Mysterious Beginnings [ 40k fan fic ]

[falconkline]

Chapter 1 : Warp Turbulence
A planet sits in space, peacefully traversing along its orbit around a magnificent star. The two moons of the planet can be seen off in the distance; one being a dark blue and the other a sharp yellow. A giant swell of energy masses just beyond the planet and from it five space ships emerge. This otherwise unexplored and hidden part of space has been invaded by these ships of the imperium, but only by chance. This isn’t the first time this peaceful system has received visitors, and surely won’t be the last.

Admiral Edward Sayen, a rather short man for an admiral with bright blonde hair and plain brown eyes, was franticly racing through the depths of his ship to the landing bays of his Imperial Mars Class cruiser. His personal transport would be too big to fit onto any of the three remaining escort’s hangar bays. Sayen’s personal transport was better fit to handle any space travel then the other ships in his hangar bay but the admiral didn’t want to float in space aboard such a tiny vessel. He also knew which ship he wanted to travel to and was certain he would make it there. Sayen spotted what seemed to everyone else as an ordinary cargo container being loaded by storm troopers onto a cargo ship. Under normal operating circumstances this would have drawn more attention, but when the ship you are riding upon is in as much trouble as The Beloved Sun was, you were just trying to save your own neck. Sayen and other members of his command boarded this ship as it prepared for launch from the hanger bay.

Many of the fleet’s smaller ships had either been destroyed or broken off and lost in the warp. The admiral’s cruisers had survived but had been badly damaged. It seemed that the gunship cruiser, Thy Fathers Wealth, sustained heavy damage to its starboard engines and reactors. Orders for the remaining three escorts to cover the gunship’s now vulnerable starboard side were never followed. The more important carrier, The Beloved Sun, had suddenly lost main power and small explosions could be seen coming from the prow. Orders from the admiral were for the other ships to begin rescue efforts.

The escorts quickly closed in on the carrier to retrieve escape pods and other ships racing franticly from the hangars of both capital ships. Inquisitor Andred Drakenhof, a tall man with a shaved head and deep blue eyes, could sense the impeding danger of getting too close to the crippled ships. The inquisitor stood in plain black robes with his rosette hanging from his belt, amongst the sharply dressed Imperial command crew on the bridge of his ship, Verruck’s Dream. Captain Valence Verruck was at Drakenhof’s side giving out orders to keep their distance from the crippled command ship. The captain and inquisitor had always gotten along and shared a bond between that seemed to let them talk without words or gestures. Andred quickly located the cargo crafts that he deemed worthy of saving and commanded Verruck to pick them up. Once the cargo ships were aboard, Andred ordered the captain to pull away as quickly as possible, and to ignore slowing down for any escape pods. Their fate was already sealed.

No sooner did the Verruck’s Dream begin pulling away then a catastrophic explosion from the gunship’s engines ripped into the side of the carrier, The Beloved Sun. The gunship’s weapons reactor red lined and exploded with a force of a nuclear bomb that ripped the back fifth of the ship from the front. The two remaining halves of the gunship continued to erupt violently, while the Mars Class carrier experienced a complete systems failure from the impact. With the severe damage done to both capital ships it was only a matter of time before one of the ship’s main reactors would blow and anything too near to them would be destroyed.

Captain Tork’s Dauntless class light cruiser, the largest and slowest of the remaining escort ships, was still franticly trying to rescue crew from The Beloved Sun right before the main reactor decided to put on the most spectacular show that any of the crewman would ever see. Unfortunately, it would be the last thing they would ever experience. The ensuing detonations absorbed both of the capital ships in a bright burst of white light and heat. An immense sonic wave pitched the two smaller escorts away from the main flare-up but Tork’s ship was too close the carrier. The light cruiser was nearly bent in half during the explosion and was hurled off into space away from the planet as a fiery mass of molten metal.

The remaining escort and the Verruck’s Dream sustained damage that would keep them from jumping through the warp again and back to safety, but that was the least of their problems. The second escort under the helm of Captain Perry had been propelled by the blast out in front of the Verruck’s Dream and had lost use of over half its engines and its rudder had been locked in place. Captain Verruck’s ship didn’t fare too much better with its engines also being damaged and its shields being overloaded. Both ships were caught in a near by planet’s gravitational pull and could not pull out of it.

Admiral Sayen stepped forward onto the bridge of Verruck’s ship his face a mix of emotions, but one of panic was what showed through the most. Andred had hoped that this coward would have gone down with his ships, but this disgrace to the Emperor had cunningly stowed aboard the cargo ships containing cargo that Andred’s guard had transported to this ship. The inquisitor could not figure out how Sayen knew which ships to hide aboard. Perhaps he had taken a peek inside the containers. A smile appeared on Andred’s face at that thought because it would give him a reason to dispatch this cowardly bastard. Andred left the bridge just before Sayen opened his mouth; he had more important matters to attend to.

“Captain Verruck!” Sayen roared with uneasiness in his throat. His face scratched here and there and his uniform torn a bit. One of the admirals imperial eagle insignia was crooked and looked to be hanging by a thread.

“Ah, admiral blessed be the Emperor you made it off your ship alive,” Valence announced with a hint of sarcasm apparent to everyone on the bridge.

“Thanks to your assistance,” Sayen blurted out while trying to keep his composure and fix the eagle on his uniform. “The rift that we hit in the warp fried my navigator. I believe that is why we sustained so much damage.”

“It is such a shame to lose those remarkable ships. To bad your father couldn’t have gotten you a more reliable navigator.” Valence boasted while trying to hide the grin that was showing on his face.

Sayen just grumbled and sat down behind the captain. Under normal circumstances Sayen would have had Valence’s head for such disrespect. But crossing the favored Captain of an inquisitor would not be wise, considering Sayen no longer had a ship to retreat to.

Both Andred and Valence knew that Sayen had ridden his father’s coat tails all the way up to his admiral position. Edward Sayen was a disgrace to his father and a disgrace to the name Sayen; he had been given this small fleet and put on meaningless errands to try and hide him away so his father’s name would not get dragged through the mud. The Inquisition thought using a small fleet to secretly transport cargo from one destination to another would work as it had in the past, but for all their wisdom the inquisition could not foresee the incompetence of this admiral’s command.

A young ambitious lieutenant arrived at Valences’ side breaking the captain from the gaze he was in while pondering over what to do. The lieutenant had an unexplainable look of dread on his face and it was understandable considering the news that was about to come out of his mouth; he had to tell the captain that his ship was going down.

“Captain Verruck, we have received heavy damage to the engines and are being thrown at this planet,” Lieutenant Valendez uttered while pointing at a screen read out. “It appears we are caught in the gravitational pull and engineers report that we do not have sufficient power remaining to pull out.”

Valence glanced over the screen and after a moment stood straight up with a plain solitary look on his face. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Tell the crew to brace all cargo in the hold and prepare for a planetary landing,” he announced.

“A planetary landing? Are you mad captain? This bucket of Emperor-forsaken rust will never survive the atmosphere!” Sayen said angrily rising as if to make an advance at the captain.

“If you do not like my decision, admiral, I suggest you fly on over to Captain Perry’s Escort. I’m sure he would be happy to have you,” Valence said with a sly smirk as he spun around to face the admiral, his hand on his laspistol. “Although I am sure they are probably in the same situation as we are and from the read outs it looks as if his ship is in worse shape.” Valence never lied, the read outs were showing that the other escort was well under manned and over loaded with cargo from Sayen’s ship. Moreover, the readouts were showing several craft leaving its hanger bay and loads of escape craft ejecting.

Before the Admiral could reply a thunderous blast rocked the bridge. Officers started chattering over the ships broadcast system. The shields have failed, the engines were only at 50%, and debris was pounding the hull, the odds just kept getting worse.

[falconkline]

Still not entirely happy with the beginning of the story but I'm starting to get a grip on things, this part probably needs more profreading but here it is anyway. Comments welcome.

Chapter 2 : The Fall from Space

Through all of this mayhem, Andred was seeing to the cargo in the landing bays. A shorter man with pale skin and dark hair was following him closely spitting out the Inquisitor’s orders over his vox. Andred walked quickly, picking out which containers were to be stored in the center hold of the ship, the safest place they could be. The landing bay officer followed his every order without hesitation; he had seen what an Inquisitor does to insubordinates that don’t follow orders. “Paissley, see that all of those marked cargo boxes get stowed as safely as possible. I have a feeling we are not going to be in space much longer.”

“Yes sir! But, what do you mean we won’t be in space much longer?” Paissley had called out before realizing he wasn’t supposed to be asking questions.

Andred just smiled “It appears we will be making planet fall.” Before Andred could finish, a loud booming clap sounded on the hull, shaking the entire cargo bay busting open a container that was being moved by a crewman. A small box full of vials fell from the container. Andred picked up the box and quickly placed it under his robes. “Get that cargo into the holds now, Paissley!” Andred roared before storming off to his quarters. Paissley did not know what was in the container, and by the Inquisitors demeanor, he didn’t want to find out.

Andred raced through the hall of the ship pushing his way past crewmen trying to find a safe place to secure themselves. The Inquisitor swung around a corner and through the doorway to his prepared quarters. A tall, broad man, almost a full eight feet tall, a foot taller then Andred, stood at full attention when the Inquisitor entered the room. This man looked as if he could rip an ork in half at the waist with one hand. His shoulders almost three feet wide and his arms looked as solid as ceramite. His dark brown crew cut hair matched his dark black eyes and a multitude of scars riddled the left side of his face. Whoever decided to take a shotgun to this man’s face undoubtedly met his demise in the most gruesome of ways.

By the man’s side, a lady dressed in silky black robes pulled back her hood to reveal her fiery orange hair and bright green eyes. She looked like a child compared to lumbering giant beside her. The robes hid her slender sexy body from all in the room. Women of her beauty were usually found among generals’ mistresses. As gorgeous as she may be, the last man that tried to take her found his arms ripped furiously from his body. The man fell to his knees and was then engulfed in bright green flames; and this had all happened when she was only nine years of age.

“Markov, Dawn; strap yourselves in. We are in for a rough ride,” Andred spoke as he raced over to where his armor was shelved.

“Sir, what of Lord Tallinder’s cargo?” bellowed Markov.

“It is being safely secured in the hold as we speak. Come, we must get our armor on. This isn’t going to be a pleasant ride.”

“We are going to land on that planet, aren’t we, Sir” Dawn spoke softly as she rose, her robe falling to the floor around her feet to reveal that she had already donned most of her power armor.

“I anticipated that you would have foreseen something to this effect. Your control is improving,” Andred said with a smile. “We must hurry; we will be entering atmosphere in less then an hour.”

…

Valence and his bridge command crew looked on as captain Perry’s escort ship sped up to enter the atmosphere. Valence knew what Perry was trying to do and knew that he could not pull of such a maneuver with his ship that badly damaged. All escape pods and space craft had disembarked from the escorts’ hangar bays, Perry was trying to save as many people as possible and lighten his craft some to help with the overwhelming odds of what he was going to attempt. The underneath of the prow started to glow bright red, as the escort tried to enter the atmosphere as fast as it could. Valence watched as the engines of Perry’s escort died, they had been pushed too far. The bridge went silent as everyone knew that Perry’s ship had not reached a fast enough speed to survive re-entry. Verruck watched on as the front of Perry’s ship grew brighter and brighter. The escort was growing distant but before it went out of sight into the clouds large orange-red flames could be seen protruding from the armored hull.

All of a sudden read outs started fluttering across lieutenant Valendez’s display console.

“Captain the shields have come back online. They are coming in at thirty-five percent power, ”Tomas was shouting out the news breaking the silence. “Redirecting all shields to the prow, sir!”

“Alright men, this may be all the luck we need,” Valence said as the despair in his face started fading away. “All remaining power to engines and close all view windows. We’re going in.”

Entry into a planet’s atmosphere was a tricky thing to do with such a large ship, even when it was in full repair and at 100 percent. Valence was going to do it without half of his engines online and at 50 percent power for those that were. His ship had flown in high-orbit many times before but this time it would not stay there.

The ship plunged into the atmosphere of the planet heading down on its angled trajectory at tremendous speed. The shields were barely protecting the ship from the immense heat of re-entry. In what seemed only seconds the shields failed, only moments before pulling through the clouds. The heat held back from the shields blew back in an incredible wave that engulfed the entire ship. Communication antennas were melting into the hull and gun barrels from the ships batteries were being bent back flush to the side of the ship; the dorsal-mounted lance weapon battery exploded throwing large chunks of shrapnel off into the sky and back into the bridge. Everyone on the command bridge was clinching their chairs and holding on for dear life as the flying shrapnel slammed against the outside of bridges shutters. Valence continued to watch his readout screen closely as the temperature of the prow rose past the critical temperature. “Just a little more,” he thought, “just hold together for a bit more old girl.”

The systems were going haywire with beeps and red warning lights. The captain’s screen was filled across the board with critical warning signatures. Then in an instant half the lights went to out, the temperature of the hull decreased well below the critical line, and the rocking had ceased. They had made it through into the atmosphere and small cheers erupted from the command bridge. Valence remained fixed on his screen. It wasn’t over yet, he was going to have to land this ship somehow. Without any warning the lights on the bridge ceased and Valence fell backwards as the artificial gravity of the ship had switched off with most of the other ship’s systems. He felt numbness as he stared up into the darkness of the bridge.

…

Andred stepped out of his bed chambers into a little corridor that linked his room to Markov and Dawn’s quarters. His companions were already strapped into chairs that hung down from the middle of ceiling. The four chairs were organized so that all of the backs were facing each other. The special contraption was specifically made for the Inquisitor and his retinue. It would lower from the ceiling, unfold from its packed position like landing gear, and then secure itself to the floor. The Inquisitor sat down without a word to the other two and buckled in. Andred sat back in his chair eyes closed and then with a flash a large swirling bubble of green, blue, and white energy surrounded Dawn, Markov, and himself. His eyes were now open and glowing bright blue. Dawn’s eyes were also open but were glowing jade green. The Inquisitor and his pysker companion combined their power and engulfed themselves and Markov in force field that would hopefully protect them from the worst.

