"Your mission is to strike as Astartes were meant to do: Hard, fast, without mercy."
Captain N'gan, Salamanders 6th Company, stabbed a ceramite-clad finger at the thick parchment map laid out on the strategium table, each of his five Brother-Sergeants narrowing their burning red eyes as they took in the information.
In orbit around the heavily industrialized world of Paras III, they had responded to a sector-wide call for assistance by the three Lord-Generals assigned to the war of liberation in the Paras system, and within mere hours after arriving from a turbulent warp-journey were preparing for battle.
"Lord-General Zmyrn assures me that enemy AA capabilties are below thirty percent effectiveness. This will allow us to strike at the heart of the factory-complex that forms the primary traitor bastion on this continent."
Running a broad thumb along the steel of his bionic jaw, Veteran Sergeant B'kore chose the momentary lull in the briefing to add a question of his own.
"Orbital assets, Brother-Captain?"
Cracking a smile, white teeth flashing against N'gan's jet-black skin, the Captain quickly replied. "Not unless absolutely necessary, Brother. The traitors have set up camp in the city's center, and right next to the Arbites Fortress-Precinct at that. We shoot them, there's a better than even chance we start a firestorm that consumes half of the city's industrial capacity, and, by Brother-Techmarine Kesso's estimate, seventy-two point four four three percent of the populace."
All six Salamander officers grimaced at the very thought. To kill the enemy was one thing, to callously cause the deaths of millions of Imperial citizens for naught but the sake of expediency was another.
Outlining two routes to the fortress center on the map, Captain N'gan
"I will lead Squads B'kore, Ko'van and Tsu'ken myself. We will strike by drop pod inside the western gate of the fortress in thirty-two minutes. Brother-Techmarine Kesso will follow with Squads Ignis and D'oros at the same time just inside the north gate. Two minutes after planetfall, we take out the remaining AA assets. Four minutes after planetfall, Lord-General Zmyrn's bomber group will crack the northwestern gate to the inner fortress. Five minutes after planetfall, both groups converge there."
Almost jabbing his index finger through the map, N'gan highlighted the relevant points.
"Ten minutes after planetfall, we split at checkpoint Delta. Brother-Techmarine Kesso will power down the fortress reactors to turn off the energy fields protecting the inner sanctum and is to be defended at all costs. My group will circle around to the sanctum gates, breaking any resistance. Once that is done, we take the sanctum and burn the taint of treason from this place."
Grabbing his helmet and putting it on, N'gan's voice was clear as day to his men as he ordered them to their duties.
"In Vulkan's name, Brothers, we go into the fire!
Stern-faced, the five sergeants saluted their Captain, gauntleted fists thundering against their breastplates.
"And unto the Anvil of War, Captain!"
---
Tightly grasping his Thunder Hammer as he bounced inside the shock-harness of his brutally shaking drop pod, N'gan once more thanked the sturdy construction of STC-pattern technology.
"The weather's wonderful out there, Captain, isn't it ever?"
B'kore's rasping voice was full of dark mirth. Small for a Salamander, B'kore bounced around in his own shock-harness even more than the other nine Space Marines in the drop pod. A veteran of almost as many campaigns as his captain - seperated only by two years of active duty - B'kore could rightfully say that whatever it was, he had likely been there, done that and then killed whatever opposed the Imperium that day. Still, B'kore had a point. Sixth Company's reserve status meant that most of their squads contained a large number of young Brother-Marines. While they knew no fear, there was still a need to maintain morale.
"You remember the acid storms on Kalaam, B'kore? Half of the drop pod's armour was gone before we made planetfall, and the Emperor-damned acid rain washed the paint straight off our armour."
Nodding sagely, as much as he could without banging his head against the shock harness, B'kore loudly agreed.
Suddenly, with a loud beep, the machine spirits of their armours gave the Salamanders the one-minute warning to planetfall.
"Brothers, this is Captain N'gan. We go to do the Emperor's Work today!"
With a bone-crushing impact barely absorbed by the shock-harness and the drop inertics, the five green Salamanders pods landed like the Emperor's hammer in the fortress' outer courtyard.
"GO!"
