[40K] Forged in Fire

[Gingusdan]

What? It's half my Forum, I can post here if I want damn it!

~~~

"Run this by us again sir," trooper Malle called up from the two assembled platoons. Sergeant Cearul of fourth platoon finished tying his boots, stuck his knife in the sheath and looked at the assembled men and women.

"Simply put, we pick up a distress signal from Ensadiae hive to the west. After trooper Lorcan and trooper Alroy's discovery of Blood Pact, command is flipping out. We have to head out and check up. Now, we're burning daylight. Any questions?" Cearul asked, checking the Chronometer at his wrist, clearly wanting to get moving.

"What's the terrain like sir?" Bayran, a flame trooper from third platoon, stood up and asked. There was some groans in the audience.

"It's a gakking hive. What do you think?" Cearul snapped. He would have continued in his ruthless manner, if it wasn't for third platoon's Sergeant.

"It's a Hive, Bayran, close quarters. You'll be on point, clear?" Sergeant Kyla interrupted, brushing her long, brown hair out of her eyes. While Cearul was ruthless, and aggressive, Kyla was his polar opposite, caring and always strode to keep her troops informed and happy. While debates were constantly raised regarding her attitude to the troops under her command, every man in camp could agree on one thing. She was far from an eyesore.

"Yes Ma'am, thank you Ma'am," Bayran saluted, smiling. He turned to face Cearul and the smile disappeared in a flash, "Sir." he grunted, shooting daggers at him, before sitting down.

"Enemies? Blood Pact?" trooper Saruc asked from the back row, his rifle slung across his broad back. The audience shuddered, prayed for protection or swore at the sound of the foe's name. Blood Pact were universally feared, and grudgingly respected. For traitors, they knew their way in a fight.

"Most likely Saruc, Kyla answered after a moment of pause, flashing him a smile. He nodded, and turned the power output on his lasgun from fifty percent to seventy-five percent.

"No more discussion! We're moving out! Mount up!" Cearul snapped, grabbing his cap and putting it on brim-first.

"Emperor protects everyone," Kyla said aloud, pulling her helmet on and walking to the waiting Chimeras. Everyone followed suit, piling into the Chimeras. In third platoon, the squad's were smiling, talking to squad mates, cracking jokes, smoking Iho sticks and such, while in fourth, the squads sat in silence, checking weapons, muttering prayers and generally longing to be in third platoons Chimera.

Kyla flopped herself into the front seat of the Chimera and sighed. As she waited on the driver to finish his pre-drive checks, she sat in silence, checking her chain-sword and laspistol. Shortly after she finished, the driver sat down and keyed the ignition.

"It's 106 miles to the hive Ma'am," Nossia, Kyla's Vox officer, called in from the troop hold of the Chimera.

"We've a full tank of gas," the driver answered, in a matter-of-factly tone pulling out of the compound.

"And I've a half case of cigars," Bayran said with a grin, passing them around. Kyla took one gratefully, nodded her thanks, lit it and took a long drag.

"Feth me! It's dark out," trooper Giulbaer, the platoon's newest soldier, cried out. He still wasn't used to the strange time patterns on Blackwater. "And and we're wearing darkened visors?"

"Did you change the visor mode kid?" Saruc offered, reaching over and tapping buttons on the side of his helmet. "Sorted." Saruc said after a few moments of tapping.

"So, all problems aside, hit it," Kyla said with a grin.

"Anyone want some Ácol?" Trooper Beagg asked, pulling out a flask and offering it around. All but Giulbaer took some, happily.

"I thought we weren't meant to drink on duty," Giulbaer chipped in, much to the amusement of the platoon.

"It helps us get through the day kid. You'll be supping the bottle like crazy in a week. No mad man would face Blood Pact sober," Bayran chuckled darkly.

"If you say so," Giuldbaer began, his voice trailing off, "What I want to know is, what's so special about this Blood Pact?" Giuldbaer inquired. The Chimera became deathly quiet at this, only the breathing of the squad, the sound of the engines and the constant gear changes from the driver. Nossia finally broke the silence.

"God-Emperor Giuldbaer, they never taught you about Blood Pact in basic? We were taught about them. Not much, but we knew of them," She said lowly.

"No. We were taught that all traitors and heretics would break little brittle iron with little effort," Giuldbaer said, shaking his head. Nossia laughed bitterly.

"They'll tell us anything," Kyla said from the front, turning in her seat to face the squad.

"Blood Pact are renegades. No simple cult. Well trained, well drilled, well armed killers. You see someone in red armour and an iron mask, that's Blood Pact. I've seen some. Tough Gaks. Emperor forsake all of them," Beagg muttered lowly. The transport, for the second time, was deathly quiet.

"You know, I will have some of that Ácol." Giuldbaer said, quickly grabbing the bottle and taking a huge drink.

[Gingusdan]

"This is some creepy feth Sir," trooper Malle muttered lowly, the lamp pack attached to his rifle lighting little of the darkness ahead of him. His platoon was making slow progress through the Hive, as the Chimera's couldn't fit through the narrow streets.

"Shut it Malle!" Cearul hissed, as loudly as he dared. They needed to be quiet, Emperor knows what was hiding in the countless alleys and back streets. And although he wouldn't admit it, he was scared witless. It wasn't the city, or what could be hiding in it, it was the dark. It was no ordinary darkness. The lamps wouldn't puncture the gloom and it seemed to drain the life of the battery packs at a remarkable speed. It was creepy to say the least.

"Anyone smell that? It smells like," Corporeal Aednat asked, before taking a whiff of the air, "Smells like rancid milk and crushed mint," The platoon stopped and, some taking helmets off to do so, sniffed the air.

"Yes, we smell it. Now, let's keep moving," Cearul snapped, quickly gaining the squad's interest. As they pulled helmets back on and began to move out again, they were shocked when they heard three loud cracks. Diving for cover, the platoon searched for the hostile. There was none. Trooper Malle stood, with a smoking lasgun, his flashlight lighting up the wall of a building. He looked like he's seen a daemon.

"What in His name was that Malle?" Cearul bawled, striding towards Malle, his face a bright shade of red. Malle seemed to shrink under his Sergeant's anger, and could only speak incoherent nonsense.

"I..thought I saw...something Sir," Malle finally answered.

"You thought you saw something did you?" Cearul asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Not good enough. On point!" he barked. Malle quickly saluted, still terrified and ran to the front of the group.

'Gakking idiot Cearul' thought, as he marched over to Aednat, who was holding the Vox out for him. It was Kyla.

"Cearul, we heard shots. You engaged?" the Vox set buzzed. Cearul was about to snap a reply, but he needed to calm first. Taking a deep breath, he pondered his reply.

"No, Malle got trigger happy and fired at shadows," Cearul replied, watching the shadows incase Malle had seen something. The platoon seemed shaken now. 'They'll be fine,' Cearul thought, hoping they would be.

"Affirmative. Keep us posted, out." the Vox buzzed again, before being replaced with static.

