Brother Hrothgar clears his thoughts, still struggling to recall what he is forgetting about the xenos pheromones.
Surveying the inner yard and judging by the looks of things, the Tyranid host that attacked the bunker simply forced their way through the solitary gate in the razor-wire fence.
Or opened it somehow.
There is little obvious damage to the gate structure except that caused by the bolter fire.
Hrothgar plods through the razorwire trusting his armor to be proof against such obstacles. He slashes the tyranid carcasses for good measure.
He reaches the door to the bunker and nudges it to see if it is locked.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-12
10 meters south of Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Security Bunker
241.817.M41
Brother Emeric's Chrono Reading: [3:45:11]
"I copy."
Brother Quintus acknowledges the techmarine's transmission and then returns his attention to the matter at hand. As he and the remainder of the team advance on the security bunker's southern fencing, he begins to take in the extent of the carnage relayed to him by Brother Hrothgar who still crouches near the open gate, on point. The lifeless, eviscerated bodies of no fewer than a dozen convict laborers in their bright orange environment suits lay strewn around the inner yard. Dispersed chaotically among these remains are the foul carcasses of the enemy; dark, tannish carapaces mottled with sickly hues of vibrant orange, overlong chitinous limbs, and thorny protrusions betraying their unspeakable anatomy.
Brother Quintus feels an upwelling of righteous hate as he casts his augmented vision over them, not needing to glance at the scrolling display of identifying text his auto senses display.
Hormagaunts, Termagants, even Shrikes...it seems the doom of this world is proceeding apace.
His memory hearkens back to the campaign against Hive Fleet Behemoth, and trailing worlds like Iducide and Montmozante II that were lost to the inexorable tide of the swarm. Something about the tableau before him stirs his memory further still...
Quintus watches as Brother Hrothgar reaches up with his power armored gloves and begins to tear a breach in the razor-wire fence about ten meters south of the main gate. The countermeasure now seems flimsy when confronted with a determined Astartes, and The Space Wolf makes short work of the obstacle, slipping sideways through the tear with a grace that belies his heavily armored form. The unconventional, abrupt, and violent means of entry rankles the Codex-loyal Ultramarine somewhat, but it is not Brother Hrothgar's impetuousness that stirs a wary doubt in the Kill-team leader.
It comes to him in a flash, his superhuman memory piercing through the haze of intervening decades like a monoblade through flesh, the recall is instant and the clarity of the recollection immediately displaying its obvious parallels to the one in which the squad finds itself in now.
It was early morning on Macragge, the wan light slanting in over the ice-blue moraines of Genachet glacier and his battle-group found itself inspecting the forward defensive bunkers during the initial incursion by Tyranid mycetic spores. One particular defensive emplacement manned by Auxilia, had not responded to vox-hail on arrival, and Quintus' group spearheaded the reconnaissance through the bunker to find out why. Inside, the entire bunker was filled with a scene out of an abattoir, PDF forces torn to shreds by a host of vanguard organisms that had been strangely drawn to the elaborately hidden complex. While the swarm had moved on after overcoming the defenders, the xenos abomination that had drawn them there with it potent pheromones had not. During the chaotic fighting that followed, his brethren that fell that day, like he, had no name for the skulking xenos at the time, it was only later, when the Hive Fleet had been defeated and driven away did the post campaign debriefings give it a designation:
'Lictor'
For Rook
Brother Hrothgar, still unable to shake the instinctual sense that something is not quite right, slides through the gap in the torn fencing. Scanning the immediate environs of the security bunker yard, he sees no obvious source for the sense of peril he feels.
We will follow Brother Hrothgar, with him still at point. covering him, and loooking out for ambushes.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-12
Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Comm Uplink Tower
241.817.M41
Brother Emeric's Chrono Reading: [3:45:01]
With a grating squeal of half-frozen hydraulics and a rapid-fire chatter of binary utterances, a pair of hulking figures, fully a meter taller than each of the Deathwatch marines, emerge from the arched opening at the base of the Comm Uplink tower. Vaguely simian in their crouched postures, they still tower over the Battle-Brothers, their once-human flesh encased in thick plates of augmetic armor painted in the scuffed, bright yellow color favored for construction equipment since time immemorial. They move with the brutally slow but efficient gait of walking tanks toward the trio of space marines, aggressively spinning up the adamantine drills, toothy chain blades, and industrial grinders implanted in their triple-jointed arms, all while their servo-claws clack together in brutal anticipation.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-12
10 meters west of Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Security Bunker
241.817.M41
Brother Quintus' Chrono Reading: [3:45:00]
The quartet of marines stop before the squat, hexagonally-shaped prefab Munitorium security bunker, further progress barred by the massive, deadlocked bulkhead doors. The matte black paint covering the entire structure is scored gray in places by the constant erosive effect of Tantalus' powerful storms. No other obvious means of ingress is visible on the outside of the building, the absence of any windows offset by strategically placed pict-corders spaced around the perimeter of the roof-line.