Immediately sprinting out of their pods, the massive green-clad Marines moved with almost unfathomable speed. The soldiers of the infantry batallion the thirty Marines had landed in barely realized what was going on amidst the fiery impact of the drop pods before they started dying, the deep bark of bolters going off in half-second intervals and the throaty roar of flamers filling the courtyard entirely. Each shot ended a life: Here, a torso blown wide-open, cracked ribs poking out of the ruined, glistening mess of shredded internal organs, there, ten men on fire, unable to even scream before the heat melted their lips together.
N'gan was in his element at last, for despite the fact that Sixth Company needed a Captain to guide them, he was a Space Marine, literally bred for killing the enemies of the Imperium.
Each swing of his prized Thunder Hammer, Flame-Kin, ended lives. What the power field didn't mangle beyond recognition, the twenty-kilo adamantium head swung by all the might of a Space Marine finished. Red blood quickly splattered over N'gan's gloves and vambraces, but he paid it no heed. Spotting an officer, N'gan sprinted towards the man, shoulder-charging aside the dozen soldiers that tried to defend him in the process. His armour's auto-senses easily picked up the sound of shattering bones, but that was just one more reminder of the folly of standing in a Space Marine's way.
The officer, ex-Imperial Guard, by the looks of his uniform, a Lieutenant from his rank tabs, put up a commendable fight: Dodging N'gan's first blow by more luck than skill, actually parrying the second, which turned out to be a grave mistake as the bones in the hand holding his chainsword pulverized under the impact, then dying from a left hook.
"Captain? This is Techmarine Kasso. Report all clear. AA neutralized."
Immediately snapping out of his combat-focus, N'gan took stock of the situation: His own squads already torched the AA crews, the flames dancing on their dead bodies already hungrily licking at the machine oils keeping the guns mobile.
"Ko'van, Tsu'ken, meltas on the AA."
Watching the heavy quad-barrels of the AA emplacements glow red, white, then sag and bend with a certain pride in his battle-brothers, N'gan ordered everyone to take cover as the Lord-General confirmed the imminent arrival of the bomber group.
Punching out of the bile-coloured thunderclouds overhead, trailing vapour behind them, the bombers executed a picture-book perfect dive bomber assault. With four consecutive thunderclaps, the bunker-buster bombs made quick work of the gate barring N'gan's way, and within seconds, the thirty Space Marines were racing towards the opening in the enemy defenses.
"Flamers up front. Mind the blueprints in your armour, there are a great many boltholes for enemy ambushers."
Hitting the disoriented defenders within the fortress like the fist of the God-Emperor, the Salamanders fell upon them, their fragmentation grenades breaking up the thronged infantry facing them. Dirty business, N'gan mused, casually back-handing an enemy soldier with Flame-Kin, sending the steaming carcass flying almost ten meters.
The emplacement of three heavy autocannons with overlapping fields of fire cunningly camouflaged halfway through the large access corridor barely counted as a snag. Brother Eke'nu of Squad Tsu'ken losing his left arm at the elbow to a lucky hit, and wincing at the injury, the young Salamander - barely five years as a full battle-brother, N'gan realized - attached his boltgun to the maglocks at his hip and drew his combat knife with the other hand.
Sprinting forward and handing Eke'nu his own Bolt Pistol, N'gan quickly ordered all squads to deploy smoke grenades. With the thick white and painfully burning smoke obscuring their vision, the Autogunners never got to realize what killed them as Brother Pyrdak of Squad B'kore incinerated them with his multi-melta, the resulting ammo cook-off sending hundreds of heavy-caliber bullets to thoroughly tear the gunner's corpses to pieces.
After getting an all-clear and proceeding-as-planned from Techmarine Kasso, N'gan led his squads forward, eating ground at a ravenous pace. Meeting up with the Techmarine, however, was not an entirely pleasant experience. "Three battle-brothers heavily wounded, one dead," Kasso said. "We were hit by traitor armour as we entered through the busted-open gate. They entered sus-an, and are waiting for pickup."
Grimly reminded of the cost of war at that, Sixth Company continued their assault. After two ambushes by screaming fanatics wearing explosive vests and N'gan's armour being scorched down to the ceramite from the second blast, the order to advance slower was given and followed. The Salamander's flamers made short work of the three poorly-concealed ambushes in the corridor siderooms, the Marines mercifully executing any traitor unlucky enough to survive the white-hot gouts of burning prometheum.