"Right, keep moving," Cearul said, pointing towards the center of the hive. The platoon started marching towards Emperor knew what.

++Meanwhile++

"Misfire, all good. Let's keep moving," Kyla reassured the squad, whom at this news breathed a sigh of relief. They prayed there was no contact. The platoons were packing light. Just a flamer and an autocannon to each squad. If they were ambushed, which was more than likely, both would be useless. In the melee the flamer would be too big a risk to fire and the autocannon wouldn't be set up. So lasguns all around.

"Sergeant! Civilian contacts!" Bayran called up from the front. At this, the mood seemed to lighten a little. If civilians were alive it meant two things. Either their was no foe, or the foe was careless.

"Civilians? Thank the Emperor! Let them through! Let's get them to the Chimeras!" Kyla cheered, glad to be leaving the Hive. The platoon formed a corridor, with room for the civilians. As they walked, Kyla studied them with interest.

They wore full body robes, covering everything and they were hunched over in what Kyla assumed to be prayer. They walked for several minutes, silent. Suddenly, a civilian tripped and landed, his arm making a sicking crunch as it collided with the stone earth. As he fell, something fell from his pocket. Kyla examined it, kneeling to have a look as the others attempted to help the civilian up. He was clawing at them, despite his broken arm. Kyla looked at the civilian and the object before realizing what had happened. The object was a laspistol, and the 'civilians' were traitors.

"Take cover!" she barked, pulling out her pistol and chainsword. It was too late however. Another traitor had pulled out his pistol and fired a point blank shot into the back of Nossia. And just when things couldn't get any worse, more shots rang out from within the houses beside the platoon.

The Blood Pact were everywhere...

++Meanwhile++

"Have I mentioned this is creeping me out?" Malle asking, the fear clear in his voice. Cearul span around, quick as a flash, and grabbed Malle by the neck.

"Yes. You have. Now, shut the feth up, or I'll have you sent to the wall for that drinking on duty offence I saved your ass for!" Cearul snapped, throwing Malle away.

"Sir! Sergeant Kyla's met major resistance! She's requesting support ASAP!" Aednat yelled over to her commanding officer. Cearul swore loudly before, with a swift hand motion, urged his platoon towards Kyla's position.

After a few minutes of running, they met a problem. Somehow had blown one of the fly overs, connecting the hive sectors to one another. As Orin, the platoon's explosive expert, set to work on the wreckage, the rest of the platoon watched his back.

Malle studied the gloom, frightened. His torch did little against the gloom, and everywhere he looked there was a corner, or a window from where an arch-enemy might appear. As he stood watch, he smelt something. Something he'd heard about, and always feared smelling it. Rancid milk and crushed mint.

Malle looked up and above him, hanging off a different fly over, was a Loxatl mercenary, his Flechette blaster aimed at his head. He tried to scream, but the Loxatl had already fired. Malle was dead in seconds.

As suddenly as the first appeared, so did the rest of it's brood. Another two, firing as they crawled along walls and ceilings.

"Take cover!" Cearul yelled, rolling as a flechette round flew over his head.

'Loxatl. Great,' Cearul thought, pulling out his autopistol and aiming for the swift Loxatl. 'Fething great.'

[Gingusdan]

Both squads were in the thick of the fight. On the eastern side of the Hive, Kyla’s squad held the line against countless Blood Pact and cultists, while Cearul faced the dreaded Loxatl mercenaries to the west. It was a fething massacre.

Cearul watched as yet another of his platoon was blasted apart by the invisible enemy, the headless corpse falling into a gutter. It wasn’t the first companion of his to fall. Malle and Dearbhal were just a few of the names that would be added to the ‘Wall of the Fallen’ back on Subpono.

Certain he wouldn’t be joining them anytime soon, Ceruel looked around. He saw the battered, terrified remains of his platoon, searching for a foe that lived in shadow. He also saw the scorched remains of two Loxatl, incinerated by Ealga’s flamer. While the corpses of his men filled him with sorrow, the charred remains of the Loxatl filled him with pride.

‘Time to lead by example,’ Cearul thought to himself, a baneful grin appearing to his lips. Leaping over the fallen column he was using for cover, he raised his chainblade and pointed it skywards.

“Sir! It might be an idea to get into cover!” Aednat hissed, nursing her wounds.

“Just trust me,” Cearul whispered back, his blade still raised towards the heavens.

Cearul watched out of the corner of his eye as the remaining Loxatl crawled along the surface of the countless homes in the narrow street. Still grinning, the Loxatl loaded a round into its weapon and tried to fire, but Cearul was too quick for it.

“Fire!” he commanded, quickly pulling out his pistol and discharging several shots. His squad, not following his line of sight, at first didn’t know what to fire at, but quickly discharged their weapons at the Loxatl. The air stank of ozone and the creature fell off the wall, dead.

“Now, duties aside, let’s go be heroes and save the others,” Cearul said, setting off for Kyla at double time, the mauled remains of his platoon never more than a step behind him.

+Meanwhile+

Armsman Brutis Tybalt fired his rifle into the mass of Blood Pact and cultists and watched with grim satisfaction as a cultist dropped, a small hole in his throat. He fired again, and again, and again each time taking the life of an Arch-Enemy to whatever Warp Spawn they followed.

“Bones, watch your back!” one of the platoon yelled out, but whom he wasn’t sure. Spinning around he was faced with a Blood Pact warrior, bearing a vicious curved blade. Startled, Brutis stepped back and tripped over rubble strewn around the narrow street. Looking up at the Blood Pact towering over him, he was petrified.

Standing in crimson red armour with an horrific iron mask, forged into the shape of a snarling face, this was one of Humanity’s many banes. Reaching to his belt, he drew his Stub revolver and blasted the scum in the head, the body falling to the ground beside him. Standing up he fired his revolver again, this time into the back of the head. While some would say this was overkill, or a waste of ammunition, this was simply one of the many rules Brutis had to devised to stay alive. This, in particular, was rule one, the double tap.

Grabbing his rifle again, he turned to face his foe and his heart sank. The foe was everywhere, as were the dead. This seemed a fight that, without some help, they would lose. And no help seemed to be arriving. Simply put, they’d just got torn to pieces.

Right after he had finished the original traitor, a cultist wielding a rather flimsy looking dagger came running towards him, screaming unholy litanies to his Gods. He simply levelled his rifle and fired. With a crack and the stink of ozone, the lasround flew out and hit the cultist square in the chest. Running up, he saw him lying in a pool of his own blood, trying to get up.

“Never bring a knife to a gun fight,” Brutis said with a dry chuckle, before firing again. The cultist jerked and died. Turning away from the corpse, he saw yet another cultist charging at him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Brutis sighed, before levelling his rifle again. Before he could fire, a snarling grey beast jumped out and began mauling the cultist. When it finished, it turned its head to the sky and howled.

“Merciful Emperor, it’s a Bród hound...” Brutis whispered lowly. The weaker cultists broke under the bone chilling howl, while the Blood Pact simply continued in their bloody work, but they found the Guard fought all the harder under the eye of a Bród hound. Men whose wills had wavered and fears had been rising before, now stood shoulder to shoulder and saw the enemy off with straight steel and lasrounds.

