"The departure of the shrike is unlikely a tactical withdrawal or feint. These xenos are direct and brutal. They would have attacked had they seen us. We should move and move quickly."
d100
As Brother Emeric watches the shrikes disappear into the grey, leaden air to the west, swallowed by the swirling snowfall, he feels certain that they have sensed prey of some kind. Voicing his concerns, he finds Brother Quintus concurs. It is impossible to say just what their prey is, however.
As we embark I activate the vox again, attempting to direct a tight-beam, high-frequency broadcast West-North-West through the storm towards the estimated position of the central control facility.
Tech-Use (45)
<<Calling Magos Vyakai, Magos Vyakai, come in. This is Kill-Team Umbra, Deathwatch, over. Repeat, Magos Vyakai, come in.>>
In the span of a second I broadcast a more detailed message in binary code:
<<Data Communion Adjuration: Vyakai, Magos Biologis, Adeptus Mechanicus>>
<<Data Communion Suppliant: Emeric,Techmarine, Chamber Militant, Ordo Xenos, His Holy Inquisition>>
<<Query: Location/Status, Datacore Xenos, Bioform Vyakai>>
<<Primary Objective: Extraction of Datacore Xenos>>
<<Secondary Objective: Extraction of Vyakai, Magos Biologis>>
<<Identification Deathwatch Kill-Team Umbra: Ultramarine Quintus, Devastator, designation team leader; Storm Warden Caledonii, Tactical Marine; Dark Angel Eli Syne, Devastator; Black Templar Emeric, Techmarine; Space Wolf Hrothgar, Assault Marine; Dark Angel Lyriel Vex, Librarian.>>
<<Ultimatum: Thunderhawk extraction from Communication-Tower plateau (76.24642395766811°, -94.21875°), [2:55:32] to zero-hour, complete planetary infestation by xenos-horriblis.>>
<<Requested: Confirmation data reception>>
<<1101101101010101010110001011010101010100>>
I direct the same message toward other refinery facilities and then once more at central control.
There is no reply to the verbal message broadcast by Brother Emeric on the vox-caster, only the static-filled hiss of the open connection.
Disappointed that the high ground offered by the steep rise didn't offer any advantage, and blaming the interference of the storm, the techmarine makes to re-secure the device to his webbing, but freezes in place when there is sharp squeal of binary from the receiver linked to his helmet.
The message is heavily encrypted, and totally indecipherable, but it is immediately clear to the Black Templar that it is identical to the signal hidden in the Mago's repeating distress call from the Comm Uplink Array.
The only difference is that it has been sent in real-time, from somewhere to the west. The techmarine hurries to try and triangulate the signal using cartographic data.
As Brother Emeric begins to explain his discovery, the rest of Kill-team Umbra's attention is suddenly drawn to the motor pool compound, six helmets of black metal simultaneously swiveling to follow the all too familiar sound of explosive bolter fire coming from inside the walls.
I thought I finally puzzled out how to vox-cast through this accursed storm. Disappointed my message apparently went unheard, I replace the caster within my back-frame.
<<+++BRZZZZZKKKKSHHHHHHH---BVVVVVVZZZZSSSHHHHHHHHHKKKKKKKK+++>>
Blood of the Omnissiah! There it is again! I attempt to decipher the sacred code.
Over the bead to my Battle-Brothers, "Receiving message... attempting source triangulating... Coming somewhere from the west..."
Whaa... Bolter Fire? Where?
"Bolter fire! The xenos are still being resisted! Come on!"
"Hold, intervening now will draw the swarm's attention. The Mago's signal comes from the west, he is our objective."
"I can't believe I am hearing this! The Emperor's divine light shines upon all his subjects! Should we, His Angels, deny them protection?"
"Battle-leader, I am moving to engage! Come follow me!"
As much as I would like to agree with Hrothgar's stance deep down I know he is wrong in his recklessness. Lives while valuable can not be put over the mission.
