Waaagh Meckenheim

[Friddel]

Part 42:

Inquisitor Lord Karamazov watched coldly as the black and white chequered Thunderhawk sped back to it’s strike cruiser, engines glowing in the vacuum of space. So arrogant, so bold, he thought furiously. I have faced the corruption in the hearts of every man, and they question my judgment, my resolve? His right hand strayed to the gunnery vox, lazily drifting over the switch. No, he cautioned himself. Despite their offence, they are loyal to the Emperor. Better I bring the true architect of this carnage to justice, than vent petty frustration on the ignorant. “Astropath, take us to the Laius Rift” he ordered curtly over the vox-network. The rumble of the warp-drives answered him. Settling into his command throne, the venerable Inquisitor took one last look at the burning remains of Pelucidar, before the blast shield closed over the viewport. His unease only grew, as the ‘Righteous Purgation’ slipped into the warp, wards flaring. One by one, the Imperial Navy vessels regrouped and also disappeared into the Emperyan, returning to their respective docks.

The Grey Knights kept their weapons raised, before Gunther voxed Weiss. “Now is not the time, Justicar. Let me handle this” he stated confidently. Beside him, still gripped firmly by a pair of Grey Knights, Inquisitor Isabella frowned. looking more closely at the approaching Deathwatch Marines, she spotted a dark-green shoulder-plate. “Captain Xerxes. You are most tenacious, for a heretic’s lackey” she spat, contempt thick in her voice. “I am Captain Phaeton, Inquisitor” replied the Marine sardonically, removing his helmet. Some of the other Astartes chuckled briefly, but the Captains’ face was set. “You must relinquish your armaments” stated Phaeton pointedly. Isabella showed her empty gauntlets, throwing Gunther a dark look. “My daemonhammer is as much a part of me as my body or my soul, Captain. In my Order, it is a sacred weapon, bestowed only on the truly blessed,” rebutted the daemonhunter. “In any case” he added, a grim smile stretching his features “I don’t require my physical weapons to kill you”. Phaeton raised a scarred eyebrow. “So be it” he stated bluntly, moving with incredible speed. His power sword sliced three accurate cuts into the Tactical Dreadnought Armour suit. The power-pack fell neatly into the snow, Gunther shaking as the full weight came down upon him. Unable to stand, he collapsed backwards unceremoniously. Prying the daemonhammer from the Inquisitor’s immobile gauntlet, Phaeton voxed the other squads. “Anything?” he asked, deactivating his power sword and sheathing it in one smooth movement. “A chamber, evidence of a firefight. Empty suits of Mark III plate, bearing the mark of the Thousand Sons” reported Sergeant Thracis. “Kalis’s bodyguard, no doubt. Destroy the remains” ordered Phaeton with pausing, keeping an eye on the blinded Sorceror. The Dark Angel felt a wellspring of hatred rise up from within, as he took in the blasphemous runes covering the traitor’s armour. Kalis’s ruined helm turned, and Phaeton heard a low mocking laugher inside his head. As the whoosh of promethium and the whine of plasma bursts filled Thracians’ vox-transmission, Demos reported in, breaking Phaeton from his trance. “Captain, we have recovered a power stake and several Sororitas casualties. They were all killed by the same weapon” he said impassively. “Keep the weapon, destroy the remains. Link up with Thracian's squad and return to the surface when you are finished” ordered Phaeton.

“Having violated the sovereignty of the Ordo Xenos and trespassed upon a world declared Perdita, punishment by death is a forgone conclusion. My Lord has however decided that your deaths would be unnecessary” said Phaeton, his voice harsh. “A Thunderhawk” he continued, gesturing to a growing speck on the horizon “has been dispatched to take you, Inquistor Gunther, and the Grey Knights. The prisoners are now under the authority of the Ordo Xenos”. The whine of jet engines cut through the air, as two Thunderhawks raced across the tundra towards the cave. Phaeton handed the daemonhammer off to his squad without looking, as the assault ramp on the first gunship lowered. “Perhaps, Captain, it would be best if the Grey Knights and the noble Inquisitor Gunther escorted the Sorceror” amended Interrogator Arioch as he strode down the ramp. “After all, they dedicate their lives towards hunting down such filth” he added with a wry smile. Two Deathwatch Marines brought the disabled suit before him. “The traitor is mine” snarled Gunther. “A little respect goes a long way, Valorus. It may be some time before I can contact your Order. In the meantime you will be languishing in a cell” responded Arioch casually.


“What alternatives are there, if we cannot mobilise the Imperial Guard to necessary levels?” asked Lord Abraxas bluntly, turning to Captain Xerxes. “We do what Inquisitor Malak attempted; turn the xenos against itself” responded the Dark Angel. “The Conclave cannot contemplate such an action, Captain. Our puritan brethren hold the balance of power, and the Ordo Hereticus would take a very dim view of consorting with xenos” retorted Lady Veritas haughtily. “Lord Czevak has been accused of similar heresies before, yet he has emerged unscathed. He had a deep distrust of Malak, but no inherent bias against his work” stated Lord Reynaard. “As one of the most experienced Eldar contacts in our Order, he has absorbed their mindset of manipulation and grand schemes. Malak’s plans would not be unusual in his eyes, I think”. “ He has the backing of the Ordo Malleus however, so the Puritans and the Hereticus Lords would not dare make a move against him” countered Lord Arvus, “without the assistance of Ulthwe Craftworld it is doubtful we would have held at Cadia, nor continue to do so”.

