by Gav Thorpe
‘Squad Gideon, hold your position at all costs.’
Lorenzo staggered to his feet, an unspoken prayer to the Angel on his lips. He dropped his storm bolter, the mechanical relays of his fingers spasming as power surged intermittently along his arm. He fell to his knees and clawed around in the darkness seeking his weapon. Pulling free his power sword, he activated its blade and by the harsh blue light located his gun.
By the light of the power sword he found himself at the bottom of a stairwell. A web of distorted corridors stretched away in four different directions. Everything was slightly twisted, the vessel’s whole structure turned out of alignment by the strange torques and tides of the Warp.
‘Back to the landing zone, retreat!’
Lorenzo blinked, unsure whether the order had been real or imagined. Had something happened? Was the current action going as badly as the first? He turned awkwardly and sat, resting his back against the foot of the steps.
He could not be scared, he could not grieve, but Lorenzo felt an emptiness growing inside him.
Isolation crowded into his senses. He sheathed his sword to conserve its power and allowed the darkness to engulf him once more.
His armour would lose motor functions in two hours at the current rate. He had enough life support power for several more hours. Perhaps the others would find his body when they swept the space hulk after wiping out the genestealers; perhaps he would asphyxiate before the genestealers found him if his brothers did not succeed; perhaps he would be granted an honourable death at the hands of an enemy, one last chance to inflict the Emperor’s hate upon his foes; perhaps his body would be atomised as the strike cruisers bombarded the space hulk to ensure the destruction of the genestealers. Whatever happened, his destiny was not in his hands any more.
There was nothing more he could do. He was lost and alone, and he had failed. Just like last time, he had failed. Lorenzo powered down his systems and waited for death.
00.40.96
LORENZO BLINKED OPEN his eyes, realising that he had fallen into a catalepsean coma. Part of his brain had rested while the other kept watch. Now he had woken but he could not recall what had stirred him. Boosting power to his auto-senses, he looked up.
Something indistinct but definitely real flitted past the end of a corridor. It was a pale shimmer of heat, barely registering. Then came another, and another.
They were unmistakably genestealers, all moving in the same direction. Not one of the creatures spared Lorenzo a glance.
Then something larger stalked into view. It was similar in form but almost twice as tall and broad. It paused for a moment and turned its bulbous head in the sergeant’s direction. Eyes flared in the darkness and Lorenzo remembered the alien presence that had knocked him unconscious. In a moment the creature broke its hypnotic gaze and moved on.
Disgust welled up from the pit of Lorenzo’s stomach. He remembered his helplessness as the alien had invaded his mind. He could almost taste its presence, tainting his spirit, corrupting his body. The anger mingled with self-loathing as he realised how close he had come to giving up.
He had not failed yet, not while he could still fight.
Lorenzo stood up, the power grid of his suit flaring into life. Checking his weapons, Lorenzo set off after the genestealers. They might be heading towards his brothers or fleeing them; he did not care. He wanted revenge on the creature that had defiled him, that now embodied Lorenzo’s abhorrence for these aliens. He would kill that thing or die in the attempt. Nothing else mattered.
00.42.10
THE ENVIRONMENT SYSTEMS chamber was a hive of activity. Monotask servitors of flesh and metal lumbered into position with large canisters of nerve toxins on their backs, while Techmarines fussed over an elaborate and anarchic sprawl of tanks, pipes and valves. The air thrummed with power as extra generators had been brought in to boost the life support system’s own fluctuating energy supply.
‘Squads Gideon and Deino will form the last line of defence,’ Captain Raphael instructed over the comm. ‘All other squads to form perimeter.’
The Techmarines were filing out of the room followed by their servitors.
‘Contamination sequence initiated. Predict completion in eight minutes and thirty-two seconds,’ Raphael continued. ‘Beholden to our honour, prepare for death.’
Gideon turned to his squad, including Claudio who had requested that he replace Omnio. Deino and his warriors were also close at hand. The marksman was quiet, perhaps unsure of his field promotion to fill Lorenzo’s position. As the senior combatant present, Gideon felt it was his duty to lead with precision and determination.
