Corporal Bester ducked under a blasted tree and tried to stop his hammering heart from being heard by the advancing rebels. He had already run out of power cells for his lasgun and his combat knife had broken off in the last fight. The dark visored rebels conversed in a debased form of Imperial as they advanced towards Bester’s position. Carefully, he eyed the three figures. The nearest one had a bolter cradled in his one arm. The other arm was a writhing mass of worm-like appendages. Sickened, Bester eyed the remaining two rebels. Both bore some sign of mutation: the second heretic had a big bulge in the back of his head while the last one had an impossibly thin neck. Mutated or not, the three were more than a match for one hungry, tired and scared Imperial Guard corporal. The rebels moved past and into the smashed landscape beyond. Minutes passed as Bester waited, making sure that he was truly in the clear then he gingerly checked his precious dispatch tube and quietly slipped out from under the tree. An
hour later, Bester stopped near an abandoned Imperial rhino. It bore the
markings of the 7th Necromundan regiment and was badly smashed from
repeated bolter fire. The corporal peered inside and then clambered in. The main
crew compartment stank of faeces and blood. Two guardsmen were slumped as if
asleep sitting up: one had soiled himself while the other had most of his chest
blown out. It looked like they took cover inside the rhino while the rebels
outside pounded the stricken vehicle with heavy weapons. Scrambling around he
found the remains of a ration pack, most of it was mashed but there were some
carbo-rations and self-heating food sticks. Bester tore into them and wolfed
down the meal. More importantly, he found water. Gulping it down Bester almost
choked as a shadow passed over the open rear hatchway. Bester quickly pressed
himself into the recesses of the bay, next to one of the dead guardsman. He was
close to vomiting from the smell while outside, he heard the sounds of two
rebels discussing what was inside the rhino. Coming to a decision, a volley of
lasgun fire bathed the inside of the rhino, ricocheting inside the tight
confines. The last shot sizzled an inch above Bester’s head. Chattering to
themselves the first of the rebels peered in then he stepped inside. The dark
confines of the rhino meant that Bester was hard to make out but there was no
guarantee that these mutants needed eyes to see. Slipping out his broken combat
knife, blackened with soot, Bester tensed then sprang up once the mutant turned
his back. Grasping the back of it’s misshapen head, he pulled back and raked
the broken knife edge over its throat. Foul smelling blood spurted out of the
throat while a single shot jerked out of the lasgun. The other mutant outside
rushed in firing while Bester turned around, using the first mutant as a shield.
The lasgun shots thudded into the makeshift shield, tearing chunks of flesh off
the body. Bester rushed with the body shield and clattered into the second
mutant. All three fell to the floor of the rhino with Bester releasing the first
mutant and then grappling with the second. This one stank of machine oil and
offal and Bester plunged the broken knife into the side of the head repeatedly. Staggering out of the rhino, Bester headed off towards the distant hills where he hoped friendly units were dug in. He cradled the lasgun acquired from the dead mutants and managed to find a replacement for his combat knife. His thin form shivered as the night was closing in and the temperature was dropping. Bester needed to rest up for an hour, as he was simply exhausted and close to collapsing. He stumbled onwards into the dark and he cast his mind back to the morning with his commanding officer and older brother, Captain Elias Bester. “Remember
the time when father gave us the Jofi fighting sticks?” Asked the imposing
figure of an Imperial Guard Captain. Nathaniel Bester bearing the double stripes
of a corporal grinned and replied. “Yeah.”