“I am glad you brought up Cadia, brother, because it goes to the crux of Malak’s work” said Lord Reynaard. “The Imperium has finally found itself in a situation where it’s entire military strength and focus is drawn to one sector, one world. Armageddon remains a thorn in our side, but with Ghazgkull on the run, the situation is contained. Armageddon would be a loss, but Cadia cannot fall” continued Reynaard. “With so much of both the Imperium’s and Inquisition’s resources tied up in holding the line, we are losing ground to the Tau in the Eastern Fringe” he said, bringing up a projection of the Ultima Segmentum. “Against the Tyranid menace, the Ultramar system barely held, and it cost the Imperium almost the entire Ultramarines Chapter, and the Segmentum Battlefleet. With the Ultramarines and many other Chapters now fighting a bitter war of attrition against the Despoiler, our defences are weakened across the Eastern Fringe” concluded Lord Reynaard. “What does this have to do with Malak, Adolphus?” asked Lord Xanthus in an exasperated tone.

“I would argue that the Imperium can no longer defend itself with just the Imperial Guard, the Adeptus Astartes and the Titan Legions. All have been annihilated by the Hive Mind before, and the bio-mass denial doctrine cannot be sustained, as concluded at previous Conclaves” responded Lord Reynaard. “So, we would resort to manipulating xenos to do our bidding?” said Lord Draconis sarcastically. “Yes, brother. As abhorrent as it may seem, as galling as it may be to admit defeat, we must face reality” spat Lord Reynaard in an irritated voice. “The Emperor’s will must be done, and if it cannot be done by his servants, then it must still be accomplished. The situation in the Octavian sector is balanced upon a razor’s edge; should either side prevail, we will not be able to stem the tide. However, with a weapon that never tires, and constantly adapts to suit its target, we will be able to break the back of any invasion. Additionally, we will be able to put the Tau in their place, at least halt this ‘Third Expansion’, if not purge them all together” concluded Lord Reynaard. “You have stated no falsehoods, brother, but I do not agree with this line of reasoning. To give in to heresy, to simply abandon our faith and humanity, is to admit defeat in His eyes. You may walk the path to damnation, but I will not follow you” stated Lord Arvus, fire in his eyes.

Captain Xerxes broke into the argument, his deep voice drawing all eyes. “Lords, while we sit and debate, the Imperium is being torn apart. I have fought the Tau, and I know that for all the claims of ‘techno-sorcery’, the simple truth is that they are advancing faster than we are. Likewise with the Great Devourer; it will consume whole subsectors if we do not act” he retorted. “I am a proud warrior of the Emperor, and my faith will not be questioned” he barked, locking eyes with Lord Draconis as he made to retort, “but given the choice between sacrificing a unclean beast, or a loyal Imperial servant, I would choose the beast” he concluded. “I see we cannot sway you from this course of action, brother” said Lord Abraxas solemnly. “If you should recover Malak’s discoveries and achieve success, we will do our best to shield you from the ignorant. Fail, and this Conclave has no choice but to exile you permanently” stated the venerable Xenos Lord. “Very well. I take my leave of this Conclave, until such time as I have forged this new weapon for the Imperium” said Lord Reynaard, gesturing to Xerxes to leave. The Conclave muttered their goodbyes, as the pair left the room.

“What is the alternative, Inquisitor? That we sacrifice everyone to hold our borders in line” spat Captain Xerxes. “No, Captain. There is no alternative, the Imperium has been fighting for survival for ten millennia. It’s defenders, be they the Inquisition or otherwise, do not comprehend anything other strategy” said Lord Reynaard sadly. “Malak found an alternative, but it is too inimical to the Cult of the Emperor” he continued, as they strode up the ramp of the Thunderhawk gunship. “Faith is a powerful weapon, Inquisitor. To question it’s bedrock, the hatred of xenos, is to threaten the entire structure” retorted Xerxes quietly, as they settled into the seats behind the servitor-pilot. “I have dedicated my life to purging the xenos from the stars, Captain, but even you must admit it is beyond the Imperium’s ability to do so” said Lord Reynaard, the whine of plasma drives heightening as the gunship lifted off. “No, Xerxes, all we can do is survive, hold onto what worlds we can. Under the present conditions, short of the Resurrection, the odds only seem to lengthen for the Imperium” he said.

On the edges of the Octavian sector, a lone hive-ship spat from the Warp. Malak reached out with his mind, probing gently at the edges of the nearest planet. A fierce battle was already being waged, with Ork and Tyranid ships duelling in intense close-quarter engagements in high orbit, while Roks and mycetic spores rained down in equal measure. Even from such long range, the optical blisters in the skin of the hive-ship could detect immense nuclear explosions and raging all-out war all across the surface. Perfect, thought Malak. The hive-ship hurtled through space, aiming for the nearest cluster of hive ships.