‘This is the moment of our victory,’ he told the Terminators. ‘In eight minutes, enough gas will have been pumped into the system to kill all of the dormant genestealers. After that, it is just a matter of clearing out the few thousand already awake. The toxin must reach the required concentration to be fatal. No enemy is to pass us. There must be no damage to the control station.’
‘Just leave it to me,’ said Zael. ‘I’ll burn anything that gets inside the room.’
‘Negative,’ said Gideon. ‘The pumping equipment and air ducts are fragile and we cannot risk collateral damage from heavy weapons fire. That goes for you too, Leon. A catastrophic misfire could do more damage than any genestealer’s claw. Command says no heavy weapons to fire into or out of the environmental control room. Confirm?’
Leon grumbled something about having nothing to use except harsh language, but nodded in compliance.
‘The cleansing fires of absolution will be put to good use elsewhere,’ said Zael.
Gideon and Deino dispersed their squads, arranging two layers of a defensive cordon around the control room. Gideon glanced at the chronometer and then the sensorium. The genestealers had been massing for several minutes, attacking in small numbers to keep the Terminators occupied. The swathe of green at the edge of the sensorium, about two hundred metres distant, grew thicker and thicker as more genestealers surrounded the Blood Angels.
‘Here they come,’ someone announced over the comm. The green smudge of the sensorium contracted rapidly and soon the corridors rang with the din of battle being joined.
Gideon had placed himself not far from the only doorway into the control room, Claudio a few metres away at another junction. Their role was to act as a last line of defence should the genestealers break past the guns of the others.
The seconds seemed to tick past slowly, and Gideon forced himself to ignore the chronometer display. He adjusted the grip on his thunder hammer and listened to the combat reports over the comm. The genestealers were rushing forward in a great mass, overwhelming squads with their numbers, pushing on to the next point of defence without pausing. The fighting had rapidly become splintered through the corridors and rooms surrounding the control chamber as some parts of the line broke and others held. The Terminators’ kill rates soared, but the Space Marine casualties also slowly mounted.
From further along the corridor, Leon’s assault cannon erupted into life with a distinctive roar. Gideon powered his thunder hammer and its sculpted head glowed into life.
The genestealers were through the outer perimeter.
00.46.03
‘ESTIMATE CONTAMINATION COMPLETE in four minutes and forty,’ Raphael announced.
Deino paid the comm-link little attention, needing to focus all of his attention on the task at hand. Valencio was protecting the right flank, his storm bolter blaring almost constantly as a stream of genestealers surged from ruptured maintenance ducts beneath the deck above.
Deino found the role of sergeant distracting. He was forced to monitor the wider fight, unable to concentrate wholly on his own performance. He snapped off shots at aliens that had outflanked Valencio through a pitted waste disposal pipe whilst checking the sensorium to ensure that Zael was still holding back the alien tide attacking the forward line. The din of the assault cannon just to the left was equally distracting and Deino began to appreci
ate just how valuable Lorenzo’s experience had been to the squad.
‘Pull back to your second position, Zael,’ Deino ordered, seeing a cluster of contact blips gathering to circumnavigate the Terminator’s location. ‘Valencio, cover Zael’s withdrawal.’
Valencio moved forward as Deino took up the firing position covering the maintenance vent breach while Zael let loose another burst of flame and then retreated in the vital seconds allowed by the barrier of fire.
‘Avenge Lorenzo!’ shouted Valencio. ‘Anoint his memory with the blood of our enemies!’
‘Hold position,’ growled Deino, seeing that in his battle fervour, Valencio was taking steps forward, exposing his back to attack.
Three blips appeared behind Valencio and the warning was too late. They converged on his signal and then suddenly it went dead. Two of the contacts turned and headed towards Zael.
‘Blood of Baal,’ spat Deino, caught between two conflicting courses of action. He could move forward and protect Zael’s flank, or continue to guard the access route from the higher deck. What would Lorenzo have done?
Deino held his place, blasting apart the chitinous bodies and swollen heads of the genestealers crawling from the maintenance hatches. The mission - to protect the control room - was the primary concern. Zael would have to be a painful but necessary sacrifice.