"I disagree Hrothgar. If we can hear the bolter fire then so can every Tyranid creature in ear shot. The only advantage we have is team work, and using what defenses the terrain provides us for an advantage. Running out into the open does only harm."
"Everyone on this world has been consigned to death. Keeping to the mission, and completing it will save more lives than this reckless action you take."
The staccato chatter of near continuous solid projectile automatic fire follows the throaty roar of the bolter. With the wind-driven snow and sleet it is impossible to see just what is occurring in the walled motor pool compound from this distance. It appears that wherever the shrikes flew off to, they are too far away now to hear the tumult, as they do not immediately return.
The encrypted code matches that same message from the com-tower console that my cranial-circuitry is deciphering. The decoding program should be completed *cogitation* circa 14.53 minutes from now. Blast my too sullied flesh. We need this information now!
While narrowing the source-location of the real-time data-squirt, I make other calculations...*cogitating*...
"Evidence indicates by a significant margin that the Magos and data-core lay to the west. Brother Hrothgar's appeal, although rash, is not without merit. I cannot state with complete certitude as to the location of the Magos. I admit there is marginal possibility, albeit remote, that the disturbance we now hear is directed by Vyakai."
"Brother Hrothgar, to use one of your many gambling phrases, perhaps we should 'hedge our bets' and split up again. Some might attempt closer reconnaissance of the motor pool. However I must follow the dictates of logic and probability and investigate the data-transmission source with all due haste."
"I agree with Brother Lyriel. We will use the terrain to our advantage. Brother Hrothgar, I will let you choose one other to go on a scouting mission. No engagement unless no other recourse. If you find our target, contact the rest of us and we will retrieve him as a group."
Before the Apothecary can speak I make an entreaty, "Brother Sepheren, I strongly urge that you stay with the main team. From the Magos' untranslated binary data-stream I perceive a sense of severe pain. I fear the Magos may be grievously wounded and is in need of your ministrations."
"Brother Eli, you are an expert with reconnaissance and infiltration. Are you willing to accept this task? If not, Brother Caledonii you are the next best choice."
Before the Apothecary can speak I make an entreaty, "Brother Sepheren, I strongly urge that you stay with the main team. From the Magos' untranslated binary data-stream I perceive a sense of severe pain. I fear the Magos may be grievously wounded and is in need of your ministrations."
"Brother Eli, you are an expert with reconnaissance and infiltration. Are you willing to accept this task? If not, Brother Caledonii you are the next best choice."
"I agree with Brother Emeric, Brother Sepheren should stay with the group. I will go with you Brother Wolf as Brother Eli has the heavy bolter to help cover the team. I have a few rounds that would help us if we come up against groups of the weaker Tyrinid like the ones you faced at the bunker. I also have some that can take on the bigger kind as well."
With that I scan the field before us for any drifts that can cover our progress.
"Hrothgar, Caledonii, once I complete my triangulation of the data-stream source, I will attenuate the vox-caster towards the motor pool. I should pick-up transmissions sent from your helmet vox-beads."
"The Emperor protects."
"Very well, Cal, we go."
Hrothgar takes point, scanning the area for any hostiles.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Omicron-Upsilon-12
Main Gates, Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Motor Pool Compound
241.817.M41
Brother Hrothhgar's Estimated Time: [2:43:36]
Moving at a sprint, the Storm Warden and the Space Wolf race across the open ground between the hillock and the motor pool compound, even their heavy, cleated treads skidding a few times before digging into the sheen of ice glazing the uneven ground.
Swiveling their heads to and fro, scanning the sky around them for shrikes, and even occasionally turning fully around while jogging backwards, they are both relieved and somewhat surprised to the reach the high, ferrocrete outer wall of the compound without being detected by any of the Tyranid host.
Moving in single file over dark blue ice in the shadow of the western wall, they stealthily approach the tall vehicle gate. Reaching it, Brother Caledonii finds it stands partly ajar, the northernmost door opened outward by about a meter and a half, blocked by the accumulating snow that has gone unplowed. Diffuse light shines down from above from one of the gantry-rigs surmounting the wall.