As Malak’s ship neared the battle, a few Ork kill-kroozers peeled off from a freshly-arrived flotilla, to meet the newcomer head on. Malak felt the primitive but powerful emotions swirl all across the ugly, mangled Ork ships, and the latent psychic energy build-up. Sending the hive-ship into a slow roll, Malak tried to mimic the effects of a space hulk. Sure enough, the kill-kroozers slowed, disgorging hundreds of smaller craft to explore the hive-ship. Deep within its interior, Malak quickly breed a dozen packs of Genestealers, sending them scuttling through the slime-coated tunnels. Feeling small bursts of pain as the Ork boarding craft forced openings into the hive ship’s carapace, Malak held back his broods instinctively, waiting for all the Boyz to disembark. Using a few broods to quickly dispatch the pilots and Gretchin slave-creatures, Malak funnelled the remaining Orks into reclamation pits. Mob by mob, each Ork eventually found his doom at the claws of a ‘Stealer brood or in the acid-filled pits of a reclamation pool. Utilising the enhanced synapses and neural cortex of the ‘Stealers, Malak packed each craft with the bio-engineered shock-troops, before sending the boarding craft back intact. As he watched the return of the Ork boarding craft, Malak felt a smug satisfaction seep through him. Time to pit the fastest evolving xenos against the most stubborn, he thought sardonically.

[Friddel]

Part 43:

The broken shards of what was once Pelucidar glowed as they tumbled through space, hard vaccum soon cooling their outer surfaces. Chunks of rock thousands of kilometers wide drifted, riding the faint aftershocks of the planets destruction. Millions if not billions of smaller chunks, ranging from micro-metorite to moon-sized, were pulled to and fro by the conflicting, unstable gravity wells of the larger pieces. Despite the certainty of no survivors in the shattered remains, Lord Karamazov had not risen to his position of influence and power by taking anything for granted. While the main body of the Inquisitorial armada and the sector battle-fleet, a small flotilla of Sword-class frigates, a Mars-class cruiser and a lone Hereticus strike cruiser remained on station, patrolling the immense outer rim of the asteroid field. Small sorties of Imperial fighters swept the outermost regions of the belt, but as far as Captain Waylon Brandeis could see, it was little more than a token quarantine effort.

'Eagle 5 to Dominator, contact registered in Zone 34' said a clipped, precise voice over the vox-system. Brandeis turned his gaze from the massive asteroid field and replied into the vox-caster mounted on his command pulpit. 'What is it, Serje?' he asked in a bored tone, recognizing the distinctive voice of the 5th squadron commander. 'It's moving against the gravitational stresses, so it's got power, and my augers don't register any Imperial markings or codes' reported the pilot in a calm voice, 'and we've been shadowing it for an hour now. It seems to be searching for something' he concluded. 'If you're quite done playing your little games, Serje, kindly blast these intruders into the warp' ordered Brandeis. The words no sooner left his throat then hissing static cut over the vox-transmission. The servitor-drone tried to re-establish contact but failed. Brandeis drew a breath to order another sortie into the same area, when space split and warped right in front of the bridge.

The smooth, sharply-defined lines of the sleek alien vessel were his last sight, before it's lance weapons tore the bride apart. At such close-range, the beams penetrated deep into the Domintator, cooking off power feeds and plasma lines. The Mars-class cruiser, billowing fire and wracked by internal implosions, began to drift off course as it's guidance thruster arrays failed. A few lance batteries and point-defence cannons managed to fire off desperate volleys, but the blurred, shifting shape of the alien vessel prevented a solid lock and the shots fell wide. Chain-explosions along the length of the hull soon silenced the remaining batteries, turning the once-mighty Imperial starship into a burning hulk. The Dominator fell away, drawn into the asteroid field, its remains slowly been torn apart as immense and contradictory forces pulled at its hull.

The alien ship turned, rejoining three similar vessels who had also struck with the same precision and lethality. One Sword-class frigate was limping away under partial power, indignant lance-beams from it's remaining batteries slicing the space around it's attackers but failing to hit any. Three of it's sister ships had blown their warp drives, sucking the unfortunate vessels into the nightmarish Emperyan. The remaining frigate was little more than flaming metal fragments, spinning into the gravity well of a nearby mega-asteroid.

