As I changed my pistol's magazine, I surveyed the room. This was apparently the common room of this barracks. The dining tables were turned over to protect the stubber, but various books and amusements were scattered about the room, and the chairs were scattered about the room haphazardly. Noting the entrance to the kitchen, and another deeper into the building, I pointed to Ginea and Jullos with my sword and pointed towards the long hallway. I moved towards the kitchen as they took the hallway, their boots crunching on the detritus of the short, brutal fight. Losacan followed me towards the open kitchen doorway. We took opposite sides of the entry, and I held my highly polished sword in the gap, and gazed into the blade. No threat was in the reflection, and I cautiously entered, sweeping the room with my pistol. It seemed a typical area for the preparation of food. The faint odor of the last meal cooked here hung in the air, masked by the smell of explosives, burnt flesh, and fresh blood from the common room. Another, fouler odor hung beneath that, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I muttered to Losacan, 'Keep me covered, brother, there is something about this place that seems odd.' I walked between the metal counters, shiny but scratched from innumerable pots being dragged across their surfaces, the industrial tiled floor, sloping down to a large drain in the center of the room, and a wall of three refrigeration units opposite the entrance. Continuously scanning the room, I made for the large, latched doors of the refrigerators. Losacan, standing beside the doorway, watched, his pistol and blade at the ready. I crouched next to the first refrigerator, and popped the heavy door open with my sword, quickly poking my pistol into the opening. Nothing but some vegetables and fruits, stored in plastic bins. I moved to the next one, still crouching. Now one of the large metal counters was between the doorway and myself. The shelves underneath held numerous pots and pans, though I could look through them and see Losacan's brown fatigue pants. As I reached for the next heavy metal door, a great lassitude came over me. My limbs grew heavy, and I sank out of my crouch and knelt. Wonderful warmth permeated the kitchen, like curling up into a warm bed. Tendrils of sleep tugged at the corners of my mind. I tried to shake it off, focusing on entering the half sleep trance I had been taught to initiate after my third round of surgeries, but focus was difficult to find. As I slumped down, I looked back at Losacan through the pots, and saw he too was now on the ground, propped against the wall with his weapons lying at his side. A scraping noise drew my eyes towards the center of the room, where the drain in the floor was being pushed up. A blue uniform rose out of it, though I couldn't see the wearer clearly through the full shelves. There was a red braid decorating parts of the coat, and I couldn't help but realize this must be someone important. I felt like I should do something, if I could only find the energy. Another figure, this one in shimmering, multihued robes rose out of the hole in the floor, and my weariness redoubled. I heard the two speaking, but couldn't pay enough attention to their words. As the two moved towards the door, they stopped short, and after a moment, laughter, cruel and harsh filled the room. I remember what they said next it burned into my mind that terrible day. 'One less Astartes whelp to deal with,' and a pistol shot rang out, thunderous in that small, confined kitchen. I watched, pinned to the ground by my own enervation, as Losacan pitched over, and I stared into his vacant eyes as his blood and brain matter dripped down the wall behind him and pooled on the warm, warm floor. His killers swept out of the room, leaving me with my dead brother. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I stumbled out of the bloody kitchen and into the common room again. Whatever had been done to me was quickly wearing off, though I do not know what exactly they had done to me. It stank of Chaos, though. I now begin to understand why the Deathwing was here. I keyed my comlink, but only static returned. Some kind of interference stopped my call for help. I looked at the floor, and saw the footprints of the killers in the dust, one a crisp boot mark, the other a trail carved from the dirt by dragged robes. They led straight out the door. I dashed to the hallway, looking for Jullos and Ginea, and was brought up short. They were sprawled on the floor, weakly convulsing and frothing at the mouth. Jullos' young face was twisted into a mask of pain. I knew nothing of how to treat them, so I rushed on to the door. The field surrounding the building was empty, and the heretic leaders had left no trace of their passing here. I quickly glanced at where Hybert had been, and saw him slumped over his heavy bolter, unconscious or dead I couldn't tell. I sprinted across the field, continuing to key my comlink, but apparently the heretics had some method of jamming our communications. As I flew across the field, I saw Hybert stirring yes! He groggily looked up at me as I ran up to him. 'Broth Brother Kinop,' Hybert slurred, 'what happened?' 'I'm not exactly sure, my brother, but I think the leaders are escaping. They have already killed Losacan and crippled Ginea and Jullos. Can you walk?' I blurted. Hybert violently shook his head, clearing it, and pushed himself forcefully to his feet. 