White knuckles and a red face. That's what all the other marines said. Gideon could see why now. All the new marines, even himself, could feel the blood leave their hands and excitement push it to their heads. Kneeling in the giant metal hull of this beast, heavy as a building, yet nimble as a butterfly, he could feel inertia pulling him upwards. Running his hand across his plasteel breastplate, he checked the harness again. He had done this before. A few times before anyway, and each time seemed to be his last. But some how, he survived. The maw of the beast opened. Metal fighting metal in some unknown contest for the loudest groan. Jungle lay stretched underneath the assault squad like a field, each tree a blade of grass. Craters swept into view, burning wood. The Thunderhawk was too far up for Gideon to see any soldiers. "Thirty seconds!" A voice boomed in his helmet. Gideon recognized it as Asmond's. Work fast and keep moving. If they bog you down, move to sector gamma. Remember, our target is the factory, no heroics. I want to see all of you in the debriefing room when we get back!" "Hoo-rah!" The whole group joined in the chorus. But it was just the opening act. The marines were kneeling in a single file row along the belly of the gunship. Gideon was in the middle of the group, Asmond ready to lead off, and Michael just behind him. Checking his gear one last time, he readied himself for the jump. "Go!" Asmond screamed as he jumped from the Thunderhawk. The line followed, each marine rolling out of the craft towards the ground. Gideon didn't hesitate. Rolling forward, he ignited the engines on his jump pack. The twin fission powered, cylinders roared to life. He straitened his back, and stretched his arms in a swan dive. Watching the power indicator in the lower left display inside his helmet raise to one hundred percent, Gideon aimed himself just above Asmond. A marine was coming up on his right. He recognized Dimetrei's helmet. The crossed swords painted crimson on his forehead. A loud crack and Gideon was spiraling away from the group. The gyrostabilizers inside his jump pack leveled Gideon out. A trail of smoke coming from the forest ended in a dark red cloud where Dimetrei had once been. "Left flank, hook maneuver, keep your eyes peeled marines!" Asmond shouted. The group banked left hard. Like a flock of birds they stayed in a broken V formation. Large tracers screamed by them, orange darts that carried death to those to slow for the living. They could see their target now. Turrets sat atop the building, manned by rebel imperial guard. Over shooting their objective, the marines turned around, executing a half circle, and charging forwards. Completing the hook with the barb as they dodged autocannon shells. Gideon could touch the ground with his elbow if he wanted to, a trail of dust following them towards the refinery. Swinging their feet into the air, the squad slid on their sides to the refinery. Gideon's feet were digging a trench in front of him, kicking dirt and rock into his helmet. The squad stopped a few feet in front of the building. Standing up, Asmond took a quick tally of who had made it. Sergai had a large dent in his foot armor. The ankle was smashed and the gyrostabilizers were almost certainly destroyed. He limped forwards against the wall, drawing his bolt pistol. The rest of the group stood as they slid to a stop, drawing their weapons. Asmond said a quick prayer to Dimetrei before un-holstering his plasma pistol. Drawing his own plasma pistol, Gideon noticed that Malachai had tinkered with it again. Two red wires and two blue wires ran down the side of the weapon, to the rear, where a large hydrogen flask lay. An adaptor was in the place of a normal flask, the larger ammo dispenser plugged into that. This had Gideon a little worried. Plasma was dangerous enough, now Malachai was adding more power to it? As long as it works he thought to himself. Already the pistol was three inches longer than normal, and could take two hydrogen flasks instead of one. Such is the price to have Malachai as a friend. His chainsword was standard issue however, so he had reason to be thankful. "Okay people, do you want to sit here and take a nap?" Asmond was yelling through the open channel. "Then lets get moving." The squad jogged along the wall until they came across the loading dock. Large sheet metal doors were locked down. A tracked cargo vehicle was stationed at the far end of the building. Using a burst from their jet packs, all the marines landed effortlessly before the door. "Michael, cut it." Asmond ordered. "Sir, yes sir." Michael replied as