Splitting at the pre-determined point, the two groups raced on. At this point, enemy resistance stiffened somewhat, their shock at the sudden intrusion of the Space Marines slowly making way to coherent orders, but it was to no avail: Flame-Kin's head quickly gained a fresh coating of traitor blood and brains as N'gan and his men slammed into the enemy firing lines. Foregoing their bolters to conserve ammunition, each Brother not armed with Flamers or Meltas fought with fist and blade.
In other chapters, descriptions of the soldiers facing them would have included words like "worthless, useless wastes of space", but that was not the way of the Sixth Company. They killed the enemy soldiers quickly, cleanly, efficiently. N'gan saw the flamer troopers switching to their combat knives, armoured fists lashing out in tandem with blades to shatter skulls and cleave flesh just as the heavy stomps of ceramite-shod boots quickly ended the few enemy wounded.
Arriving at the multi-shielded Sanctum Gates barely a minute after the slaughter ended, N'gan voxed Brother-Techmarine Kasso, receiving a curt reply. "Reactor shutdown imminent, Captain N'gan. Under fire from significant enemy infantry assets. Brother D'oros is leading the counterattack as I speak. We'll link up to you in seven minutes. In Vulkan's name, Kasso out."
True to his word, the Techmarine managed to shut down the reactor within less than a minute, and the screams of the dying once more filled the halls of the fortress as the last enemy infantry hold-outs met with the wrath of Vulkan's sons.
But as he tore off the head of a man in a rumpled PDF general's uniform with a blow from Flame-Kin, N'gan saw something that stung him to the core of his twin hearts: a familiar tattoo on the ruin of the man's neck.
The three-headed hydra was familiar to him, a sign that had haunted him for most of his Captaincy.
Shouldering his hammer and ordering his men to stand down, the few surviving traitor officers forgotten in the controlled but still white-hot rage that suddenly filled his every vein, N'gan tuned his armour's voice-amplifiers to the maximum, shouting a furious challenge into the cavernous Fortress Sanctum.
"This is more than rebellion.... this is actual heresy! But one thing I have learned over the years is that the seed of heresy does not appear from nothingness. It is grown, carefully nurtured! So show yourself, traitor scum. SHOW YOURSELF, SWINE OF THE ALPHA LEGION!"
The slow clapping of ceramite gloves was his only part of the answer he received. That and the the balefully glowing green lenses of the traitorous Space Marine now facing N'gan preceded the mocking voice of his foe.
"So kind of you to finally join me, N'gan. I tired of herding these sheep now that my brothers have left. Oh, don't look at me like that, fool of a Captain. Of course they left... we knew you would come the moment we sent that distress call."
Eyes widening with shock and surprise under his helmet, N'gan kept himself from reeling back through willpower alone. "Don't be so surprised, N'gan. My Legion specializes in infiltration. The mortals have such a poor grasp on security, too. And now you're here, mighty Captain N'gan, with fifty Marines at your back, all just facing me."
His hands tightening on Flame-Kin's shaft, N'gan fought hard to keep the flame that burned in his hearts at manageable levels. "Aye, traitor, that we do. To purge even one of your Legion is worth the thousands of soldiers we had to kill to get here. But I know your kind, as much as I wish I didn't... what do you want, heretic?"
Taking off his helmet, the Alpha Legionnaire's face surprised N'gan with its youthfulness and lack of scars. Hanging his helmet from a magnetized hook on his hip, the man actually had the gall to smile at N'gan, gesticulating elaborately as he spoke.
"One of us had to stay behind, Captain, to drive our point home. It took so few of us to incite a system-wide rebellion. Doesn't this tell you anything? How volatile the situation must be, that a small number of Space Marines can spark a war that involves billion of souls."
His burning eyes narrowed, N'gan chose to deny the traitor even the smallest of victories, in this case recognition of his deeds.
"We do what we must, heretic. I know the concept of duty is lost on the likes of you, but..."
Before he got a chance to continue, the Alpha Legionnaire, his pale face now flushed red with anger, interrupted N'gan.
"Duty? DUTY? Everything we do is for duty's sake! You blind slave to a false religion, have you looked at the world you have come to save even once? They do not want you here! They HATE you!"
