[Epic] More of Kelly's fluff (LONG !) 3rd batch

From: Oki Purwanto <oki_at_...>
Date: Fri, 11 Jul 1997 10:50:55 +0800

This is the 3rd batch (part 6-7).
For those who asked for some writeups (summary) on the Dark Angels
background, please give me a few days to do it. It is pretty cool.

Enjoy...

Regards
Oki



"Insurrection"
Part VI

   The pathway they were in was a high-arched hall, with deep-set sconces
every few meters, each holding a flickering dim light. It was not flame, but
had apparently been design to mimick fire in its color and appearance. The
red tinge of the light blurred the line between object and shadow, despite
their suits' autosystems, so that each step onto a darkened floorpad was
laced with trepidation. Sealed doors led off at random places, left and
right, but none showed any sign of previous entry so they passed them by.
The hall twisted and turned, curving sharply left, then left again, then
right, and Ezekial was glad that his armor's computer kept track of their
location. There was room for three Marines abreast in the corridor, with
enough space between them for some freedom of movement. Ezekial was at the
left front, a pace or two in front of his men.
   They had traversed roughly the same distance as Lucius' squad had gone
down the other hallway when they finally found evidence of Baronus' missing
men. The corridor widened here, entering almost a separate room although it
had no doors readily visible. It was simply a wider hallway, with two dead
Marines in it. Upon first sight of them, Ezekial's men snapped to full alert,
fanning out along the edges of the room, weapons at the ready. Ezekial knelt
down to examine the dead soldiers, whom he quickly identified as Brothers
Mikail and Pluvius. They lay spread-eagled on the floor, and from the smaller
details he could see, it seemed likely they had been taken by surprise.
Someone had fought back, though, because there were three dead metal-skinned
natives scattered near them.
   This sorely perplexed the Sergeant, for in all of their previous
encounters with them the small Mrabans had been peaceful. For the most part,
the mute abhumans had tried to stay out of the war's way, although many had
been killed by both sides. That some of them should so aggressively attack
and kill two Space Marines meant that either he had misjudged their nature,
or that there was more at work here than met the eye. That they should even
be capable of killing his men was almost unbelievable in its own right. But
once again, the evidence of his eyes was indisputable. Ezekial was beginning
to dislike this planet, where all of his preconceived notions were being cast
aside.
   His curiosity, however, was raging for satisfaction. How did the natives
kill two Marines so quickly, and silently? Why did Baronus not call for
assistance? Where was he now? Ezekial had no ready answers; the dead men
provided nothing.
   Ezekial turned Mikail over, getting ready to summon the Chaplain to
commend their souls to the Emperor, but stopped abruptly. Mikail had not been
killed by grasping hands or teeth after all, as the Sergeant had assumed. No,
those wounds were obviously the result of bolter fire! But the natives never
used weapons, and both of the dead men's guns were fully loaded; Ezekial
could see that at a glance. Someone had shot Mikail and Pluvius at close
range, from the front.
   The thought of Baronus and Torius murdering their brothers-in-arms never
even crossed Ezekial's mind. The only possibility remaining was that there
were other men inside the City of Might with them. He was certain the wounds
were caused by boltgun, and not shuriken, fire; the distinctive ripping
effect was too unlike the fine Eldar method to mistake.
   Jerking his thoughts into motion, he called for Vicconius. "Interrogator-
Chaplain, your services are required. Use caution," he added unnecessarily.
Vicconius would be as careful as a battering ram, but just as dangerous to
any foes he met.
   Ezekial straightened up and went over to inspect the dead metal natives.
Someone had killed his men with a bolter, but the three Mrabans had