Nodding and chuckling he added. “Mother wasn’t too pleased: we were black
and blue and Sol almost lost his eye to you.” “Now
that was not my fault.” Replied Elias Bester with a grin. He stopped pacing
and looked out over the ramparts. “Though being the oldest, I did get the
blame.” “Always,
brother. Always.” Agreed the Nathaniel. He stopped pacing and followed his
older brother’s gaze. In the distance were the burning remains of the
emplacements previously held by 3 Company, 1st Motorised Infantry 27th
Kapellan Greys. After three weeks of continuous fighting the rebels were massing
for one final devastating push into the Voronezh salient. His company held a
single ancient bunker, discovered by chance to the south of the main Hive City
amid the ruins of a suburban megalopolis. ‘Bunker 42’, the faded gothic
writing identified this old building. Still it had something so valuable that
the rebels were throwing everything at them and they were held at bay only by
the grim determination and frantic heroism of a single Imperial guard company
and a handful of tech-priests. These tech-priests were busy doing something
mysterious for the last hour but had just finished and after a hasty conference
with the Captain, left and manned the pitiful defences. Elias
turned round and reached into his flak jacket. He produced a small tube with a
single dim, flashing light. It was a dispatch tube, used for carrying top secret
orders and data too sensitive even for encrypted transmission. He turned the
smooth tube in his hand and pressed it into his younger brother’s hand. “Take
this back to our lines and personally deliver it to Major Eshner.” The Captain
looked at his younger brother intently. “It must not fall into the hands of
those damn rebels. The Major knows you are coming but I think the rebels do too.
They’ll try and stop you but I am asking for volunteers to act as decoys.” “What’s
so important about this?” Asked Nathaniel looking at the tube. His brother
shook his head and smiled. “Even
I don’t know, but the Major gave me explicit orders to get this back and I am
using my best man to do it. You are my best.” Both men turned as the thin form
of Sergeant Hallas came up. He didn’t bother to salute but stepped up to his
two friends. “It’s time Captain. The other runners are ready.” He nodded to Nathaniel and turned and left. Sighing, Elias reached into his tunic and produced a small neck-chain with an ornate black obsidian-like amulet suspended on it. He pressed it into Nathaniel’s hand whom instantly recognised it. “This was father’s! It belongs to you, I can’t take it.” He pushed it back towards his brother who shook his head. “Well I am giving this to you. It’s a family heirloom and I think you’re going to need it. Go on put it on. It will protect you.” Reluctantly the neck-chain was worn and was tucked into his tunic. “It’s time to go.” Elias put his arm around his brother’s shoulders and walked with him down towards the bunker entrance. Six other guardsmen, all chosen for their speed and fitness stood to attention. Stripped of all unneeded equipment, faces blackened with camouflage paint, they stood rigid as their sergeant yelled at them. Already, the remaining artillery guns were firing fragmentation shells into the front lines and the surviving guardsmen had started to fire their lasguns to mask the runners’ exit from the bunker. “Alright,
you maggots! Get out there and run like the daemons of hell are after you. Kill
as many as those warped whoresons as you can. Do not get captured alive.
You will regret it. You have a fragmentation grenade to make sure you take some
of them with you.” One of the troopers lifted his hand up and the Sergeant’s
face went red with rage. “What
is it Pryce?” “Do
we get extra hazard pay for this Sarge?” This brought a snigger from the
remaining runners. Sergeant Hallas strode up to the trooper and pressed his face
close to the guardsman and yelled at him. “No
trooper! By the Grace of the Emperor, you get fifteen credits per day, every
day. Do you want to live forever? For that little crack Pryce, You are going out
first.” Hallas pointed to the crack in the bunker wall. “Well?
Go on then.” Grinning,
Trooper Pryce saluted, turned and stepped through the cracked wall and was gone.