The dark, mysterious eyes of Farseer Laeyth regarded the shattered human fleet with a cool gaze. A swirling mist of half-real runes circled his body, manipulated carefully the Farseer as he scryed. by A heavily-armoured Eldar warrior, clad in the distinctive broad-bodied suit of the Warp Spider Aspect Shrine, moved to stand beside him. Unlike most Warp Spiders or even their Exarchs, this warrior's armour bore many modifications, and a fusion gun lay strapped to one leg. 'I feel your blood is up, Autarch' Laeyth murmered, a wry smile crossing his lengthened features. 'Better we annihilate the mon-keigh now, before they bring more of their primitive brethren, to bludgeon themselves upon our blades' snapped the veteran Eldar warrior, contempt dripping from his voice. 'An admirable sentiment, and entirely sensible were this but a simple clash of armies, Arerilath' replied the Farseer, manipulating the floating runes again. 'But our part has yet to fully play out, and their fate is only just unfolding' he added. Arerilath gestured forcefully at the one vessel left untouched by the Eldar surprise attack. 'And their fate?' he asked pointedly, the Farseer sensing his warrior spirit stir. 'We need that ship intact. I can entrust you with it's capture, old friend?' responded Laeyth. The Autarch nodded solemnly, pausing. 'I only need their seer, the one they call 'Astropath', and their leader, Arerilath. The others will not affect the outcome' continued the Farseer, smiling at the instincts of the Autarch. 'As your wish, noble Farseer, so shall it be done. I will unleash the Bahzhakhain upon these primitives' responded Arerilath, before he disappeared, cracking the air around him as his backpack teleporter activated.

On board the Hammer of Witches, Interrogator Ishmael felt a burning fury overcome his senses, watching the rest of the fleet die to the alien ships. He opened his mouth, feeling rage infuse his words as he began to speak. 'Captain, by all that is holy annhilate these xenos bast...' he spat, as the air crackled and split around him. Before his eyes could register the sight, an tall alien clad in broad-shouldered armour had him by the throat, a humming powerbalde on its gauntlet at his neck. Ishmael darted his eyes back and forth, seeing another five aliens in the same broad armour standing in a protective circle. His eyes narrowed as he took in the shredded bodies of the crew and servitors manning the bridge. The interrogator returned his eyes to the alien holding him aloft. The red reflective lenses of the alien's helmet stared back at him, revealing nothing. 'Suffer not the alien to live' he sneered at his captor, before activating his personal refractor field. The crackling power field pushed him out of the Warp Spider's grasp, as he brought his priceless inferno pistol to bear. Ishmael willed his hand to fire, but watched with indignation as the weapon didn't. Attempting to pull on the trigger again, he watched as his whole hand slid from his wrist and fell to the riveted floor of the bridge. The cut was so clean, the interrogator did not feel any pain. Then, the moment passed, and he clenched his teeth as agony shot through his arm. Clutching the stump, trying to stem the bleeding, he fell to his knees.

Shutting out the pain with his training, Ishmael stared defiantly up at the alien standing before him, it's blade dripping with his blood. 'I could cut you in two with but a thought, mon-keigh. Where is your seer?' barked the Eldar warrior, his helmet speakers lending a harsh quality to his voice. Despite himself, Ishmael was reminded of the external vox-caster system of an Astarte in power armour. 'Go frak yourself, you alien freak' he snarled, squaring up to the Warp Spider. He brushed his elbow against a control stud on his hip, activating several heavy bolter turrets in the walls. The servitors slaved to the turrets rotated and began firing, dozens of bolter shells erupting across the Warp Spider squad. While most teleported to the far corners, annihilating each turret methodically with their death-spinners, Ishmael's opponent knelt over the interrogator. Clutching the wounded human close to his chest, the Warp Spider blinked out.

Farseer Laeyth didn't feel so much as a tremor of surprise as the Autarch re-appeared on the bridge of his ship, a bloodied human clutched to his chest. Arerilath unceremoniously flung Ishmael at the feet of the Farseer, breathing hard. He tried to stand, but the bolter wounds had weakened him considerably. 'As you willed, noble Farseer, their leader is safe' declared the Autarch heavily, kneeling politely as his own blood dripped from his armour. 'As I had foreseen, you would share his fate. Thus, as he is damaged, you sealed your fate' responded Laeyth, a note of sadness in his voice. The Autarch collapsed, his body broken beyond recovery. Anguished cries came up from other Eldar as they watched Arerilath fall. 'You mourn the well-deserved death of a coward? No wonder your race is doomed to extinction' sneered Ishmael, standing up with some effort.

Laeyth raised a thin eyebrow, his delicate features twisting with the ghost of a smile. 'If only you could comprehend the irony of your words, mon-keigh' he responded softly. 'Ah, you must be the head coward; the alien witch that manipulates others but will not fight itself' spat Ishmael, contempt heavy in his tone. 'Enough, you pathetic creature. Do you know why you are here?' asked the Farseer seriously. 'To further your perfidious scheme, xenos. Your arrogance will be your downfall' he responded, a murderous smile crossing his face. Laeyth sighed, before gesturing blithely at the interrogator. Ishmael felt as though his skin was on fire, and a thousand needles were stabbing into his brain. His nose and ears bled freely, as the Farseer poured psychic power into his body. 'Where is Inquisitor Malak, Ishmael?' said Laeyth inside the interrogator's head, forcing his mind open. He resisted, killing a few thousand brain cells as Laeyth starved them of oxygen. The Farseer continued, feeling not a shred of compassion as he tore down the Interrogator's mental defences and probed his mind. Frustratingly, the creature he had captured appeared to be an ignorant underling. His true quarry lay elsewhere, Laeyth realised with a rush of fear. He let go of Ishmael, the babbling wreck collapsing onto his side. 'Holy Emperor, may thou smite these hateful xenos with thine righteous fury, let me be thy instrument of thine wrath' muttered Ishmael manically, his sanity on the brink. Farseer Laeyth extinguished the mon-keigh's life with a sliver of his powers, crushing the feeble spark of the interrogator's mind in a heartbeat. His dark eyes focused on a rift that appeared off the portside of the Starstrider, his powerful intellect already racing ahead. Laeyth's fear grew ten-fold as he recognized the distinctive shape as it slide from the warp.