The rest of the people aboard Verruck’s ship were clinching down to anything they could. Some were lucky enough to find secured fold down seats in the walls, others found safety in the small archways between corridors, while others hid in and under anything they thought was stable enough. Admiral Sayen and some guardsmen found their way to a small room with benches secured to the walls.

Back on the bridge Valence had already ordered his command to open the view ports. His vision was blurry and he looked down for a moment and peered at his leg, it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. He disregarded the pain and started barking out orders. The ships systems were flickering and couldn’t produce any readouts of where to land. Although it wasn’t going to be easy for Valence either considering the size of his ship, but luckily they were headed straight for a large land mass that appeared flat. His crew were doing all they could to pull the nose of the ship up. Valence knew there wasn’t much they could do now but pray and hope the Emperor was with them today, at least the ship was coming in at an angle instead heading straight towards the surface. The ship had leveled out and was starting to raise its nose slightly just as the ground came up on them.

The ship’s underbelly slammed into the ground and crewmen were thrown about like rag dolls. The command bridge turned into a death trap as control panels blew sending shrapnel and other large debris flying around the room. Chunks of metal from the outer hull were peppering the bridge’s view port and finally broke through.

Ships in both hangar bays broke loose from the moorings and crushed crewmen underneath them. One small cargo ship in the starboard side bay slid across the hangar into the large ceramite doors. The weight of the ship and weakened state of the door were too much for the door to bear and both the ship and bay door went flying out the starboard side of the ship. The gaping whole created a wind tunnel sort of effect and grabbed loosely buckled equipment and crew that weren’t hanging on tight enough.

Engineers and servitors in the engine room found themselves being impaled by large wrenches, hammers, and other equipment that had not been safety clamped down. One servitor was still trying to complete its lobotomized tasks before a foot long screwdriver pierced its eye socket and ran through the back of his head. A tech priest was strapped into a wall mounted seat, his servo arm dug into the wall for extra grip. The priest was vigorously chanting hoping that the machine spirits would hear him and start working again.

The ship was grinding across the smooth plains leaving a half-pipe shaped ditch in its wake. The ditch was more like an extended crater measuring at least thirty feet deep. In its uncontrolled slide the ship hit a large hill and began to roll over on its port side. As the escort started tipping over the plains turned into woods. The smaller trees got thrown aside like toothpicks, some puncturing the hull in the weakened prow. Still rolling over onto its side, the spaceship continued deeper into the forest the trees got larger and started to slow the craft dramatically. Just as the ship was about to tip onto its left side, it rammed hard into the side of a mountain.

The prow bent and twisted and explosions started erupting from the torpedo bays. The ship was grinding against the wall of this mountain slowing almost to a dead stop and tilting the ship back to a near level position. The ship quaked with tremors and explosions as it came to a rest, the engines erupted in a small blast that ruined them beyond all repair. The prow was twisted almost a full ninety degrees from the rest of the ship and all imperial markings and insignias had melted off or were mangled that they were no longer recognizable.

Valance opened his eyes and peered up at the ceiling. His head was pounding and ears ringing. Reaching up with his right hand he grabbed the edge of a console and tried to stand. His one leg would not seem to work and couldn’t move his left arm either. Looking to where his side he saw the mangled mess that used to be his arm, from elbow to wrist there was only blood and bone fragments. His hand was no where to be found and looking down he saw his left leg only to find that a piece of flying debris the size of lasgun barrel had lodged itself into his thigh. Letting go of the console, Verruck slumped back down to the floor. He was slipping out of consciousness and could barely keep it together. The pain was lessening and his head had stopped pounding, but blood continued to pour from his wounds like water from a spring fountain.

“Captain! Captain! We’ve landed …Captain? …Captain!” Tomas was screaming, but to Verruck he sounded distant and faint. The captain looked up into the bloody scratched face of the young Lieutenant. Valence smiled and closed his eyes for the last time. He had done what he could.

[falconkline]

For those of you who are reading this fic I am sorry for the long gap. I have been sick and recently moved into a new house so I haven't had time to revise/edit the chapters I am going to post.

Chapter 3 : The Wreckage We Shall Call Home

The crew was jolted and many were tossed from their seats when the ship had impacted on the mountain. Andred, Markov, and Dawn were tossed into the port side wall of the corridor they were seated in. Their force field kept them from injury but the sudden impact had broken Dawn’s concentration. She was out of her broken seat kneeling on the ground, spewing the contents of her stomach onto the floor. Markov bent down by her side and helped her to her shaking feet. Andred stood from his seat; the buckles had ripped and scattered during the skid. He looked around the room and saw the walls dented and littered with sharp protruding metal bars. The force field had protected them just long enough.

Andred stepped out from his quarters with Markov and Dawn following closely behind. He had received a communiqué from his Sergeant that there was trouble in the hold and was going to check on the cargo himself. He walked down the corridor heading towards the hold, stepping over the dead, dying, and wounded. Crewmen were racing around frantically trying to find survivors. As Andred and his crew rounded a corner they saw four troopers standing, weapons at the ready, in front of the hold doors. Three of their comrades and several other men lay on the ground riddled with burn marks and slashes, the walls also scorched with burn marks and dents. There was blood on the walls and it was oozing down to the floor where a puddle of the red fluid lay under the dead.

A man dressed in the same red combat gear as the four troopers stepped into the door of the hold. On the left breast of his black flak armor stood the inquisitorial ][ and on his right shoulder pad the markings of a sergeant could be seen. His short crew cut hair was as white as snow and the jagged scar that ran from the left side of his neck up his jaw across his cheek and finally coming to a rest right under the mans eye was still fresh, although not deep it would leave an impressive scar. The man was wiping blood from a combat knife when the inquisitor spoke up.

“Sergeant, what happened?” Andred asked in a very monotone voice.

“Stand down men.” Sergeant White ordered. The men slouched a bit and checked their weapons. “We had an unexpected visit. As soon as the ship came to a stop after that landing a small group of men attacked us.”

The inquisitor rolled one of the dead men over with his heavy boot and peered at the uniform. Markings on the shoulders and breastplate were barely readable through the burn holes and blood. “Sayen,” Andred grumbled in a low voice, “these are his men.”

“One of them is still alive, inside; I thought you would want to talk to him.” Sergeant White was grinning from ear to ear. He stood to the side and let Andred enter the hold.

Up against the wall, with one arm laying limp at his side and the other pinned to a railing with steel chain, sat Admiral Sayen. His face was bloody and scratched, his clothing ripped and burnt in numerous places, and all of his imperial eagles ripped off along with other symbols that would have distinguished him as an officer. It appeared as if Sergeant White couldn’t resist a little torture before the Inquisitor arrived. Andred smiled at the sergeant. This sergeant had served the Inquisition for a good many years and Andred was happy to have such a loyal man work things for him.

“Sergeant, you and your men clean that mess up. Make it look like those men died in the crash. Then I want you and your men to help with the recovery effort. Markov and Dawn will be left in charge of the hold. I will take care of our little intruder myself,” the inquisitor said. With that the sergeant and his unit started arranging things. Andred stepped through the doorway and made a motion to Dawn. The fiery red head waved her hand sideways shutting the door to the hold; leaving only himself and the admiral inside.

“So, did he squeal?” murmured Markov as he ducked his head away from a broken beam hanging from the ceiling. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms. “Come on sergeant did he say anything?”

“You mean other then the attempt at bribing me and my men,” the sergeant suggested as he sheathed his blade. “No. He didn’t do much but whine after I shattered his arm.”

A faint scream was heard from the other side of the metal door. White nodded at Markov and Dawn, who was now leaning on against the one wall in a shadow, then left with his men dragging bodies behind him. What happened behind the hold door would remain known to only Andred himself and Sayen would never be seen alive again.

…

Sergeant Nickolas White had served the Inquisition for 15 years and had seen horrors unimaginable by most humans. His family had a long history of serving the Inquisition and Nickolas was the third out of ten generations to be promoted to Sergeant before the age of twenty. Sergeant White had worked for several different inquisitors and had found his extended service under Andred more enjoyable then most. White was thinking about all of this on his way to the command bridge. The remaining six men of his unit had been ordered to help engineers and crewmen along the way and the Sergeant entered the bridge alone to find it a bloody mess of bodies. It was obvious that the bridge had sustained considerable damage. White looked around and finally began to realize that there was no way off this planet with this ship. He turned to one of the personal left on the bridge, the one with the highest rating the sergeant could see.

“Lieutenant,” The sergeant half saluted and continued. “Inquisitor Drakenhof sent me to get a report on the damages. Where is the captain?”

The lieutenant didn’t say a word. He side stepped and White could see Valence Verruck being attended to by a medic. The medic looked up and the sergeant could tell by the look on his face that the captain either wasn’t going to make it or was already gone. White had not known the captain very well but understood that anybody that Andred valued so much was worth the praise of the Emperor. White gave a gentle salute to the captain then turned to face the lieutenant.

“I take it that you are the last officer left aboard the bridge, lieutenant” exclaimed Nickolas.

“Yes sergeant,” Tomas coughed out, pausing for a minute. “I sent runners to find out what other officers survived the crash. They have not reported back yet and the ship’s systems won’t come online. I fear that we have suffered immense damages,” Valendez spit out, the nervousness and uncertainness of his posture showing in his speech as well.

“The Inquisitor wants a full debriefing. I am going to tell him that you are in charge, lieutenant. Report your findings to him within the hour. I am going to gather my men and do a quick search of the area outside.” White stated harshly, he certainly wasn’t going to waste time mourning and didn’t want to give others time to do so.

“Y-yes, sergeant,” Valendez said as the sergeant turned and left the bridge. Tomas Valendez had never been in charge of much his entire life. He had risen to the rank of lieutenant rather quickly due to previous encounters with xenos raiders. This blonde-haired, blue-eyed chap was no more then twenty-three years old and had become a trusted officer of Verruck’s in his short time aboard the Verruck’s Dream. He worked hard and did what he was told; he followed orders and kept his head on straight. These were the qualities that Verruck had once told Tomas he possessed when the captain promoted him to lieutenant. Valence had seen leadership qualities in this young man and was preparing him for a command of some sort sooner or later, but there was nothing Valence could have done to prepare him for what had just transpired.

Sergeant White collected his men and headed for the hanger. He knew that the doors to the hanger probably did not endure the crash landing and that area of the ship would pose the biggest threat. Upon entering the bay, the sergeant could see spots of sun shining in where the starboard hangar bay doors should be. He knew the threat right now wasn’t great because the loud crash would have scared off any beasts in the area, but he was worried that the crash would attract xenos that were known to inhabit this area of space. Several crewmen were surveying ships and re-securing equipment. White sent four of his men to check on the port side bay doors to make sure they didn’t have two breeches to worry about.

White looked over the edge of the hanger bay and saw they were approximately twenty-five feet from ground level. The sergeant wasn’t familiar with the design of imperial escort class ships but was sure that this ship had been heavily modified. It looked more like a light cruiser than an escort. The sergeant noticed that they had come to rest at the foot of a very large mountain. White could also tell they were in a forest of some sorts but couldn’t tell how deep it was because the ship was almost completely under the canopy of the trees, what was left of the ship at least.

“Sergeant, this is Johnson. The port side doors are roughly intact. It appears this side of the ship is up against a wall of rock, sir. Over,” reported White’s second.

“Well that means we only have this side to worry about. What is your assessment of the craft and supplies over there? Over” the sergeant asked.

“Much worse then on your side, Sarge. I don’t see many useable aircraft and the crew are busy putting out compartment fires, over.”

“Alright, get your asses back over here. Over and out,” White said, switching off his vox. The sergeant didn’t know what kind of things may be lurking in the jungle outside the ship and knew he didn’t have time to find out. Andred would know what to do and it was about time to debrief him. “Johnson, I’m leaving you in charge. Keep watch and report if you see anything.” The storm trooper nodded and White started toward the Inquisitor’s quarters.

White entered a sparsely decorated room with only a few rugs hung on the walls. The rugs were black with the inquisitorial symbol in gold outlined in a deep red. In the middle of the room was a long table able to seat ten men to either side. Some of the chairs were still lying on the ground twisted along with broken crystal mugs and pitchers. On the left of the table sat the lieutenant and petty officer of little importance, both were busy looking over hand-written reports. Andred was sitting at the head of the table skimming over papers that Valendez had set in front of him. White entered and stood to the right of Andred in a salute.

“At ease, sergeant,” Andred said before White was even able to give a salute. He knew the sergeant lived for action and they both knew that this world would probably provide lots of it. “How do the hangars look?”

“Starboard side poses the big threat, sir. The doors are completely missing. I haven’t had time to look for other openings in the ship, sir,” reported the sergeant, easing himself into a chair.

“My men have found no other gaping openings so far. It looks as if the captain kept her in one piece” said the lieutenant. “Reports from the engineers are that the reactor is moderately damaged but still intact. I have men working on it now to see how functional it will be. I have three groups of crewmen looking for remaining wounded and stranded, four groups of men putting out the remaining compartment fires, and two groups checking on the weapons and other equipment.”

“Very good, lieutenant. What of any other surviving officers?” Andred asked.

“Just Lieutenant Paissley who was in charge of the hangars sir, and he is currently helping with the compartment fires.”

“What of this planet? Where you able to find anything out yet Valendez?” Andred questioned.

“Systems running off of the emergency power have provided nothing. The star map doesn’t list this planet as existing, sir. But what scans I was able to run show it to be habitable,” answered Tomas.