One by one the remaining runners all stepped through leaving Corporal Bester. He
saluted, turned and followed the other runners pausing briefly to give the
thumbs up to his brother. Elias smiled and nodded. Then the darkness swallowed
the younger Bester as he disappeared into the rubble-strewn battleground. “
Our family will look after our own. Emperor go with you, brother.” Whispered
Elias. Eight
hours later, Nathaniel was staggering from exhaustion. His nerves were shot and
his leg wound was starting to sting. Quickly, he found a hollow and took out his
medi-pack. He dressed the wound as best as he could though the dirt and filth in
the wound was something to deal with on his return to friendly lines. Suddenly,
he looked up as he heard the sharp report of lasgun fire. Bolting from a nearby
tree, an Imperial guardsman sprinted across the rubble-strewn ground. Lasgun
shots zipping past him and exploding in sparks to either side of him. It looked
like the wiry form of Pryce and by the sound of it, a pack of rebels was after
him. Pryce kept low and Bester quickly waved over to him. On seeing his friend
and companion, Pryce grinned, stuck up his thumb and sprinted away from Bester. From
the nearby woods came a band of rebels. All were dressed in the light blue
uniform of the planetary defence force but any loyalty to the Emperor had long
since vanished. Howling and screaming the mob sprinted after Pryce, intent on
his blood and brandishing crude knife-like implements as well as lasguns. They
were about twenty metres behind him and gaining; while fatigue was beginning to
slow Pryce. He tripped and stumbled and fell hard on onto his knees and the
nearest heretic leapt onto the back of Pryce, biting and clawing. Struggling,
Nathaniel could see Pryce throw off the heretic but only for another one to leap
at him. Then two more jumped into the fray, kicking and punching. Screaming
obscenities Pryce detonated the fragmentation grenade and blew him and the
majority of the troops to bloody pieces. Unbelievable
fury welled up in the Nathaniel and he charged out with his lasgun on full auto
and spraying wildly. There were three stunned rebels scattered around the small
blast crater. The first shot punctured the back of the nearest one, the shots
erupting from his front in a shower of blood and innards. The second was quicker
in reacting and managed to lift up his lasgun before a wild shot clipped it on
the shoulder and sent him spinning to the ground. The last rebel turned and fled
but he lasted three paces before shots cut him down. Nathaniel was still running
and reached the shoulder shot rebel now writhing on the ground. Without
hesitating, the butt of the lasgun was driven into the head of the enemy.
Exhaustion finally stopped Nathaniel’s frantic clobbering attempts by which
the heretic’s head was a red pulp on the ground. He sat down and glanced
towards where Pryce was a few minutes ago. He knew Pryce from the raising back
on Kapella and he would have made a squad leader if he weren’t so damn
insolent. Slamming a new power cell into his lasgun, Nathaniel got back up and
looked back at where he came. The bunker was many kilometres behind him and no
doubt under siege. Friendly lines were still far away and he prayed to the
Emperor that he and his brother would make it. Inadvertently he touched the
small family charm and squeezed in his palm. Throwing a salute to where the pitiful remains of Pryce lay, Nathaniel jogged towards his own lines. Meanwhile, something that was observing Nathaniel slipped after him, it’s big bulk making no sound. It was now getting dark and by Nathaniel’s reckoning, he had better find a place to hide. He could not see a damn thing in the dark so it was no surprise that he walked into a small group of rebels. He didn’t even have time to raise his lasgun when they fell upon him and clubbed him senseless. “So,
what do we have here?” Nathaniel opened one eye and looked around. He
discovered that he was stretched and bound onto a crude cross. His head hurt and
it felt like some of his ribs were broken. He slowly turned his head towards the
questioner and found him sat on a makeshift chair made from discarded ammunition
crates. His captor bore the uniform of a Colonel in the Voronezh Planetary
Defence Force but his eyes were pure evil orbs set in a face of ghostly white.
Nathaniel glanced down towards the Colonel’s smooth hands and found him
turning the dispatch tube over in his hand. “So,
what do we have here?” Repeated the Colonel. “Secret plans, last minute
orders. What is in this tube Corporal Bester, did you find what we were
seeking?” The Colonel’s accent elongated and hissed all his words. “We
knew you were coming, quite a charming idea of sending decoy messengers.” Nathaniel held his
tongue and secretly prayed for strength from the Emperor and his family. “Oh,
my pardon. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Kliest, Surgeon-Colonel
Kliest.” Nathaniel’s heart froze: Kliest was the former chief-medical
officer of the Voronezh PDF. He was also mad butcher of a surgeon infamous for
experimentation on prisoners. “Lost
your tongue?” Purred Kliest dramatically while Nathaniel remained quiet and
fighting rising panic. The surgeon reached behind him and picked something up
while walking towards Nathaniel. “Then maybe you could use one of these?”