The space around the shattered remains of Pelucidar split once more, but this time only one lone vessel appeared. Lord Reynaard smiled grimly as the fleet of Eldar warships turned to meet him. 'Captain, are your men ready?' he snapped over the vox-link, feeling adrenaline rushing though him as the alien vessels sped towards them with unmatchable speed. 'Always, my lord. The Thunderhawks are launching as we speak' responded Xerxes, the whine of jet engines almost muffling his voice completely. 'Good hunting, Captain. Bring me their Farseer, it will be the most useful captive' ordered Lord Reynaard. The ship rocked as laser strikes impacted against it's hull, the shield absorbing the worst of the damage. 'Target their propulsion systems and close-in defences' ordered the Inquisitor calmly, the bridge crew relaying his commands to the gunnery officers. Lance fire and torpedoes spat from the Imperius Luxor, sheer weight of fire overcoming the holo-fields of the Starstrider.

Shuddering with the acceleration, Xerxes watched through his pict-link as the Eldar ship grew larger and larger, before it completely encompassed the Thunderhawk's visual sensors. Impacts shook the gunship hard, but abated as the craft landed beneath the laser defence network of the Eldar ship. A Deathwatch Tech-Marine, his left shoulder marking him as formerly an Iron Hand battle-brother, knelt beside the umbilical array attached to the belly of the Thunderhawk. 'Blessed machine, I implore thee to smite the alien with your righteous fury. May the Omnissah receive your spirit upon destruction' he intoned reverentially, removing the firing pins of the shaped charges attached to the leading edge. Standing back, he allowed Xerxes to take point. The armoured umbilical played out, before admantium-tipped claws dug into the wraithbone exterior of the alien vessel. Xerxes felt his body tense as the runes clicked rapidly in succession, accelerating until they all displayed red.

'Fire in the hole!' cried the Tech-Marine, as the shaped charges blew. The assembled Marines all felt a dim buzzing in the back of their minds as the wraithbone hull disintegrated, boring a hole into the ship. 'For the Emperor!' shouted Xerxes, leading with his bolter as he dropped down the umbilical into the Eldar ship. Landing with a crouch, he swept his weapon expertly to cover all angles, as the rest of the squad landed beside him. Pausing for a second, he consulted his auto-sense link to his belt-mounted auspex, seeing no contacts. 'Torvald, scent for us' he ordered curtly. The Space Wolf eagerly wrenched his helmet off, attaching it to his belt. His nose flared as his nostrils drew deeply of the surrounding air. 'Xenos approaching from the east and south, north is clear' he reported, his voice a low growl of anticipation. 'Move out, before the witch escapes' ordered Xerxes, keeping his bolter at his shoulder as he lead the way up the northern corridor.

Malak felt a tinge of amusement as his broods emerged from the Ork boarding craft and began slaughtering their way through the remaining crew. The Genestealer genus was bred precisely for shock assaults and boarding actions, and their prowess tore a path to the bridge. Crude but effective Ork weaponry, and wall turrets manned by Gretchin littered across the uneven corriders took their toll, but a still-sizeable pack of 'Stealers reached the bridge alive. Roaring a challenge, a massive Ork easily four meters tall charged the brood fearlessly, his subordinates hanging back to riddle the 'Stealers with bullets and a few bolter-type weapons. Killing five 'Stealers with one swipe of his massive powerklaw, the Kaptain's head continued to bellow insults even as it flew on a plume of gore through the air. The remaining Nobz halted, their guns still chattering rounds into the dwindling brood as they argued amongst themselves. One argument got out of hand, the two discarding their empty shootas and drawing gigantic axes of scrap metal.

Malak directed one of the larger 'Stealers towards a glyph-covered door behind the warring Nobz, leaving the squabbling greenskins to their quarrel. A few lightning-fast strikes ripped the heavy door from it's hinges. The lead Genestealer took one step before becoming obliterated by a stream of green lightning. Inside the chamber, Malak found his prize and grinned. The remaining Genestealers spread out, provoking insults and pleas from the trapped Warp'ead. While his Nob bodyguards eagerly hacked each other to pieces a few meters away, the Ork psyker was relatively defenseless. Still glowing from the last discharge of psychic energy, the Warp'ead drew a slugga and fired wildly at the circling 'Stealers. Suddenly, one leapt through the air and 'kissed' the Ork psyker on his chest. The greenskin roared, beating the clawed horror to death with his empty gun. He then stiffened and dropped the crude pistol, confusion spreading across his ugly features.