“Hmm, this is interesting. Tomas, I am placing you in charge of the remaining crew. See to it that the munitions report and causality report find their way to me. Also see to it that you have a dozen or so men report to Sergeant White by night fall. He will need more men to keep watch.”

“Yes sir,” Valendez said while standing with his assistant at his side. “Do you need me for anything else, Inquisitor?”

“No, that will be all you may leave,” Andred’s spoke and Tomas left the sergeant and Andred behind.

“Lord, how did our pest problem turn out?” asked White curiously.

“Oh, we won’t have to worry about his prying eyes any longer. Once the lieutenant sends you the crewmen he promised I want you to send the storm troopers back to guard the hold. Offset their hours and don’t worry too much about being bothered. Make sure they are well rested because at dawn we will start sweeps of the surrounding area.”

“Yes sir,” White remarked, saluted and left the inquisitor behind to attend to his duties.

…

Morning broke over the forest floor and Sergeant White and his storm troopers were already making sweeps around the ship. The storm troopers had switched from their ceremonial inquisition garbs into woodland camouflage. Sergeant White and his men had also integrated leaves and long grass stands from the local flora into their attire in an effort to hide from any lurking enemies.

Meanwhile, Markov lead a group of some twenty crewmen in clearing away debris and plants from around the starboard hangar bay. They had successfully cut down one large tree which was approximately ten feet in diameter. It now lay on its side in the forest and would be used for temporary defense measures.

Luckily, the ship had not rolled too much either way when it crashed and was as close to level as Andred could have hoped. It was going to have to be used as their base of operation since there was no recorded colonization of this planet. Andred was busy directing the clearing and maintenance of the starboard hangar bay.

While studying to become an Inquisitor in his teenage years, Andred had always shown an interest in technology. He spent a lot of years in training with his mentor Lord Inquisitor Jacob Tallinder making relationships with the Adeptus Mechanicus. Lord Tallinder was known for his daemon hunting and would always come across tech lost to the ages. He would trade these lost technologies to the Adeptus Mechanicus for future favors. Andred never proved himself as a successful daemon hunter like his mentor but showed that his intellect, when it came to machines, and his charisma would prove useful to Lord Tallinder. Andred was seeing that some of Tallinder’s ‘treasures’ were being transported to Konor for studying on the forge world when this incident happened.

The ship’s only Techpriest Enginseer, Orteel, had survived the crash although had lost use of his servo arm making the repair of the reactor timely. Orteel was able to get the loader sentinel that was in the starboard hangar bay operational, making it easier to move large pieces of debris and ruined cargo ships. The armory on the ship only held weapons to repel boards and not much heavy weaponry. Lieutenant Valendez would be along soon with the official records and Andred could then organize the survivors to better help their continued existence.

Andred was standing on the landing bay dock in full armor awaiting anything that may come from the shadows of the forest. He stood a couple inches over six feet in his glossy black power armor with its gold trimmings. On his left ceramite shoulder pad was the gold inquisitional I outlined in red against black background, and on his right ancient scripts written in gold lettering with a faint red ][ behind the script. His rosette hung from a gold chain around his neck. A beautifully crafted bolt pistol was holstered at his right side and on the other side of his belt hung a beautiful ebony short staff with the twin imperial eagles on one end made of what seemed to be a type of platinum. The entire staff was laced with gold trim and the eagles eyes glowed with mysterious blue gems. Flowing from the neck of Drakenhof was his cape which was solid black, with the gold ][ again on the back of it outlined in red. One look at this monstrosity of a man stroked fear and respect into the hearts of the crew around him. No one except maybe Markov could hope to inflict damage against Andred’s power armor.

“Inquisitor,” Andred heard from behind him as Valendez came walking into the hangar bay. “I have more to report, sir.”

“Continue, Tomas,” Andred said without looking up from his current task.

“Well, sir, it appears that about 162 survived the crash without any serious injuries, another 37 in the medical wing with only minor fractures and lacerations, and another 21 in critical. The number on the dead keeps rising sir. With the evac of the late admiral’s cruisers, we lost count of how many people were actually aboard our ship.” Valendez had already impressed the inquisitor by following orders precisely and reporting what Andred wanted and needed to know as fast as he could. There was something else about this lieutenant that intrigued him.

“I take it someone found the admiral then,” Andred stated, already knowing what has become of the late Sayen.

“Yes sir, his body was found crushed under one of the wrecked cargo craft. The admiral appeared as if he would have died instantly from the impact.”

“How are repair efforts in the port side hangar bay coming?” Andred asked quickly, changing the subject.

“Sir, Lieutenant Paissley has reported that three Arvus Lighters are intact and Sergeant White’s Valkyrie is still operational. Unfortunately, all other craft in the bay have sustained heavy damage and it will be some time before they fly again. Nothing that will be able to break out of the atmosphere seems about right for our luck, sir.” Tomas said as he leaned in closer to the Inquisitor and whispered. “Paissley also said one of the Lighters contained more of your personal cargo which he had immediately taken to your hold.”

The Inquisitor looked up from the ancient script he was reading, paused for a moment, and then nodded at Valendez.

“Continue on, lieutenant and give me an update in my quarters at midday.” Andred sensed that Tomas could be trusted but did not see that trust coming from Paissley. It was a comforting thought knowing that he had the only other high-rating officer under his belt, feelings of comfort never last.

Right before Tomas was to salute and head back to his duties shots range out from the forest. The undeniable sounds of hellguns raining death upon something less then 100 meters away; either Sergeant White found something, or worse, something found him.


Chapter 4: Hidden Beasts

White stooped down behind the base of a large tree. He wondered where the hell did this attack come from and what the hell was attacking him. He turned to his left and saw two of his men duck behind a rock right before the ground behind them was riddled with bullets. Whatever was assaulting them was using some crude type of bolt throwers, crude but lethal. The other four storm troopers were pinned down in some brush twenty yards back. White looked at his men and gave them the signal to cover him. He sure as hell wasn’t going to leave four men behind in this dense jungle.

As he turned the corner around the tree he caught three shots right in the chest. The first two bounced harmlessly off his armor and the third impacted just on the surface barely causing the sergeant to miss a step. He raised his hellgun and started firing into the trees as he ran to cover behind another tree five yards to the left of the pinned troops. He landed with his back against the tree and caught the attention of the four stranded troopers. He relayed a signal by hand over to his second, Johnson, but before he could finish a tall muscular being dropped from the tree and swung at him with the end of a rifle.

The blow caught White by surprise and knocked him off his feet to the ground. He looked up to see some sort of beast raise its bladed rifle into the air as if to finish him off. The sergeant grabbed for his gun but before he could pull the trigger he saw three beams of red light flash straight through the beast’s upper torso and head. The beast slumped to the ground falling right beside Nickolas; its seared and burning flesh filling the air around the sergeant.

The two storm troopers had covered their sergeants six admirably and now it was time to get the hell out of dodge. White quickly pulled himself to his feet and retreated with Johnson firing his hellgun at the general direction from which the bullets were raining. He knew it wasn’t the discipline they were taught and would be disciplined by the sergeant later, but these beasts didn’t seem to have much in the way of armor and he needed to keep them off their backs.

Markov quickly climbed up the ladder hanging down from the hangar bay, back into the ship, and stormed down the hall to Andred’s quarters. He had chosen to not wear his armor while doing the grunt work outside, it reminded him of back home on his agri-world where he had lived long before he had ever met the inquisitor. He stepped inside the door and found Dawn walking his way already fully dressed in battle attire. She must have sensed the impeding attack because it usually takes her a few hours to get battle ready. Markov did not understand the mystic ways of these psykers, but had seen their usefulness and passion in battle, so, did not underestimate their power.

She looked splendid in her black body armor, not as bulky and powerful as his or Andred’s, but it got the job done. Her cape resembled Andred’s, straight black with the lacey gold I outlined in red. Strapped around her waist was her utility harness. In its holster on her left side was an interestingly designed sword, which when turned on shot out power-blue energy from the blade. In her hands was her bolter. For such a petite woman she handled a standard issue marine bolter with ease and at times in one hand even. Markov never found out where Andred had picked up such as useful woman pysker like her but he was sure glad he did. Besides, she sure was easy on the eyes.

Dawn looked up at Markov as she turned on the bolter and a round clicked into the chamber. “Hurry now Dorrik you won’t want to miss the fun,” she whispered into his ear as she passed by him.

Andred quickly formed up the crew into defensive positions; ten men to either side of the crudely erected wooden barricades below and three each to either weapon stationed on the sides of the hangar bay. They were shaking and most of them probably couldn’t hit the broadside of a chimera with a shotgun, but the lasgun was a very forgiving weapon. Valendez scrambled behind one of the barricades setup on the edge of the hangar bay. The lieutenant decided against taking his laspistol from its holster and instead grabbed the controls of the mounted heavy stubber from a crewman and told him to grab a lasgun and stick close. Andred jumped down the twenty some feet from the hangar bay and landed with one knee touching the ground, the other bent as if he was praying to the Emperor. He knew that if the enemy was going to bring it to them that none of these crewmen would survive hand-to-hand with anything but a small rapid flock of birds, and even that would be a close fight.

From the brush and shrubs twenty yards out three storm troopers came running and jumped behind a fallen log in front of the right side barricade and started firing back into the undergrowth. Three more troopers came from around a tree and hopped into the crudely built bunker on the left side. Sergeant White followed not much further behind and opted to run straight back to where Andred was waiting.

“Sergeant, what went wrong?” Andred said standing now while keeping an eye on the woods. The hellguns of the storm troopers fell silent as they checked energy readings and caught their breath.

“Ambushed by some strange tall beasts. I got a look of one up close and it had some kind of beak, like a bird,” White said taking a deep breath. “Their armor is light and we may have taken a few down. But they hide well.”

Andred thought to himself for a minute about his previous comment and let out a slight sinister laugh. White looked at him interestingly, but let it go. The forest went silent. Small animals could be heard rustling around here and there but everything else was still.

A sharp almost silent chime stung the Inquisitors mind, followed by the whispers of a soothing feminine voice. “We can hold the center but watch your flanks.” Andred half turned and cocked his head around to see the gorgeous Dawn standing at the top of the hangar bay wearing a small smile across her face. She was calm and collected. This pleased the inquisitor because she had never before spoken to him before a battle using her telepathic skills. Her control was growing more and more every passing week and she soon enough would be ready for the trials.

“What else can you see of the battle,” Andred thought to himself knowing full well that Dawn was listening.

“They have the numbers, but our resolve is greater. The rest is cloudy. May the Emperor protect,” he received back not a moment later.

“His power onto us will see us victorious,” he replied almost out loud.

Deafening screams pierced through the air as the tall xenos jumped forth from the woods attempting to cross the some twenty yards between the barricades and the edge of the clearing. The first ones had made it ten yards before Sergeant White was able to give the command to fire. Lasguns burst into firing their red beams upon the rampaging beasts, backed up with the more accurate fire from the storm troopers hellguns. The heavy stubbers set up on the deck started pouring tremendous amounts of bolts into the rapidly advancing lines. Xenos bodies broke upon the crude barricades and were shot down gruesomely at the close range, limbs being disabled and holes burning into the flesh. A small detachment was coming straight for the un-obstructed center.

Dawn jumped down behind Andred and brought her bolter to the ready. She started firing off rounds into the charging bird-like creatures. The front five in the unit advancing upon the inquisitor and his retinue fell in unison to Dawns precious fire. Each of their chests marked with a bowling ball sized crater where the bolt round had penetrated and the exploded in their chests. Unfazed by the gruesome deaths of their comrades, the beasts kept coming at full speed. Sergeant White dropped two with repeated blasts from his hellgun as Andred drew his bolt pistol and waited for them to close in a little farther before pulling his sights up and firing. His shot landed square between the eyes of what seemed to be the largest beast, blowing its brains out the back of its head.

This was the moment he wanted, the rest of the pack slowed just a bit at the fall of what appeared to be their leader. Andred raised his force staff and charged. White unplugged his now emptied hellgun and let it drop to his side, and with what seemed like a rhythmic action caught Dawn’s bolter in both hands and kept firing. Dawn had tossed her bolter to the sergeant and un-sheathed her sword in one swift motion. She telekinetically summoned the sergeants combat knife in her off hand and even though Nickolas saw this he wasn’t about to ask how.

Andred met the first creature with his staff and it separated the beasts head from the rest of its torso, spraying blood back into the charging ranks. In the same swinging motion Andred spun to his right and planted a bolt round into a beast as it raised its rifle for an attack; dark red blood gushed from the abdomen and started dripping from the creature’s mouth as it dropped to its knee. Another came at the inquisitor from behind, but right before its blow struck, Dawn’s blade cut it from hip up through the chest. She continued to sheer and dismember three more xenos that were trying to sneak up on Andred, all of their limbs falling, disconnected cleanly at the joints. She stuck another one in the spinal cord with White’s knife as its attack missed the twisting, turning beauty.

Andred and Dawn continued to advance slicing their way through the swarm of bodies that had tried to assault the front entrance, while Nickolas pumped bolt rounds into the stragglers. The bolter kicked and White was doing his best to counter, he wasn’t used to a weapon of this size and power. The inquisitor and his partner in the swirling death had forged forward towards the edge of the clearing and had forgotten about the men behind at the barricades. The frontal assault had done what it was supposed to, draw out the powerful fighters and leave the sides weak. That’s when two more units of xenos assaulted the wooden walls from along the sides. The crew stationed at the barricades downed the first row but had started to fall back towards the ship; the guns on the deck of the hangar bay were still empting clip after clip of ammo into the advancing sides.