The Captain lifted up a butcher’s hook festooned with bloodied, severed
tongues and waved them inches from Nathaniel’s face. Sickened, Nathaniel
turned as much as he could from the nauseous sight. Chuckling, the mad Colonel
put his thin lips close to Nathaniel’s right ear and purred. “You
will talk to us and tell us what you know, then I can make it quite painless.
Otherwise, it would be very, very painful.” Turning, he gave a soft whistle
and hidden rebels pushed out a cart with something suspended, swaying slightly. “Take
a look.” Nathaniel forced his head round and stared at the remains of another
guardsman. He had been skinned from the neck down and was suspended from two
hooks driven into his eyes. Blood was everywhere. “He
provided much amusement - took almost an hour to die after his skin was flayed
off his body. I hope you provide as much entertainment, I really do.” A snap
of the fingers and a bunch of rebels closed round. Putting the despatch tube on
a medical gurney, Kliest produced a thin scalpel in his other hand and was
moving towards Nathaniel, intent on some macabre medical procedure. “Hold
him down.” Nathaniel
closed his eyes started to pray to the Emperor, to his home world and to his
family. He felt calm and at peace and knew that his death was near. There was a
slight tickle in the back of his head. He then heard screaming; it was his own
voice as the scalpel started to slice into his chest. Pain exploded over
Nathaniel and he struggled and writhed but to no avail. Just as he was about to
pass out, the hot pain disappeared as smooth oil was poured over his bleeding
wounds. Sweating Nathaniel looked down his chest and felt his bowel go loose. He
chest was split from the base of his throat to just above his navel. The cut had
parted skin, fat and flesh and he could see the red gash oozing blood and his
breastbone visible in shocking white. His gaze went back to the Colonel now
holding a small flask in his left hand, the bloodied scalpel in his right. The
flask contained the pain relieving oil and Nathaniel focused his attention on
it. Kliest followed his gaze and smiled lightly. “The
sap from a local tree, famous for its pain killing properties.” He shook it
and chuckled, “In a few more minutes, this is what you will be craving and
nothing else. I can assure you.” He set the flask down onto a medical tray and
turned round. “What
are the strengths of the force holding the bunker 42? Why are you holding the
bunker? What is in this message tube – is it what we seek?” Nathaniel shook
his head and hissed back. “I
don’t know and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Go to hell.” The oil
was slowly dripping off his wound and already the pain was creeping back. Kliest
shook his head. “Dear
me little one, you have no idea what is in store for you. I intend to slice you
open and slowly remove your organs one by one. You will be alive I assure you
and while my ability certainly does not match the skills of the best
flesh-smiths of the Inquisition, I certainly can do my best – now for some
saline onto the wound.” One of Kleist’s assistants then produced a syringe
and sprayed Nathaniel’s chest with a concentrated saline solution. As soon as
the liquid touched the wound on his chest, Nathaniel howled in absolute agony
and writhed in his constraints. The pain-killing oil was mercifully applied
after a minute of pain, then the saline and once more the oil. Nathaniel felt
his bladder go after the fourth application of the saline. After
what seemed like hours of this torture, there was loud bang and a flash. There
was confusion and a cacophony of voices behind him. Confused and sluggish from
pain, Nathaniel weakly twisted around but he could not see behind him and the
pain from his blood-slicked chest was starting to dim his vision. There was the
snap-hiss of a lasgun and the deep-throated chatter of a stub gun and lots of
screaming. Kliest had taken a step back, whipped his laspistol and fired a shot.
His eyes widening in shock, he dropped the scalpel and reached for the message
tube on the gurney next to him. As his hand closed on it, a bolter round took it
off at the wrist in a puff of blood and bone splinters. Cursing, Kliest rolled
to one side and then leapt into the shadows and fled. Nathaniel could hear the
unmistakable chatter of a bolter behind him mingled with the screams of the
dying rebels. Then the sudden silence was just as deafening. There was a sound
of a heavy footstep and something behind Nathaniel threw a big shadow over him.