"Brothers, stand down. I may be able to override their programming."
I direct a burst of binary code at the servitors:
<<+++001011010110100010011110101101100110100101010100101+++>>
<<378643 SERVITOR ATTACK PROTOCOL OVERRIDE 01011010>>
<<RUN IDENTIFICATION SUBROUTINE 43B09ED8>>
<<EXLOADING EXECUTABLE FILE+++TARGET ACQUISITION PROTOCOLS>>
<<EXLOADING DATA+++IDENTIFICATION FRIENDLY BIOFORMS>>
<<+++ATTACK MODE OFF+++ENGAGE SENTRY MODE+++>>>
<<AUTHORIZING+++0101011101101001010111011011000101010001+++>>
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-12
Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Comm Uplink Tower
241.817.M41
Brother Emeric's Chrono Reading: [3:45:01]
Breaking radio silence."Emeric do we have override codes for these servitors."
The door to the bunker not budging, Hrothgar decides that the use of krak grenades is called for. He takes one and looks at the other mischievously. "Wanna hear a big boom?"
"Is there a problem?"
"Is there a problem?"
"You can say that...there are servitors coming out of the tower and they are attacking. You should start seeing them from around the tower now." I start backing up but hold my fire until Emeric gets a response from the noises he is making at the servitors... or the servitors start attacking in earnest.
"Neutralize them quietly if you can, gunfire tends to carry."
Before considering Hrothgars option, I look to see if the pict corders have any power to them.
If so I will move my hand back, and forth to see if I can get the pict corders to follow. If so then I know someone is looking at a display screen on the other side, and they should have quieter means of opening the door than us expending a grenade.
Is there a vox unit mounted into the exterior wall to call inside?
I make a supplication to the Omnissiah hoping that the servitors might still obey my binary countermand. I cull my cranial circuitry for files on industrial servitor schematics, specifically searching for any weak points on which to concentrate fire.
With my bolter I take a half-round to take steady, accurate aim at the nearest servitor.
I make a supplication to the Omnissiah hoping that the servitors might still obey my binary countermand. I cull my cranial circuitry for files on industrial servitor schematics, specifically searching for any weak points on which to concentrate fire.
d100
With my bolter I take a half-round to take steady, accurate aim at the nearest servitor.
Brother Emeric watches as the brutish servitors storm out of the arched doorway at the base of the Comm Uplink tower, one following the other, hunching their enormous shoulders just to fit through the three meter high opening. With a discordant buzz of activating chainblades and the throaty whine of diamantine tipped mining drills, they lumber forward toward Brother Caledonii, vat-grown muscles bulging under their bright-yellow, promethium-stained, armor plating.
The techmarine's binary countermand, the correct one for industrial servitor override, is ignored. It is clear to him that the servitors have had their combat subroutines locked in, likely to defend the Comm Array from all comers. A second failed attempt verifies that their logic circuits have likely been fused or otherwise rendered inaccessible.
As Brother Emeric steadies his bolter, he considers what might be the best method to cripple an industrial servitor, his mind working with the calm, clinically detached acumen of a tech-priest.
The techmarine recalls that industrial servitors, due to their enormous size and unparalleled strength, are highly dangerous opponents when press into melee combat. Their armor is also extraordinarily thick for a servitor, designed to resist kinetic damage from mine cave-ins, the heat of powerful acids and solvents, and the backwash of industrial-grade excavating lasers. Their chief disadvantage is that they are ponderously slow, and do no mount any ranged armaments, even of the improvised variety.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-12
Main Entry Bulkhead of Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Security Bunker
241.817.M41
Brother Quintus' Chrono Reading: [3:44:49]
Before considering Hrothgar's option, I look to see if the pict corders have any power to them.