Malak pushed the simple xenos mind to one side, shutting the Warp'ead into a small corner of his mind. He didn't want the Ork psyker dead, controllable was enough. After testing out the unfamiliar feel of the greenskin body he now inhabited, Malak picked up the slugga, reloading it on reflex. With a thought he sent the remaining Genestealers into remote corners of the chamber, to hibernate until he needed them once more. He then walked out to where three remaining Nobz stood waiting, bleeding freely from a dozen wounds.

"Oi, da weirdboy 'aint dead" said the largest one, gesturing with his bloodstained choppa. "Did ya squash 'em flat, Zappa?" asked another, leering at the Ork psyker. Malak let a little of the original Zappa infuse his mouth, guiding him with the language. "Yeah, I fried 'em ta ash. Dey wuz easy, no fanks ta you naff gits" he snapped, gesticulating wildly with the slugga. "Wazzup with ya chest, Zappa? Might need ta see da Painboy for dat" growled the last surviving Nob evilly, gesturing to the Warp'eads chest with a thick green finger. Malak was stumped for a moment, until he realised what the Nob meant; an Ork version of a medicae. 'Only a scratch, I'm still kickin' he replied, deftly avoiding a closer examination of the wound. 'Heh heh' grunted the same Nob 'just as well. Old 'Bonecrusha mighta put ya arm in that 'ole'. This provoked the other Nobz to grunt with amusement, leaving Malak feeling slight left out of their simple humor. 'Now dat Iz da Big Boss' growled the larger one again, 'Iz say we 'eads back ta dat hulk, clean out da rest of them bugs'. Nodding, Malak followed the giant greenskin and his still-sniggering companions as they left the bridge. As they passed the fallen Kaptain, Malak saw half a dozen smaller Gretchin begin to strip the massive corpse of weaponry and armour. When several of the Gretchin eyed his dripping chest wound with glee and approached, Malak casually slew them with a burst of green lightning. The survivors fled back to the Kaptain, and Malak felt a smile crease his borrowed face.

[Friddel]

Part 44:

The Thunderhawk gunship sped across the frozen wastes of Laius, before slowing above a seemingly barren stretch of pack ice. Armoured blast doors retracted horizontally, allowing the transport to lower itself on retros into the cavernous hangar below. Autocannon and lascannon turrets tracked them as they landed, gradually powering down as their augers registered the Ordo Xenos clearance codes transmitted by the craft. Settling onto three bulky landing struts, the Thunderhawk whined, engines powering down. A lone figure waited on the boundary of the landing pad, clad in a red over-robe.

The armored assault ramp lowered with a clang, as Interrogator Arioch exited the craft. One squad of Deathwatch exited the craft, turning to watch carefully as Justicar Weiss and his squad exited. Taking up position on the landing pad opposite the Deathwatch, the Grey Knights calmly waited as Inquisitor Gunther was carried out by two Deathwatch Marines. Captain Phaeton was the last to leave, his left gauntlet firming gripping Inquisitor Isabella by the bicep. She stumbled dejectedly along beside her captor, her narrowed eyes taking in the facility around her. 'Noble Inquisitor Ordinary Valorus Gunther of the Ordo Malleus, my authority over you has been relaxed. You and your warriors are free to go' stated Arioch in a sardonic tone, enjoying the helplessness of his effective superior. 'I'll take her back with force if I have to, boy. And I can tell you now the Justicar and his men have triumped over far worse than your pet Astartes' growled Valorus, still held immobile between two Deathwatch. Weiss didn't move, but all could feel the tension in the air. Phaeton's eyes didn't leave Gunthers, his bolter held securely at port arms. 'Sir?' he asked pointedly, as the Grey Knights didn't move.

'I suggest a compromise' said the Interrogator delicately, his gaze flicking between the two groups of Astartes. 'The Ordo Xenos is always happy to assist it's brothers in the Ordo Malleus in their prosecution of traitors and daemons. Thus, you retain the foul Sorceror' he continued, gesturing to the Thunderhawk still parked behind them, 'and we deal with the unlawful trespass of a member of the Ordo Hereticus' concluded Arioch. The fire in the daemonhunter's eyes dimmed, but his tone remained defiant. 'She is tainted by her exposure to the raw power of Chaos. She must be executed' responded Gunther flatly. 'I'm being lenient here, you old fool' snapped Arioch, his sardonic smile swept away by his annoyance, 'either you leave her with the Sorcerer, or you all disappear'. Valorus flicked a gaze to the Justicar, but the veteran was already moving back to the Thunderhawk. 'She is not tainted, Inquisitor. Her faith in the Emperor remains strong, even if she has been physically and psychologically drained by the ordeal' said Justicar Weiss in a firm voice, resting a gauntleted hand on the dameonhunter's shoulder. Gunther let out a forceful sigh, before nodding slowly.