apparently been done in without visible harm. The other four Space Marines
still stood in readiness, electronic eyes glowing anger at the outrage
perpetrated on their kin.
   Vicconius arrived in short order, and quickly surveyed the scene. "By the
Emperor's blood," he rasped, "what has happened?"
   Ezekial let the Chaplain take it all in, then said, "Commend their souls,
brother. Though their death disgraces us all, they do not deserve our
execration. There was treachery here."
   Vicconius knelt, murmuring his lament of the lost, gently touching the
dead Marines' armor here and there. At last he raised his head, uttering his
final blessings on their souls, then stood back up. "Brother-Sergeant," he
asked, carefully controlling his voice, "what do you still here? Why have you
and your men not tracked down Torius and Mikail's slayers, and extracted our
revenge?"
   Ezekial was ready for the criticism this time. "Brother Vicconius," he
answered, "I could not rightfully leave them here without seeing them blessed
by you first." They would have vengeance, he swore silently, but it would be
done with order and method, not by blindly rushing in. "It would be best to
know as much as we can of what we may be facing inside these walls before
moving on. Who fired the bolt gun that killed Torius and Mikail, and why do
not the Mrabans show outward signs of death?"
   Vicconius smoldered while Ezekial patiently explained. "You ask 'why this'
and 'why that' far too often for any good to come from it, Sergeant. You
should be leading the hunt, even now, not speaking of it."
   Ezekial fumed, feeling the familiar guilt turn once again to anger. He
could not think when angry, though, and despite what the Chaplain said now
was a time for thinking. If they pressed forward without thought, they would
surely meet the same end as Baronus' men had. Ezekial knew Baronus, and knew
that he was not given to incaution; that this had happened at all was
testament to the rapidity with which it had occurred. "There is a dangerous
foe in these tunnels," he hissed, "something with the ability to strike
without warning. No Mrabans did this work!"
   "Then we must find this monstronsity and destroy it, to fully secure this
building for the Emperor." Vicconius' faith was matched, as Ezekial well
knew, only by his stubborness.
   The Sergeant gave in. He did not fear the work ahead, but carelessness
with his command rankled him. He would not waste his men's lives. "Lucius,
take the rear. We advance with vigilance, series alpha two."
   Such conservatism did not sit well with Vicconius at all. Striding to the
fore of the corridor, he practically shouted, "We are Dark Angels! Death has
been given to us unwanted, and our retribution is sure! Brother-Sergeant
Ezekial, you are young in your service to this Chapter. Thusly, _I_ will lead
you and your men, that you may see our vengeance carried out swiftly and
justly by my example." His Crozius flaring brightly, he gestured the soldiers
in line. "We shall proceed at double-pace, thereby taking the enemy by
surprise. Onward for the Emperor! We are their doom!"
   Shocked by the loss of his command, Ezekial shamefully fell into place.
Vicconius was well within his rights as an Interrogator-Chaplain to usurp his
authority, but Ezekial had always thought him too much a friend to do so. His
men, less introspective than himself -- and less given to guilt -- followed
the Chaplain readily.
   Of course Vicconius was right: now was not the time for caution. Again,
his curiosity had betrayed him. And yet, still, he could not help but wonder
what had happened. Why did they not hear the bolter fire? Possibly due to the
sharply winding corridors. But why had Baronus not sent for assistance?
   They found out a few minutes later, when they stumbled across the bodies
of Baronus and Torius. Tramping recklessly down the darkened hallway, they
were almost on top of them before Vicconius stopped. They barely had time to
assume a defensive posture as Vicconius moved ahead to investigate when the
attack came.