The clack of a bolter clip slapped into its housing reverberated in his ears. Stepping from behind the cross was the unmistakable form of an Adeptus Astartes – a Space Marine and therefore salvation. He ignored Nathaniel and stepped cautiously forward, scanning for hidden rebels. With a quick twist of his body, the marine sent a controlled burst of fire into a dark corner and someone screamed then fell hard. He moved closer to the shot rebel and fired another round into the crumpled form. Satisfied that it was dead, it continued to secure the area. Nathaniel in his pain filled state looked on the awesome form of his saviour, a full seven metres in height. His power armour was black with skulls and bones on it and emblazoned with fire. The flowing cape was unblemished and magnificent with an eagle clutching a lightning bolt. The
marine moved back to Nathaniel and with a twist, broke the crude clasps on his
wrists and ankles. Nathaniel almost fell out of the cross but was caught in the
strong arms of his saviour. “You are weak, Nathaniel. You have lost a lot of blood, sit down.” Nathaniel gratefully slumped down as his saviour gently placed a synthi-flesh pack over his chest. Already the pain killing opiates made the hot, stinging pains recede. Nathaniel made an effort to speak, but only a croak was heard. The marine produced a water canteen and offered it to Nathaniel who greedily gulped down mouthfuls. “I was sent to look for you.“ The marine produced the despatch tube. “Take this back. Now on your feet, guardsman.” Weakly, Nathaniel stood shakily on his legs. His chest throbbed and he was light-headed. Alive then, thought Nathaniel grimly closing his eyes to collect his thoughts. As he opened them he suddenly jerked upright. He was standing in a field of fresh-smelling grass and the sun was shining, high and bright. Nathaniel didn’t know where he was but he felt safe and happy. He was definitely not in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of a battle zone but somewhere very different. I must be dreaming this or it’s combat shock he thought as he looked round in the immense grassy plain, dotted with small colourful flowers. In the distant horizon distant snow-capped mountains surrounded him. Some colourful clouds raced overhead in the clear sky but there was no wind. Nathaniel looked again and a small cairn was in front of him – intrigued he walked towards and in one step was in front of it. He could have sworn that it was at least twenty metres away. The Cairn was built up of black polished stones of various sizes and was of a small diameter as he walked around investigating it. A child’s giggle had Nathaniel staring at the gaze of a young human child, no more than ten standard years old sitting at the top of the cairn. He smiled and had a little toy in his hand and Nathaniel could not help but return the smile. “Who are you child?” Asked Nathaniel, hoping his appearance did not scare off the child. The youngster simply smiled and dropped something into his hand. It was his amulet or rather his brother’s, now around his neck; confused Nathaniel looked back to the child who was now looking down at him intently. Nathaniel was drawn to the dark, intelligent eyes and found himself falling into them. The child spoke but it was too quick and sounded as if it was spoken backward. The tempo increased and he found the sound to be hurting his ears. Nathaniel closed his eyes and put his hands around his ears. Slowly the sound subsided and he opened his eyes and gasped when he found the child and the cairn had disappeared – he was back in the warehouse once more, with the Space Marine’s black eye plates staring back at him. “Follow me.“ Commanded the marine and strode out in the lead, tossing Nathaniel a warm cloak as he did so. Nathaniel cast a look back at the cross and on weakened legs followed the marine out and towards safety. The marine set up a murderous pace and Nathaniel simply could not keep up. He did not ask the marine to slow down as that was a shooting offence but after fifteen minutes the marine was already a small figure in the distance. Not once did he pause to look behind him and ten minutes later, he simply disappeared. Filled with panic, Nathaniel attempted to run but in his weakened state could only shamble like an old man. Five minutes he staggered like this then fell into an observation trench manned by elements of 4 Company. The three guardsmen were later reprimanded for failing to spot a lone guardsman walking through the kilometre-deep minefield. The marine was nowhere to be seen. “Major,