Andred dispatched another with his bolt pistol and then gazed back at the ongoing assault, a quick thought ran through his mind as he turned and drove his staff down upon the chest of a rushing foe. He had counted on the crew to break and retreat back to the ship, but he was ready for this. The beasts had fallen for his trap.

Time seamed to slow as the clanking of ceramite boots came running from the corridor. Each step sounded like the pounding of a large hammer against an anvil. Into the hangar bay came an eight foot tall walking mountain of death. Most men there had never seen such a sight and thought that an Adeptus Astartes had just sprung from the shadows. Dorrick Markov may not have been one of these legendary marines but was the closest any of these crewmen had ever seen. The heavily armored man jumped down from the deck and landed standing straight up, his armor letting him take the impact without having to bend his knees much from the recoil. Ceramite covered everything from his feet up to his neck and upon his head rested an ebony colored helm with a T shaped crimson visor. Large pads sat upon the warriors’ shoulders, his left black with gold trim and the inquisition insignia laid in its gold and red splendor, his right was black with gold studs protruding.

“Hold your ground,” a deep bass like voice roared out as Markov raised the large powered axe in is right hand. The men that had already started falling back quickly readied what ever knives and bayonets they had among. The ones that had stayed at the barricades firing away with the storm troopers ran back to join the ranks. Dorrick only had to wait a few seconds before the beasts attacking the side flanks came over top of the barricades to the earth below.

“Charge!” Markov commanded and the conscripted soldiers howled as they counter charged into the filthy xenos herd. The counter charge gave the men an upper hand letting them each to face only one xenos. Markov started dispatching foes, crushing skulls and chest cavities left and right with his powered axe. He blocked incoming attacks using the combat shield attached to his left forearm that almost concealed the bolt pistol in his left hand. The man to his right caught a blade into his thigh and went down screaming in pain. Three more men behind Markov received blows to their chests and dropped to the ground silent. The bird-like creatures kept coming in droves over the broken walls.

Dorrick spun around and brought his pistol to bear, firing rounds into the beasts that just thumped his men. Limbs were ripped violently from their bodies as the bolt rounds exploded on impact. Several beasts witnessed part of their unit fall to this one soldier and rushed the ceramite warrior at once. The first couple met bolt rounds to the face, exploding a mix of grey brain matter, long pale quills, and blood onto the combatants surrounding them. Another two fell by way of the powered axe before the fifth beast was able to knock the axe from Markov’s hand to the ground. Dorrick kicked the knee cap of that beast back out the way it was supposed to be and blocked a wallop from a sixth xenos simultaneously. He threw a right haymaker into the temple of number six; the beast fell to the ground, its jaw shattered and neck limp. Dorrick turned towards the wailing xenos that had fallen to its good knee, and raised his bolt pistol to the thing’s forehead.

“Suffer not the alien to live,” Dorrick Markov bellowed and emptied the last round in his gun.
]

[falconkline]

I appoligize in advance for the lack of editing. I have not had time to send this to my friend who revises my work. I have gotten a lot done but some of it is jumbled and ''rough''. I will be posting what I have anyway after this exert.

Flashback: Dorrick Markov – The Early Years

Light was shining down from high overhead. A young man is standing at his father’s side underneath a large oak tree peering out over a large sweeping meadow. Two young boys are running around the base of the tree and a beautiful woman is sitting on a blanket nursing an infant. The young man and his father, both standing at good height, walk down to the creek where their steeds had been drinking from the cool stream. They both mount up and ride off while the mother and younger boys wave a friendly goodbye.

“Father what’s that?” the young man asks of his father while pointing towards the sky. A large ship flies above them heading north to the only city within hundreds of miles. Its wings spread out wide reminded the boy of a familiar pattern.

“Why son that looks like military transport. Must be something going on in the city,” the older man replied. He was a big burly man, standing at six feet with large shoulders and muscular arms. His long shirt sleeves were rolled up so his son could see the imperial Aquila tattoo on his left arm. The father had seen service in his Emperor’s army for many years and was one of the lucky to survive and retire. This land and family was now what he tended to and loved. He served the Emperor in a new way, feeding his billions of followers. In the near distance two more distinctively tall men on horses were riding up towards the father and his son.

“Father here come Bermin and Harn. Aren’t they supposed to be tilling the south fields?” the young man asked.

“Yes they are. Come let’s meet them half way,” he said as he bucked his horse to move.

The father and son start riding off towards the others. Faint screams can now be heard and more imperial craft are seen flying overhead. They meet up at the base of a small hill and Bermin speaks quickly “Father, hurry the city is under attack.”

Before Bermin stops speaking his older brother Harn hands over a long barreled autogun over to his father. Both Bermin and Harn have the same style of slug thrower strapped to their backs, and are wearing heavy coats for such a warm day.

“We over heard communication chatter on the scanner before setting the tractor on its tilling path,” Bermin continued as his father checked the chamber and loaded a clip into his gun. “The city forces are being overrun and PDF from Erenfield are on the way but there is no way they will make it here before the intruders have a foot hold.”

“What of your sister?” Con Markov asked.

“She took off down the south road to warn more of the farmers,” Harn said softly, his attention never swaying from the city to the north.

“Dorrick,” the father said looking at the young boy who was staring surprised at his older brothers. “Gather your mother and siblings and get them off to the house.”

“But father I am old enough to fire a gun,” Dorrick exclaimed shaking of the daze that had befallen him. “I should come with you.”

“No, Dorrick, someone must stay and take care of mama and the youngins.” The old man said sharply. “Now hurry, no telling what is going on.”

The father and his two eldest sons bucked their steeds and rode off north following the jet trail that the imperial craft were leaving behind. Dorrick was only fifteen but was already taller and larger then most grown men. He already stood at a towering five feet eight inches, nearly as tall as his father, and was much bigger then the kids he went to schooling with. His older brothers Bermin, twenty, and Harn, nineteen, had grown to their full heights of almost seven feet and were much bigger then their father. Even Dorrick’s older sister Marianna was a solid six feet but oddly very attractive for a built girl.

Dorrick rode off back towards the tree as fast as his large steed could carry him. He helped his mother and brothers off to down the dirt road to their home. All the while thinking to himself “Why do I have to stay behind.” They reached the farmhouse and quickly ran inside. Everything was happening so fast and the two miles between their farm house and the big oak tree seemed more like a small sprint. Once his mother and siblings were inside Dorrick stepped back outside and took his steed into the barn. Before he could finish closing the door to his steeds stall the young Markov heard his mother scream his name from the front porch.

He raced back out of the barn in time see his mother close the heavy front door to the house and hear the latch click. Ten yards from the porch stood three men in black robes, staring up at the covered windows of the large home. Their chests were pale and bare, except for the tattoos and markings cut deep into their skin. None of the men had hair and their eyes were solid black, no hint of white or color what so ever. Two of them were holding small metal shields and rusty daggers. The third one’s hand was hanging down from the sleeves of his robe and Dorrick thought he saw sharp blades protruding from the man’s fingers. The man looked at the young boy and an eerie smile flickered across his face.

Without so much as a word the two with swords started running towards the barn and the third leaped at the door. Dorrick quickly shut the barn door and turned around. Now was not the time to panic, but he couldn’t help but be nervous. He looked around frantically for something to defend himself with; eyeing the hay bails he spotted a pitchfork and grabbed it. Rushing through his head were the lessons and teachings of his father. “Stand tall. Don’t back down. Keep your head about you. Be swift. Be calm. Don’t over think. Don’t get angry.” More and more the words of his father ran through his mind as he readied the only weapon he had available.

The men had reached the door and were banging and pushing on it with all their might, it was only a matter of seconds before they would break through. Dorrick looked back towards the door, pitchfork in his hands, and readied himself to charge as soon as the door was busted. He spotted the chopping block and his fathers’ double edged axe sticking out of it. Damn why hadn’t he grabbed that instead, too late now.

The door bust open and one of the men fell through stumbling. Dorrick charged straight at him and buried the end of the pitchfork into the man’s stomach. The second man took a swipe at Dorrick from behind his partner but missed. The first man wrenched the weapon out of Dorrick’s hands and pulled it out his stomach. Blood was spilling from the attacker’s abdomen as he tossed the pitch fork to his side. They had both stepped through the door now and stared at Dorrick, who had stumbled backwards into a pile of wood. The man with the wound started laughing hysterically, blood spitting from his mouth and stomach.

The unharmed attacker made another swipe at Dorrick. The young boy dodged towards the chopping block but the blade had found the back of his left leg. Only a small cut that Dorrick shook off and stood. He made for the axe but the pale man made another slash at Dorrick, this time at the hand that was reaching for the weapon. The man’s blade missed and got wedged in the oak block; Dorrick grabbed at the shield and wrestled it easily from the man’s thin arm. The man grabbed Dorrick by the arm and tried to through the much larger boy to the side, it was a futile attempt. The man tried again pulling on the arm trying now to retrieve his shield. Markov let out a simple smirk at the futile attempts from this five foot something rag of a human being. He obviously was out matched by the young boys size and power.

Dorrick let go of the shield and the man fell backwards, giving the boy just enough time to pick up his father’s axe. The young Markov raised the axe over his head and swung down with all his might. The head of the axe came to rest in the sternum of the knocked back assailant fracturing ribs and ripping apart a lung. Dorrick pulled the axe from the attack raised it again and planted it in the man’s chest one more time. He peered up to see that the other attacker was kneeling on the floor laughing still. The pale man was sitting in a pool of his own blood drawing strange runes on the floor.

Dorrick pulled the axe from the limp body on the floor and started towards the other man. The bloodied axe found its way into the skull of the insane and already wounded attacker. It wasn’t until now that Dorrick could hear the screams of his mother again, he quickly raced outside and over to the house. The front door lay on the floor, scratched and broken. The screams were coming from up stairs. He could hear the attacker pounding on another door inside the house.

Markov raced up the stairs and turned right around the corner to face the bladed man kicking at his mother’s bedroom door.

“Leave her alone,” growled Dorrick, tears streaming down his dirty face. He had been crying ever since the slash to his leg but hadn’t noticed at all. He went to clinch his fist finding that the axe was still in his hand. “Remember your surroundings. Be calm. Use your strength. Hide your weakness,” he heard in his mind. His father’s shared wisdom pouring through his head randomly and periodically. It was like a silent prayer that kept him focused. He had often said this prayer in his head when fighting with the bulls on the farm, something he and his brothers did for fun. He didn’t even notice it anymore, the sayings were routine by now and he rarely heard them, but this was a situation he had never been in before and he needed the extra focus.

“Ha, you expect to hurt me boy. You will make a fun play toy,” the deranged man said turning his attention to Dorrick. This man wasn’t as small as the other two but was still not as tall or muscular as Markov. He shrugged and the jet black robe fell from his shoulders. Foot long steel blades were surgically grafted to the man’s fingers. Red scars in the shape of ancient runes were cut into the pale arms of the blood thirsty lunatic.

The heretic leaped at Dorrick, its left hand slashing and ripping open the boy’s right arm, the attacker’s right hand slashing across the left side of the boys face. Dorrick winced in pain and threw the man off of him into the wall ten feet away. The man scampered to his feet and made another pass at Dorrick this time landing a slice on the boy’s wounded leg. The boy flinched slightly and waited till the man stood upright to strike again. A heavy punch caught the aggressor square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him back off of the boy and into the wall again. Markov ran around the corner into his father’s den and shut the door.

“Tactical retreat,” he thought to himself. He had heard many of his fathers war stories were they had done this. Retreat, re-organize, and counter-attack. His father’s squad had done this many times against the hordes of monstrosities that he had encountered.

“Oh what’s wrong boy, you don’t want to play anymore,” the man hissed.
Dorrick looked around the den and saw one of his father’s pistols sitting above a mantle; he quickly ran across the room and clutched it from its resting spot. It was an older style auto-pistol that held a twenty round clip. The recoil from this pistol would kick a normal human arm half a foot in the arm but the boy’s family was built well and the large pistol looked almost like a toy in Dorrick’s hand. He quickly grabbed a clip that was sitting at his father’s desk, snapped it into place, turned off the safety, and load a round into the chamber. The door swung open wildly with the man standing in plain sight only five yards away. Markov proceeded to empty the clip into the deranged individual’s chest in a matter of seconds, the spray pattern from the shots closely grouped. What was left of the heretic fell back into the hallway and curled up into a corner.

The young boy fell to his knees, weeping as he dropped the pistol to his side. His mother, having heard the gunshots, came around the corner holding small pistol. She had expected the worst, but was relieved to see her son alive and triumphant. The gun dropped to the floor as she quickly knelt beside her son and hugged him tightly.

“It’s ok Dorrick, its ok,” she kept repeating.

“Mother, get Nortin, Logan, and the baby and head to the basement,” Dorrick said while wiping tears from his eyes. “There might be more coming.”

Dorrick stood up, towering over his mother, walked back over to his fathers’ mantle. He grabbed more ammo and reloaded the pistol; then looked back up at his mother who was now standing in the room. He could tell she was terrified and he was too, but this isn’t how his father expected him to act. Father expected him to take care of this family and he was going to do just that.

Chapter 5

A loud thunderous roar sounded off in the distance towards the mountain. The bird like creatures suddenly broke off their attack and scurried back into the forest. Andred stood straight up and peered over to the men behind the barricades. The storm troopers were firing into the retreating enemy but the others had stopped and looked to the canopy for the source of the roar. He then turned to Dawn who was standing beside him, soaked in the blood of their enemy. She had switched off her power sword and was sheathing it when she looked up into Andred’s eyes.

“Can you sense anything?” Andred inquired. Dawn closed her eyes, lowered her shoulders, and bowed her head. It took only moments before she lifted her head and peered back at Andred.

“Nothing, the battle is still clouding my thoughts. I am sorry lord,” she said in defeat.

