II:
Sergeant Jerord McKernze, commander of 'Wrathchild' Militarum Terminus Stormtrooper squad, in service of the Emperor's most Holy Inquisition, held his right hand up in a closed fist, bringing his squad to an immediate halt. Well disciplined and drilled, his team waited with bated breath for their commander's next signal. Jerord strained his ears, he'd heard something, he could swear he had. Now all he heard was the dripping of water somewhere and the sound of operating machinery in the distance. The Stromtrooper Sergeant thought he'd heard a shuffling nearby, the telltale clack of claws on a hard surface. Their quarry, the Genestealer.
Still, he had to confess, his senses were not exactly reliable at the moment, his mind could be playing tricks on him. Sweat dripped down his face, and it wasn't because of the temperature, no, this was a cold sweat, born of dread. A quick check of the sensor built into his suits wrist revealed no sign of anything, no betrayal of any presence other than his squad. They were just as strung out as he, twitchy and exhausted. They were being hunted.
They had started with a full squad of ten but now they were down to just over half of that number. Four troopers gone in just two attacks, one ten hours ago and one three hours ago. Three dead and one missing, presumed dead. Or worse. Their quarry had been lightning fast, presenting them only the most fleeting of targets and their reactionary fire had been rushed and inaccurate despite their pedigree as troopers. They had begun 15 hours ago as the hunters, and had become the prey. Then again McKernze considered, had they ever truly been the hunters at all?
It had been Millins the first time, a blur, a yellow blur, followed by an arc of bright crimson as the Genestealer had ripped him apart, cutting him open from groin to shoulder, ragged wet meat falling to the floor as the creature darted behind some stanchions and disappeared back into the shadows as swiftly as it had emerged. The squad had lit it's path up with Hellgun fire but had hit nothing, the Genestealer had already gone, leaving what had used to be Millins scattered over the floor in piles of bloody meat.
The second time Valetin had been taken. They had progressed to the higher levels of the docking port and the temperature had dropped, they were checking an open hangar, empty save a small utility pod and some cargo crates that it had been moving. the wind at that altitude whipped across the floor and made the hauling chains chime hauntingly. From out of the hanger entrance they could see much of Narthley laid out before them, paralysed and peaceful. Nonetheless they remained on high alert, vigilant and guarded.
It had made no difference, the Xenos had erupted from nothingless, murdered Kincade, grabbed Valetin and propelled itself at a speed no living thing should be able to manage towards the edge of the hanger before leaping onto the exterior of the dock and disappearing. Gobbs had the misfortune to be in its way. There was no spray of blood this time, only a bloodcurdling scream that eventually faded as the trooper was hurled into the air and fell out of sight.
Down to six now, they continued to track the Xenos through the upper levels of the port. Well, track wasn't quite the right word, thought McKernze sardonically, more like stumble about aimlessly till another of them died. He chastised himself for his attitude, mentally sentencing himself to penance later. If there was a later.
He lowered his hand satisfied that his ears had been deceived. The next search area was a large Storage Bay similar to the one where they had started the search.. The way that the containers were arranged made for three paths through to the rear of the bay. His scanner indicated an abundance of of turns and alcoves in the arrangement of the containers, plenty of spaces for a predator to hide, plenty of choke points and kill zones. It was less than ideal but he had been instructed to find and kill the Xenos and that was exactly what he was going to do. Or die trying.
With two fingered signals he sent Langers and M'obe left and Signhet and Jarazis right. This left him and Ayris to take the central path. McKernze was fine with this, Jheeta Ayris was a strong and reliable soldier, as tough as they came and there was no-one he would rather have watching his back. He glanced back at her and she shot him a wry grin and wink that said 'after you Sarge' before returning to scanning her surroundings.
The feed in his helmet crackled and hissed. At this height the atmospherics of Worth affected communications equipment, although not critically. The separated squad progressed through the bay, navigating the labyrinth of containers stacked high and haphazardly, checking their corners and angles as they went. They were exhausted but they were model soldiers, the best of their kind. The Inquisition would expect nothing less, would ACCEPT nothing less. Only the most elite and pure of heart got to serve in the Emperor's Holy Inquisition.
The Stormtrooper Squad had traversed around two thirds of the length of the Cargo Bay without incident when McKernze's comm crackled into life. A panicked yell followed by the "FSSHK" of a burst of Hellgun fire. M'obe's voice hissed through, "Contact! Contact!" he screamed, his rich Varusian accent distorted further still by the squealing interference. Wordlessly McKernze, broke into a sprint, knowing Ayris would be just behind him. Left, "FSSHK!" Left, "FSSHK, FSSHK" right, and another FSSHK! followed by an unearthly bestial scream , left, right to the other end of the bay and then left, left, right to double back down to M'obe and Langer's position. The comm had gone dead and the only sound was the pounding of boots and the pack on their backs.
