'I dislike being called a coward Brother. You speak of fighting like a man, yet you five fight like untrained dogs!' Markus remained silent. Even through the glowing red eyes of Markus' helmet, the Fallen knew he was looking at the Dark Angel emblem on his left shoulder he could see it himself through Markus' eyes. 'Hasn't changed much in ten thousand years, has it, Brother?' 'You are not fit to wear such a badge.' Spat Markus. 'I have just removed three of your best men from the emperor's service! It is you who are unfit to wear such a badge.' Markus didn't listen to the traitor's words. He thought of anything except that the Fallen had said 'your five.' He thought of killing the fallen, of watching the Traitor in the hands of an Interrogator Chaplain. He couldn't let the fallen know about Atrius. As he thought about torturing the Fallen, he saw the Traitor become agitated. The Fallen Angel put his foot against Markus' chest and levelled his gun at the Terminator's helmet. A muffled gunshot! But it came not from the Boltgun. This shot was silenced. The noise came from the bullet penetrating a soft section of the Fallen's Power armour in the right arm. The bolt gun dropped from the Fallen's hand, and before the gun had reached the ground, three other shots ploughed into the ancient armour. Another penetrated the left arm, two to the back of both knees. The corrupted Dark Angel fell flat on his face squirming but unable to move his broken limbs. He managed to roll over and look up into a shadowed face beneath a cloak the colour of bone. Atrius dropped his gun to the floor and marched closer to the traitor. He reached out and took a hold of the collar of the Fallen Space Marine with both hands. With a roar he swung the ton heavy man against a wall, denting the plasteel. He felt his fingers burn where their tips entered inside the ancient rotten suit. Atrius' cloak fell back from his shoulders, pulling back his hood. His exposed arms hefted huge muscles disproportionately large even to his enhanced physique. Their faces level, it was the Fallen who spoke first. 'So,' he grimaced through the pain of his long kept fluids leaking through the holes in his armour, 'they sent a man with no soul to save mine?' His completely black orbs pierced into Atrius, almost as if they were looking for a soul behind the savage blue eyes staring back at him. 'I have more soul than you could ever have had. I fight for the very existence of my race. I am at one with the souls of the Emperor and of Lion 'El Jonson. I am not a traitor.' 'Good for you, you can be as weak and selfish as they were.' spat the fallen in a mocking tone. Atrius smashed his elbow into the side of the Fallen's head, throwing thick black blood from between the pointed teeth that lined the corrupted, broken, mouth. 'This isn't my argument. I do not need answers because I do not need the questions, my faith is enough. I was sent here to capture you, and it would seem I've done that. If you want to discuss the finer points of the Emperor and our Holy Primarch then save it for the Interrogator Chaplains. They will be only too happy to talk to you about these things.' The Fallen spat at Atrius but Atrius cocked his head to avoid it. 'For that, I will make a point of spitting on your corpse everyday for a month before I let them incinerate it,' Atrius growled. They looked at each other for another moment; completely unadulterated hatred passed between their eyes before Atrius decided the argument was over. He crashed his forehead into the bridge of the Fallen's nose, resulting in a disturbing crunch as the hardened bones of the Fallen broke, knocking him unconscious. Atrius activated the comm. system by his ear and linked into Uriel's suit. 'Brother?' 'Brother Vicconious is in a critical condition. His suit is supporting him for now. I think he'll need bionics when we get back.' Atrius heard the sadness in his voice. Uriel had been a descendant of one of the Plains people before the Dark Angels recruited him. He didn't see Bionics as the gift others saw them as. Atrius acknowledged and then patched in to Akhad. 'And you Brother?' 'Brother Julo is almost unharmed. Given a while his suit will be repaired enough for him to walk. Atrius held out his right hand to Markus, who took it. The gesture was purely symbolic; if Markus had been unable to rise without the aid of the Terminator armour, there would have been little Atrius could do to lift him to his feet. Atrius looked at the Deathwing Sergeant's right arm, or at least the stump that remained. Remorsefully he said, 'Forgive me Brother. I handled that completely wrong. We knew there would be traps, yet we played right into his plan.' Markus looked at his bleeding shoulder beneath the large shoulder pad. 