Then, lightning-quick and with a wordless snarl, the traitor Astartes slammed his helmet back on, drawing the sword dangling from his hip, the hum of a power field and crackling blue lightning showing the true power of his blade.
"But I can already see why my brothers said you were a fool. They are right... they are all right, damn it all. So, Captain N'gan, will you fight me? Marine against marine, skill with blade against skill with hammer."
N'gan could not help himself. Seven decades of meeting the Alpha Legion on more battlefields than he could count in a minute, and now this impertinent fool challenging him to a duel. By all rights, he should have ordered his men to attack, he knew that, but despite that he nodded, readying Flame-Kin to bring ruin to his foe.
"Before we fight, traitor... I would have your name."
Already knowing the spiteful reply the particular brand of Alpha Legion that haunted him gave to that question, N'gan's guess was quickly proven right.
"I am Alpharius Omegon of the Alpha Legion. Now, have at you!"
Too fast for any mortal eye to follow, the power sword licked towards N'gan's throat, but 'twas a weak attack, and easily dodged by the experienced Captain.
N'gan's return blow showed barely more effect, his elbow strike glancing off the Legionnaire's shoulder plate. Both men jumped back, seeking to get some space between them and circled around each other while weighing their chances. Suddenly, N'gan struck the ground before him with Flame-Kin, the plascrete exploding into a dense hail of stone shards, temporarily blinding his foe. Using that split-second of cover, he rushed forward, Flame-Kin rising from the ground in a back-handed blow that the other Astartes barely dodged, the hammer's power-field digging a groove into his chestplate, defacing the three-headed hydra so proudly painted there.
As if shocked into proper action by that glancing blow, the Legionnaire wove a curtain of flashing steel to counterattack N'gan, scoring a painful stab to the Captain's left leg.
"First blood for me, blind Captain. Where is that vaunted Salamander skill with the Thunder Hammer now?" Mockery, N'gan knew, was one of the quickest ways to make a man angry enough to lose control of himself - which usually led to the man losing his life soon after. But he was a son of Vulkan, and the fire that was his genetic birthright burned hotter and more cleanly than anger and rage.
With a soft hiss of exhalation, N'gan attacked once more, choosing to ignore the pain in his leg, his armour's autodiagnostics already showing his Larraman cells hard at work to seal the wound. Unlike the lieutenant who had tried - and failed - to parry his Thunder Hammer barely twenty minutes ago, the Legionnaire was made of sterner stuff. Flame-Kin's drake head-shaped surface ground against the foe's power blade, the younger traitor Astartes slowly able to overpower the older Salamander Captain.
As the blade inched closer and closer to N'gan's helmet, driving the haft of his Thunder Hammer against his chest in the process, the centuries-old Salamander showed that experience and cunning handily offset youth and raw strength.
Dropping into a sudden crouch and twisting hard to his right, N'gan felt the enemy power blade bite deep into his left pauldron - but not his flesh as his enemy had intended. When his left foot struck the soft joint of the Legionnaire's knee, the traitor was forced to let go of his blade - and at that point, both of them knew the young Astartes was as good as dead.
Jumping to his feet while letting go of Flame-Kin's haft with his right hand, he struck his enemy with a brutal uppercut, not even the shock-absorbent materials of his helmet enough to absorb the force, then followed it with a square punch to the face. One helmet lens cracked and quickly losing its green glow, the traitor toppled over onto his back, and N'gan sealed his fate.
Drawing his hammer back for an overhead swing sure to end his enemy's life with one fell blow, N'gan couldn't help but wonder. "Why you? You were too young, too inexperienced. You couldn't have been victorious against me."
The pained laugh did nothing to dampen the mockery in the Legionnaire's voice. "You think you won here? When my brothers are already gone to continue the Eternal War elsewhere? Ah, what would I give for the bliss of idiocy..."
Then Flame-Kin dropped, and one less traitor Astartes plagued the galaxy.
--
++++ASTROPATHIC MESSAGE STARTS++++
Chapter Master Tu'Shan
Paras III pacified. Sixth Company casualties, two battle-brothers killed in action, nine battle-brothers wounded in action.
Alpha Legion presence found and eradicated. Entire sector now potential risk for further Alpha Legion infiltration.