If so I will move my hand back, and forth to see if I can get the pict corders to follow. If so then I know someone is looking at a display screen on the other side, and they should have quieter means of opening the door than us expending a grenade.
Is there a vox unit mounted into the exterior wall to call inside?
From all outward appearances the pict-corders are still receiving power, as evidenced by the dull green lumen indicators mounted above their black, bug-eye lenses.
Moving your gauntlet-clad hand back and forth before the nearest pair above the door, you note that neither swivels or otherwise moves in their snow-covered housings to follow your movement.
The librarian examines the area around the door and finds the grill and keypad of an intercom vox-speaker. A splash of frozen blood, shaped like a grisly exclamation point stains the panel.
Cursing to himself as the cracking thump of bolter rounds echoes across the steppe, Eli raises his heavy bolter and thumbs the selector switch to full auto. Depressing the trigger, he sends a fusillade of bolter shells into one of the approaching servitors.
Drawing his rifle with practiced ease, Eli instinctively lines up the sights and fires into the servitor's fleshy hide.
Ed: Forgot that Full Auto gives you +20.
I push the keypad to active the vox unit.
"This is Lyriel Vex of the Death Watch please respond."
By the Omnissiah, these rebellious machines will pay.
I feel the pull of Ferocitas who wishes to charge the servitors but that would be rash. Over the bead I warn my brothers, "Maintain distance. Do not engage in melee. Armor-piercing rounds recommended." Following my own advice I switch the fire selector and rack a kraken round into the breech.
I will take the entire round to make a full aim and apply the bonus next round.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-12
Main Entry Bulkhead of Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Security Bunker
241.817.M41
Brother Quintus' Chrono Reading: [3:44:21]
I push the keypad to active the vox unit.
"This is Lyriel Vex of the Death Watch please respond."
Nothing.
Silence.
Just as Brother Vex begins to turn away to confer with the Ultramarine, a hiss of crackling static sounds over the vox-grill. It lasts for several seconds, but no voice speaks from the other side.
With a hollow, gong-like sound the hydraulic risers on the reinforced bulkhead shudder to life. The rime of ice coating the bloodstained door cracks and shatters as it slowly lifts up into the hollow above it.
Inside the bunker no light shines, the large room beyond is pitch black.
"Well that is that." Hrothgar stows the krak grenade and returns to his sword and pistol combo. "It's a trap. I just now it."
Show yourself, my pretty.
By the Omnissiah, these rebellious machines will pay.
I feel the pull of Ferocitas who wishes to charge the servitors but that would be rash. Over the bead I warn my brothers, "Maintain distance. Do not engage in melee. Armor-piercing rounds recommended." Following my own advice I switch the fire selector and rack a kraken round into the breech.
I will take the entire round to make a full aim and apply the bonus next round.
"I will take point. Unless any of you object?"
I will attempt to once again try to use my Telepathy. Someone has to be here, otherwise the door wouldn't have opened.
"We should be wary. This would be an opportune time for Hrothgar's friend to make an appearance."
"We'll take point, Vex."
"Well that is that." Hrothgar stows the krak grenade and returns to his sword and pistol combo. "It's a trap. I just now it."
1d100
Show yourself, my pretty.
1d100
Brother Hrothgar almost reluctantly replaces the grenade in his webbing, and then turns to peer past Brother Vex into the bunker. Almost instantly, his auto senses adjust to the darkness.
Inside the single, large hexagonal room that comprises the Pyroclast-Gamma-9 security bunker is a seen of utter carnage, an abattoir of dismembered bodies outfitted in the uniforms of Departmento Munitorum enforcers. Blood and gore splatter the ring-like command console in the center of the room, splashed across both the surveillance pict-screens suspended from the ceiling above and the cogitator displays overturned on the desktop. Weapons lockers and other storage cabinets ring the planes of the walls, doors hanging open, their contents strewn about the floor. There is a faint crackle, as of an open vox-link coming from the right-hand side of the command console.
I enter into the darkness cautiously. Seeing the carnage I would be a fool to let my guard down.
"The tyranid is a chameleon." Hrothgar points his boltpistol in the direction where he saw tail. "The enemy is beneath us."
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-12
Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Comm Uplink Tower
241.817.M41
Brother Emeric's Chrono Reading: [3:44:50]
Even at this distance, Brother Syne's keen eyes aided by his auto senses can see that there is very little margin for error for his shot with the needle-rifle. As powerful as the Astartes sniping weapon is, if he hits anything but the moribund flesh of the servitor the round will likely prove harmless, so thick is its armor.