There were three dull thuds and Brutis saw three of the platoon’s members having different appendages blown off. Looking up, everyone’s worse fears materialised. A Traitor Marine, clad in dull grey power armour and armed with a defaced bolter, marched slowly towards the Guardsmen, firing as he went. No one could stand up to that, no Bród would make them fight that, no Commissar would make them stand their ground. They wouldn’t have to, however.

Almost as suddenly as the traitor marine appeared, rallying the remaining Blood Pact, his holy counterpart appeared. Clad in Dark Green power armour, with a scorched black helmet, armed with a large axe and plasma pistol, he strode into the street, his axe gleaming in the artificial light of the Hive. When he saw the Fallen Marine, he began running towards him. The Traitor, realising the threat, turned it’s attention to the green armoured warrior spewing corrupted lead. The majority of the shots went wide, and the few that hit failed to penetrate the armour.

As the warrior closed within striking distance, he thumbed the activation rune on the handle of his axe and suddenly, it blazed with blue lightning. Quickly closing the distance, he bought the axe up in a vicious uppercut, knocking the Traitor marine to the ground and quickly brought it down, cracking the plate protecting the marines chest and slicing through his two hearts. As the Bród hound and the Guard finished the remaining Blood Pact, the Emperor’s Space Marine cleaned the blood from his now inactive blade.

Finishing, he whistled and stood. The Bród quickly moved to his master and stood beside him

Cearul and Kyla walked up to the Marine and began to speak, but the Marine cut them off.

“Sergeants. I am Teatur Prueliotar, Company Champion of Noctius Ignitius First.” the marine introduced himself. “I represent my Captain for now and we must make for your encampment with great haste. I hope you’re not afraid of flying.” he continued with a hidden grin as the Thunderhawk flew over head.

[Gingusdan]

“We made it,” began Aednat before breaking into a fit of laughter, “We fething made it!” A few others also broke into fits of laughter, but most were just too tired, or shocked, to notice. Brutis was neither.

Rising from his seat, he shot daggers at Aednat, “Yes, you made it, but how many didn’t? Huh? Show some fething respect for the dead!” Brutis snapped.

“Mourn the dead and make merry with the living, Tybalt!” Aednat retorted, standing up.

“And all you’ve done is make merry!” Brutis said, the tone of his voice pleading, his intention venomous.

“Both of you cut it out,” Cearul said calmly, his voice hinting anger, “we’ve just walked out of a fething massacre, and we don’t need fighting amongst ourselves. So sit down and shut up.”

The Thunderhawk went into an uneasy stalemate, only the constant roar of the engines breaking the silence

“Fine,” Brutis said, holding his hands up in humble defeat, “You win.” Sitting down, he sunk his head in his hands.

“How long will this flight take, Sir?” someone called from the back of the craft.

“No time at all,” the marine said, not even looking up from his prayers, “in fact, we’re landing now.”

++ Imperial Command ++

“Colonel, pleased to meet you, ” Teatur Prueliotar said, giving the Colonel the respect a man of his rank deserves, but no more.

“Likewise. Now, I doubt you are here for a friendly conversation. What do you want here?” the Colonel answered.

“Oh,” Teatur exclaimed before walking over to the drinks cabinet, tucked away in the corner of the room, “this is vintage Amasec,” Teatur went on, examining the bottle now, “and a very good year, or so I’ve been told. May I pour myself a glass?” Teatur questioned, finally turning to face the Colonel.

“Yes, of course,” he answered, the confusion clear in his voice. Here was a Space Marine making small talk about Amasec! It was strange, very strange.

“This is nice, yes, very nice,” Teatur said with a satisfied sound, “Now, where were we?” he asked, pouring himself another glass and downing it.

“We were discussing why you are here. I thought Marines couldn’t drink alcohol?” the Colonel inquired.

“We can drink, but we cannot be intoxicated. Well, the Space Wolves can, but that’s another story. Now, we are here-“Teatur began.

“Sorry, we? I thought it was just you!” Colonel exclaimed.

“Yes, we. Half of my Company resides in the Strike Cruiser Cataclysm which is anchored in high orbit, and we are here to help you with the Chaos threat.”

“We don’t need your help! It’s some disorganized cult that we can put down swiftly!” the Colonel snapped, suddenly defensive.

“A disorganized cult? Have you read those field reports?” Teatur asked, nodding towards the pile of papers on the Colonel’s desk, “The reports which tell you that the planet is faced with far more than a disorganized cult?”

“Oh? So tell me, what are we facing?” the Colonel asked in mock interest.

“Blood Pact, Loxatl and Traitor Legionnaires.” Teatur said with little patience for the stubborn Colonel.

“I refuse to believe that any of those are on Blackwater; we would have found them!” the Colonel snapped stubbornly, “What are you doing?”

Teatur, who had been looking through the filing cabinets on the far end of the room, looked up. “Searching for the reconnaissance reports that are not here, Colonel.”

“I-I-I don’t know what you mean,” the Colonel stuttered nervously.

Teatur sighed, “The reconnaissance reports. There are none. In fact,” Teatur said venomously, “there are no reports at all.”

The Colonel tried to answer, but could only speak incoherent nonsense. “You haven’t done anything have you, Colonel?” Teatur asked simply.

“Why are you questioning me?” the Colonel snapped, regaining his composure.

“Questioning? I am doing no such thing. I am simply looking for the reconnaissance reports, Colonel. Surely there is nothing wrong with that?"

“Yeah, well there are no reconnaissance reports!” the Colonel yelled, swiftly covering his mouth as he realised his mistake.

“I thought so Colonel.” Teatur said, chuckling softly at the Colonel’s stupidity.

“Yes, well, you are in no place to accuse me! You have no power over me!” the Colonel yelled, his face going a shade of bright red.

“Yes, you’re right Colonel. I have no power over you,” Teatur began as the door behind him hissed open, “but they do.”

Walking into the room were two Imperial Commissars, and Teatur barely restrained a chuckle when he saw the Colonel’s face.

“Colonel, you are under arrest,” one of the Commissars said while the other cuffed the Colonel.

“On what charges!?” the Colonel exclaimed, struggling against the Commissar.

“Dereliction of duty, Colonel,” the second of the Commissars replied calmly, his grip unyielding.

“Quite. Now, take this trooper-“the first of the Commissars began, before being cut out.

“Trooper?” the Colonel snapped, “I’m a Colonel, Commissar!”

Sighing, the Commissar turned to face the ‘Colonel’. “Yes, you were,” he began, before chuckling darkly, “but then again, nothing is permanent. Take him away.”

The Ex-Colonel began roaring as he was dragged away, but Teatur ignored him, instead turning to face the remaining Commissar.

“Thank you for that Commissar,” Teatur began;“you’ve done the Imperium a great service.”

“I’ve done my duty, Marine, that is all,” the Commissar said briskly, pouring himself a glass of Amasec.