‘Brother Deino!’ Gideon called over the comm.
‘What?’ demanded Deino, frustrated by yet another interruption to his composure.
‘Check your sensorium, flanking force ten metres to your right,’ the sergeant calmly told him.
Deino looked and saw that Gideon was correct.
‘My thanks, brother-sergeant,’ Deino said, backing along the corridor so that he could cover this fresh attack. ‘You guard my shoulder as well as the Angel.’
Gideon’s reply began with a short laugh.
‘Aye, and I’ll—’ Suddenly there was a grunt of pain and Gideon’s signal went dead.
The genestealers were breaking through in three places now, and the survivors of Squads Gideon and Deino were struggling to contain them. Deino repositioned himself once more, turning to look at Claudio at the far end of the corridor. Now he and Deino were the last defenders between the genestealers and the atmospheric ducts.
Claudio was surrounded by aliens, his lightning claws carving flickering patterns of sparkling blood and electricity in the air. Deino could spare him no further thought as more aliens sped across a T-junction ahead and sprinted towards him. He switched to full auto, eschewing the ideals of the marksman in the desperate circumstances. His bolts ripped through the clutch of genestealers, blasting them apart at close range.
A cry from Claudio caused Deino to turn. The Terminator was engulfed by a biting and clawing mass and he fell to his back under the speed and weight of their assault. Deino fired, explosive ammunition stitching wounds across the genestealers and Claudio’s armour. The Assault Terminator pushed himself to his feet. Then something hit Deino in the back and he pitched forward, his shots blowing apart the ceiling and causing a tangle of mesh and cables to fall into the corridor.
Deino forced himself to his knees and ignored the genestealer battering his back and shoulders. Beyond the crackling morass of wires and pipes, he saw Claudio fall down again, genestealers leaping past, headed for the control room.
Failure burned in Deino’s heart as a clawed hand punched the side of his helmet.
00.48.66
THROUGH A MIST of blood, Deino saw the genestealers dashing down the corridor ahead, nothing between them and the toxin vats.
A moment later, he felt the weight lift off his back and the bloodied remnants of the genestealer splashed onto the decking in front of him. More bolt detonations exploded among the advancing aliens, gouging great holes in their flesh, shattering bones and carapace. A figure limped past, a blazing storm bolter in one hand, a glowing power sword in the other. The Terminator fired off another salvo and then turned to look down at him.
‘On your feet, brother, there’s more fighting to be done,’ Sergeant Lorenzo’s voice barked from his helmet speakers.
00.48.73
THE COMBAT WAS a blur of anger and pain for Lorenzo. He stood at the door to the Techmarines’ poison tanks and gunned down or chopped apart everything that appeared in front of him. The sergeant overrode his suit’s systems to pump power to his arms, sacrificing the life support systems so that he could continue fighting. His limbs felt heavy, his hearts threatened to burst through his fused ribs and his lungs burned with unfiltered air, but Lorenzo kept up his relentless defence. The bodies piled in front of him formed a gory barricade, and he was forced to push them aside to keep his line of fire clear.
‘Contamination sequence complete,’ Captain Raphael announced after an eternity had passed. ‘Victory is at hand. Redemption. Tomorrow, we take the names of the fallen.’
The genestealer assault quickly lessened, and then the attacks ceased altogether. It took a while for Lorenzo to realise the immediate danger had passed.
‘Early analysis indicates ninety-eight per cent enemy fatality quotient,’ Captain Raphael announced. ‘The vengeance of the Blood Angels is ours. Strike hard and strike swift for our final victory.’
‘I need a comms-patch,’ Lorenzo announced over his external address system, his comm net still malfunctioning. Deino opened a panel on his left arm and drew out a coiled cable, which he plugged into the side of Lorenzo’s helmet.
‘Boosting your signal now, brother-sergeant,’ Deino’s voice crackled in Lorenzo’s ear.
‘Brothers, I have important news,’ said Lorenzo.
‘Continue, Sergeant Lorenzo,’ Captain Raphael replied over the comm.