“Do not fret. But we must re-group. I dislike like how those creatures broke off so suddenly,” the inquisitor stated as he holstered his bolt pistol. They both turned and started to walk back towards the barricades.

Sergeant White met them halfway, he had picked up his hellgun and was handing Dawn her bolter when he noticed blood running down his arm. Andred watched as the sergeant rolled his sleeve up to reveal a dark bloody mess of flesh. The sergeant had taken a round from the crude bolt sluggers the enemy beasts were carrying. It had torn through his bicep and neatly exited out the other side of his arm. The battle-hardened veteran had barely noticed what he would have called a “small flesh wound” until now.

“Shit. I’m sorry, sir.” White apologized; he did this every time he got shot. “I’ll have the medic take a look at it.”

“How many wounds is that since I’ve known you? Sixteen or seventeen?” the inquisitor jokingly remarked.

“Eighteen, one for every engagement I’ve been under your service my lord. I’m used to it by now,” Nickolas remarked, wearing a smirk on his face.

“Use your good arm to help any other wounded to the medical ward,” Andred said, the good humor leaving his voice.

Another earsplitting roar sounded from above the canopy of the trees, this one closer then the last.

“And you better hurry sergeant; I feel we will need your services again soon.” And with that final remark White headed off towards the hangar bay. Andred and Dawn remained where they were as they witnessed Markov helping drag wounded men up into the hangar bay.

“I’m getting a sinking feeling in my stomach,” the striking red-head exclaimed. “The fog is clearing. The Sky, the sky is dangerous. Something is coming.”

Dawn fell to her knees, grabbing her head with both hands. She was trying to force the reading and was exerting her force and willpower as much as she could. Her head flung back and she was staring up directly into the air; her eyes glowing an eerie color of green. Her arms lay limp at her side and a cadence of green energy surround her body. Andred had seen her do this before and knew it would be only moments before she would return to her body, but the crewmen all stopped and stared; their faces showing signs of disbelief and fear Andred glared at them and they all turned back to what they were doing.

Dawn was searching the warp for a glimpse of the future, or at least what the future might bring. It was a skill not many could do, or do so precisely. Other inquisitors had learned the technique or skill and could get readings without surrendering any power or time to thought, but most could not do it reliably. The warp can give off false readings to the untrained or impatient.

As suddenly as she went into the powerless state, she was out of it. Her eyes returned to their normal color and she rose, gently wiping dirt from her armored knee. She immediately started walking towards the ship. Andred stood still and watched as she walked away. Dawn stopped and bowed her head for a moment.

“Something is coming, and it’s hungry,” a voice said inside Andred’s head. It wasn’t as soft as it had been before. “We do not stand a chance in the open, we must seek shelter.”

Drakenhof nodded and followed Dawn back to the ship. They climbed up to the bay and Dawn headed off towards her quarters, as Andred stopped by the heavy stubber that the lieutenant had been firing. Valendez was speaking over his vox to someone in the background.

“Are you sure? We won’t get a second chance if it doesn’t work,” Tomas mentioned.

“I am sure it will work commander, the ships spirit is still strong. The ship will come to life again I am sure of it,” the unforgettable, half-mechanical, voice of Orteel declared.

“How long to complete your prayers?” queried the lieutenant?

“I will have commenced with them within the hour, sir.”

“Very well, proceed,” Valendez said reluctantly giving out his order before switching his vox to a lower volume.

“Orteel has remembered a prayer to help fix the ship,” Andred stated, knowing it would have happened sooner or later.

“Yes, he believes with this last prayer and final adjustment of the sacramental oils that the reactor should come to life. Not to full power but enough to get all intact systems operational.”

“Very good, we will need the power soon. Have the wounded taken away and get as many men here as soon as you can,” ordered Andred.

“What of the fortifications below sir? Shall we resume work?” questioned Valendez.

“No lieutenant. Focus on fortifying a door or shield of some sort where the bay door used to be. It is obviously not safe on the forest floor,” Andred said. He nodded to Valendez and started walking off in the same direction Dawn had gone.

The crew had been lucky; the attack from the bird beasts had only taken one of their own. Markov was kneeling beside the man that had died while fighting beside him. He was saying some sort of prayer, made a gesture, and then closed the man’s eyes with his un-gloved hand. He stood with his helmet tucked under his left arm and looked at the couple men that were standing around while Dorrick was saying the prayer.

“Dig him a grave worthy of a soldier,” Dorrick calmly stated as he strode off towards the ladder. He secured his helmet to a hook on his belt loop, put his armor glove back on, and ascended the ladder up to the deck.

He may have looked and acted like a space marine in battle, but Dorrick Markov treated all that fought beside him as an equal. It was a quality not seen much through out the imperium, but it was something that his parents had taught him.

Dorrick had reached the deck and was standing at Tomas’s side when yet another roar came from above the forest canopy. They both peered through a small three foot opening in the canopy but could not see a thing. Everyone else continued on about there work, everyone one keeping their lasguns close by their sides.

“Sir Markov, I have Paissley and his men bringing spare panels over from the wrecked ships in the port side bay,” Valendez said in a low tone, as everyone was not trying to be any louder then they had too. “Do you think they will help barricade the opening?”

“They would be better then nothing. Lieutenant, I suggest you tell Paissley to hurry up. I have an eerie feeling that the fighting is far from over,” Dorrick opinionated, still looking to the canopy. “I must retire to my quarters to retrieve more ammunition. Get the men off of the forest floor as soon as you can.”

Tomas wasn’t sure but he could have sworn that the Inquisitor just told him to the exact same thing. “This Inquisitorial bunch sure act alike,” he thought to himself, “almost as if they can read each others minds.”

Chapter 6: Control, Alternate, Delete and Then Restart.

“You there, boy, retrieve the holy oils from locker 438b in my quarters,” said a low mechanized voice.

The young man stepped down from the vent he was unclogging and grumbled. He didn’t say anything but just turned and walked towards the techpriests storage room. “Spider monks,” he thought to himself. The boy had come across one too many techpriests in his time; luckily this one wasn’t all that bad. At least this one only had one of those damned servo arms and no remaining servo skulls.

The young Jason Betz had shown what some would call a knack for fixing things ever since he was a little hive brat. Betz grew up in the low lying levels of some no-name, run-down city on an old industrial planet. At the age of eight Jason had already taught himself how to dismantle, clean, and re-assemble a standard issue autogun. Granted the firearms he worked with were in great condition to begin with because they had been stolen from an Adeptus Arbites storage center. Needless to say that wasn’t the right way to try and start a gang. Another rival gang sold them out to the Arbites, and within two weeks of getting to work with these well maintained weapons his gang’s house was raided. All but a couple of its members killed; luckily he was one of the ones that wasn’t killed.

Betz spent the next five years working as a prisoner for a high lord on that planet. No not a high lord like the ones on Terra, just a high level official coincidentally called the ‘high lords’ on that certain planet. Even though his life with his master wasn’t bad, Jason did not want to remain a slave for ever. He was only thirteen years old when he snuck away from the plantation he had been held as a slave at and stowed away onboard the small cargo transport of a rogue trader’s ship.

Jason found work aboard the merchant vessel for many years; the captain had been a fair man to the stowaway and let him work off his keep. His years spent aboard Verruck’s Dream had let him hone his skills even more and let him see wonders of the universe he would have never seen otherwise. Some of the more recent things he had seen made him wonder why this good captain would pledge himself to a member of the Inquisition without being directly ordered too.

“Damn this place is a wreck,” Betz mumbled as he entered the techpriest’s quarters. Orteel must not have had time to secure things before the crash and a lot of gear and tools were lying on the floor either bent or broken. “And I’m gonna be the lucky one to clean it all up,” he let out as he reached for the locker and grabbed some oil.

He didn’t care much for the priest’s prayers and incense, but he had learned not to question the rambling of these tech monks.

On his way out of the room he spotted a couple miscellaneous parts resting behind a compartment door. He looked out the door and down both hall-ways. No one would miss these small parts, its just a couple gears, a barrel, and a trigger. He picked them up, packed them into his jump suit, and resumed his walk back to the reactor room.

Jason walked through the door and set the oils down beside the techpriest who was saying a prayer before the main control board. Betz stood aside as the priest rose with the oil. Orteel then poured the oil onto an exposed panel and started saying another prayer. To Jason it sounded exactly like the other but as the priest finished this prayer he pulled down a level and the reactor started to whine. The techpriest then pushed a series of runes while continuing to recant some ancient prayer.

The whine grew loud followed by a series of loud bangs and couple clicks. Jason wasn’t sure if the thing was gonna work or blow their bodies out through the hull. The ship rumbled and shook and then died down and the whine turned into a low pleasant hum. The hum that Jason had grown used to all the years on this ship, the priest had somehow gotten this reactor working.

The exposed console in front of Orteel lit up, a mix of green lights and yellow warning symbols. The priest read from the console for a moment before turning towards Jason.

“Your job is finished here Betz. Now return to my quarters and clean them up. Do not forget to inventory any and all equipment,” Orteel ordered calmly. “I will report to the lieutenant that the ships spirit is alive and well.”

Jason didn’t say a word, as he found it better to just be quite and act like he was one of Orteel’s servitors. It’s a good thing this particular tech priest didn’t know the procedure to turn him into one of those mindless robots. The young man turned and left the reactor room.

…

Sitting in his now fully lit main chamber, Andred Drakenhof was pondering over the data on his console. Full readouts of the ships systems were popping up and reports of equipment flowing in on a regular pace. Normally Andred would not bother himself with such meaningless tasks and hand them off to someone like lieutenant Valendez or Paissley, but they had their hands full already. The day was only half over and they had staved off a small assault and restored power. Andred was banking on the fact that those bird like creatures would not return until dark. It was up to the lieutenants to have fortifications up by then.

Dawn appeared from behind Andred, still wearing her powered armor. The inquisitor could sense her uneasiness. She was sensing something he could not, yet he was not the least bit worried. He knew would only be a matter of time before his mentor would come looking for his cargo. Andred just hoped that they could hold off what ever it was that was haunting Dawn’s visions. The lovely lady slid her hand across the back of Andreds shoulders as she sat to his right.

“Did you find any information on the enemy?” she asked.

“Very little, but enough to help us combat them,” he spoke without deterring his eyes from his monitor. “They seem to be from a species commonly referred to as Kroot. Their species is rather dumb witted. They can only evolve through eating their dead enemy’s after a battle has commenced. There seem to be a couple sub-species listed that has reached evolutionary dead-ends.”

“Are they space fairing?” Dawn questioned with little optimism in her voice.

“Some are, yes,” the inquisitor replied. “The few data files I have on them shows a lot of their learning of technology from the eating of Orks, well at least the ones found by another Inquisitor. We should be able to deal with them rather easily. I am preparing a battle report for the Tomas on how to instruct his men when standing guard.”

“Typical fire base defense if I’m not mistaken,” a deep voice boomed from a dark room behind. “Their aim isn’t above our own, our weapons have more stopping power, and their armor is thin if it can really be considered armor.”

“Correct you are Dorrick,” Andred replied back. “They also seem to move quickly through these dense woods, better for our survival not to send too many men away from the ship.”

“If I may, lord,” Dorrick petitioned. “I would like to oversee the meeting with the lieutenant and help ready the men.”

“Very well, you are becoming quite the leader aren’t you,” stated the inquisitor as he turned to look up at Dorrick. “How did your new weapon serve you?”

Markov glanced back into his quarters where he had just finished cleaning his powered axe. Andred had bestowed this potent weapon to him just before this journey and this was the first time he had gotten to test its potential. Its spirit was wild and powerful and Andred felt that Dorrick would find it most useful, plus he owed the giant a favor for saving his life countless times.

“It brought back an old memory,” Dorrick said while letting a smile come across, “it will prove a powerful tool.”

“That it will, the spirit of that weapon will grow with you. I am sure of it,” remarked Andred.

Dawn remained silent through out the conversation. She was reading over the data that Andred had found on these bird creatures. Dorrick and the inquisitor shared a few more words before the giant strode off towards the hangar bay. Andred stood and walked over to a small table that held a pitcher full of a light blue liquid.

“You have not told him who used to wield that axe, have you?” she asked as the door to the chamber closed. “You do realize his spirit is embodied in that weapon.”

“All in due time my dear apprentice,” Andred said as he poured a glass for Dawn and one for himself. “When he finds out he will not be surprised.”

[falconkline]

Sorry again for those of you who are acually enjoying this dribble I write. Was on vacation last week and didn't have internet access...awe the beach. Anyway again I'm posting 2 chapters that haven't been profread. I'm not entirely happy with the space marines and how I portrayed them but I figured I better introduce them sooner or later. I also appoligize for the names of the Ultra marines captain as I could not find the name of Captain and Chaplain in the 7th company in any books I read through.

Chapter 7: It’s a Small Universe

The battle field was quiet. A burning rhino off to the left was making the only noise audible. In the small ceremite bunker stationed in the middle of the visible field a small squad of scouts kept their eyes stuck on the horizon. The fog making viewing distance short and the electro-magnetic interference blocked auspex’s from working properly.

“Sergeant, movement coming from the north-east,” whispered an initiate, “tyranids, gaunt class, twelve of them, seventy meters and closing slowly.”

“Brother Bowman, Brother Rocco, ready your sights on the trailing two,” the sergeant said in the same quiet tone.

The two space marine initiates raised the ends of their sniper rifles and targeted two of the gaunts in the back of the formation. They held their sights steady and awaited orders.

“Brothers Lehman, Lewis, and Vogel, off to the left side behind that rhino. Brother Girard and Stokes with me to that crater to the right,” the sergeant said without hesitation. “We will flank them after Bowman and Rocco pin them down.”

Without acknowledgement the marines broke from their bunker and hurriedly took up position in their respective locations. The pack of gaunts stopped suddenly and raised their heads in the air as if they had caught wind of the marines, the eerie silence still present over the field. The lead gaunt in the pack looked back at the rest in its squad, their minds to shallow and weak to think for themselves.

