He thought, and glanced down the hill towards the acidic water. In reply to his glance, his only companions left on the hill started moving to the positions that were prepared facing the green brown water.  The single combat squad of Third Squad intercessors led by Sergeant Viteon had received the same data, and were moving to face the threat.  Tsekouri was split by emotions, his hearts pumped faster in anticipation of battle, his head knew he was the last line of defense on The Clacker. The device could not fall to the enemy, its prisoner, could not be allowed to breach its walls.

 

There were a few trenches dug into the north side of the hill where Viteon’s men were taking position.   The Clacker and its generatorium were on the apex of the hill, just to the south was a series of fuel silos, to the east a monstrous black ceramite container that had no entrance or exit.  It always made Tsekouri uneasy to look at the device.  The techmarine uncoupled from the control panel, and flexed his cold muscles, reaching for his giant cog headed axe Fortitude. Tsekouri had crafted the weapon during his trials on Mars, it was three meters of carnage in his hands, and his hearts beat faster whenever he took the weapon up.  Tsekouri disabled the safeties on the devices self-destruct protocols, and went to join his brothers.

 

 

 

 

Just a little closer, come filth, meet your end.  Mordros could feel his prey just west of his position, it was close now, and moving faster as the call of The Clacker was overpowering its caution.  The last dregs of the horde were passing them, the beast was nearly alone.  He sent vox runes to the infiltrators surrounding him, and could feel the shift in their mood, they were as ready for the fight as he was, but their training was keeping their heart rate to the bare minimum to avoid detection. 

 

The enemy moving past their concealed position were the last of the creatures, the slower, wounded, and dying beasts.  The enemy psyker was just a dozen meters from them now, about to exit a tunnel into the canyon proper.  Mordros saw the eyes first, glowing red in the darkness, then several sets of claws probed the exit of the tunnel, and its mass slowly moved into view. It was humanoid in shape, with two short legs and four grotesquely long clawed arms, and it moved with a hunter’s grace. 

 

Mordros refocused, centered himself, and reached out past the shadow.  The immaterial shroud that concealed their position was released, and the creature’s head snapped towards the marines.  It was too late. 

 

The Librarian shot into the air on wings of blood red fire, arcing towards the beast. Confessor above his head, glowing with the power of the warp channeled through the crystalline blade.  In the same instant, the ten infiltrators of Squad Mertrin let their bolt carbines roar at the hulking beast. 

 

The creature used its arms to shelter its body from the storm of mass reactive rounds, and looked up just in time to see a shimmering green blue shard of light enter its skull from above.  Three more sweeping cuts finished the creature, its arms were a mess of ruined flesh, and its head had been split in two and removed from its body.  Mordros reached back into the warp and summoned flame to engulf the body of the creature, then immediately reached out with his senses, searching for another target. 

 

He found the shadow in the warp had almost entirely lifted, he inhaled a breath of air that was untainted by the psychic oppression enemy for the first time in months, only The Clacker far to the north was causing him any distress.  “Captain, primary target eliminated.” Mordros closed the company command link, and nodded to Sergeant Mertrin. 

 

They formed a battle line, and began moving north, attacking the even more confused enemy from the rear on their way north.  A data stream was inserted into their helm displays, and they started to run.

 

 

 

 

”Captain Lepides, we have auspex returns coming from the north, in the water, contact imminent!” The vox closed and a data stream was injected into his helm display.  The captain and his men arrived at the bulwark just minutes ago, and had taken position on the walls. 

 

“Tsekouri, what do you see?” he asked on the command channel.  “Lord Captain, they have just emerged.” Replied the techmarine, and sent a vid feed to the command channel. 

 

Dozens of giant beasts were charging out of the water up the shore, massive rear legs propelled the hunched over hulks as their clawed forelimbs tore into the ground for more speed.  The flesh on their bodies was ragged and dripping, the acid of the ocean had been eating away at it, he could see exposed bone structures and meat melting off of the beasts as they charged the hill.  It was ten kilometers north to The Clacker, and the beasts only had to cover two. 

 

Lepides opened a private vox to the techmarine, “The device?” he asked. “Transferring control to you, it has been an honor my friend.” Tsekouri replied.  Lepides display showed he now had control of the self-destruct commands for The Clacker. 

 

“If you fall, by the Blood I swear your axe will be blunted and given to the novices to train with!” Lepides knew how to motivate his oldest friend. 