Captain Ankann N'gan, Sixth Company
In Vulkan's Name We Go To Battle
++++ASTROPATHIC MESSAGE ENDS++++
Captain N'gan, Salamanders 6th Company, stabbed a ceramite-clad finger at the thick parchment map laid out on the strategium table, each of his five Brother-Sergeants narrowing their burning red eyes as they took in the information.
In orbit around the heavily industrialized world of Paras III, they had responded to a sector-wide call for assistance by the three Lord-Generals assigned to the war of liberation in the Paras system, and within mere hours after arriving from a turbulent warp-journey were preparing for battle.
"Lord-General Zmyrn assures me that enemy AA capabilties are below thirty percent effectiveness. This will allow us to strike at the heart of the factory-complex that forms the primary traitor bastion on this continent."
Running a broad thumb along the steel of his bionic jaw, Veteran Sergeant B'kore chose the momentary lull in the briefing to add a question of his own.
"Orbital assets, Brother-Captain?"
Cracking a smile, white teeth flashing against N'gan's jet-black skin, the Captain quickly replied. "Not unless absolutely necessary, Brother. The traitors have set up camp in the city's center, and right next to the Arbites Fortress-Precinct at that. We shoot them, there's a better than even chance we start a firestorm that consumes half of the city's industrial capacity, and, by Brother-Techmarine Kesso's estimate, seventy-two point four four three percent of the populace."
All six Salamander officers grimaced at the very thought. To kill the enemy was one thing, to callously cause the deaths of millions of Imperial citizens for naught but the sake of expediency was another.
Outlining two routes to the fortress center on the map, Captain N'gan
"I will lead Squads B'kore, Ko'van and Tsu'ken myself. We will strike by drop pod inside the western gate of the fortress in thirty-two minutes. Brother-Techmarine Kesso will follow with Squads Ignis and D'oros at the same time just inside the north gate. Two minutes after planetfall, we take out the remaining AA assets. Four minutes after planetfall, Lord-General Zmyrn's bomber group will crack the northwestern gate to the inner fortress. Five minutes after planetfall, both groups converge there."
Almost jabbing his index finger through the map, N'gan highlighted the relevant points.
"Ten minutes after planetfall, we split at checkpoint Delta. Brother-Techmarine Kesso will power down the fortress reactors to turn off the energy fields protecting the inner sanctum and is to be defended at all costs. My group will circle around to the sanctum gates, breaking any resistance. Once that is done, we take the sanctum and burn the taint of treason from this place."
Grabbing his helmet and putting it on, N'gan's voice was clear as day to his men as he ordered them to their duties.
"In Vulkan's name, Brothers, we go into the fire!
Stern-faced, the five sergeants saluted their Captain, gauntleted fists thundering against their breastplates.
"And unto the Anvil of War, Captain!"
---
Tightly grasping his Thunder Hammer as he bounced inside the shock-harness of his brutally shaking drop pod, N'gan once more thanked the sturdy construction of STC-pattern technology.
"The weather's wonderful out there, Captain, isn't it ever?"
B'kore's rasping voice was full of dark mirth. Small for a Salamander, B'kore bounced around in his own shock-harness even more than the other nine Space Marines in the drop pod. A veteran of almost as many campaigns as his captain - seperated only by two years of active duty - B'kore could rightfully say that whatever it was, he had likely been there, done that and then killed whatever opposed the Imperium that day. Still, B'kore had a point. Sixth Company's reserve status meant that most of their squads contained a large number of young Brother-Marines. While they knew no fear, there was still a need to maintain morale.
"You remember the acid storms on Kalaam, B'kore? Half of the drop pod's armour was gone before we made planetfall, and the Emperor-damned acid rain washed the paint straight off our armour."
Nodding sagely, as much as he could without banging his head against the shock harness, B'kore loudly agreed.
Suddenly, with a loud beep, the machine spirits of their armours gave the Salamanders the one-minute warning to planetfall.
"Brothers, this is Captain N'gan. We go to do the Emperor's Work today!"
With a bone-crushing impact barely absorbed by the shock-harness and the drop inertics, the five green Salamanders pods landed like the Emperor's hammer in the fortress' outer courtyard.
"GO!"