Rounding one last corner, McKernze saw M'obe standing against a container, grinning inanely even as his rifle was held ready. Langers was in the shadows, prodding something with his Hellgun. McKernze stopped and took in the scene, Ayris was seconds behind him.
Report! The sergeant barked, he was in no mood for this, M'obe snapped to attention and indicated with his rifle at Langers.
"it's.. it's some kind of scavanger sir" his hard constanants clacking in the Varusian manner. "Emperor above, I thought it was the..." suddenly his face vanished, replaced by a fountain of gore. He didn't even have the time to scream, his head just disappeared mid sentence. The ragged stump of his neck and lower jaw pulsed with the motions of speech but the rest of him wasn't there to form the words. His body toppled to the side and McKernze was already lifting his Hellgun as the Genestealer pounced on Langers who was mid turn. The Stormtrooper was eviscerated almost immediately, the creature's razor sharp talons making a mockery of his carapace armour. Unlike M'obe, Langers DID scream as he died. Mckerze fired, but the Genestealer had already gone and his shots merely cut Langers' corpse to ribbons, steaming offal falling to the ground in bloody chunks.
The Genestealer scaled the wall of the container and launched it self at McKernze while he was still firing. He would surely have been killed but something slammed bodily into him, hurling him to the side. His finger was still on the trigger of his Hellgun, fire stitching its way across the container behind Langers' remains as McKernze fell. The impact as he hit the hard floor jarred the gun from his grasp, the rifle skittering across the floor into the shadows. He turned the fall into a combat roll and came up on one knee to see Ayris grappling with the beast. Actually grappling with it. He had known she was strong but her desperation lent her reserves of strength beyond normal human endurance. Even so it was only a matter of moments before she was overpowered and even now, Mckernze watched as she was borne to the floor, the Genestealer's claws flashing in the gloom.
McKernze acted without thinking, years of training resulting in honed reactions and instinct. In one smooth motion he pulled his laspistol from its holster and fired. Two handed, for better stability, two quick shots, best for accuracy, textbook battle action. The two shots slammed into the Genestealer as it retched hot bile at the stricken Ayris, desperately trying to hold the monster at bay. McKernze's practised shots threw it off just enough that the liquid spattered over the floor by the side of Ayris' head rather than her face.
In all the years Jerord McKernze had served with Jheeta Ayris he had never heard her scream. Until now. As the bile spattered on the ground it splashed up and droplets hit her cheek, even without the sizzling sound and smell of burning flesh, detectable even from afar, McKerze would have known it was acid from her anguished cry. The bile ate into the decking and her cheek, and her resistance began to waver. McKernze thumbed the power setting on his pistol and drained the pack in one final shot.
The bolt of energy seared a hole into the Genestealer's torso as it sank a claw into Ayris' shoulder.
Wounded at last, it recoiled and screeched, ceasing its assault on the fading Ayris and glaring malevolently at McKernze. The Stormtrooper Sergeant knew his life was measured in scant seconds and prepared to die for his Emperor, when suddenly a volley of Hellgun fire erupted around the Genestealer as Singhet and Jarazis arrived, firing from the hip as they took in the scene. Had they taken a more measured approach they may well have killed the beast but as it was they wounded it enough to deter it from it's attack on McKernze and it fled, leaping impossibly fast and impossibly high above the containers into the darkness, a trail of glowing ichor left in its wake. The entire assault had taken under a minute. In that time two more of his squad were dead and another incapacitated.
Mckernze threw away the smoking Laspistol, it's power relays were fused and the pack connector port and casing would need replacing, it was useless. He raced over to Ayris, lying unconscious in a pool of her own blood. Kneeling beside her he pulled the saviour kit from his suit webbing. Jarazis and Singhet were scanning the area, Hellguns raised ready to fire. McKernze assessed Ayris' injuries with a practised eye. Her left shoulder was more or less gone, ripped to slivers of meat and splintered bone. The Genestealer's claws had cleaved through the armour like it was tissue and torn the joint below to ribbons, McKernze was astonished that her arm was even still attached. He pushed her ravaged shoulder back together as much as he could and pulled the coagulant/wound packing foam cannister from the saviour kit. Designed to pack wounds and literally hold soldiers together on the front line till proper treatment could be obtained, even this basic aid was beyond the reach of most rank and file guardsmen. Holding flesh together with one hand, he deployed the foam with the other, the foam solidified and constricted as it contacted the flesh, knitting the wound together as it snaked into the muscles and blood vessels, stopping the loss of blood. It wouldn't heal the injury (privately McKernze thought the damage irreprible and thought it likely that Ayuris would lose the arm entirely) but it would keep her from bleeding out. Indentured to the Inquisition she would enjoy better treatment than most were they able to get her to medical facilities. Should the wound be too severe and the Limb unsalvageable then she would be granted a high function bionic replacement, service to the Holy Inquisition came with many priveledges.