 

The six astartes on the hill would fight, but creatures of that size would barely register the fire from their bolters, and overrun them in seconds.  Lepides needed to buy some time.  If they reached the tower, and the creature entombed was able to reach out and call for its kind, they would come, not the beasts on the surface, but fleets of hive ships would make for this planet. 

 

Lepides opened the vox to the chaplain. 

 

 

 

 

“Arkhiel, take our brothers north.  Awaken and unleash.” Arkhiel closed his eyes, Captain Lepides’ commands were clear.  Sorrow and joy flooded his hearts.  The rumble of the enemy was slowing, but the beating of the hearts in the chamber had reached a deafening level, the blood was strong, it was ready to be turned towards the enemy.  Arkhiel opened the tunnel leading north from his tomb, fresh air rushed into the chamber and cleared the dust from the air. 

 

“My Brothers!” He cried, “The enemy has breached the walls, our father calls for aid!”  Arkhiel stepped back, and unlocked the restraints holding his charges at bay.  There was violence in their movements, the simple act of standing and charging up the tunnel made the Chaplain uneasy.  Two more commands were executed before the he followed after his men.  If he could feel fear, he would have felt it in that moment.

 

 

 

 

*CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK**CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK*

*CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK**CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK*

 

Tsekouri and the intercessors of Squad Viteon were sending ranging shots into the horde, but at this range their projectiles were inefficient against the bulk of the enemy.  It would be less than a minute before the enemy was on top of them. He tightened his grip on Fortitude, its familiar weight a comfort, helping him focus on aiming his shoulder mounted bolter.  His blood was urging him charge into the beasts. 

 

The combined fire of the bolters and the squad's grenade launcher had managed to take a beast down, but there were still dozens of the monsters charging at them.  A data stream was inserted onto his helm display.  Help was coming.  We fight monsters with monsters, he thought. 

 

The black on black cube next to The Clacker hissed hot gas from unseen seams along its edges, and internal clamps and mag locks were released.  The eastern facing wall of the structure lurched, and then blasted away from the container, propelled by small shaped charges.  A voxcaster amplified growl issued from the gas filled chamber, a thundering step, and then another.

 

Tsekouri could feel the rage approaching him from behind, he could feel its footsteps. His own blood was boiling, aching to give into the thirst.  The rage took form through the smoke coming from the interior of the black cube.  Brother Samal, a lost Angel entombed in a redemptor dreadnought had been awakened. 

 

Samal took two slow steps to exit the prison, turned his torso to the left and roared.  His legs followed his torso, as if they were lagging behind the body of the hulking ironclad form.  The black mass angled forward, and charged.  Missiles exploded from the top of the dreadnought, and the gatling gun under the left arm started barking.  Tsekouri ducked lower into his trench when the power of a star, contained in the right arm, was activated, and directed over his head. 

 

Samal cleared the trench above the defenders with a single bounding step, charging down the hill, a deafening roar of challenge issuing from his vox amplifiers.  The waves of green energy washed over the front rank of enemy, bodies melting from the superheated plasma, flesh was being raked off others by the bolt rounds, and frag missiles exploded knocking some off balance.  Tsekouri knew his lost brother would exact a terrible price from them, but he was only one monster against an army of monsters.  His forge bolter’s ammo would be spent in seconds, he would take up his axe, and join Samal in a glorious death. 

 

He glanced up at the hulking form of the Deus Imperi high above, and transmitted his location.  They could stall this enemy but they could not defeat it, the strike cruiser would have to end this fight.  The Techmarine’s enhanced vision could see the bombardment cannons adjusting to point towards him. 

 

A dark dot appeared under the cruiser, falling.  Tsekouri tried to focus on the tiny black object, just as it was coming into focus, it exploded with fire and accelerated towards the surface. 

 

 

 

 

The techmarine had leapt over the top of his trench, Fortitude in hand, and charged.  Sergeant Viteon and his men stayed in the trench, supporting the black clad dreadnought with bolter fire and grenades where they could.  The Sergeant had felt the techmarine twitching for the fight, Viteon almost joined him, thirst rising in his throat.  The dreadnought was in with the beasts now, using his plasma cannon as a club and the man sized fingers of his power fist to crush any foe he could reach.  The machines black armor was gouged and covered xenos gore. The red saltires were a symbol of failure to Viteon, and also a symbol of hope.  Brother Samal could only engage so many of the beasts, most of them were still charging and about to reach Tsekouri, and quickly after, overrun the trench his squad occupied.