[continued in Part VII]


"Insurrection"
Part VII

   Their helmets were suddenly filled with a loud static hiss as their
communications channels were jammed. Not only were they unable to talk to
one another but the unexpectedness of it was jarring. At the same instant,
bolter shots rang out from the front. Vicconius' rosarius saved him: the
conversion field blazed out in a quick flash as the shots were turned into
light. One of the other Marines was not so lucky, and fell heavily to the
fusilade.
   In an instant, the surprise was over, and the Dark Angels' training took
over. Even without communication, they dodged away from the line of fire as
much as the corridor allowed, raking their own boltguns back up the hall.
Vicconius, oblivious to his danger from both in front and behind, stormed on,
his flickering Crozius illuminating the way. In the flashing, pulsing light
of the Chaplain's weapon and the staccato bursts of the Marines' boltguns,
Ezekial could almost make out a figure farther up the corridor. Its own
bolter spat blossoms of fire at them, and it appeared to be dressed in black.
   It was obvious what had befallen Baronus now: a surprise attack, their
communications jammed, two men killed. Naturally, Baronus had given chase to
the attacker, and had walked straight in to a trap. Why Baronus was leading
from the rear was still unknown, since he had fallen here and not back at the
site of the first engagement.
   As quickly as it began, the attack ended. The unknown person simply
stopped firing and disappeared, taking his jamming with him. In the stillness
that followed, the sudden silence was deafening.
   "Dark Angels, regroup!" Vicconius thundered. "Advance and attack!" He had
apparently been giving orders all through the attack, the fact that no one
had received them not registering with him. He had been too focused on the
enemy to notice. Ezekial feared he would lead them exactly as Baronus had led
his men, into a trap. Now Brother Mathias was dead; he would not let more
follow.
   "Dark Angels, halt!" he ordered. "Brother Vicconius, are you mad?" He knew
that there was no turning back now, but the survival of his men depended on
him.
   Vicconius whirled as though Ezekial had physically struck him. For several
long moments, he stood there, without speaking. That any Dark Angel could
speak thus to an Interrogator-Chaplain was without precedent. Finally he
found his voice. "Brother-Sergeant Ezekial, I will for now ignore your
extreme breach of tradition in questioning my decisions. Your punishment,
which will be severe, shall come later, after we have dealt with the enemy
inside this building." Stalking forward as he spoke, he brandished his
Crozius wildly as though he would hit Ezekial with it. "For now you will
follow my orders, else you will tread the path of damnation with your
insurrection, and no one will be able to save you. Marines, let your revenge
be felt by the enemy." With a last long glare, he led the men into the tunnel
after the attacker. Leading the way, he incanted the Litany of Retribution,
thereby reminding all who could hear him of the Dark Angels' determination.
   Ezekial remained standing where he was, shaking with the enormity of his
decision. He had gone against a Chaplain's orders, based on nothing more than
his own presumption. If his faith was his shield, then at that moment he was
defenseless. Still his duty to his men was strong, and he could not allow
them to walk into a trap alone. He tried to make his thoughts known, but the
Chaplain's Litany covered all his attempts. Instead he simply fell into place
behind them, hurrying to keep up, praying silently to the Emperor for
forgiveness. Vicconius barrelled ahead, chasing what he obviously believed to
be the fleeing figure.
   Again, they had not gone far when the Litany was suddenly blanked out by a
wall of static. Instantly throwing himself aside -- having fully expected the
attack -- Ezekial missed the brunt of the assault. A huge explosion roared
in their center, casting two Marines aside like rag dolls. Sudden gunfire
erupted from the side this time, not the front as it had before; he felt a
jolt as something solid collided with him as it passed, and he realized with
a start that he had been wounded after all. His suit's autosystems were
fighting to keep the pain down, pumping drugs into his body to stem the flow
of blood.
   The mysterious black-suited figure had waited, probably in a side alcove,
for the Marines to follow, then had struck as they were half way along.
Bursting out, he had triggered a grenade in their midst, spraying the rest
with boltgun fire to further confuse them, before charging back down the hall
the way he had come. On his way, he had collided with Ezekial -- who had