“Take ‘em,” the sergeant said over his radio.

Rocco and Bowman fired almost simultaneously dropping two gaunts in the rear of the pack. The pack instinctively lurked their heads down at the sound of gun fire then turned about to see where the fire had come from and that was the moment the brother-sergeant was waiting for.

“Open up,” said the sergeant and instantly the chatter of a heavy gun fire filled the air. Vogel dropped three in a row, each of their torsos exploding as the bolt rounds from his massive heavy bolter detonated in their chest cavities. The gaunts turned as to charge the marine when Lehman and Lewis opened with their bolters and brought down three more between the two of them. The remaining four fell easily to Girard and Stokes bolter fire coming from the right. The sergeant peered from their crater and was happy to see the shredded bodies lying in a small ten meter circle.

“Squad Talon to squad strike, target eliminated,” the sergeant said over his vox.

“Good work brothers. We have completed our sweep as well,” a voice squawked over the vox, “rendezvous at LZ one for extraction. Over”

“Copy, Talon over and out,” replied the brother-sergeant.

Lights from overhead clicked on and the burning rhino that the marines were standing behind quit smoking as the fire disappeared. The fog that had surrounded the battlefield dispersed quickly and marines from all around started gathering in the center of the room. The dead tyranid bodies faded out and disappeared as well. A marine in full power armor walked up from behind the fog cloud that was dispersing, his armor a proud august blue. His left shoulder pad proudly displaying an upside down omega symbol and his right decorated with his company logo. Two men in carapace armor colored in a darker blue with iced highlights followed behind, their bolt pistols and chainswords strapped to their sides.

“Acceptable result Brother-Sergeant,” the Ultra-marine said in an approving tone. “It was a shame you lost these two early in the simulation.”

“Brothers Graves and Adams fought hard when we countered that squad of leapers early on,” Brother-Sergeant Logan replied.

“That they did, and you were able to save your fellow brother devastators in that assault,” the ultra praised. “Your men have shown prowess in battle and are a going to make fine brothers in your chapter.”

“They still have much to learn but I agree with your assessment. They will make fine brothers,” Sergeant Logan stated.

Sergeant Logan of the Blue Dragons followed the veteran ultra as they walked off to exit the training room, his squad immediately retired to their quarters to commence prayer. The veteran ultramarine had shown up a few days ago along with part of his company to greet the Blue Dragons to Parmenio, an Ultra Marine training world inside of Ultramar. The dragons were happy to participate in training exercises with their founding chapter. The relationship between the two chapters has been close ever since the young dragons were formed a couple thousand years ago. They were frequently allowed to use strongholds and fortresses of the ultras for re-supply and recruiting.

Many of the marines of the Blue Dragons had come from a mineral rich world that was quite new in the imperium. The planet had been infested by very large winged creatures originally thought to be a species of tyranids, but later found to belong to a different species of xenos. In the early colonization of that planet it took many marines from both chapters to secure fortifications and help with the development. The horrific battles with these creatures lead to the naming of the Blue Dragons. The new chapter was created, settled this planet and made it their home.

Not long after the dragons had established a base and started recruiting from an unusually strong populace laced with suitable men, warp storms engulfed the planet and made travel to that sector of space near impossible. The planet soon disappeared from space all together and the chapter was dealt a devastating blow. The dragons had lost much of their supplies and four companies to the unexpected storms. It had taken Brother-Sergeant Logan and his fellow marine’s years to re-build their chapter. All attempts to locate their home have revealed nothing and without a fortress to call their own the Blue Dragons have been operating from their massive star ships for quite some time.

Sergeant Logan had not fought the beasts of Tallamagore and was not yet born at the disappearance of his chapter’s home planet, here out known as The Vanishing, but he could feel the pain through prayers with his brothers that had been there. Logan was young for a marine but had what some would call the makings of a hero. He had risen through the ranks quickly and had been decorated for his bravery and intuition. During his first battle as full brother, some fifty years ago, he took control of his squad after their sergeant had fallen to sniper fire. Logan had shown to his brothers from then on that he was born to lead and was granted the title of sergeant.

The young sergeant had given up the opportunity to progress through his chapter so he could join the ranks of the tenth company. It was an honor for him to teach young recruits along side his fellow sergeants even though he had not yet gained the honor of veteran. The losses suffered from the vanishing had given the young sergeant the chance to forego the normal procedure for being a mentor in the scout company and take command of a young squad. His squad had become close knit under his command and the teachings of other sergeants in the company.

Logan could not help but think of all of these memories as he followed the esteemed Ultramarine veteran through the halls of their fortress. Logan assumed they were headed to the briefing room to review in-depth reports of the training simulation. As they walked down the long hall way and turned right into large open chamber Logan realized it wasn’t the briefing room he had been in previously.

“Brother-Sergeant Spattick I see that the dragons have finished their training exercises,” the voice of well decorated marine stated as they entered the room.

“Yes they have Brother Fina,” the ultra marine veteran said as he and Logan bowed their heads in greeting to the librarian. “I have brought the young Sergeant Logan as you requested.”

“Good, please have a seat brothers. The others will be a moment,” the librarian said.

Logan had no idea what was going on and figured he had been requested to this meeting while in training exercises. Before he had the chance to ask the venerable ultras as to what the meeting was about, more marines entered the chamber. The first one through the door Logan recognized. It was his brother-captain Roman Renier, captain of the Blue Dragons fourth company. Following him was Logan’s own commander, Captain Chatham Davis of the tenth scout company. The other two men that came through the door Logan did not recognize but by the heraldry on their armor immediately fingered them as the Ultra marine captain and chaplain of the seventh reserve company.

“Sergeant Logan this is Brother Captain Stephen of the seventh company and brother Chaplain Grimis also of the seventh company,” Librarian Fina said proudly.

“So this is the sergeant you have been telling me about Brother Davis,” Stephen remarked as he held out his greeting to Sergeant Logan.

“It is an honor to meet you both,” Logan spit out. He was trying to hide his puzzled look and kept himself again from asking what he was called here for.

“Please brothers have a seat,” Fina said, breaking the almost awkward silence that was coming into the room. “We haven’t much time to discuss the matter at hand before action is needed.”

“We have received a transmission from an inquisitor. Lord Jacob Tallinder has once again petitioned for help from us,” Fina continued. “It seems that one of his trusted colleagues has gone missing, an inquisitor that goes by the name Andred Drakenhof and Tallinder comes to us for aid in rescuing his colleague”

“This Drakenhof was once an apprentice of Tallinder was he not?” Captain Stephen questioned interrupting. “Why does this inquisitor lord come to us for a simple search and rescue mission? Tell him to make the imperial guard do it.”

“Correct, and if you remember correctly brother Seven that is the same inquisitor who helped Lord Tallinder recover ancient artifacts from our fallen world of Prandium,” the librarian commented. “We owe this man the honor to at least hear out his request before blindly refusing to help. This inquisitor has only ever been helpful to us in the past and we have no reason to ignore him.”

“Brother Fina my men have more pressing matters to attend to, then to go on a wild chase after a lost inquisitor,” Captain Stephen stated aggressively. The captain had not been fond of inquisitors and had tried his best to avoid them in the past. “This is obviously a mission for the guard.”

“Be still thy tongue Brother Stephen,” Grimis toned in through his skull shaped helmet. “Let our Brother Librarian finish before passing judgment.”

Grimis stared at Stephen while the captain sat back in chair and eased his posture back from the aggressive stance he had been sitting in.

“My apologies brother Fina,” Stephen apologized calmly. “Please continue.”

“I understand where you stand with the inquisition my good captain, you have no need to apologize,” Fina said in an accepting manner. “I do agree that a simple search and rescue type of mission is not what our brothers are trained for. But it seems that Inquisitor Drakenhof was in route to Konor with some very important cargo. Cargo that should it falls into xenos hands would be a tragic loss for the imperium. It needs to be recovered and transported to Konor as soon as possible, so as you can see brother captain this is no simple search and rescue.”

“Sorry to interrupt Brother Fina,” captain Renier of the Blue Dragons fourth said while looking at the data readouts laid out in front of the marines. “But this job still sounds like it should be carried out by the guard. We do not have the numbers between our two companies let alone chapters to conduct a thorough enough search.”

“That is correct Captain but our good inquisitor Tallinder has narrowed the possibilities you see before you down to two systems,” Fina kept on while bringing up data on a system up to the overhead readout. “One of the possible systems lies just outside of Alsanta.”

“Orks,” exclaimed brother chaplain Grimis is an angry deep tone.

“Yes Alsanta is infested with Orks brother,” Fina said, maintaining his composure despite all of the interruptions. “Lord Tallinder has already organized a guard regiment to spear head an attack into that system and will require our assistance if the cargo is found there.”

“Excuse my interruption again Brother Librarian,” captain Renier spoke up, “but if brother Stephen and his men have other duties to attend to, my men would gladly help our fellow brothers by assisting in that operation. It is the least we can do for the kindness you and Brother Seven’s company has shown us.”

“No, brother captain Renier that will not be necessary,” Fina commented back. “Brother Captain Stephen will receive help from the other support chapters as necessary. Since all of the battle companies are currently under operations, the seventh company will take on this task as if it were a full battle company. Brother Renier, your men are to search the other possible system for the inquisitor, a small system on the outskirt of Ultramar near T’au subspace.”

The room went silent. All of the ultra marines in the room noticed the glimmer in the eyes of captain Renier and Davis as a star system displayed on the overhead console. A system neither of them had been to since the vanishing was now showing on the screen. It was their home system of Tallamagore.

“Surely I do not need to say anymore about this system you will search,” Fina said as the marines noticed more descriptive data show up on the read outs in front of them.

“That will not be necessary brother Fina,” captain Renier spoke up, “but I’m afraid we will find what we have found every time one of us has returned home.”

“I’m sure lord Tallinder would not send you there if he did not have good reason,” Fina petitioned strongly.

“Very well,” Renier said giving in easily to the librarians gaze, “we will honor this inquisitor’s request.”

“Very good Brother Captain and we will also honor the inquisitor by deploying to Alsanta,” Captain Stephen stated.

“I will have a transmission sent to Lord Tallinder immediately,” Fina spoke up enthusiastically. “Brother Stephen, Brother Grimis, you are dismissed to prepare your troops. The inquisitor will be waiting for your arrival before commencing his attack. ”

Stephen and Grimis said their peace with everyone in the room, and then promptly left with brother Spattick following close behind. It would be no small feat to get their company supplied and ready to leave the training grounds in the next ten hours, but it wasn’t something they haven’t done before. This was their life. They waited for the chance to crush the emperor’s foes in battle and were always ready to fight at a moments notice.

Logan had remained silent and attentive throughout the whole discussion, still clueless to why he had been privileged to take part in the meeting. His yet young mind, well young by marine standards anyway, not realizing the potential that everyone else saw in him.

“Captain Renier I would ask that you allow me to accompany you on your search,” Fina implored as his fellow Ultra marines left the room. “I have a feeling I may be able to help you with your mission.”

“Your presence would be welcome,” Renier replied startled. “But as I mentioned before I fear we are wasting our time.”

“I fear we are not brother,” Fina said. “This inquisitor has never needlessly risked a marine life nor has he ever wasted our time.”

“Truly unlike most inquisitors, from the tales I’ve heard and from the ones I’ve met,” Logan interrupted silently.

“Yes Lord Tallinder is not your usual inquisitor, but that does not mean he isn’t without his trickery and deception,” Fina replied calmly. “But enough about this inquisitor, I am sure we are fulfilling the Emperor’s will when honoring his requests. I am delighted to have the chance to see you honorable warriors in action.”

“Brother Sergeant Logan, I am transferring you and your squad over to Captain Renier’s command,” Captain Davis stated. “If Brother Fina’s intuition is correct they will need your help.”

“Yes captain, but are sure that my men are ready for this?” Logan questioned, his words coming out in such a way that they did not anger his captain nor question his authority.

“I am most certain that you are ready to lead your men into battle brother sergeant,” Captain Davis stated proudly. “And upon satisfactory completion of remaining exercises during flight and their performance in battle your men will become full battle brothers.”

“Welcome Brother Sergeant Logan to seventh company,” Renier said as he stood and reached out his hand to congratulate the young sergeant.


Chapter 8

Light was draining from the canopy above as the last of the crewmen of the downed ship crawled up into the partially defended hangar opening. Sparks flew from holes in the wall as men were feverously trying to complete a door to hold off any foes of the night. It had been three days since that first attack of the bird beasts and the crudely built hangar door was almost fully completed.

Lieutenant Paissley, data pad in hand, was supervising the repairs from the hangar deck. Behind him Orteel and Betz were rigorously attempting to repair a Valkyrie. Paissley’s face was dirt covered and large semi-circles were apparent beneath his eyes. It had been a long four days since the crash. Most men were not sleeping at night and those that were got very little.

“Alright men listen up,” Paissley finally shouted to the workers. “We are losing natural light, time to close the door up. Groups five and eight will be on watch tonight so the rest of you try to get some rest.”

The men and women all let out a sign of relief. Typically people would use the time between finishing their work and sleep to fraternize and share gossip. But all of the crewmen were exhausted and down right scared; all but a few still slept with a lasgun or laspistol by there side at night.

“Paissley to Valendez,” the lieutenant squawked over his vox. “Operations in the hangar bay have ceased for the night, any news from our eyes in the sky.”

There was a small silence as Paissley awaited a reply from Tomas. He glanced around and saw that most of the men and women had left the hangar bay spare those that were now arriving to keep watch. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Orteel and Betz had remained to keep with repairs on the flyer.

“Report received,” a calm voice from over Paissley’s vox sounded. “Communication today was broken and sporadic but nothing new to report.”