Immediately sprinting out of their pods, the massive green-clad Marines moved with almost unfathomable speed. The soldiers of the infantry batallion the thirty Marines had landed in barely realized what was going on amidst the fiery impact of the drop pods before they started dying, the deep bark of bolters going off in half-second intervals and the throaty roar of flamers filling the courtyard entirely. Each shot ended a life: Here, a torso blown wide-open, cracked ribs poking out of the ruined, glistening mess of shredded internal organs, there, ten men on fire, unable to even scream before the heat melted their lips together.
N'gan was in his element at last, for despite the fact that Sixth Company needed a Captain to guide them, he was a Space Marine, literally bred for killing the enemies of the Imperium.
Each swing of his prized Thunder Hammer, Flame-Kin, ended lives. What the power field didn't mangle beyond recognition, the twenty-kilo adamantium head swung by all the might of a Space Marine finished. Red blood quickly splattered over N'gan's gloves and vambraces, but he paid it no heed. Spotting an officer, N'gan sprinted towards the man, shoulder-charging aside the dozen soldiers that tried to defend him in the process. His armour's auto-senses easily picked up the sound of shattering bones, but that was just one more reminder of the folly of standing in a Space Marine's way.
The officer, ex-Imperial Guard, by the looks of his uniform, a Lieutenant from his rank tabs, put up a commendable fight: Dodging N'gan's first blow by more luck than skill, actually parrying the second, which turned out to be a grave mistake as the bones in the hand holding his chainsword pulverized under the impact, then dying from a left hook.
"Captain? This is Techmarine Kasso. Report all clear. AA neutralized."
Immediately snapping out of his combat-focus, N'gan took stock of the situation: His own squads already torched the AA crews, the flames dancing on their dead bodies already hungrily licking at the machine oils keeping the guns mobile.
"Ko'van, Tsu'ken, meltas on the AA."
Watching the heavy quad-barrels of the AA emplacements glow red, white, then sag and bend with a certain pride in his battle-brothers, N'gan ordered everyone to take cover as the Lord-General confirmed the imminent arrival of the bomber group.
Punching out of the bile-coloured thunderclouds overhead, trailing vapour behind them, the bombers executed a picture-book perfect dive bomber assault. With four consecutive thunderclaps, the bunker-buster bombs made quick work of the gate barring N'gan's way, and within seconds, the thirty Space Marines were racing towards the opening in the enemy defenses.
"Flamers up front. Mind the blueprints in your armour, there are a great many boltholes for enemy ambushers."
Hitting the disoriented defenders within the fortress like the fist of the God-Emperor, the Salamanders fell upon them, their fragmentation grenades breaking up the thronged infantry facing them. Dirty business, N'gan mused, casually back-handing an enemy soldier with Flame-Kin, sending the steaming carcass flying almost ten meters.
The emplacement of three heavy autocannons with overlapping fields of fire cunningly camouflaged halfway through the large access corridor barely counted as a snag. Brother Eke'nu of Squad Tsu'ken losing his left arm at the elbow to a lucky hit, and wincing at the injury, the young Salamander - barely five years as a full battle-brother, N'gan realized - attached his boltgun to the maglocks at his hip and drew his combat knife with the other hand.
Sprinting forward and handing Eke'nu his own Bolt Pistol, N'gan quickly ordered all squads to deploy smoke grenades. With the thick white and painfully burning smoke obscuring their vision, the Autogunners never got to realize what killed them as Brother Pyrdak of Squad B'kore incinerated them with his multi-melta, the resulting ammo cook-off sending hundreds of heavy-caliber bullets to thoroughly tear the gunner's corpses to pieces.
After getting an all-clear and proceeding-as-planned from Techmarine Kasso, N'gan led his squads forward, eating ground at a ravenous pace. Meeting up with the Techmarine, however, was not an entirely pleasant experience. "Three battle-brothers heavily wounded, one dead," Kasso said. "We were hit by traitor armour as we entered through the busted-open gate. They entered sus-an, and are waiting for pickup."
Grimly reminded of the cost of war at that, Sixth Company continued their assault. After two ambushes by screaming fanatics wearing explosive vests and N'gan's armour being scorched down to the ceramite from the second blast, the order to advance slower was given and followed. The Salamander's flamers made short work of the three poorly-concealed ambushes in the corridor siderooms, the Marines mercifully executing any traitor unlucky enough to survive the white-hot gouts of burning prometheum.