Interrogator Arioch smiled in a self-satisfied way, as the Thunderhawk sped up towards the stars, and the armoured blast doors closed back over. 'Take her below, Captain. I'll be down in a few minutes' he ordered. Phaeton nodded, pulling Isabella along as the remaining Deathwatch Marines followed him to the turbo-lift. One squad remained at the door, while Phaeton and his squad entered the lift with the prisoner. Arioch's eyes flicked across the dejected form of Isabella for a moment, a smirk crossing his face. Then the armoured doors closed on the lift, and the Interrogator turned away. Taking another lift with the second squad to his chambers, he left them at the door. Sitting back in his chair, he didn't flinch as a figure landed soundlessly in front of him, like a cat. 'Isn't your tenure here over, Shrike?' asked Arioch, raising an eyebrow curiously at the black-clad figure. The assassin raised a silenced bolt pistol and shot the Interrogator in the head wordlessly. Flipping backwards, it landed on the wall above the door bulkhead, waiting.

A fraction of a second later, ten Deathwatch Marines stalked through the doorway, bolters up. Waiting until the last cleared the doorway, the assassin slipped past them, heading for the turbo-lift. The Sergeant turned and saw the departing figure for an instant, but it was all he needed in confirmation. 'The lift' he ordered calmly, as the rest of the squad whirled as one and moved back out of the room. The assassin had only just finished prising the armored doors open with unnatural strength, as bolt shells blew chunks of ceramite from the walls around him. Flipping into the lift, he quickly placed an activated meltabomb on the floor of the carriage. The first Deathwatch Marine drew back as the charge blew, burning a white-hot hole in the metal floor. The assassin dove head-first through the hole, bolt shells missing it by centimeters. The Marine stepped into the lift and started to fire bursts down the hole, but the charge had weakened the floor and it broke beneath his power-armoured weight. Sergeant Demos caught the battle-brother's arm as he fell, hauling him back onto the landing. 'Captain, we have an intruder' he stated seriously over the vox-link, as the Deathwatch Marine regained his feet. 'Acknowledged. Assault down the shaft, we'll catch it in a crossfire' ordered Phaeton.

The Deathwatch Captain and his squad halted before the lift's doors, down in the prison level. One battle-brother had managed to procure a flamer from the armory as they had rushed back to the lift. 'Bellos, smoke him out as soon as the doors open. Everyone else, bracket the door' ordered Phaeton. The squad complied, taking up flanking positions behind pillars while the Captain drew his power sword, his bolter held in his left gauntlet by his side. The Marines enhanced hearing picked out the metallic clang as another charge was placed on the opposite side of the door. Even as the melta-charge blew a molten hole in the armored doors, Bellos was moving. His flamer disgorged a roaring stream of burning promethium into the lift shaft. As he pulled back to the wall again, drawing a combat knife, a figure leapt from the raging inferno. Part of Phaeton's mind was mildly impressed that the assassin was fire-proof, but his honed combat instincts were already bringing his sword and bolter up. While his crackling blade slid past the tumbling figure, his bolter barked just once into the shoulder of the assassin. Leaning back, Phaeton allowed the intruder to fly right past him, rolling before regaining his feet and running at inhuman speed down the corridor. Bolt rounds chased the departing figure but none found their mark. 'Let him go' ordered Phateon, as some of the squad made to pursue, 'he's wounded and with an Odysseus bolt in his shoulder he can't hide from us'.

Isabella looked up as several coughing sounds echoed through the corridor. She heard the thump of guardian servitors hitting the floor, before a scorched, bleeding figure landed before her. Recoiling, she watched as wrenched the door from it's hinges. 'What are you?' she asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. 'Your salvation' growled the anonymous figure, cutting her restraints with a small power-blade. It slid a bolt pistol into her hand, silencer now removed. 'Quickly, they're coming' it snapped, as she struggled to keep up. Already, Isabella could hear the distinctive shudders of running Astartes, and her mind sensed them cutting off all corridors of escape. 'We're trapped now' she stated in a calm voice, as the black-clad figure stopped suddenly. 'Have faith, Inquisitor. The Emperor always aids his true servants' replied her rescuer. Pulling a small device from it's belt, it handed it to her. 'Goodbye, Inquisitor' it stated bluntly, as the teleportor activated. Isabella's eyes widened with fear, as she disappeared into thin air with a crack and a smell of ozone. The assassin then flipped through the air, running up the side of the wall as it turned the corner.