 

A roar from above preceded the sound of jet engines screaming.  Viteon looked up and saw a black tipped comet a hundred meters above him, accelerating towards the earth.  The black on black form flipped at the last moment, feet towards the ground, a blue glow appeared above its head, then crashed with the force of a meteor into the lead beast.  The explosion threw the techmarine several meters, and the shock wave knocked Viteon’s squad to the back of the trench. 

 

The Sergeant quickly regained his feet and got his rifle back on the enemy.  Tsekouri was slowly standing, using his giant axe to haul himself upright.  In front of the techmarine, a black armored form was standing in a crater of gore.  Monsters stunned and dying all around his impact.  As debris and parts of the enemy fell back to the ground, the black form raised its arms. 

 

Black shield in one hand, on the front a red saltire and gleaming white skull.   The edges of the shield glowing with heat from the descent.  In the other, a long handled hammer, the head crackling with blue lightning.  The black on black clad marine turned toward the closest monster, jet pack blasting.  The lost captain of the Daemonbanes had been unleashed. 

 

The sight of Captain Ottavio filled Viteon with hope, his hope turned to fury, and the world in front of the Sergeant turned red. 

 

Viteon dropped his rifle, ignited the energy field on his power fist, leapt the edge of the trench, and charged to join his former captain.  The men of his squad wordlessly following, there were no more orders to give this day.

 

 

 

 

Arkhiel’s charges had outpaced him to the north.  The chaplain stopped next to the mechanicum device as he crested the hill, taking in the battle.  The bulky form of Brother Samal was down the hill to the right, the machine's right arm, the plasma cannon, was gone, and the legs had taken massive damage, but still the lost brother was reaching for the enemy with its power fist, crushing anything it could grasp.  The gatling cannon under the arm spinning, long since emptied of rounds. 

 

In the center, an intercessor’s power fist and the massive axe of the techmarine were taking turns striking a beast and dodging, the xenos swiping wildly at them with its massive claws.  To the left, a lone black figure was a blur of destruction, the blue head of its thunder hammer was exploding the bodies of any enemy it could reach, jetpack launching him from foe to foe. 

 

The ten Death Company he ushered to the fight were deep in the mass of the xenos, he could see pieces being torn and flung into the air from their attacks. The weapons of the black clad, explosions from power weapons joining the bark of the bolters, creating a symphony of destruction.  The fight was only a dozen meters from the base of the tower, but was holding for the moment.  Arkhiel raised his crozius into the air, the long handled mace topped with a golden winged skull.  White lightning exploded from the weapon.

 

“For The Emperor, and Sanguinius!” he roared, and charged.

 

 

 

 

Lepides arrived moments later, carried swiftly by the Oath’s gravity plates and its Baal tuned turbines.  When they crested the hill he leapt off the rear of the tank as it slowed and turned its troop bay to the north.  The hellblasters of Squad Ekrixi followed and charged down the hill with their captain.   The group fired at anything that moved, finishing wounded beasts that used whatever limbs they had left to reach the device at the top of the hill. 

 

Lepides saw no sign of the defenders.  He sent a command the Oath to move in between the mass of dead and dying beasts and The Clacker and fire at will.  Lepides fired his rifle into the face of a twitching beast, and as it gave its last dying spasm, a red foot became visible under its bulk.  Lepides and Sergeant Ekrixi maglocked their guns to their packs and heaved on the dead weight of the beast.  The foot was attached to a leg, but ended at the hip.   They dropped the bulk and kept moving down the hill, approaching a pile of dead monsters. 

 

When they rounded the heap, they saw a crater where a massive explosion killed a dozen of the enemy, their burnt bodies pushed away in an almost perfect circle around the twisted remains of Brother Samal.  Whether the dreadnoughts power core had been breached by the enemy, or set off in sacrifice, would never be known, but the pile of xenos monsters that had been crushed by his the giant’s fist were a testament to the fury of the pilot within. 

 

Lepides received a position and message via vox rune in his helm.  “Ekrixi, move west and secure this position.” He said to the blue helmed sergeant.  Ekrixi nodded, and his squad formed a battle line and moved west around the hill, dispatching dying xenos. 