“Of course. By the way, what is your name, Commissar?” Teatur asked.

“Abelardo. Abelardo Garvyn, “the Commissar answered, finishing the glass and pouring another.

“I will remember that name. Now, excuse me Commissar, I have business to attend to,” Teatur said, turning to walk out.

“And what business would that be?” the Commissar asked sternly.

“I must contact my Captain. My brothers need the all-clear to land.”

[Gingusdan]

It was an awe inspiring sight. Countless Thunderhawks and Stormbirds descended upon Blackwater, ferrying the might of a full Codex Company. As the half-Company burst through the cloudy skies of Blackwater light dispersed through the clouds onto the faces of the Guardsmen below. It caused many to stop what they were doing and gaze, slack-jawed, at the Astartes’ arrival upon the world.

Brutis watched with a mixed feeling of awe, wonder and indifference. While he was still stunned by the impressive display of force, he'd seen it many times in his service, and so it was nothing new. For Conscript Wrax Wolfe beside him, however, it was jaw-dropping.

"Merciful God-Emperor," Wrax muttered, making the sign of the Aquila, "Emperor give you mercy, for you'll get none from us, traitors."

Brutis snorted, "Like the Emperor's going to show mercy to the blockheads that put him on the Golden Throne. No, they’re going to rot in the void,” Brutis said. “Or we are,” he added absent mindedly, before spitting. "Come on, let's go, Bard."


+++ Meanwhile, in the Imperial Holding Cells +++

"Wake up," the guard snapped, "You've a visitor."

Trooper Diarmuid Iacton climbed out of his bed slowly and groggily. "Who is it?"

"Good morning Colonel, sorry, I mean Trooper." An all too familiar voice boomed. Diarmuid groaned.

"I don't want to see him." he moaned, lying back down on his bunk.

"Too bad," the guard grunted, "You've no choice in the matter. Get up."

Groaning, pulled himself to the edge of his bunk and stared out at the marine behind the bars. He was as imposing as he was yesterday, his dog sitting growling beside him. They were an intimidating pair.

"What do you want, Marine?" Diarmuid scowled, his eyes staring at the growling dog, "Can you shut that mongrel up? I've a headache!" He snapped. At this, the dog started barking violently, but stopped at a sharp word from Teatur.

"I want to know why you did it," Teatur sighed, "Why turn your back on your orders?"

"Why? I'll tell you why." Diarmuid answered, a grin creeping in on his face, "I did it because I wanted out. Out of this Emperor forsaken backend world."

"And how would doing nothing get you 'out'?" Teatur’s face screwed up in thought behind his helmet.

"When Command saw how wonderfully I'd led here, they'd have no choice but to promote me. Then, I'd be gone and when they found the Chaos taint, it would be blamed on my successor." Diarmuid finished with a sigh.

Teatur sat quietly for a minute with only the ticking of the clock making a sound.

"So, conspiring against the Imperium and mutiny. Two very serious charges, both punishable by death." Teatur said heavily, turning to leave.

"Yeah, and there's nothing you can do about it." Diarmuid said, almost sneering, "You have no power here. Only the Commissar's have the right to punish me."

Teatur stopped in his tracks. “For now,” he said ominously without turning around. With that, he marched out of the door.

Teatur walked towards the tarmac strip, given over for his brothers’ landing, at a brisk pace. He knew his Captain would be amongst the first to land. Alaysius smiled behind his helmet. His Captain never led from behind the lines.

No, you'd find him where the fight was thickest, inspiring those who faltered and crushing those whom opposed the God-Emperor. He was beloved, and each brother aspired to be him, Teatur included.

As he walked, an Imperial officer stopped him.

"Excuse me, Marine, do you have a moment?" the man began.

"A moment, yes, but not much more. Whom, may I ask, are you?"

The man straightened, and a smile crept in on his face, "Colonel Fargis Tairnuy," he said, putting quite a lot of emphasis on the word 'Colonel.' Suddenly, Teatur remembered; this was the successor to Diarmuid.

"Colonel," Teatur began, making the sign of the Aquila, "pleased to meet you at last."

Fargis saluted, "Likewise. Now, I understand you go to meet your Captain, am I correct?" Teatur nodded, "Then, if it is alright, I wish to accompany you."

"Of course, I'm sure my Captain would be honoured. Return to your office. I will meet my Captain and return then with him."

[Gingusdan]

++ Ten Minutes Later, Colonel's Office ++

"Colonel."

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Captain,” Fargis replied, saluting.

"Likewise, I just wish it were under better circumstances," Captain Ceait Rucitar said with a heavy sigh.

"In this galaxy of ours? I think this is the best we're getting anytime soon. On a lighter note, may I offer you a drink? Amasec?"

Ceait stood silent and looked around the office they were in. It was a fairly large room with a foetid stench of sweat, alcohol and dust. The shutters were drawn and the lights were dimmed, giving the room a rather ominous feeling to Ceait. A large, metallic table took up the majority of the floor with a small wooden desk beside the windows.

"Go for it, Captain, it's actually very nice," Teatur offered, his helmet's glowing red lenses the only visible thing in the dark corner. Ceait could tell there was a grin behind the marine's helmet.

"Thank you, but no thank you, Colonel," Ceait declined with a polite nod. The Colonel shrugged and poured himself a rather hefty glass. Ceatit tutted under his breath and simply turned to the large table which stood in the centre of the room, "Would you bring me up to date please?"

The Colonel looked around, bewildered and then nodded, licking his lips, "Yes, of course." Grabbing a remote from the desk, he activated the table and a large hologram of Blackwater's surface appeared. It was extremely detailed, every crater and house pain staking noted. 'A lot of effort for a military map.' Ceait mused.

"Our recon team was wiped out to a man*, this is where we first established contact. We lost contact," Fargis began, pointing to a point on the hologram, "here. We sent a team out the next day. All they found was corpses. A scene fit only for a carrion bird." Fargis said, mournfully before gulping down his amasec.

"I can only assume, Colonel," Ceait began, trying to sound consolatory, "They died for the Emperor, the greatest honour they can receive."

"And all they got was a laurel, then they were forgotten," Targis muttered. "Anyway, after the first team, we received a distress signal from Ensadiae hive here," he said, pointing to the hive on the map. "Again, we were ambushed. It's a good thing your man showed up when he did; I doubt we'd have won otherwise," Fargis brooded aloud.

"Yes, Teatur has an uncanny knack of good timing. Him and his hound," Ceait said with a chuckle. Cara, realizing he was the subject of the conversation, looked up from Teatur's feet, his ears perking. He barked happily at the Captain and put his head on his master's feet again.

"Yes, well," Fargis said, changing the subject, "How did you know to come here?" he asked, his attention turned to Ceait.

"Good question. Our Librarians picked up a signal on the planet around here," Ceait elucidated, pointing to a empty plain on the map. "We arrived a few days ago and began full scans to find the source of the signal, yet the dust storms prevented the scans from picking anything up. Then, when the distress signal came through, we sent Teatur ahead to see what was going on. When he reported that there were Traitor Legions, we assumed the worst and deployed."