Attuning their autosenses, the pair can still hear the crackle of small arms fire from within. Shouting voices, hoarse and angry, echo from within but it is impossible to determine exactly what they are saying over the gunfire and the roar of the wind outside.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-12
700 meters West/Southwest of the Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Motor Pool Compound
241.817.M41
Brother Quintus'/Brother Emeric's Synchronized Chrono Readings: [2:38:19]
Although loathe to divide the Kill-team again, Brother Quintus allows the Space Wolf and Storm Warden the opportunity to investigate the motor pool compound despite the inherent danger. At the very least he believes the pair may be able to find vehicular transport of some kind that will compensate for the slow going on foot caused by the powerful snowstorm. Plus, he did not wish to waste any more time than necessary on something as futile as arguing with Brother Hrothgar on a matter of honor.
In the end, it is the objective that matters, and if Brother Emeric's technomancy indicated that the Magos was somewhere to the west of them, that was where Kill-team Umbra was bound.
Running alongside and sometimes through the massive promethium pipe segments, the Battle-Brothers make good time, following the staggered, haphazardly stacked lengths of spare pipeline in a westerly direction until the drab, slate-gray walls of the pre-fab manufactorium that serves as the central locus of the pipe-farm is visible through the swirling snow to the south.
Coming to a halt without word or signal, the quintet of brother-marines can see thick, black smoke rising from something just past the next gentle slope of rutted, snow-covered ground. Surveying the frozen mud of the refinery field just ahead, they see a jagged scar in the ground that is starkly evident. It has left a scorched-black furrow in the broken earth extending for many meters to the southwest.
I crouch down and peak around the edge of the door quickly to get the "lay of the land."
Hrothgar draws his chainsword and boltpistol.
"See any worthy adversaries, Battle-Brother?"
Once we come within range of the downed shuttle, I make a survey of the area with my auger array and attempt to analyze for radiation, bio-forms, and the like.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-12
The Crash Site, 730 meters West/Southwest of the Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Motor Pool Compound
241.817.M41
Brother Quintus'/Brother Emeric's Synchronized Chrono Readings: [2:36:11]
While triangulating the signal, Brother Emeric is confused at first. The strength of the signal is fluctuating a great deal; momentarily strong, then, very weak for a significant lull before becoming stronger again. It is impossible to pin down the precise origin on the cartograph, but it appears the source is moving in a northerly direction, and is now just south of the primary refinery's central control complex.
The shuttle is putting out a steady radiation signature from its damaged reactor, but nothing that is not within the limits of even a normal man. There are no bio-readings to speak of.
Following the trench-like scar in the earth, it is not long before the Kill-team comes upon the broken body of the shuttlecraft itself. Once a mighty machine, the spearhead-shaped Kestral-class interplanetary lighter lies shattered against a rutted bank of earth ramped up by its crash-landing, its back broken and hull torn apart like paper. Despite the ruin of the wreckage, it is apparent that this ship's reactor and fuel lines did not rupture on impact, for otherwise there would be nothing left but a glowing crater. The doors in the rear armored prow compartment hang open where their emergency explosive bolts have been loosed for the occupants to escape, but there is no sign of them or any other life.
His voice grim and sardonic over the vox, Brother Sepheren states sarcastically,
"I'll check for survivors."
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Omicron-Upsilon-12
Main Gates, Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Motor Pool Compound
241.817.M41
Brother Hrothhgar's Estimated Time: [2:43:23]
Edging his helmeted head around the gap in the tall gates, Brother Caledonii looks inside the motor pool compound, keeping himself still and hidden.