“Well they have to be running on fumes up there, I don’t think they will last much longer,” Paissley commented back to Tomas.

“I feel you are correct,” the vox on Paissley’s shoulder reported. “Oh and one last thing lieutenant, the inquisitor wants to meet in the briefing room in an hour. Take a rest and we’ll see you there.”

“Hopefully he has good news for once, Paissley out,” the lieutenant said and then switched his vox to a low setting. Just as he did a loud whirl from the back of the bay made the man jump and immediately turn with pistol drawn.

Paissley unraveled from his generic looking pose and holstered his pistol as he looked on at the Valkyrie that Orteel now had working. The two large turbines spinning and whirling as if they were brand new and the running lights all a lit in perfect working order.

Betz looked on and checked the data pad in his hand as he walked over to the lieutenant. Grease and sacred oils lined his overalls and the look of exhaustion was more present on his face then all of the other men Paissley had seen that day.

“Sir, have a look at these readings,” Betz shouted over the whirl of the flyer. “Orteel has managed to get the Valkyrie working at ninety percent efficiency.”

“Good, I will have some good news to report to the inquisitor,” he shouted back into Betz’s ear.

“What was that sir?” Betz replied back as the whirling died down and ceased operation.

“Never mind,” the lieutenant said. “You need rest; I will tell Orteel that you will report back to him at 0800.”

A smile appeared on the young mans face for the first time since the crash. He thanked Paissley and headed off to his quarters. Free time for Jason Betz didn’t come very often nowadays, in fact he didn’t have much before the crash either, but he was sure going to enjoy it.

…

The command bridge of the Verruck’s Dream was still in shambles. Open panels revealed their circuitry and only a couple monitors and read out screens remained operational. The bodies of those that perished in the crash long gone but their blood remained, dried to the walls and floor. Sunlight was trying to peek through the small openings in the dented and twisted window shields.

Tomas sat in a high backed chair as he sipped from a tin cup, his face showing the signs of exhaustion like all the others around him, except for one. A petite milk-chocolate skinned woman sat at a station off to his side operating the ships only scanner that was operational. Brind Amour was as beautiful a woman as Tomas had ever seen. Her short black hair curled ever so slightly and to stare into her deep brown eyes relieved all stress from his body.

Brind was not a normal crew member by any means. She wasn’t even enlisted in the guard. Miss Amour was one of the late Admiral Sayen’s whores, for lack of a better word. He kept the mistress by his side when he could and had brought her, his favorite mistress, over with him when he fled his capital ship. The bruises on her arms were disappearing now and the admiral was no longer around to use her for his liking, and this is why she smiled so.

Tomas could barely understand the freedom she felt but was happy to have her around. She not only boosted the moral of the lieutenant but everyone else she happened to be around. She had learned quite easily to operate the scanning console and worked day and night scanning the skies and surface of this planet.

Brind suddenly turned from her console and walked towards Tomas, breaking him from his daze.

“Lieutenant, I think I’ve found something,” her eyes sparkled as she tried to contain the excitement in her voice, “Human life readings approximately a hundred kilometers south of our location.”

Valendez stood quickly and followed Brind to the console. He glanced over the readings as she sat back in her chair, hands clasped together as to applaud for a job well done. The more Tomas read the bigger his eyes got. He broke away from the monitor and started walking towards the hallway door in a fast walk when he suddenly stopped and turned towards Brind.

“Good work Miss Amour, keep scanning,” Tomas said as he turned to a muscular man working with a mobile radio. “Johnson, see if you can get an open comm channel working and contact them.”

Tomas raced down the corridor, his feet moving faster then they had in a long time. He rounded a corner and kicked open the door to briefing room. The door flung open with ease and Tomas almost fell on his face as he stumbled through the opening, finally falling to his knees. Inside Andred and Sergeant White had stood at the commotion.

“Lieutenant, what do you want,” Andred said in a startled almost angry voice.

“Forgive the intrusion lord inquisitor but you need to hear this,” Tomas said as he breathed heavily.

“Come now out with it Valendez,” White said as he walked over to help Tomas to his feet.

“Scanners picked up heat signatures south of our location,” Tomas started as White helped him up. “The signatures are human sir, about forty or so different sigs. Perhaps more survived from escape pods. They are within operational distance also sir.”

Andred sat straight up; his hand found its way to his chin. What seemed like an eternity to Tomas was only a matter of seconds that Andred sat and pondered until he stood and picked up his vox.

“Markov,” he said clearly throw his radio, “your presence is needed in the briefing room.”

Andred put the vox on the table without waiting for acceptance from Dorrick that he had received the message. The inquisitor knew his loyal body guard would be there soon enough. By this time White had helped Tomas over to the table where he proceeded to take a drink from the pitcher of water.

“Sergeant,” Andred spoke now after a brief moment of silence, “Find yourself a pilot and prepare your men for take off in thirty minutes. As soon as the fog rises I want you to make a sweep. If that group appears to be survivors from the crash I want you to land and gather intelligence, if they are more of those damned xenos then you know what to do.”

“Yes sir, my men will be ready,” White replied back. Markov was just now rounding the corner into the briefing room.

“Fill Dorrick in and I will tell Dawn, they will be accompanying you,” Andred said as he walked towards a rear door that lead to his personal chambers. He stopped at Dorrick’s side and placed his hand on his friends shoulder.

“If you find any of my missing cargo, remember that it takes precedence over any mans life,” he exclaimed as he left the room.

[Feil]

I'm afraid I only made it a few paragraphs, but I'll post a response here anyway.

A few things.

Alright everyone here is my first attempt at a fan fic. I have been trying to do something like this for a while. I admit that my grammar isn't the greatest and I have been having trouble with the beginning of this story, it feels rushed to me, but hopefully with your input and advice it will get better. I know the name is lacking also so any help with that will be greatly appreciated.

Any intention of reading your fanfic for personal entertainment alone would be lost after this paragraph. You havn't made a respected name for yourself, and you've just told us that your story isn't good. Why should we read it?

I doubt anybody got past this paragraph.
---


I'm going to attack two paragraphs rather brutally. Please read through. If I was only interested in insulting you, I would just send you a PM, so as not to incur the wrath of the Mods; it therefore follows that I want to help.

Chapter 1 : Warp Turbulence
A planet sits in space, peacefully traversing along its orbit around a magnificent star. The two moons of the planet can be seen off in the distance; one being a dark blue and the other a sharp yellow. A giant swell of energy masses just beyond the planet and from it five space ships emerge. This otherwise unexplored and hidden part of space has been invaded by these ships of the imperium, but only by chance. This isn’t the first time this peaceful system has received visitors, and surely won’t be the last.

This should not be in present tense. Even for professional authors, tense-changes are risky gimmics that are hard to pull off without damaging the flow of the work.

There should be whitespace after the title, and a paragraph break before "This otherwise unexplored..." where you begin a new thought.

Imperium is capitolised.

Admiral Edward Sayen, a rather short man for an admiral with bright blonde hair and plain brown eyes,

Coupla things. First, the sentence suggests that admirals with bright blonde hair and plain brown eyes are usually tall. To accomplish your desired effect, you should say something like this:

"Admiral Edward Sayen, a man who was rather short for an admiral, and had bright blonde hair and plain brown eyes,"

Second, unless you wish to specifically draw the reader's attention to the pigmentation--probably for the purpose of introducing a not-so-mundaine character trait and associating it with that pigmentation--you don't need to say any of that.

Third, pointing out that an Imperial Admiral has bright blonde hair demands a followup comment about 'belying his many years of service" or "a demonstration of his dedication to preserving his prime".

was franticly racing through the depths of his ship to the landing bays of his Imperial Mars Class cruiser.

1- An Imperial Admiral does not frantically race! He is King and Lord of his ship and his fleet. Normal people race to see that the Admiral is permitted to move in a matter appropriate to his station.

2- We know that it's an Imperial vessel. We don't care what class of cruiser it is. Just tell us it's a cruiser.


So, what is left of your sentence, assuming we want to keep it at all?

"Admiral Sayen was frantically racing through the depths of his cruiser to its landing bays."

It's still not good, because it serves no purpose, and assumes that an Admiral would frantically race, or that a cruiser is traversed via 'depths' rather than by turbolifts or whatever are used in 40k.

His personal transport would be too big to fit onto any of the three remaining escort’s hangar bays. Sayen’s personal transport was better fit to handle any space travel then the other ships in his hangar bay but the admiral didn’t want to float in space aboard such a tiny vessel. He also knew which ship he wanted to travel to and was certain he would make it there. Sayen spotted what seemed to everyone else as an ordinary cargo container being loaded by storm troopers onto a cargo ship. Under normal operating circumstances this would have drawn more attention, but when the ship you are riding upon is in as much trouble as The Beloved Sun was, you were just trying to save your own neck. Sayen and other members of his command boarded this ship as it prepared for launch from the hanger bay.

Up until "Sayen spotted..." is dead space. It can be replaced with "When he arrived."

Things 'seem to be', they do not 'seem as.'

Never, never, never use 'you' for a pronoun for 'a person'. This pronoun is 'one'.
"When one is riding upon a ship in as much trouble as The Beloved Sun, one is just trying to save one's own neck"

We already know that it's launching from the hangar bay. No need to tell us again.
----

Okay. I know that didn't feel good. However, it illustrates my point.

Your writing is very flawed.

There are a couple ways to remedy this. The first is to do exactly what you are doing: write! Don't expect it to be great, but always try to make it better.

Writing in an advanced word processor like Microsoft Word can be helpful - while MSWord can be evil and nasty, it also comes with a great spellchecker and a grammar checker that will help a lot.

The biggest one is reading. Read like mad. Read when you go on a break at work. Read at the beach. Read before you go to bed at night. It doesn't have to be a classic or a great work or anything like that, just find a book that draws you in and won't let you go. Go through a book a week. Become a bookworm. Find a fun, fast-reading author you like and blow through a dozen books over the summer.

You obviously want to write, and you're willing to work at it, and you have a story to tell. Keep it up. We all started lousy, and few of us started with this much energy. Just don't expect any results--or readers--until you manage to pick up, through practice and constant absorbation of professional-quality literature, the art of good storytelling.

[falconkline]

I wanted to thank you for your critique of my work. I certainly do enjoy writing this fan fic and try to do so as often as I have time. Writing and grammar have never been strong suits of mine even up through college, but it is always something I wanted to do. This story is meant to better my writing and I plan on writing in this one for a while, hopefully gaining more critiques like yours.

I have really immersed myself into the 40k universe and am looking for a good novel to read so any suggestions please feel free to let me know. It always seemed in the past that books I would try to read would lose my interest, but I have some renewed vigor after reading fan fics on this site. Especially works by Starvo and Imperial Overlord.

Again thank you for the criticism, I really do appreciate it and by no means took offense to any of it. I understand that some people won't want to read my work because it is sloppy and flawed but I am glad that somebody took the time to help critique my work.

[falconkline]

Chapter 9: Hostile Skies

The compartment was cramp and hot. Orteel had not been able to get the Valkyrie’s air cooler unit working properly and with the humid conditions it made the flight inside of the transport miserable. Dorrick barely noticed as he was accustomed to this type of environment since his early childhood, that and he was being cooled through his power armor’s ventilation fans.

“I’ve got a visual of the target Sergeant,” Whites vox squawked, the voice coming from the spotter in the cockpit.

“Does the target appear to be friendly?” White questioned back.

“They appear to be human readings sir, wait. I am picking up three escape pods emergency beacons sir,” the spotter said excitedly.

“ETA ten minutes sergeant,” the pilot reported. “We will drop below cloud cover in five.”
“In coming bogeys at ten, twelve and one!” the spotter shouted into his radio, the outburst immediately grabbing everyone’s attention.

“I don’t have a visual are you sure they’re there?” the pilot yelled back over his shoulder to his spotter.

“Yes three heat readings closing low to the ground. Their sigs are coming back as organic. Man these readings are huge,” the spotter replied back.

The pilot dropped completely out of cloud cover and that is when the three bogeys came into view. Racing towards the survivors were three very large flying beasts. Each of their bodies easily the size of the Valkyrie and their wing spans fanned out beyond that of the transports. Long sweeping tails flowed from behind the beasts and their spines appeared to be lined a hardened bone spikes.

Sergeant White and Dorrick were peering at the creatures through the side hatches on the transport which had now been opened to allow the heavy bolter turrets to be deployed. Both men in shock at what they were seeing, the beasts descended upon the survivors quickly and started ripping through the tops of the escape hatches with power razor edged claws.

Two of the blue-scaled beasts were grabbing up survivors and devouring them whole, paying little attention to the idea of chewing. The third, whose scales were highlighted in a lighter blue, stopped grabbing at the humans and turned its attention on the Valkyrie that was now hovering in mid air.

“Open up on the closet target with everything you have,” White ordered.

The pilot flipped a rune on his dash board and pressed his firing trigger on his stick. Beams of hot red light shot from the multi-laser but the whirling sound of the gun was drowned out from the barking of the deployed heavy bolters. The laser beams struck the target but were absorbed into its hide easily. Round after round of the heavy bolter shells also struck the dragon-like beast but could not penetrate the creature’s armored skin.

“Pilot, get us out of here,” Sergeant White ordered seeing that the shots put out from the Valkyrie had little to no effect on the beast.

The turbines hummed louder as the flyer turned and attempted to retreat back from whence it came. The third beast jumped in to the air and started flapping away; its attention fixated on transport. Dorrick could see the beast spring up behind them through the hatch he was looking out of.

“It’s going to chase us,” Markov stated in an awkwardly calm voice, “and will catch us.”