Fargis simply nodded and stood, silent, staring at the map. Teatur broke the silence.

"If I may?" he asked, his attention turned towards Fargis, whom with a flick of his wrist suggested to go ahead. "Well, we know there are some traitor Legionnaires and we know there is a signal of some form coming from here," he began, pointing to the open plain again, "So, I would recommend we have a look there, see what's what."

"I agree Teatur," Ceait said, sounding pleased.

"As do I," Fargis said, before going into deep thought again. Finally, he turned to the Captain, "I'll have jets scrambled immediately."

++ Ten minutes later, Hanger Bay ++

Tradure 'Rapier' Symeudí sat in the cockpit of his Lightning fighter, watching the last minute preparations of his flight. The cockpit was cramped and Tradure was uncomfortable, but he had a job to do. That meant 'Nutting up and Shutting up.' Peacemaker's voice sounded over the radio.

"Check in."

Peacemaker, an aging man in his thirties was the squadron's flight leader. He was also an ace with thirty-five confirmed kills.

"Rapier calling in," Tradure replied.

The other pilots' responses came in quick succession.

"Lancer here."

"Skyhawk reporting."

"Tracer standing ready."

A voice crackled over the entire squadron's radio.

"Peacemaker, this is Naval Command. Callsign for the mission is 'Nighthawk.' Emperor be with you all and come home soon."

"Don't you worry, Command, they don't call these birds Lightnings for nothing you know!" Peacemaker, the squadron's flight leader joked over the radio.

"True, it's sarcasm." Tracer said, his voice sounding grainy over the radio.

"Can it Tracer," Rapier began, "Let's get in the air and get this over and done with."

"Damn, you're in a good mood today Rapier", Lancer said, sarcastically, "Anyway, he's right. Let's go. I finally got that bar maid into my bunk."

"I don't think we want to hear that, Lancer," Peacemaker said, "Now, last checks."

Once the squadron finished their pre-flight checks, they took off and sped towards their objective, the Octtí plains.

++ Twenty Minutes Later, The Octtí Plains ++

"We're here. Ears and eyes, fall in behind me. Wedge formation," Peacemaker ordered, and the squadron dutifully obeyed.

Rapier had an ominous feeling about the plains. They seemed dead and scorched black and the temperature seemed to drop, so much so frost formed on the cockpit.

"I don't like the feel of this place," Skyhawk said, his voice trailing off.

"Would it be bad luck to tell you guys I'm a week from leave?" Lancer asked.

"Can it!" Tracer snapped.

"Calm it Tracer! We're all on edge. Eyes and ears guys. Seriously, we don't want anyone sneaking up on us, do we?" Peacemaker said, living up to his name.

"No, we don't. Sorry Lancer, I didn-" Tracer began before being cut out by static. Out of the corner of his eye, Rapier saw a bright flash. Looking over his shoulder, his worst fears were realised.

Hell Talons were all over them.

[Gingusdan]

"Where did they come from?" Rapier yelled, trying to get one of the elusive crafts in his sights.

“It doesn’t matter, just worry about where they’re going: to Hell,” Peacemaker said, his calm attitude inspiring, “Now let’s take these buggers down!”

"Roger that, kick ass and take names," Lancer said, pulling his Lightning into a hard right.

Rapier pulled left, hoping to shake the Talon on his tail. If that thing got a lock, well, he'd be going down with Tracer.

"Rapier! Full turn, two on your tail!" Skyhawk said desperately as he fought a deadly duel with one of the Talons. Reacting, Rapier reacted quickly, his aircraft’s speed plummeting as he slammed on the brakes, causing the hull to shudder violently as it slowed. As it slowed, he turned to the right, performing a full one hundred and eighty degree turn to face the two Fighter-bombers on his tail.

Pressing a button on his control stick, the lascannons burst into life. ‘The first shot hit one of the Talons in the cockpit, piercing through to the fuselage and causing it to explode in a burst of flame.’ The next shot went wide, not even coming close to hitting it. The Talon opened fire on Rapier and so he rolled away, trying to get below his quarry. The hull shook as the Heavy Bolters on his quarry's craft hit home. Looking out, Rapier saw the large holes in his right wing. He could keep flying, but it would take a bit more to control now.

Rapier watched as a Hell Talon raced in front of him, swiftly followed by Peacemaker. No matter how hard he tried, the pilot couldn't shake Peacemaker, whom with a burst from his Autocannon. destroyed the Talon's wing, forcing it to drop from the sky.

"Peacemaker," Lancer yelled, "I'm getting eaten up by flak here!"

Rapier looked to the side and there was Lancer, weaving between clouds of thick, black flak, any pilot's nightmare. You couldn't see and the smallest piece of shrapnel from it could kill you. Lancer would have to move quickly, or he wouldn't see his death coming.

"Where's could it be coming from?" Rapier asked, barrel-rolling over an unguided missle while Peacemaker shot down the craft chasing him, his Lascannon destroying the engines. Rapier tipped his wing in salute, before going after another Talon.

"Ground installation! Nine O' Clock!" Skyhawk yelled.

"Installation? That's a fething fortress!" Lancer swore.

And so it was, a large, stone structure, with huge anti-aircraft and artillery guns dominating it. Rapier was stunned.

"Looks like we found our signal, get ready to fall back," Peacemaker ordered before activating his radio. "Command, this is Nighthawk. We found our signal. It's a massive fortress!" The radios were silent, "Command? Command, we're getting eaten alive by AA fire and hostile aircraft here, we need orders!"

Again, the radio was silent. Peacemaker sighed, 'They've left us.'

"Peacemaker, flak has pierced my fuel tank, I need to eject now!" Lancer screamed.

"Do it. Everyone else, turn the last of your ammo and the Fortress and bail out."

"I...Got it Peacemaker. Lighting up distress signal." Skyhawk said softly.

++ Imperial Command ++

"Aren't you going to answer them Colonel?" Ceait asked, listening to the sound of the pleading Flight Leader.

Fargis stood silent. Ceait sighed deeply and shook his head, before turning to the Vox operator beside Fargis. "What is the status of the Flight?"

The trooper quickly examined the situation reports he had received from the recon flight.

"One shot down, the rest have suffered medium to heavy damage," the trooper answered, his eyes suddenly widening and flicking back to the reports.

'Then they are still alive, for the most part,' Ceait thought.

"Actually, never mind what I just said, their distress beacon just went up. Something's awry Sir." the Trooper said, ingenuously.

Ceait swore, and watched in anger as the Colonel turned the Vox off. "Aren't you going to do something?" Ceait asked in anger.

Fargis looked up from his thoughts for the first time, his grey eyes cold and harsh, "No. They knew the risks when they enlisted. We can't afford to risk a medical evacuation."

Ceait stared at the Colonel, Ceait stared at the Colonel, the emotions that played across his face hidden by his helmet. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, he spoke, "Teatur. Take a squad and two Rhinos. Get the crew out of there."