Her life saved, at least for now, McKernze turned his attention to her secondary injuries. Her combat suit was rent and torn, bloody gashes testament to her herculean feat of holding the Genestealer at bay. The worst two of these he used the foam on but many of the lacerations he was able to treat with Synth Skin, a plastic flesh that he could use to dress the injuries. This done he turned his attention to her face, turning her head he could see where the acidic secretion from the Genestealer had done it's terrible work. Jheeta Ayris had never been a typically beautiful woman but her squat freckled face and upturned button nose had a definite charm. Now the right side of her face was a ravaged ruin, Skin eaten away and cheek muscles exposed and heavily damaged. He covered the ragged mess with a layer of Synth Skin, likely the resultant scarring would be permanent. Ayris stirred as the cooling spray contacted and tightened on her ruined face. Her eyes flickered and opened and she attempted to focus on McKernze.
"Did, did we get it?" that was Ayris, always about the mission. McKernze looked down, and started to put the cannisters back in the Saviour Kit. Valetin had been the squad Medic and she was gone. Like the rest of his squad he only had basic life saving treatment and access to the most rudimentary of items. Ayris couldn't be treated here.
"not quite," he admitted. "It's wounded though, bleeding, don't worry, we'll finish it off soon. Lie still, you've lost a lot of blood"
He busied himself putting the Saviour kit back into it's webbing. Ayris closed her eyes again.
"You saved me" he murmured.
Ayris didn't open her eyes but managed a half smile, the plastic flesh on her cheek crinkling unconvincingly,
"Of course I did Sarge, you're the Sarge. I'm not being left to get...." she faded out and her features went slack. Her chest still rose and fell, she was merely asleep.
McKernze looked at her for a moment and came to a decision. He stood and addressed Jarazis;
"Get her out of here, double time. Back to the Elevator. Take her down and get her some treatment. Signhet will cover you." He began to remove his armour and combat suit.
Jarazis hesitated, Markon Jarazis was one of the most loyal soldiers Mckernze had ever served with, it wouldn't be easy to get him to go. "and you Sarge? Please don't tell me you are going to do what I think you are. You're coming with us right?"
McKernze stooped, retrieving a Hellgun, he wasn't sure whose. Grabbing spare power packs he removed the webbing from his combat suit and wrapped it round his torso. Grenades, ammo, flares, everything useful was stowed.
"I'm going after it Markon, you can't stop me. That Bastard has killed over half my squad and I want revenge. Either I die or it does. He hefted the Hellgun and checked the charge, repriming the load. "It's wounded and it's bleeding." He stooped next to the creature's pooled ichor and dipped the hellgun barrel into it cautiously. Satisfied that it was non corrosive he shouldered his weapon, scooped some up and smeared it over his torso and arms. He also covered his face and forehead. There was no guarantee that the Genestealer hunted by scent but McKernze would take any advantage he could get. It was unlikely that the Genestealer was still nearby, they had hurt it. It was probably off somewhere licking it's wounds. McKernze would put it down, He would track its trail of blood and end the beast once and for all.
"If it's bleeding I can find it, I can kill it. I WILL kill it, Emperor willing. Or it will kill me," He Shrugged, "It's that simple Markon, as I say, you can't stop me. Get the hell out of here, Save Jheeta. That's an order"
Jarazis met his gaze, saluted. He reached behind him and produced a large blade in it's scabbard. It was a Tanith Warblade, 'Straight Silver' they called it. He had been given it years ago. McKernze didn't know exactly what he had done to receive such a gift but it must have been absolutely monumental. He had served besides the Tanith and knew full well how much the blades meant to the Ghosts. They would literally rather lose an arm than part with them. Jarazis had never divulged the details, he was not one for recounting exploits. He has simply said that it was given to him as tribute and that the man that had given him it didn't need it. McKernze had no idea what circumstances would lead to such a situation but respected Jarazis's privacy. Now Markon Jarazis extended the knife to him hilt first in it's scabbard.
"Do me a favour Sir, Stick this in the bastard, for Langers, for Valetin, for Gobbs and M'obe and Millins and Kincade. Stick him with it good. You can give it back after." McKernze took the knife reverently and attached it to his belt, it was more like a short sword than a typical issue combat knife. He knelt and picked up Ayris gently, Signhet looked on, Hellgun still aimed, he was taking no chances. Jarazis took Ayris from his Sergeant. He was a big man and cradled the unconscious soldier in one meaty arm, saluting again with the other before turning round and heading back the way they had come. McKerze retuned the salute and, checking his equipment one more time, set off in the opposite direction, the Hunter once again.
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