Adjusting his auto-senses, he surveys a spacious inner yard, dimly illuminated by the few flickering, wall-mounted gantry lights still functioning. Reddish, lightning-brief flashes of las-fire and the white, explosive muzzle-flashes of automatic weapons fire punctuate the gloom, shooting toward what appears to be the southernmost of the massive vehicle hangars near the eastern wall. You can make out dozens of human figures spread out around an overturned land-hauler and a nearby mountain of junk scrap used for cover, all garbed in orange penitent jumpsuits or heavier environmental gear, laying down a fusillade of suppressive fire on the hole-filled doors of the building. You can hear the chugging, repetitive fire of at least two heavy stubbers chewing up the hangar, one is visible near the front end of the large scrap-pile, manned by a pair of the freed convicts. The other is nowhere to be seen, but from the sound of things, it is likely on the other side of the disabled land-hauler.
You count seven or eight corpses, all clad in orange coveralls with respirators, sprawled across the wide, snow-covered mud of the inner yard, and the bodies of at least two Tyranid shrikes.
Something is not right, however. You have never heard of suppressive fire such as this ever being successful against Tyranid vanguard organisms, or against any variety of Tyranid for that matter.
You quickly relay your findings by vox to Brother Hrothgar.
While Sepheren does his search for survivors I will take a quick scan of the shuttle.
...
Quietly over the bead, "No bio-forms registered. It looks clear."
As we approach the shuttle Brother Syne signals hold and takes the lead, scrutinizing the ice and snow for tell-tale tracks. Once he signals onward, I follow the apothecary and librarian into the shuttle. While my battle-brothers search the main hold, I move forward into the cockpit for signs of the pilots and to learn what befell this once fine craft.
Finding a graft-port I jack-in to access pilot-logs, vox-recordings, engine-readouts and the like, data-dumping them into my internal circuitry. Omnissiah, let not the sacrifice of Your ship be in vain. Help me save Your Magos. As the information downloads, a cursory scan will hopefully reveal anything important or relevant to the mission.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Omicron-Upsilon-12
Main Gates, Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Motor Pool Compound
241.817.M41
Brother Hrothhgar's Estimated Time: [2:43:23]
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-12
The Crash Site, 730 meters West/Southwest of the Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Motor Pool Compound
241.817.M41
Brother Quintus'/Brother Emeric's Synchronized Chrono Readings: [2:36:11]
Eli stoops and examines the tracks crisscrossing the ground around the downed lander.
I will keep on overwatch while the others search.
Hrothgar suspects the presence of Imperial troops so he opens his vox on a wide band and listens for any transmission that might be picked up....
While Sepheren does his search for survivors I will take a quick scan of the shuttle.
While Brother Vex and Brother Sepheren climb into the rear of the shuttle's ruptured hold, Brother Syne and Brother Sepheren begin a cautious circuit of the crash site. The Black Templar follows his battle-brothers inside, moving past them into the crumpled cockpit of the ruined craft.
Inside the spacious hold, windblown snow has begun to settle over everything, leaving the canted angle of the deck-plating slick and awkward for the marines to traverse in their powered armor. Hanging icicles form jagged curtains under each gaping hole in the hull and in the arch of some of the doorways. The pulverized, dismembered bodies of several servitors are found in the aft storage hold, the ice riming their grey-blue skin giving them the appearance of discarded mannequins.
Making his way to the cockpit, Brother Emeric finds the four crewmen, among them the pilot, where they all obviously died on impact. Where their blood sprayed out across the flight controls and cracked viewport, it is now gelid or frozen entirely, lending the entire macabre tableau an indistinctly unreal appearance, as if what the techmarine sees is actually a staged pict or realistic painting detailing the casualties of a shuttle crash. There is no doubt they are well and truly dead however, and their bodies are all rigidly frozen in place, harnessed in their crash-seats.
He moves to examine the control console. Already seeing where someone has liberally torn apart various components in the main drive cogitator and communications panel.