'Yes, I can brother. Where did they go?' 'I'm not sure, but my guess is straight into the forest. If we hurry, we may catch them.' Hybert drew his pistol and blade. 'I saw a path into the forest about fifty meters that way,' he said, pointing. 'They may have gone down it.' 'Then let us follow, brother.' I turned and ran in the direction Hybert indicated, and he followed me. We had gone barely five steps down the path, when the air seemed to grow warmer, and I could feel my muscles relaxing. I turned to my brother, and saw he felt it, too. 'This is how they mean to escape, but we know it now. Can you resist, brother?' I asked, trying to sound more confident than I felt. 'I think so. Lead on.' Hybert squared his shoulders, and I turned and continued down the path. I could feel the lassitude creeping into me, but I pushed myself on. Hybert and I trudged along the dirt path, surrounded by the lush vegetation of this planet, though even the animals and insects that had teemed and probed on our infiltration had fallen silent within the sphere of the heretics' influence. The faster we went, the heavier the cloying peace that threatened to undo our efforts. Occasionally, I would find myself having inadvertently slowed down, and the sleepiness having faded until I could redouble my efforts. I began to quietly recite the Catechism of Hate, drawing on my faith and my rage at the death of my brother to push me on. Each time I pushed into the enveloping lethargy, it became easier to focus, easier to push against it. I focused on my mission, to recover the heretics, on my faith in the Emperor, on the honor of my chapter, whatever I could grasp when my mind began to sink into that oh so soft bed of indolence. A thought occurred to me how were we to take these heretics alive? All of our weapons were lethal, and my training had not precisely focused upon bringing our enemies back alive. Perhaps by shooting them in the legs, crippling them. Or maybe a clubbed tree branch. Birds chirped around us, and I brought myself to a sudden halt. Why was I suddenly able to conceive such a thought, and extrapolate possible solutions? I quickly turned to Hybert, who had halted at the same time I had. 'Do you feel it anymore?' He shook his head slowly. A grimace crawled across my face. 'They went off the path. Quick, you go left, and I'll go right. If you don't hit their influence in a minute or two, follow me. I'll do the same.' 'Understood, brother,' Hybert nodded, and dove into the undergrowth to his left. I took to the other side of the path. Looking at my sword as I hacked at the grasping branches and foliage around me, I decided that I could club the heretics with the flat of the blade to take them alive. I pushed further into the forest, and noticed that ahead of me the forest had grown very still. I keyed my comlink, but their jamming was still in place. It must be coming from the two leaders themselves. I hurried forward, until I felt the now familiar tug of drowsiness at my mind and body. I had them. I could certainly move faster than they could in this cover. I recited the Angel's Creed in my head to keep my mind focused. The clearing came upon me so quickly I almost stumbled into it. I ducked behind a heavy bush and scanned the sun drenched opening in the forest. The two leaders were there, an older man with a grizzled look about him, wearing the navy blue uniform of an Imperial Guard colonel from some planet I didn't recognize. He had an autopistol in a holster on his belt, and was tugging at some kind of camouflage tarp with the other heretic. The other leader was shorter and slighter, though I couldn't see his features. The hooded robe he wore was almost impossible to focus upon as its colors bent and shifted crazily in the midday sun. They gave the tarp a final jerk, and it finally came off, revealing an Imperial combat model land speeder. The robed figure went around the other side, while the colonel knelt at the power input and began running through the startup rituals. It was now or never. Pressing against the dullness foisted upon my mind, I realized I had no hope of catching that speeder once it was airborne, and the heavy bolter mounted on the passenger's side could outgun anything I had. I couldn't wait for Hybert, I had to move now. I slid carefully out from behind the leaves of my cover, and crept across the ten meters that separated me from the heretic colonel. I focused everything I had upon the kneeling, dark blue figure, and the sword I held in my hand. Weariness and sloth tore at my mind, pulled at my arms, and threatened to drag my feet on the ground, but my focus was sharp the kneeling man. Finally, I was behind him. He turned with a start, and as his face registered utter surprise at seeing me, I brought the flat of my sword smoking down into a vicious blow to his temple. A dull thump, and the colonel was unconscious at my feet. One down, one to go. Lethargy still clung all around me the robed man must be the psyker. I crept around the back of the speeder, and rounded the corner. The robed figure was half inside the stowage compartment, apparently retrieving necessary equipment. I moved closer, and the figure pulled back suddenly and turned to face me. |
DARK ANGELS SCOUT STORY By Chris LS |
FABLES OF THE UNFORGIVEN |