“We need to lighten up and fly faster. White, tell the pilot the drop his spare fuel tanks,” Dorrick said as he reached for the leaver to lower the back drop door.
“Dawn, do you think you ca...” Dorrick started as if to ask a favor from his companion but she had already guessed as to what Dorrick had in mind and had projected her compliance through her telepathic gaze.

The extra fuel pods mounted under the wings detached with a clank and fell to the tree tops. Dawn held her hands close to her now lowered head, green energy seamlessly sparking out from her eyes. Right as the beast was flying over the fuels pods looking down momentarily to see what had dropped from its prey, Dawn shrieked and the pods exploded sending a hot shrapnel filled blast upwards towards the startled beast.

Pieces of molten metal sprayed the armored body of the flying nightmare, barely fazing it. More shrapnel flew into the spread wings, singeing them. The beast let out a roar as it halted its pursuit and climbed suddenly to escape the immense heat. The pilot hammered the throttle down to escape the sight of the frightened, but otherwise mostly unharmed creature.

Dorrick and White could hardly believe that the explosion barely harmed the thing, let alone did not take it out of the sky. White let out a small sigh as the beast turned from them and flew away. The men pulled the side bolter hatches back up and locked them into place.

Dawn sat hunched over out of her seat; she had drained what little energy she had to ignite the tanks from so far away.

“May the Emperor help us,” a voice said inside of Markov’s head as Dawn turned her head to look directly at him. She was talking to him as she had done before, telepathically to keep the others from hearing the conversation. It wasn’t what she was doing that scared the huge man, but what she was saying and the tone of voice it was in.

The compartment became silent and all that could be heard was the pilot’s spotter opening a comm channel with the Verruck’s Dream.

“Mayday, mayday, sparrow one to Verruck’s Dream, we have fuel loss and cannot return.”

The spotter waited as the radio squawked back nothing but static. He opened another channel and tried again. “Mayday, mayday…”

[falconkline]

“Is she alright Dorrick?” Sergeant White petitioned as he walked into the back of the landed Valkyrie.

“She is drained, but will be fine,” Dorrick relayed as he stood from Dawns side. The beautiful pysker was lying across the bench in the back of the emptied Valkyrie, her eyes shut and body limp.

“Well we are going to have to hike it back. The spotter cannot get a communication through to the ship,” White said. “We have little cover here if those flying tanks decide to come looking for us.”

“How far do you guess we are from the ship?” Dorrick questioned.

“Approximately four kilometers from the tree line and another twenty or so to the ship through the forest,” White answered. “At least in the woods we have a better chance at hiding, sitting out here behind this boulder isn’t going to offer any protection.”

The pilot had skillfully landed the Valkyrie in a series of rocks that were scattered across the plains. Sergeant White’s troops had set up a small perimeter around the downed transport but were given little comfort having seen the beasts that this world had already shown them. Their hellguns were no match for the dragon-like creature’s armor and the most they could hope to do was hit a vital or hide, although the latter seemed less likely. White’s second was working with the spotter in an attempt to communicate with their ship but neither the Valkyrie’s comm system nor the storm troopers radio pack could get any response.

“Alright Nickolas gather your men from their posts,” Dorrick said after pondering his options for a moment. “We will have to make a sprint to the tree line and take are chances with the bird beasts in the woods.”

White gave a half a nod and called out to his men. Markov turned and walked back over to where Dawn was lying. He bent down and picked up her petite body, easily one third the size of his and two feet or so short of his height. She instinctively wrapped her arms around as much of his breastplate as she could. She was in her power armor with her bolter strapped around her back and power sword sheathed at her side but even with the added weight Dorrick lifted and carried her effortlessly. He walked out of the back compartment of the Valkyrie to where White and his men were now formed up and waiting along with the pilot and spotter.

“Alright sergeant, lead us out,” he bellowed.

“Okay men, arrowhead formation in the front I will lead. Dorrick and the flyboys will stay in the center and you two bring up the rear,” White said while pointing at two of his troopers. “Let’s move double time!”

Nickolas led the group out jogging across an open field towards the tree line. The land to both side stretched for miles out and the debris trail left by the crashed ship could be seen over a kilometer to their left. North was the forest that rose up high into the side of a mountain.

The trip across the open ground went quick and without resistance. The group had jogged or outright ran most of the way and now slowed to a walk as they reached the edge of the forest. The easy part was over now having covered the distance in less then twenty minutes, but it would not be so easy to navigate through the forest. Dorrick thought to himself that they had lucked out in that the sun was not yet overhead meaning they still had over half the day’s sunlight to walk by; though the forest would still be dark.

“Hold up,” the pilot said, breathing heavily, “we need to rest for a minute.”

“What’s wrong flyboys can’t keep up,” panted one of White’s storm troopers.

“Shut it,” White growled, “we will stop for a moment but we cannot delay our progress.”

“Dorrick please set me down,” Dawn said in a low quiet tone.

The giant man set the pysker down gently to the ground where she immediately took a seat on a fallen log. The pilot and spotter had both sat down on a small soft patch of moss while the storm troopers kept watch. Dorrick stood by Dawn’s side as she took a pouch from her belt and sipped the cool liquid nutrient from within. She was slowly regaining strength but he knew that if they were to get into trouble she would be too fatigued to defend herself against the bird-beasts that they had slaughtered back at the ship.

Dawn stood and placed the canteen back on her belt. She reached around her side and pulled the strap of her bolter over her head. She grabbed the pistol grip style handle and activated the safety rune to off. The sudden movement attracted everyone’s attention as it was meant to do; she had a knack for grabbing attention.

“Alright boys,” she said in an almost demeaning way as she loaded a clip and cocked the weapon. “Nap time is over, let’s move.”

“You never cease to amaze me,” Dorrick said with a large grin creeping upon his face. He put his hands to his sides and unlatched two bolt pistols, pulled them from their holsters, and activated them just as Dawn had done. “White, lead us out of here.”

…

Tomas Valendez stood before his readout console waiting to hear anything come from the radio personal behind him. There were only three other crew members in the command section, everyone else had been called down to the docking bays where fighting had erupted once again. Brind was working the scanners more feverously now then she had before, searching, hoping to find the signal of the Valkyrie that had disappeared from the screen. Chanting and clanks coming from the radio console were constant as Orteel worked at getting the unit operational. Beside Tomas a young Jason Betz stood.

“Lieutenant,” Valendez’s vox screeched, “any news on our downed bird?”
“No sir, we have not been able to contact them,” Valendez reported back.

“Keep trying,” the vox squawked again, “their slug weapons are doing nothing against the barricade but they have yet to charge forward from the woods. They seem to be tactically limited in their…”

The vox squelched and turned off, grabbing everyone on the bridges’ attention. Loud eruptions could be heard and the floor shook. Lights flickered for a moment and the consoles blinked. Tomas yelled into his vox hoping for a response. He yelled again, addressing the inquisitor franticly. Nothing came from the other end as they all waited and Tomas feared the worst.

Orteel stopped chanting and stood from the opened radio compartment. He immediately started for the door.

“Orteel where are you going,” Valendez shouted out over top of the alarms that were ringing, “we need the radio up and working.”

“I must attend to the reactor,” the shrouded priest said while he kept for the door, “if we lose it the radio will not matter.”

“Fine,” Tomas got out before Orteel broke through the threshold of the doorway and continued out. “Betz take the turbo lift down to the docking bay and find out what is going on down there.”

Without a word Jason was down the stairs from the main console and out the door, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His heart was pounding inside of his chest and he could feel his emotion heighten, something inside his head was preparing him for what he was going to walk into. He turned the corner and slammed his hand against the rune for the turbo lift and waited.

Not a sound could be heard, he slammed the rune again and again nothing happened. “Shit,” he thought to himself as he turned and headed for the emergency ladder hatch. “Always the hard way,” he said aloud as he unbuckled his utility harness that held his tools, “nothing ever comes easy to Jason Betz.” The utility harness dropped to the floor with a thud but not before he retrieved his pistol from its holster.

It was only two levels but the climb down the ladder was cramp and dark. The safety lights had either short circuited during the crash or perhaps never worked. Betz stepped from the ladder into a corridor that would lead him to the docking bay. He could hear the buzz of lasgun rounds being fired off but he distinctly did not hear the chatter of the emplaced heavy stubbers.

A quick sprint and he was at the door. He opened it and gazed at the newfound wreckage laid in front of him. Men lay bleeding in front of his feet, some dead, some grabbing at severed limbs, and some buried beneath the remains of the bay door. The heavy stubber emplacement was mangled beyond repair and the emplacement at the other end was probably in the same condition. As he surveyed the rest of the bay he could not believe his eyes. The loader sentinel was lying on its side, the top blown completely off. The remaining aircraft that he had been working on were now beyond even an ad mechs skill. Each one of them riddled with large chunks of shrapnel.

Wreckage and smoldering fires are what he saw but no Inquisitor. Just as he reached for his personal radio he realized he had wandered out away from the safety of the corridor. A sudden blast hit the deck and the ensuing shock wave threw him deep into the back of the docking bay. Pain coursed through his body as he slammed hard into the side of one of the ruined lighters. His body felt limp as he slid down the side of the destroyed flyer to the floor.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring into a horrific gaze of another man. Betz jumped back and reached to his side for his pistol that had luckily remained at his side. The man consisted of just an upper torso and his eyes were frozen in a deathly stare. As burnt and marred as the body was Jason could make out the lieutenant signum on the uniform right next to an imperial eagle emblem.

“You there boy,” a voice said sternly from behind him. Betz turned to see a man in black power armor leaning against the ruins of an aircraft. The inquisitor was badly beaten and bleeding from many places; the most noticeable a large gash in his left armored arm and shoulder pad. The legs of the power armor were dented and punctured in several places yet were still holding together. A large armor plate from one of the damaged lighters was pinning the inquisitor to the floor.

“Lord Inquisitor,” Betz said as he kneeled beside Andred.

“Shut your mouth and listen,” Andred said cutting off Jason and grabbing him by the collar. “The damned beasts hit us with some sort of armor penetration rounds, the deck is a mess and we have suffered heavy casualties, including Lieutenant Paissley. Help get this off of me and then you are to find a vox and report our situation up to Valendez.”

The inquisitor threw Betz aside and lifted the large metal plate off of his legs. He then reached down and picked up his bolt pistol and pressed a rune that disengaged the magazine. The clip fell to the ground as the tall man reached behind his back and retrieved a different clip. Betz just stood there and watched, he had seen that kind of clip only briefly before when sorting special equipment for Orteel. The markings on the clip indicated that it held incendiary rounds.

“What are you looking at,” Andred yelled, “find a damn vox and report back to Valendez. Then get your ass back here and kill some filthy xenos.”

Andred turned and started running towards an opening in the bay door. He reached the edge and didn’t stop but instead jumped. The thirty or so meter drop barely fazed the heavily armored man as he hit the ground running. The beasts were hiding in the wood line and were not showing themselves as they had before. They were thinking and showing tactics that did not surprise the inquisitor, it was just the firepower that they possessed that caught him off his guard.

Suddenly an explosion erupted right in front of the inquisitor stopping him in his tracks and knocking him to the ground. Andred got up quickly; smoke pouring off of his armor. He was prepared this time. His conversion field took the blast and protected the inquisitor from certain death. Andred followed the smoke trail with his eyes and estimated the general direction the crude rockets were being fired from. The bolt pistol in his right hand rose and barked loudly as three rounds were fired in a quick succession.

The incendiary rounds glided through the air into the brush and detonated. The flaming liquid flew in all directions engulfing the surrounding foliage in white hot fire. Andred held the palm of his empty hand out and magnified the flames ten fold, setting the woods a blaze. The recognizable shrieking of the bird beasts could be heard along with the sounds of human screams; the latter of the two catching the inquisitor’s attention.

Just then a man appeared from the woods running and screaming wildly as flames melted his carapace armor and clothing to his back. The armor the man was wearing was not of imperial design and Andred noted the circular emblem on his chest before he rattled off another round into the man. The round struck the flame covered human in the neck and exploded in the most gruesome of ways. Brain matter and skull fragments were instantly burned and the man was burned through to the bone down to his waist.

Slug rounds started pinging off of the Andred’s conversion field and armor. Now was not the time to ponder what humans were doing allied beside these beasts. He started back slowly towards the docking bay, firing rounds into the tree line. Smoke from the fires was now dropping the accuracy of the beasts’ slug weapons drastically.

A wall of red beams shot from the bay as Andred holstered his pistol and reached for the ladder. The rapid firing massed lasguns could be heard over the slug weapons from the woods. Andred reached the top of the ladder and crawled along the rubble behind crewmen towards the side corridor. Standing there in combat carapace armor directing troops through his magnified vox caster was lieutenant Valendez.

“Inquisitor, nice to see you have once again saved our tails,” Tomas said as Andred picked himself up off of the deck floor debris.

“Lieutenant,” Andred said with a nod. “Keep up the massed fire and drive the beasts back into the forest. Get the wounded to med bay and find out what the hell happened to my Valkyrie.”

“Sir,” Tomas stated eagerly, “we received a communication. It’s an encrypted message sir and I don’t think it’s from Dorrick.”

“Could it be from one of the downed escape pods or cargo ships?” Andred questioned quickly.

“No sir, this communication was picked up,” was all Tomas got out as both men’s attention was drawn away by a deep rumbling from within the ship. The lights and consoles nearby in the corridor started blinking and then turned off completely.

“That felt like an explosion,” Tomas’s voice said with a quiver, “from within the ship.”

“My guess is it came from the reactor room,” Andred stated as he un-holstered his bolt pistol and loaded a fresh clip.

“Hold the bay lieutenant, you four with me,” he stated as he pointed at some crewmen who were standing around reloading fresh ammo clips into their lasguns.

“But lord what of the communiqué?” Tomas questioned as Andred headed off.

“Won’t matter much if the reactor goes now will it?”

…