"Yes Captain!" Teatur said, making the sign of the Aquila quickly and then running out of the room, his hound behind him. Ceait turned to leave.

"You have no idea how the Guard works, do you Captain?" Fargis snapped. Ceait turned suddenly, his cape chasing his heels.

"You have no idea how we work, do you Colonel?" Ceait barked back, before storming out of the room.

++ Meanwhile ++

"Who's got bandages? Guys, who has bandages?" Skyhawk asked desperately. Peacemaker was in his arms, the lower half of his arm a bloody stump. The rest of the flight had taken to their laspistols to fight off the enclosing Chaos forces. "Guys! Peacemaker is bleeding out over here! He'll die unless I bandage it now!" Skyhawk pleaded. He didn't need to say anything else. No one wanted Peacemaker, big jolly Peacemaker dead: he was the soul of the flight. Skyhawk was bombarded with bandages from the other members of the flight.

"Thank you," was all Peacemaker managed to rasp, before passing out again.

"We're fethed, aren't we?" Lancer said as he slammed a fresh cell into his pistol.

"Pretty much." Rapier said bluntly, firing a shot at a Blood Pact troop.

"You sound so much like Tracer, mate." Skyhawk said, never looking up from Peacemaker, "Ever the pessimist."

++ Imperial Command ++

"Sergeant Láeg!" Teatur said over the Vox.

"My lord?" Láeg answered, his normally booming voice sounding small and timid over the radio.

"Gather your squad and two Rhinos, meet me at the Compound gates. We're going on a Medevac," Teatur said as he ran, Faolan chasing his heels.

"Affirmative, out," Láeg said, cutting the link.

"What's this about a Medevac sir?" A Guardsman called after the jogging Teatur. Turning, he faced the man, a Captain according to his rank pins.

"Some of your men have been shot down over the Octtí plains. We're going to get them out." Teatur said to the Captain, preparing to move again.

"Then allow me to assist you," the Captain said, turning on his Commbead and speaking into it, "Tank Squadron Four, it's all true. Move out, you're supporting the Space Marines."

"Roger, moving out." the voice coming through the voice in very poor quality.

"Captain, I doubt the Colonel would be pleased with you doing that," Teatur said, sternly.

"Sir, with all due respect, the Colonel can stuff it. I know he is abandoning those troops and I won't have it. I haven't left a trooper behind yet and I don't intend to start now," the Captain said with a mischievous smile.

"That's what I like to hear. You're a good man Captain...?" Teatur left the end of the sentence hanging.

"Captain Orin, Sir. Conan Orin," Conan said, giving a respectful nod, "Now, it may be an idea to get going: those pilots won't rescue themselves. Emperor be with you, Sir."

"And you, Captain,” Teatur said, before running to the gates. By the time he arrived, Láeg and his squad, along with the Rhinos and tank squadron, were already there.

"Take the scenic route, Teatur?" Láeg asked, as his squad piled into their Rhino.

"Aye, I did. Lots to see in this military encampment! Good to see you Láeg," Teatur said with a hidden grin.

Láeg just nodded and followed his squad into the Rhino. Teatur was about to follow, but the Commander of the head Leman Russ stopped him.

"Sir? Captain Orin said you were going in hot. Don't worry, Dubhlan here and her boys will see you through," he said with a hint of pride.

"Good. Now get ready. We're moving out!" Teatur called out, before getting into the Rhino and setting off for the Octtí plains.

[Gingusdan]

++ Ten Minutes Later ++

"Sir, our Auspex is picking up a crap load of contacts. They're swarming our boys. Clearly they don't want us to know they're here."

"Clearly," Teatur said, sharply before turning to the men in his own Rhino, " All right, listen up. This is a Medevac. We have at the most, four pilots that we need to get out of here. They may be wounded and some of them may be dead. None of us are leaving until we have every single living man. Got it?"

The squad expressed their understanding and began to ready themselves for the fight ahead, through prayer and countless weapon checks. Minutes pass and, finally, the driver told Teatur they were as close as he could get them, "Confirmed. Get ready. And remember,” Teatur began as the door dropped. Raising his voice to a roar, he uttered the Chapter’s War-cry, his brothers and even some of the tank crew taking it up, "Ní féidir leis an dílis a stopadh!"

The squad and Teatur, with Faolan racing ahead, all rushed forwards. They could see the pilots behind several large rocks, firing their laspistols when they could. "Support them!" Láeg yelled, "No one fights alone!"

The pilots turned when they heard the booming voice of Láeg and seemed stunned, which quickly changed to grins of joy. They may just get out of this yet.

The squad scattered, each seeing to the separate pilots. Teatur slid behind the rock Skyhawk and the unconscious Peacemaker were behind.

"What's wrong with him?" Teatur asked as he fired his pistol around the rock, before pulling back sharply as las and bolter rounds flew at him, "Squad, suppressing fire!"

"H-h-he took a bolt round and the lower arm was blown off. I've tried to stop the blood flow, but it just keeps flowing. If something isn't done now, he'll bleed out soon," Skyhawk said, seeming flustered and panicked.

"I can fix that," Teatur said, drawing his axe, "Don't worry, it's not what you think," Teatur said to the distressed Skyhawk. Turning his axe on to an extremely low power, he held it over the wound. Skyhawk watched in amazement as the wound cauterized. The blood flow stopped and a bit of colour returned to the ace's face.

"Now, grab your pistol and run for the Rhino. Tell them to leave once all the pilots are aboard," Teatur said, calmly. Skyhawk swallowed the lump that had been rising in his throat, nodded, grabbed Peacemaker and ran.

A bolter shell clipping off his shoulder armour snapped him back to the battle at hand. The air was heavy with smoke and every few feet there were bodies and craters from the tank squadron's guns. Even through his helmet Teatur could smell dirt, smoke and blood in large quantities. It was cold, colder than it should be. Teatur could see frost forming on his axe and lenses. He could only imagine how Láeg, who did not wear a helmet, was finding it. His brothers fired round after round into the horde of Blood Pact and Cultists, the tanks firing in their midst.

"Can't advance! I'm pinned!" Brother Kiaren, the Squad's flamer trooper bellowed.

"Use your pistol then!" Láeg yelled back, slamming a fresh magazine into his own.

Teatur blocked it out. He was in battle, the one place he was truly himself. He relished battle. It was the one place he could get away from Captain Ceait, Emperor bless him, trying to make him a Commander. He wasn't a Commander, he was a soldier. Bred to fight, raised to kill. His reputation of a fearless soldier, going where even his brothers were hesitant to go, was one he wore with pride.

"Keep firing, Brothers!" Láeg yelled, firing his pistol blindly over the rock he was behind, before the leg off one of many Cultists. Brother Cohél and Brother Dáhey were beside him, opening up with their bolters, each carefully aimed round scoring a kill.

"There is no end to them!" Cohél growled blowing the head off a Blood Pact trooper, before dropping down to reload.