the messenger from Bunker 42. You said to bring him to you with all haste.” “Major
Eshner. Corporal Bester, 3 Company reporting sir.” He snapped a smart salute
and stood to attention while presenting the dispatch tube. His chest was
starting to sting now, the quick job by the medic was enough but Nathaniel was
also conscious that he really stank, time for a wash later though. The
Major took the offered tube and pressed his signet ring into the recessed
authorisation slot. With a hiss of escaping air the tube opened up and a single
data crystal dropped out onto the gloved hand of the major. Quickly, he handed
it to his adjutant who inserted the crystal into a portable data reader. A mass
of information flashed up onto a holographic screen. Images and schematics, too
complex and flashing too fast for anyone to comprehend danced in the holographic
light. Numbers and characters and weird sigil blinked back and forth. The
impassive multi-tubed mask of an Adeptus Mechanicus tech priest faced the
holograms, the red and green lights on the side of his head blinking in a
seemingly random pattern. The hologram suddenly snapped off and the Adeptus
Mechanicus stirred. “It
is what we seek. These STC design copies are pure and the puzzle is almost
complete. The project will now continue with all haste. The Machine God has been
kind to us. ” There
was no mistaken the excitement in his voice. Bester gasped at this, no wonder
the rebels were so eager to sacrifice their lives to take the ancient bunker.
The STC designs in their hands would have caused untold damage. The Major turned
around and looked at his adjutant who proceeded to establish a visual-vox link
to the ancient bunker. Through the pop and hiss of static, the familiar face of
Nathaniel’s brother looked back impassively. The major saluted. “Captain.
Emperor be praised, the package has been delivered safely.” The Captain nodded
grimly. Even through the static, the sounds of fighting were clear. A nearby
explosion rocked the bunker and the Captain swayed on his feet. “Emperor
be praised. Is the messenger alive?” There was strain in Elias’ voice but
the Major smiled. “Your
brother is safe. He came through all on his own. We found him wandering towards
our own lines. He is to be commended and a commission is in order. A credit to
your family, Captain.” Beckoning to Elias to come closer, the Major leaned
forward. “Here
he is. You do not have long. Make it quick.” Nathaniel stepped up and even
though weary he smiled at his brother, now so far away. “I
did it brother. Got back in one piece and delivered the dispatch tube. I had
help though, strangest thing - ” “Well,
done brother. I knew you could do it.” Interrupted his brother. Another burst
of static and the link was broken. Nathaniel whirled round at the vox-operator
now frantically tried to re-establish the link. A moment later Elias was back,
Nathaniel stepped forward and said. “We
can talk later, now you can get out. Blow the whole damn lot and get yourself
out.” Elias smiled sadly and shook his head. “Father
would have been proud of you. You might make a Colonel yet.” Elias turned
around and shouted something. Nathaniel saw the thin wiry form of Sergeant
Hallas yelling back something in the background. The vox image was breaking up.
The sound of lasgun fire was now so close. “Brother,
I have one last order to carry out. Honour the family name. I am proud of you.
Always have.” The meaning was clear in Elias’ voice and that froze the blood
in Nathaniel as he looked on. Through the increasing blur and snow-like
interference, he could see his beloved brother remove an arming key from around
his neck and bend down to a box next to him. With his breath coming in short
gasps, Nathaniel stepped and reached forward with his trembling hands at the
slowing scattering image. “No.
Brother, don’t.” “We
will meet again, my little brother. Remember we always look after our own. One
of us needs to carry on the family name. I just had to make sure it was you.” “No!”
Screamed Nathaniel hysterically. Moments later, the ground shook as the
detonated nuclear warhead cauterised an area around the bunker for three
kilometres. Nathaniel found himself scream then howling like a wounded animal.
The last thing that Corporal Nathaniel Bester remembered before being knocked
unconscious by a medic was the same black armoured marine standing behind his
brother as the decomposing image was cut off.
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