‘Whilst separated I observed a foe the likes of which we had not seen before,’ said Lorenzo. As he spoke, Calistarius emerged around the corner of the corridor. Like the others, his armour was heavily damaged, its paint scratched, the ceramite cracked and split and stained with gore. ‘I believe it was the same creature that rendered my squad helpless with its psychic attack. It was larger, faster than the rest. I had the sense that it was some kind of leader, coordinating the genestealers.’
‘Very good, Lorenzo,’ said Raphael. ‘It is imperative that we locate and destroy this creature. Life scan reports show no anomalies. The sensorium data offers us no discerning information.’
‘Perhaps I can assist,’ said Calistarius. ‘I felt a presence when I came upon the victims of the psychic attack. At the time I thought it only a residue of assault, but it may be something else, something I can trace.’
‘What do you need?’ said Raphael.
‘Only a moment with Sergeant Lorenzo,’ replied the Librarian.
Calistarius stood in front of Lorenzo and laid a hand upon the top of the sergeant’s helm. Lorenzo felt a warmth in his mind, as the Librarian extended his soul to join with the sergeant’s. Suddenly there was a flash of memory and Lorenzo gasped. He was fixed by two pinpoints of light, staring helplessly at the glowing orbs.
Remember. Calistarius’s gentle voice appeared inside Lorenzo’s skull.
The sergeant’s vision drew back from the lights and he saw the creature’s snarling face. The scene replayed in his mind, rewinding through the milliseconds that had led up to the psychic attack. He saw the creature in full. It was massive, taller even than the Terminators, an enormous version of the other aliens. Lorenzo could feel its alien intelligence directed towards him, seeping through him.
Awake.
Lorenzo started from his trance and glanced around. His eyes settled on the Librarian in front of him. Lorenzo took a deep breath, his thoughts still muddled. His traumatic episode in the depths of the space hulk resurfaced briefly, a torrent of battle-brothers slain and vicious aliens. Lorenzo fought to control the clashing images and thoughts crowding into his mind.
‘I can lay those memories to rest, if you wish,’ said Calistarius, sensing the sergeant’s unease.
‘No,’ Lorenzo repli
ed after a moment’s thought. ‘We must remember the fallen so that we might avenge them. I grow stronger through the adversity of battle.’
‘Very well,’ said the Librarian. ‘When we return to the Chapter, you and I shall spend some time with the Chaplains. You have carried your grief and fears for six centuries, and the time comes soon when you can let them go. It is not good that you burden yourself with this anguish for so long.’
‘Can you locate the aberration?’ Raphael interrupted.
Calistarius released his grip on Lorenzo and stepped back. The Librarian held his hand to his helmet and bowed his head. His psychic hood, a tracery of wires and cables framing his helm, burned with power for a moment and motes of energy danced around the Librarian’s head. His hand fell to his side and the lights faded. Calistarius seemed to slump in his armour.
‘I can,’ he said, his voice laboured. ‘There is a psychic bond between the genestealers and their leader. Almost familial, patriarchal. There are two more of them close to where Lorenzo made contact. I can feel them now, like a pulsing in the stream of the aliens’ mind-web. They are dormant but wakening.’
‘We have little force to spare for the hunt,’ said Raphael. ‘Sergeant Lorenzo, assemble a squad from your brothers at hand and assist Brother Calistarius. We need to contain these unknown life forms, take tissue and destroy them. I will despatch Techmarine assistance to your position.’
‘Affirmative,’ said Lorenzo, pleased that there was a definite course of action for him to follow after the strangeness of the last minutes. ‘Squads Gideon and Lorenzo, assemble at my position.’
As the Terminators gathered, Lorenzo saw that they were in bad shape. The desperate defence of the toxin vats had taken its toll. Deino was clearly suffering, his helmet punctured, blinded in one eye. Valencio was missing the lower part of his right arm, his Tactical Dreadnought armour boosting his superhuman system to seal the wound. Noctis and Scipio were both currently weaponless and the stiffness with which they moved indicated severe damage to the internal systems of their suits. Gideon had lost his storm shield and the field around his thunder hammer glowed dimly from power shortage. Others had comparable states of armour damage and physical injury.