Splitting at the pre-determined point, the two groups raced on. At this point, enemy resistance stiffened somewhat, their shock at the sudden intrusion of the Space Marines slowly making way to coherent orders, but it was to no avail: Flame-Kin's head quickly gained a fresh coating of traitor blood and brains as N'gan and his men slammed into the enemy firing lines. Foregoing their bolters to conserve ammunition, each Brother not armed with Flamers or Meltas fought with fist and blade.
In other chapters, descriptions of the soldiers facing them would have included words like "worthless, useless wastes of space", but that was not the way of the Sixth Company. They killed the enemy soldiers quickly, cleanly, efficiently. N'gan saw the flamer troopers switching to their combat knives, armoured fists lashing out in tandem with blades to shatter skulls and cleave flesh just as the heavy stomps of ceramite-shod boots quickly ended the few enemy wounded.
Arriving at the multi-shielded Sanctum Gates barely a minute after the slaughter ended, N'gan voxed Brother-Techmarine Kasso, receiving a curt reply. "Reactor shutdown imminent, Captain N'gan. Under fire from significant enemy infantry assets. Brother D'oros is leading the counterattack as I speak. We'll link up to you in seven minutes. In Vulkan's name, Kasso out."
True to his word, the Techmarine managed to shut down the reactor within less than a minute, and the screams of the dying once more filled the halls of the fortress as the last enemy infantry hold-outs met with the wrath of Vulkan's sons.
But as he tore off the head of a man in a rumpled PDF general's uniform with a blow from Flame-Kin, N'gan saw something that stung him to the core of his twin hearts: a familiar tattoo on the ruin of the man's neck.
The three-headed hydra was familiar to him, a sign that had haunted him for most of his Captaincy.
Shouldering his hammer and ordering his men to stand down, the few surviving traitor officers forgotten in the controlled but still white-hot rage that suddenly filled his every vein, N'gan tuned his armour's voice-amplifiers to the maximum, shouting a furious challenge into the cavernous Fortress Sanctum.
"This is more than rebellion.... this is actual heresy! But one thing I have learned over the years is that the seed of heresy does not appear from nothingness. It is grown, carefully nurtured! So show yourself, traitor scum. SHOW YOURSELF, SWINE OF THE ALPHA LEGION!"
The slow clapping of ceramite gloves was his only part of the answer he received. That and the the balefully glowing green lenses of the traitorous Space Marine now facing N'gan preceded the mocking voice of his foe.
"So kind of you to finally join me, N'gan. I tired of herding these sheep now that my brothers have left. Oh, don't look at me like that, fool of a Captain. Of course they left... we knew you would come the moment we sent that distress call."
Eyes widening with shock and surprise under his helmet, N'gan kept himself from reeling back through willpower alone. "Don't be so surprised, N'gan. My Legion specializes in infiltration. The mortals have such a poor grasp on security, too. And now you're here, mighty Captain N'gan, with fifty Marines at your back, all just facing me."
His hands tightening on Flame-Kin's shaft, N'gan fought hard to keep the flame that burned in his hearts at manageable levels. "Aye, traitor, that we do. To purge even one of your Legion is worth the thousands of soldiers we had to kill to get here. But I know your kind, as much as I wish I didn't... what do you want, heretic?"
Taking off his helmet, the Alpha Legionnaire's face surprised N'gan with its youthfulness and lack of scars. Hanging his helmet from a magnetized hook on his hip, the man actually had the gall to smile at N'gan, gesticulating elaborately as he spoke.
"One of us had to stay behind, Captain, to drive our point home. It took so few of us to incite a system-wide rebellion. Doesn't this tell you anything? How volatile the situation must be, that a small number of Space Marines can spark a war that involves billion of souls."
His burning eyes narrowed, N'gan chose to deny the traitor even the smallest of victories, in this case recognition of his deeds.
"We do what we must, heretic. I know the concept of duty is lost on the likes of you, but..."
Before he got a chance to continue, the Alpha Legionnaire, his pale face now flushed red with anger, interrupted N'gan.
"Duty? DUTY? Everything we do is for duty's sake! You blind slave to a false religion, have you looked at the world you have come to save even once? They do not want you here! They HATE you!"
Then, lightning-quick and with a wordless snarl, the traitor Astartes slammed his helmet back on, drawing the sword dangling from his hip, the hum of a power field and crackling blue lightning showing the true power of his blade.