"Have faith Brother, we have broken greater foes than this." Brother Dáhey said zealously, arming and throwing a grenade.

"Faith won't get me more rounds, I'm on my last magazine," Cohél said as he blew the legs off a Blood Pact trooper, before ducking to avoid being hit by dirt from a tank blast.

"Fair enough, we're running low," Láeg said over the noise from Brother Trún's Heavy Bolter, "Teatur, permission to charge?" Láeg asked over the radio.

“Granted!” Teatur yelled, “Dublhan, you and your tanks focus fire on that fortress, me and my brothers are closing the distance!"

"Roger," was the Tank crew's response. The guns, once aimed at the horde of Cultists and Blood Pact troopers, turned and fired at the Fortress dominating the landscape.

"Right, squad! Straight Steel! Draw daggers and charge! For Vulkan and the Emperor!" Teatur yelled, trying to be heard over the heavy guns of the tanks.

Taking up his cry, the squad drew daggers and charged the Chaos Forces. Cultists attempted to flee, only to be pushed back the Blood Pact. For humans, they seemed eager to dance death in a bloody melee with the Angels of Death. The result was disastrous for the Cultists. Caught between the steel bodies of the Marines and the wall of flesh presented by the Blood Pact, the Cultists were crushed. They, however, were not the Marine's objective. Cultists' wills were brittle and broke at the first sign of defeat. Blood Pact, however, were as fearless as Marines, and fled from no fight, no matter the risk. Teatur intended to teach them it was folly to stand up to the Angels of Death.

Teatur strode through the smoky battlefield, his axe ablaze with blue lightning. The Cultist's robes were no defence to any weapon that the Marines used, be it pistol or blade. The Arch-Foe fought back however. Out of the corner of his eye, Teatur saw a dagger driven through one of his Brothers’ knees. Only Faolan pouncing the attacker saved him. Teatur saw another being simply dragged down by a horde of troops.

"Push through! Kill the Blood Pact and they will break!" Láeg roared, trying to motivate his squad.

Teatur ignored him and instead focused on the Cultists pressing him. Firing his pistol point-blank, he watched one of his foe's heads turn to ash, and his headless body fall to the ground, only to be crushed crushed under the feet of his ‘comrades’. Slashing with his axe, he saw another fall, his arm missing.

By now, the stench of blood was over whelming and the smoke was so thick it was nearly impossible to see through it.

"Sir, we can't scratch this Fortress! Every shot so far hasn't even-" Teatur heard the Tank Commander begin, but he was cut out by a deafening bang, and an explosion which sent both Marine and heretic flying.

"Artillery! They've Artillery mounted on that fortress!" Cohél yelled.

"Fall back!" Teatur ordered, as the squad began to fight their way back to the Rhino, "No sense dying here, the Imperium has need for us yet!"

As the squad fell back, Kiaren was at home, letting off bursts of fire to prevent them tailing the Marines.

"Dance scum!" He yelled, firing another bust of flame, causing a group of Cultists and Blood Pact fall to the ground, screaming as Láeg and Cohél carried the two Marines that had fallen in the melee or artillery fire.

Once the entire squad was in the back of the Rhino, Teatur turned his attention to the driver, "Drive, drive!"

++ Ten Minutes Later, Imperial Command ++

"You all go and do whatever. Get some downtime, you’ve earned it," Teatur said to the squad as they piled out of the Rhino.

"Kiaren, Dáhey, take the dead to Chaplin Daeglún, then do as you please," Láeg added in quickly after.

The squad acknowledged their thanks and set off. Láeg nodded at Teatur and set off himself. A throat being cleared behind Teatur caused him to spin around. A man dressed in the garb of a Naval pilot, with a light brown stubble and short, cropped hair stood behind him. He stank of sweat and had a large scar running across his face.

"Sir, I was one of the pilots you rescued. I, uh, wanted to thank you for it," The pilot said, looking more determined than anything else.

"It was my orders; your Colonel was worried for you all," Teatur said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Sir, I understand what you're doing but please don't play me for a fool. I talked to the others when he got back. The he Colonel abandoned us. It was your Captain who ordered us to be saved. We all owe you our lives," the Pilot said firmly, before his voice lowered, "I just wish Tracer was still here."

Teatur assumed 'Tracer' was the fallen pilot, "What is your name, pilot?" he asked, trying to sound consolatory.

"Tradure Symeudí. Rapier to my squadron members," Tradure said, his voice still low.

"Well then Tradure. I want something of you. A favour, if you will. Will you do me that?" Teatur asked. Tradure nodded. “Good,” the Space Marine continued, “Do this, always remember a fallen soldier. Always remember fathers and sons at war. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir. We plan on a service for him. If only we had the body," Tradure's voice trailed off. He shook his head. "Regardless, thank you. And sir, Captain Orin is in some bother with a Commissar and asked for you. He's over there," he said, pointing towards the armour bay.

Teatur's eyes widened. If he was in trouble with a Commissar, it could only be because he sent his tanks in. Teatur wasn't about to let the man who helped him, suffer. Nodding to the pilot, Teatur began sprinting towards the quarrelling duo.

"Regardless of intentions, you disobeyed an order!" the Commissar yelled.

"I wasn't going to let those men die!" Conan snapped back, "You wouldn't be moaning if you were with them!"

The Commissar was lost for words, and so turned to Teatur, "You! Marine! Is it true you took his help, despite knowing the Colonel was not committing troops to a Medical Evacuation?" The Commissar said, every word drawn out and savoured, like he was tasting Amasec.

"I did, yes. I requested the Captain's tanks because, I don't know, there was a fortress there? I don't know what they taught you in training, but not even Marines carry guns big enough for that!" Teatur snapped, "Now, if you have a problem with that, take it up with me," Teatur growled, with Faolan snarling at his feet. The Commissar seemed defeated and began to slink away. He stopped, and turned, pointing at Teatur.

"Don't think I'll forget this," He said, menacingly.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Commissar," Teatur spat. With that, the Commissar disappeared.

"Thank you, Sir. fething ass" Conan said, spitting in the direction of the retreating Commissar, "I owe you."

"No, you don't. Your tanks proved to be life-savers. Tell them I said thanks for the assistance and they were of great help."

"I will," Conan said with a small smile, "I hate to say it, but you may have need of my tanks later."

"I think there is more chance of the sky burning than us not needing your tanks," Teatur said with a grim, hidden smile, "Now, I must go inform my Captain of events. The plot has thickened it seems. Again, my thanks Captain," Teatur said, nodding, before making his way to the bunker that was Imperial Command.

[Gingusdan]

Brutis sat down beside the mess hall with a sigh of relief. It felt good to sit down. He'd been running for the better part of an hour and his body ached, the air stank of sweat and his green barrack wear tee shirt clung to him like a second skin. Yet, he felt better for the run. It honed his body and sharpened his mind. It also allowed him to think. He reached for his flask and went to take a drink of water, only to discover it was empty. Sighing, he pulled himself up and went to the mess to refill it.

As he was leaving the mess, a slightly out of breath Saruc stopped him.