Phateon was waiting, his bolter roaring as it unleashed a hail of mass-reactive shells into the assassin. The figure dove and leapt around the bolts, but could not escape the grip of the Deathwatch Captain. Pinning the assassin to the wall by the neck, Phaeton held his unactivated blade to the neck of the assassin. 'Take him' he ordered, as two Deathwatch approached. In the next moment the Deathwatch Marines were blown off their feet by the blast, Phaeton crashing against the opposite wall with a thud. Pulling himself to his feet, pieces of rockcrete spilled from his backpack as he pulled himself out of the slight depression. The front of his armour was covered in blood and entrails, as were the other two Deathwatch who had been beside him. A foul stench of cooked meat and charred bone drifted up from the bigger, blackened hole in the opposite wall. 'Brother, I smell fyceline in the air' said one of the Deathwatch Marines, having removed his gore-clogged helmet. Phaeton did the same, unperturbed by the smell of death. 'Which means we're dealing with enemies from within. Were it a xeno, it would not stoop to using our technology or materials' thought the Captain aloud. He keyed his vox-link, as the team walked back to the lift. 'Send a servitor detail for burial to the Interrogator's quarters. All Deathwatch teams are to convene on the landing platform' he ordered brusquely, before terminating the link. Gripping onto to the blackened sides of the lift, the Marines began climbing up the shaft, magnetized fingertips and boot soles attaching and deattaching to the metal walls of the shaft.

Xerxes leaned around the corner, bolter covering Torvald as he swept past, powerfist activated. Deja replaced Xerxes and the Captain moved to stand beside the sealed portal. Torvald had already weakened the wraithbone structure with powerful blows and a melta-charge now was attacked to a weakened corner. The white-hot flash of the charge was negated by Xerxe's auto-senses, allowing him to place a bolt into each of the Eldar warriors guarding the opposite side. Torvald peeled the door back with his over-sized glove, firing carefully into the room within. Crucio poured a gout of flames into the room, and then they assaulted. Shurikens hissed as they sliced through the air towards the Deathwatch, embedding themselves in their power armour. Xerxes took one side of the stairs, bolter dispatching three Guardians as they tried to intercept. The remaining Eldar Warrior pulled a combat knife from his belt and jammed it into the Captain's chest with incredible speed. Breaking the alien's wrist with a blow from his bolter, the Captain cut the warrior in two before continuing. On the opposite side, Torvald led the charge, bashing his way through a storm of shuriken fire before crushing the offending Guardian in his powerfist. Xerxes re-focused and brought his blade up, as the Farseer swung his witch-blade. The two began to exchange lightning-fast swipes and parries, caught in a deadly dance of swordplay.

Xerxes grabbed the alien psyker by the throat, even as his opponent's witch-blade embedded itself in his chest. Piercing his primary heart, the Deathwatch Captain felt pure agony as the Farseer's will surged through the blade, burning the Dark Angel's flesh. His bolter broke the alien's grip, smashing the Farseer's delicate hand from the witch-blade. 'The bridge is secure' reported Deja calmly 'but the Eldar don't want us to stay'. Extended bursts from Deja's heavy bolter boomed in the enclosed space, as the other members of the team took up position at the other exits. 'Surpress them for a minute. We're not staying here' responded Xerxes, slightly throttling the Farseer as he turned. Torvald walked over, bright-red blood coating his armour and powerfist. His own blood, dripping from the contoured edges of shurikens still lodged in his scalp, dripped down to intermingle with the blood of Eldar pooling at his boots. 'Wolf, gather our comrade for burial' said Xerxes, gesturing to the body of the Interrogator. Torvald knelt and, after deactivating his powerfist, hefted the limp form of Ishmael onto his shoulder. 'Brothers, clear us a path through these cursed xenos' ordered the Dark Angel. Deja nodded, moving up the hallway while laying down a constant hail of explosive bolts. Torvald and Xerxes filed in behind him, as one by one Morghast, Crucio and Fabian fell back to cover the retreat. The Blood Angel knelt and picked off two Howling Banshees as they charged, but the rest kept coming, their psycho-allergic howls temproraily slowing the kill-team. Morghast managed to pull the trigger of his flamer, bathing five Banshees in promethium. Screaming as they immolated, the Exarch and her three remaining Banshees fell back, Fabian's bolter claiming another before the survivors retreated back up their passage.

Torvald handed the Interrogator over to Crucio, and took point. 'The Banshees are flanking us, and another group of Aspect Warriors is moving to intercept our line of retreat' he snarled, activating his powerfist anew. 'Brother Argus, disengage the umbilical' ordered Xerxes over the vox-link. 'Acknowledged, Captain. I take it you have a plan?' asked the pilot of the Thunderhawk. 'Indeed. We'll open whatever passes for a hanger of this damnable vessel, then you will extract us' responded Xerxes, shooting a Guardian in the head that dared to look around the corner. 'You know where that is?' asked Fabian incredously, keeping a watchful eye on the hallway behind them. 'Oh, this isn't the first time we've had to raid an Eldar ship' stated Deja matter of factly, gunning down the last few Banshees as they rounded the corner. 'Crucio, make us a hole' ordered the Captain, keeping a steady grip on the Farseer as the vessel rocked from an impact. The Blood Angel knelt and primed a melta charge, as the whole team backed off. Sustained bursts from Deja's gun and the other's bolters muffling the sound, the bomb blew a molten whole right through the wraithbone floor. Priming a frag grenade, Torvald threw it into the hole, following a moment after it exploded. One by one, the Kill-team following, until only Fabian remained. Hails of shuriken lacerating his power armour, the Raptor shot two Guardians in the chest as he fell through the hole. Two primed frag grenades rolled from his departing fist, covering the escape.