Sighting down the weapon and taking careful aim at the patch of flesh near the neck coupling of the first servitor to emerge, he fires. The rifle's gas-dampened bafflers hiss with a barely audible puff of air, and the Dark Angel inclines his head slightly to follow the shot.
His aim could not be better, and the crystalline shard punches through the thick, rubberized plastek collar at the giant automaton's neck.
The huge servitor's head barely twitches with the impact, and it continues on, unabated, charging for the marine's position as its counterpart rushes toward Brother Caledonii.
"I was not aware that such a creature exists within the Hive Mind to understand human speech, or operate our machinery Hrothgar. Are you certain it was of flesh, and not of metal that which you saw?"
The servitors diverge from one another as they exit the entrance to the Comm Uplink tower, one rushing toward Brother Caledonii, and the other charging in the direction of Brother Syne. Even at full speed, they cover the ground slowly but inexorably, the thickly-spiked soles of their armored boots crunching through the thick ice and easily finding purchase as a result of their great mass.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-12
Inside the Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Security Bunker
241.817.M41
Brother Quintus' Chrono Reading: [3:44:01]
I enter into the darkness cautiously. Seeing the carnage I would be a fool to let my guard down.
Awareness Test (1d100=22)
1d100
1d100
As the Battle-Brothers confer over what the Space Wolf has seen, both detect something over their auto sense array's auditory pick-ups. They both stop speaking and turn their heads in the direction of the bunker entrance.
From outside comes the syncopating rhythm of scores of clacking, crab-like legs clattering across the frozen tundra. The sound grows louder and louder as the seconds pass, whatever it is, it is heading directly for your position in the bunker.
"Neutralize them quietly if you can, gunfire tends to carry."
With my augmented senses I see the rubberized burst from the neck of the servitor. Magnificent shot but the massive automaton plunges ahead. The Dark Angel hopes to maintain a minimal presence but I am unsure he can bring down these twin metallic beasts with only his sniper rifle.
Over the microbead, "Brother Eli, shall I check fire?"
"Neutralize them quietly if you can, gunfire tends to carry."Over the microbead, "Brother Eli, shall I check fire?"
"Well I am not. I have seen what these things do to damaged Land Raiders to fix them. I am not letting them get that close.And seeing your near perfect shot with that needler most things would have dropped if it had less armor plating."
With that I quickly draw the krak grenades from their resting place on my hip and throw them as the servitors advance.
over the microbead "Boss its likely to get lively shortly We have 2 rogue servitors that we are having to be put down."
Hrothgar points his boltpistol at the entrance, an explosive welcome awaits any hostile intruder.
"Well I am not."
The noise from the concussive explosion echoes through the storm. My finger squeezes the trigger, So much for subtlety...
"For Russ and the Allfather!!!!"
Brother Sepheren raises his bolter. They're going to have to fight their way in now, that much is certain. The question is, how much will they lose?
"I suggest taking a defensive stand inside the bunker, and funnel them inside. Use there numbers against them. We need to find Hrothgar's chameleon before the swarm makes it to our position."
"The chameleon calls to its brethren in an effort to trap and surround us."
"Brother Sepheren, hold them, you can. Yes?"
Hrothgar looks for what appears to be the control to the bunker door.
Now, Eli takes the time to curse under his breath. Steeling himself, he squeezes off another shot at the servitor. The needle bounces harmlessly off the servitor, bringing more curses to his lips.
"They are too slow to catch us, the threat was negligible."
"Well I am not. I have seen what these things do to damaged Land Raiders to fix them. I am not letting them get that close.And seeing your near perfect shot with that needler most things would have dropped if it had less armor plating."
With that I quickly draw the krak grenades from their resting place on my hip and throw them as the servitors advance.
Brother Caledonii reverses direction quickly, backpedaling over the uneven ground. He reaches into his webbing and lobs a krak grenade underhand toward the advancing servitors.
The grenade slips as it leaves Brother Caledonii's frost-coated gauntlet, landing short of the servitor and then skidding off the ground and spinning to the left, before exploding with a concentrated concussive blast that showers the brutish automatons with fragments of detonated shale.
"Hold them at the door! It shall be our bulwark!"