dodged the attack since he had anticipated it -- but he had still been able
to wound him in spite of everything. Somehow the attacker had penetrated his
armor in that split second of contact, striking exactly at its weaker points.
Only someone well-versed in the use of power armor would know such things,
and in a flash of insight Ezekial thought he knew what they were facing.
   When the jamming finally receded, he heard the other Marines regrouping.
One of them saw him and cried out, "Brother-Sergeant Ezekiel is down." For
all his stern talk, Vicconius was the first at his side, examining the damage
to his armor. Ezekial tried to speak, to convey his knowledge, but the
Chaplain quieted him.
   "Be silent, Ezekial," he commanded rather gently, "conserve your strength.
It will please you to know that Brothers Cepheus and Laertes died a clean
death, fighting the Emperor's enemies." He paused, then continued, "I think
perhaps you were given command of a squad too early in your training. You
have poisoned your men with your questions and your caution. My faith
protects me, my devotion is my strength; the Emperor's will is my salvation.
I still live, while you are wounded and your squad dies. Think well on this
lesson, whilst I track down and destroy our foe." He stood up, making ready
to leave. "Brother Lucius, Brother Gabriel, purge your souls of doubt. Use
this moment to bless your weapons, that they may fire true in your time of
need. _In extremis, fidelis._"
   Ezekial felt the pain washing away as the drugs filled his system; he was
wounded more gravely than he thought if so many drugs were being used. His
mind was clouded, too, but he remembered what he needed to say. "Be wary,
Chaplain. I fear we face a Traitor."
   Though spoken softly, the words grabbed Vicconius' attention instantly.
"Traitor?" he hissed. "How can you know what we face, Brother-Sergeant? He
has not shown himself to us for more than a moment."
   Ezekial struggled to clear his thoughts. "He wounded me with but a touch,
Vicconius. How could some mindless abhuman breach this armor, blessed by
yourself only four days ago? He must, then, be familiar with our holy
protection, enough to be able to penetrate it so easily. Who else but a
Traitor Marine could know such secrets?"
   The Interrogator-Chaplain hesitated before replying. Ezekial could tell he
was weighing the warning versus his earlier behavior. Surely even the
Chaplain would heed him, with the evidence bleeding in front of him!
   "You may be right, Brother Sergeant," Vicconius finally answered. "But it
is immaterial now. His tricks are known to us, and the next kill we be ours.
The purity of my faith shall purify these halls." With that, he took the
remainder of Ezekial's squad and left, tracking the attacker back the way
they had come.
   Ezekial's feeble protests were lost on their retreating backs. Instead, he
lay in the dark, harboring his strength as his body's enhanced healing
ability combined with the pain-suppressing drugs to restore him to at least
a semblance of health. He would go after the Chaplain and his men when he was
able, but for now all he could do was wait, listening to their echoing
footsteps fade away. After a time, even the echoes disappeared until all that
remained was the rhythmic sound of his breathing.
   Then, without any warning, explosions rang out far down the hall, and he
knew he had waited too long. The chatter of gunfire spattered among the
reverberations, becoming one long continuous noise of killing. Gradually the
sounds died out, just as Ezekial knew the lives of his men were dying out as
well. Many long agonizing seconds later, silence reigned again.
   The Sergeant wrenched off his helmet, feeling suffocated by its closeness.
Gasping for air, he wept openly from guilt and shame, grief and anger at
losing his men and Brothers -- a thousand conflicting emotions raged through
him, tearing him apart. His faith was shattered, his men were dead, and the
shame was unbearable.
   From so far down inside despair, he didn't at first notice the shuffling
noises coming up the corridor. Gradually getting louder, he finally heard
them over his anguish. Instantly decades of training took over, suppressing
his emotions, priming him for battle. The sudden thought that it was the
attacker made bright anger flare up in him. The idea that Vicconius had
prevailed was, traitor-like, not even in his thoughts. He, Ezekial, would
kill this betrayer of the Imperium, thereby avenging all his past failures.
When the rest of the Dark Angels finally controlled this planet, they would
find him here, dead from his wounds no doubt, but with the dead Traitor at
his feet! Then would the Emperor smile upon him again.

[continued in Part VIII]>
Received on Fri Jul 11 1997 - 02:50:55 UTC