he powered up his chainsword. Sparks flowed from the blade as it ate through the cheap metal barrier. After only a few seconds, Michael had cut a hole big enough for two marines to fit through. "Okay squad, listen up. We don't know what kind of security they have here. Play it by the numbers. Don't use your pack unless you have to." Asmond motioned towards the door. "Let's go marines, I don't want to see any melta-bombs left when we get out either." They charged through the opening with guns in hand. Two guardsmen were leveling lasguns at the marines. Gideon watched his targeting reticule cover the guardsman on the right. He squeezed the trigger on his plasma pistol. Sparks erupted from the traitor's chest moments before he disappeared into a crimson mist. His legs stood smoking in the hallway. The guardsman to the left fired his lasgun at Michael. The beam sparked on his armor, leaving a glowing red scar on his shoulder pad. A bolt from Michael's pistol connected with the mans head. His helmet cracked against the ceiling and his body dropped to the floor leaking blood. Gideon thundered down the hall, ignoring the bodies that were convulsing on the floor. Running to the elevator, he pushed the descend button. A minute swept by as Gideon waited for the doors to open. When they finally parted, an armored figure was standing in the middle of the lift. Though he was in power armor, it was twisted, and deformed. His armor was rusting, and was not patched were it had given way. The lenses were broken out of the helmet, and cold red eyes stared through them. Bolt after bolt slammed into Gideon as he backed up. Small chunks of plasteel armor splintered off his breastplate. He fired the plasma pistol in retaliation, white sparks filled the room and the concrete floor cracked with a loud report. The traitor marine howled in pain as his leg erupted with bright light. His armor melted and trickled into the wound. With the bolter silent, the chaos marine grabbed his knife and rushed Gideon. Blue sparks bounced off the armored figures as the monofilament knife was intercepted by the chainsword. The plasma pistol flew from Gideon's grasp as the traitor's boot connected with his hand. Gideon looked at the status of his armor in his upper right field of vision. A few scratches are all. Nothing Malachai can't fix up in a few days. He charged his jump pack to fifty percent. Grabbing the chaos marine's wrist, he smashed him in the head with the pommel of the chain sword. The stunned traitor fell on his back. Gideon cut the power to his jump pack, and put his boot on the former marine's wrist. The knife dropped on the floor, Gideon's knee pinning the traitor down. With his free hand, Gideon pulled the traitor's helmet off. Rotten flesh hung like torn rags from the hell-spawn's face. His teeth were yellow and cracked. Puss oozed from the eyes, and blood was running from the nose. The skull cracked when Gideon hit the traitor in the face. Blood poured out his ears, and pieces of bone washed away in the red liquid. After bashing the chaos marine again, Gideon retrieved his plasma pistol and boarded the elevator. The lift came to a stop next to a large cargo elevator. The room was full of large boxes. A giant machine lay in the far corner. Piles of bright metallic rock were dormant on a conveyor belt. Pulling a melta-bomb from his side Gideon set it on top of a box. He stared for what seemed like hours. "By the emperor, this is not right." He opened a channel to Asmond. "Sir, we have a situation." Gideon remained calm as static filled his helmet. Asmond's voice broke in, clear except for the piercing shriek of plasma being fired. "This better be good." He growled. "Sir, what was this refinery supposed to be shipping?" Gideon asked. "Phosphor and Ionized Crystal. Why?" "Sir, the basement is full of Charged Iridium. Probably for starship refueling." The line went silent except for static. Gideon waited a moment, then tried again. "Sir, the basement..." Gideon started. "I heard you Gideon." Asmond interrupted. "Set the charges and get out." "Sir, there are two regiments of imperial guard here. There is no way they could evacuate that quickly." "Gideon, if that fuel gets into a chaos fleet, an entire planet could be lost. Set the charges, i'm calling for immediate evac." |
CHRONICLES OF AN ANGEL VOLUME I - STARFIRE By Brother Gideon |
TOMES OF VALOUR |
This story has been reproduced with permission from the author. Many terms used in this story (such as Space Marine, Eldar, and others) are Trademarks of Games Workshop, Inc. Their use here is not intended as a challenge to said trademarks. |