"Message...for you...sir." he panted, handing over a package.

"What have I told you? I'm not an officer and I'm certainly not sir," Bones said, winking. Saruc smiled knowingly, and ran into the mess. Brutis just shrugged and walked to his tent, eating a ration bar as he went.

When he entered the tent he saw Kyla with a steaming cup of recaf talking to Cearul, who was polishing a sword. Bones nodded to Cearul as he entered the room. He simply grunted and left.

"Don't mind him," Kyla began, sipping her recaf, "he thinks he's all high and mighty since he's a Armsleader now," Kyla said as Brutis fixed her with a curious gaze.

"Cearul got promoted?" he asked between bites of his ration bar. Kyla nodded, setting her recaf down on the table beside her bunk and walked over to Bones, giving him a quick hug. Bones looked at her, puzzled, "What was that for?" he asked.

"It's my way of saying congratulations," Kyla said with a smile. Bones simply continued to look confused and a mixture of horror and shock set in on Kyla's face, "You haven't heard, have you?"

"Heard what?" Bones asked, feeling awkward now, hoping he wasn't blushing.

Kyla smirked and giggled. He was blushing, "Open the package," she said, pointing at the package he'd thrown on his bunk when he entered the room. He'd almost forgotten about that. Sitting on the edge of his bunk, he grabbed a Iho stick and went to light it up before he saw Kyla's face. She seemed annoyed. Shrugging his shoulders as if to say 'What?' She simply smiled and shook her head. He lit it up and took a long drag, before drawing his dagger. Slicing through the wrapping, he opened it to find a note and a Carapace armour shoulder piece. It was the same as his own, with one major difference. It was still a dark grey, but the red stripe indicating that he was a member of third platoon, was gone. Now, it was replaced with two dark green stripes. Green meant fifth platoon, while two stripes meant Sergeant.

"That's got to be a mistake," Bones said in disbelief, throwing the piece over to Kyla who began to examine it.

"What's the note say?" she asked, raising her head to look over at Bones.

He read it aloud. Captain Orin had ordered him to report to him tomorrow at 0600 hours.

"Must be big," Kyla said smiling again at Bones.

"The two stripes is confusing me. It must be a mistake, no way I'd be promoted to Sergeant," Bones said, "Would I?" Kyla got up and sat beside Bones, putting her arm around his broad shoulders.

"If anyone deserves it, it's you," Kyla said, turning to face him, flashing him a confident smile. Bones stared into her green, emerald like eyes. He'd never realized how pretty she was. He brushed some of her loose hair behind her ears. She smiled. Emperor's Blood, she was beautiful, unbearably so. Brutis felt himself blushing and tried to speak, but a lump had risen in his throat.

"Do you want to get something to eat?" Kyla asked smiling as she handed the armour piece to Brutis. He nodded, pulling the old piece off and putting the new one on.

"Glady Ma'am," Brutis said, saluting and then winking. Kyla rolled her eyes and stood up. Brutis followed and put his arm over her shoulders and, together, they walked to the mess hall.

++ Meanwhile ++

Cearul growled lowly at the sight of Tybalt and Kyla walking off, hugging. The fact that worm Tybalt could impress a girl like Kyla, yet he couldn't sickened him. Still growling, he turned to face the training dummy he was using. He wanted to get the feel for his new equipment.

Thumbing the activation rune on his new sword, Cearul nearly dropped the sword in shock when it exploded into life. Lightning danced delicately on the masterfully crafted blade and made it's way along the blade. It hummed slightly with energy. Impressed, Cearul turned the output down to ten percent. He didn't want to kill himself by accident.

Spinning the blade, he felt himself growing a respect for the Priesthood of Mars. This blade was balanced perfectly and the grip fit his hand like it had been made for him. He was impressed.

'Let's see if you're useful,' Cearul thought, a baneful smile tugging at his lips. Slashing in front of him twice with a speed that surprised himself, he saw a scorched 'X' shape on the dummy's chest. The marks were smoking and Cearul was afraid the dummy might catch fire. His thoughts were averted from that matter by an 'Ahem' behind him.

Spinning on the balls of his feet he held his blade up the face of the Guardswomand behind him. She didn't even flinch.

"Sir. Armswoman Roisin Neala, reporting," she said, saluting smartly, "I hear you're our new Armsleader." Cearul scowled and powered down the sword, putting it back in his scabbard. Simply nodding, he turned to leave. Roisin quickly jogged to keep up with him.

"Nice work on that dummy by the way," she said. Cearul stopped and stared at her viciously until she caught on. "Sir," she added.

"That's better. And thank you," Cearul snapped, before his tone softened, "I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, sir," Roisin said, smiling, "Now, the real reason I'm here is to tell you, your squad? They're throwing a drinks party for you. I was asked to get you."

"Drinks? Non alcoholic I hope," Cearul said sternly.

"Uh... yeah, for the most part," Roisin said after a moment of thought. Cearul rolled his eyes.

"All right then. Lead the way," he said, his voice strangely soft.

"Glady sir," she said, walking off with Cearul following.

++ Meanwhile ++

Colonel Fargis ran his fingers through his grey, thinning hair. His brow was damp with sweat and his uniform was crumpled and dirty. An emptied bottle of Amsec sat on the desk beside a dirty shot glass.

"What's the plan Sir?" Captain Orin asked, rubbing his eyes, "With all due respect, I'd like a little sleep."

Fargis took no notice and kept rereading the reports. Traitor Legions, Blood Pact, a fortress, it was a lot to deal with. "We march," he said finally, looking up for the first time in the meeting, "To war. Captain Orin. Begin mobilization of the troops. Then, and only then, you may sleep."

Orin saluted, "Yes sir, right away sir." He turned and left the room.

"This will not be easy Colonel. Many men will suffer and many more will die," Captain Ceait said, looking at the 3-D image of the fortress. It bristled with weapons from anti-aircraft guns to powerful artillery pieces. Then there was the problem of the outposts.

"Acceptable casualties," Fargis said lowly, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.

"Captain," Banner Bearer Vaxilem Gira said, "Forgive my interruption, but it might be a wise move to hail the remainder of the Company."

"I'd agree," Teatur said from the shadows as Faolan resting his head on Teatur's armoured feet, "It would give us a better chance during the big push."

"They could be months away however," Apothecary Turlough Nacidus warned, "They may not be capable of helping us in time."

"Maybe," Ceait said, "but their aid would certainly help. Vaxilem, raise Commander Tiarno Déra. Tell him to get here at full speed."

"Yes sir," he Vaxliem said, nodding and walking out.

"Teatur, Turlough, you may leave now," Ceait offered.

"Thank you Lord," the Apothecary said, turning to leave. Teatur made the sign of the Aquila and left.

"If your Brothers aren't here when we're ready," Fargis sighed, "We must march without them." Ceait stared at the man with disdain. Only a fool would march to war without help.

"Fine," Ceait said defeated, turning to leave, "but if they arrive in time, be ready for a steel rain Colonel. Good night."