"But I can already see why my brothers said you were a fool. They are right... they are all right, damn it all. So, Captain N'gan, will you fight me? Marine against marine, skill with blade against skill with hammer."
N'gan could not help himself. Seven decades of meeting the Alpha Legion on more battlefields than he could count in a minute, and now this impertinent fool challenging him to a duel. By all rights, he should have ordered his men to attack, he knew that, but despite that he nodded, readying Flame-Kin to bring ruin to his foe.
"Before we fight, traitor... I would have your name."
Already knowing the spiteful reply the particular brand of Alpha Legion that haunted him gave to that question, N'gan's guess was quickly proven right.
"I am Alpharius Omegon of the Alpha Legion. Now, have at you!"
Too fast for any mortal eye to follow, the power sword licked towards N'gan's throat, but 'twas a weak attack, and easily dodged by the experienced Captain.
N'gan's return blow showed barely more effect, his elbow strike glancing off the Legionnaire's shoulder plate. Both men jumped back, seeking to get some space between them and circled around each other while weighing their chances. Suddenly, N'gan struck the ground before him with Flame-Kin, the plascrete exploding into a dense hail of stone shards, temporarily blinding his foe. Using that split-second of cover, he rushed forward, Flame-Kin rising from the ground in a back-handed blow that the other Astartes barely dodged, the hammer's power-field digging a groove into his chestplate, defacing the three-headed hydra so proudly painted there.
As if shocked into proper action by that glancing blow, the Legionnaire wove a curtain of flashing steel to counterattack N'gan, scoring a painful stab to the Captain's left leg.
"First blood for me, blind Captain. Where is that vaunted Salamander skill with the Thunder Hammer now?" Mockery, N'gan knew, was one of the quickest ways to make a man angry enough to lose control of himself - which usually led to the man losing his life soon after. But he was a son of Vulkan, and the fire that was his genetic birthright burned hotter and more cleanly than anger and rage.
With a soft hiss of exhalation, N'gan attacked once more, choosing to ignore the pain in his leg, his armour's autodiagnostics already showing his Larraman cells hard at work to seal the wound. Unlike the lieutenant who had tried - and failed - to parry his Thunder Hammer barely twenty minutes ago, the Legionnaire was made of sterner stuff. Flame-Kin's drake head-shaped surface ground against the foe's power blade, the younger traitor Astartes slowly able to overpower the older Salamander Captain.
As the blade inched closer and closer to N'gan's helmet, driving the haft of his Thunder Hammer against his chest in the process, the centuries-old Salamander showed that experience and cunning handily offset youth and raw strength.
Dropping into a sudden crouch and twisting hard to his right, N'gan felt the enemy power blade bite deep into his left pauldron - but not his flesh as his enemy had intended. When his left foot struck the soft joint of the Legionnaire's knee, the traitor was forced to let go of his blade - and at that point, both of them knew the young Astartes was as good as dead.
Jumping to his feet while letting go of Flame-Kin's haft with his right hand, he struck his enemy with a brutal uppercut, not even the shock-absorbent materials of his helmet enough to absorb the force, then followed it with a square punch to the face. One helmet lens cracked and quickly losing its green glow, the traitor toppled over onto his back, and N'gan sealed his fate.
Drawing his hammer back for an overhead swing sure to end his enemy's life with one fell blow, N'gan couldn't help but wonder. "Why you? You were too young, too inexperienced. You couldn't have been victorious against me."
The pained laugh did nothing to dampen the mockery in the Legionnaire's voice. "You think you won here? When my brothers are already gone to continue the Eternal War elsewhere? Ah, what would I give for the bliss of idiocy..."
Then Flame-Kin dropped, and one less traitor Astartes plagued the galaxy.
--
++++ASTROPATHIC MESSAGE STARTS++++
Chapter Master Tu'Shan
Paras III pacified. Sixth Company casualties, two battle-brothers killed in action, nine battle-brothers wounded in action.
Alpha Legion presence found and eradicated. Entire sector now potential risk for further Alpha Legion infiltration.
Captain Ankann N'gan, Sixth Company
In Vulkan's Name We Go To Battle
++++ASTROPATHIC MESSAGE ENDS++++