 

Lepides moved northeast, to the requested location.  When he rounded the mass of a giant xenos head that had been removed from its body, he heard the crack of power weapons meeting.  Captain Ottavio was wildly swinging his hammer at the parrying chaplain.  Arkhiel was moving away from the Ottavio’s blows in a measured retreat, not returning any attacks.  The captain in black had lost his shield, and most of his jetpack.  The captain’s blows were reckless and rage fueled, and were easily avoided by the chaplain. 

 

“Your orders Captain?” Arkhiel voxed privately to Lepides.  Ottavio’s armor was ruined, sections of the black plate had been torn away and the flesh underneath had fared no better.  Red blood squirted away from wounds during every swing of the massive hammer.  The blows were slowing, becoming more desperate, as the former captain’s body was failing him. 

 

“Let him rest” Lepides said to Arkhiel. 

 

The chaplain sidestepped an overhead hammer blow, pivoted and slammed his crozius into the side of the black armored helm.  The captain in black spun and fell, but was caught by Lepides before he hit the ground.  The captain in red lowered him to his back, and the chaplain removed his ruined helmet.  Eyes open, his face relaxed, he appeared as Lepides had always remembered his mentor, a perfectly carved reflection of their gene father.  There was something in Ottavio’s eyes that had not been there before, rage boiled behind his blue eyes, his serene face was a ship on an ocean of pain.  Arkhiel knelt holding Ottavio’s head. 

 

“Father Sanguinius, forgive this unworthy son, his rage brought victory, let him rest by your side.”  Lepides knew what was next.  The crack of Arkhiel’s pistol filled him with pain. 

 

Ottavio had been one of a handful of the 5^th Company to survive the wars on Baal, and had taken command of a fresh company of primaris marines to cleanse the Red Scar of the enemy.  Over the years the loss of his brothers had lead him down the dark path.  Lepides would cherish his memory, and was thankful he could finally rest, his service to the Emperor completed. 

 

“What of the others?” Lepides asked.  “Seven by the enemy, three wounded and put to rest.” Arkhiel replied.  Lepides felt the same emotions wash over him again, regret for the loss and joy for their peace.

 

Lepides and Arkhiel made their way back to the base of the tower, Sergeant Ekrixi had confirmed all enemy dead, and the tower secure.  They walked past the Oath to the tower, and Lepides saw a cog headed, long handled axe leaning up against the control console, its owner standing on one leg in front of it.  Tsekouri had his data cables plugged back into the machine, his right hip slowly dripping blood.  The techmarine nodded to Lepides and Arkhiel. 

 

“Are you going to live?” Lepides asked the techmarine.  In response, Tsekouri grabbed Fortitude and held it close to his side.  Lepides smiled behind his helmet despite his mood.

 

Messages flashed on in his helm display, the battle at the bulwark was won, the last of the horde had passed by Raelal in the canyons and they were closing the trap on the last of the beasts.  On the hill, two of the intercessors from Viteon’s squad had survived with massive injuries, but the sergeant had fallen.  The Clacker’s base had been ripped open by claw and tooth but they had not breached the prison, and the last psychic leader of the enemy had been killed.  Lepides took a deep breath, his throat itched, the day was a victory, but he felt hollow inside.  He needed to fill that void. 

 

Lepides opened a vox channel to the Imperi.  “Captain Firik, report.”

 

 

 

 

“Lepides, I take full responsibility for…” Lepides cut her off.  “Enough.  We all underestimated the enemy today, we will not repeat that mistake.”  He finished.

 

“Yes Lord Captain,” Esma took a breath and continued, “Lord, we have focused auspex arrays to the north, there are no more returns, we have recalibrated for the water, that trick won’t work again.  We are seeing no surface activity within two hundred kilometers of your position.”

 

“Have Apothecary Sirus come down to this position, he has brothers to see to and gene seed to collect.” Lepides finished and closed the vox link. 

 

There was an edge to Lepides’ voice, it wasn’t anger, there was something else behind it.  Esma had been with the armies of the Blood for long enough to know what was coming. 

 

The Blood Angels were going to need ammunition, fuel, and transports.  They were done sitting behind the walls.

Edited March 20, 2021 by 5thCompanyDaemonbanes

[Brother Lunkhead]

Excellent work Brother 5th, and a fun read