'Brother Apothecary Malaeus is an expert in these matters. If he cannot re-heal the arm, then he will have the finest bionics to replace it. My arm will be stronger than ever. And so shall we. The Traitor was right about one thing; we did not perform to the best of our ability. Had anyone else been present, we would not have lived up to our legendary reputation.' Atrius stared down at his feet and said nothing. He had no reason to order penance; they would all punish themselves over this. For the rest of their lives they would increase their prayer and training time at the expense of rest periods and dining times. He moved over to his gun and picked it up. He stood looking at it for a moment, appreciating the peace after the violence. The hardest part of the mission was over; all they had to do now was return the fallen to the Tower of Angels. He turned around, suddenly wary after the days of hunting. He sighed, and then asked, 'Are all your teleport systems operative?' Markus checked his display of his squad's status. 'They are. But we're too deep for our ship to get a fix. We'll need to move back up several levels before we can teleport out. And we'll certainly have to wait until our suits have fully re-sealed. Should we wait here until Brother Julo can walk, or should we concentrate on getting this traitor back to the Rock?' Atrius didn't need to consider his options for long. 'Until He is in the hands of our Interrogator Chaplains, our mission remains unfinished, and Brother Vicconious needs immediate medical attention, and the blessings from our Chaplains.' 'Of course.' Replied Markus. He moved over to the unconscious traitor, slumped against the wall, and used his power fist to grab the chest of the corroded armour. As the extreme power of the fingers closed into the plasteel and ceramite, there was a loud screeching, followed by hissing as foul stenches were released. Markus raised his arm and held the Fallen in front of him. 'I'll carry him, and I'll make sure he doesn't regain consciousness. Evidently he is a psyker.' 'Evidently.' Replied Atrius. The man had known of Atrius' trait; a mutation opposite to that of a natural Psyker, giving him no recognisable presence to those who could see with their minds. He and the Terminator Sergeant moved towards the other members of his squad. Brother Julo was on his feet, but the suit's systems were damaged and his walk was staggered. The heavy limp of his right leg was nothing to do with the armour though. When he saw the Traitor held by his sergeant he gave a low growl over the comm. system. Vicconious was supported between Uriel and Akhad, his head hanging loosely, blood pouring from the broken eyepiece. Julo removed his helmet, exposing a head that looked incredibly small for such a large suit of armour. He staggered haphazardly over to his three brothers and looked at Vicconious. Atrius was stood several metres away, but he saw the glinting tear roll down the huge man's cheek. In that moment, he felt a sadness like nothing he had ever felt before, and with it, guilt just as strong. As he neared his Brothers, he whispered, 'Forgive me.' Julo carried on with his wounded walk to meet Atrius. He looked down into his Brother's eyes, before placing his Power Gloved hand on Atrius' shoulder. 'There is no need Brother,' he said, and then looked over at the Fallen again, 'we have him, and if we go on with haste we may have done so without losing a man.' Atrius shuddered at the respect they all shared for each other. 'Then let us go. Our work here is done.' The wounded group began slowly working their way back towards the surface in an eerie silence. After some time hobbling back through the underhive, upon reaching the large disused tank factory, Markus called out, 'Brother Atrius, I have confirmation that we are within teleport range. Our suits are sealed and ready. They will have a fix within minutes.' Atrius rubbed his tired face with his hand, felt the long stubble and the looseness of his skin. 'Good. We should wait here until they are ready. When you've gone, I'll make my way back to the starport and meet you in a few days.' He propped himself against a wall and slid down it. 'You'd better give me one last sensor sweep of the area before you leave, Brother.' Markus stood quietly for a moment, and then, 'Brother, someone approaches.' Atrius' face took on a pained, exhausted expression. He knew who it would be, he was foolish to think after their earlier chance encounter that the outsider wouldn't go sticking his nose into places it didn't belong. He saw what he had to do; it was for the good of the Imperium. He noted the armaments of the terminators who were still at full strength. 'Brothers, teleport out now! Uriel, I want you to be ready to return when I call you.' 'I can stay and help!' pleaded Uriel. 'No, he's a Psyker and he may be able to affect you.' A few moments passed before the orbiting ship finally got it's lock. Blue electricity began arching over the Terminators and the Fallen, still in Markus' hand. But it was too late. Before the process was fully initiated, the Inquisitor walked into the hangar, his three bodyguards spread out behind him. Atrius saw the eyes of the Inquisitor move from the Terminator Sergeant to the limp body in his hand. To the Dark Angel emblem tainted and distorted by time and hatred. And Atrius saw the repulsion build in the Inquisitor. |
THE HUNTER By Peter Falkingham |
FABLES OF THE UNFORGIVEN |