Carefully interpreting the various re-aligned jumpers and broadcast vox systems, it is obvious that someone, almost assuredly Magos Vyakai, has attempted to repurpose the communications system to boost its signal strength. The correct Rite of Anointing have been followed, but it looks like the expert jury-rigging only managed to tightbeam one message into orbit before burning out entirely. You have no doubt that it was the original message received by the Imperial Navy forces who subsequently reported their findings to Inquisitor Quist. Ironically enough, in an act of formality that perhaps only a servant of the Mechanicus would perform, the Rite of Extreme Unction was passed upon the wrecked shuttle, and all power to the subsystems and drives properly shut down before it was abandoned.
As Brother Syne makes a widening circuit around the ruined craft, Brother Sepheren follows just behind him glancing cursorily at each of the mangled servitors he finds.
While Brother Quintus provides vigilant overwatch from a higher slope near the craft, Brother Syne kneels down to examine something strange amid the chemical-thick mud, broken rock, and sleet-encrusted tundra. A viscid, dark black streak of liquid, in his opinion, likely a coolant fluid of some kind or non-freezing machine oil bled out from the shuttlecraft. As he moves to rise, Brother Sepheren sets his gauntlet down upon the Dark Angel's shoulder, shaking his head in the negative.
He kneels down and passes his gauntleted fingers over the smear, rubbing the substance between armored thumb and forefinger.
The Blood Angel makes an intrigued grunt over the vox, and turns to Brother Syne while pointing his stained fingers to the northwest.
"This is the blood of the Magos, there is no doubt. The black, oily color and failure of the plasma to freeze is indicative of highly processed autosanguinary refinement. It is clear he went in this direction, likely wounded in some way."
Looking down field a bit further, Brother Syne picks up the trail, seeing the tracks of at least three others. It seems the Magos was not the sole survivor of the crash, after all.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Omicron-Upsilon-12
Main Gates, Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Motor Pool Compound
241.817.M41
Brother Hrothhgar's Estimated Time: [2:42:53]
Crouching low to remain but a ghost in the shadow cast by the tall gate, Brother Caledonii watches as the orange-garbed men slowly advance under cover toward the ruined garage, the suppressing fire of the stubbers likely pinning whoever or whatever their adversary is inside. So distracted are they by their assault, they show no indication of seeing the Storm Warden.
One of the men shouts something that is unintelligible over the din of the weapons fire and the howl of the storm, but his arm signals are perfectly clear: a flanking action on the bullet-riddled hangar door form either side. The men tromping ahead through the ankle-deep snow at his command reach for krak grenades at their belts, to finish whatever it is they have started.
Brother Hrothgar sweeps through the refinery facility's designated vox channels, but finds no activity on any of the bands. He then dashes behind the door opposite Brother Caledonii, using it for concealment and cover, and gets his first look inside the compound.
With a direct vox communication I state "Well its your call but I am sure this is no 'Nid' would hold up in a hanger instead of ripping apart these penitents even with the heavy stubbers."
"I think I know how we can get their attention without drawing their fire."
Hrothgar ups his vox for a wide broadcast. "Hail the Emperor! This is the Deathwatch. Do you copy?"
"Let's see if they reply politely."
The Blood Angel makes an intrigued grunt over the vox, and turns to Brother Syne while pointing his stained fingers to the northwest.
My investigation complete, I exit the shuttle and see Brother Sepheren pointing northwest.
"Telemetry triangulation confirms priority objective headed towards refinery central control. Brothers, let our pursuit of the venerated data-core be marked with alacrity for we are instruments of the Emperor's will."
Cogitating the location of the motor pool, I cast a tight-beamed message to the others: <<Brothers Caledonii and Hrothgar, this is Emeric. Primary objective located at central control, approximately 500 meters, west-north-west of your position. We are moving there now. Join us post-haste.>>
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Omicron-Upsilon-12
Main Gates, Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Motor Pool Compound
241.817.M41
Brother Hrothhgar's Estimated Time: [2:30:13]
Just as Brother Hrothgar makes to announce he and Brother Caledonii's presence to the distracted penitents, an incoming vox transmission is received from Brother Emeric.
After the apothecary gives me an appraisal of the Magos' blood loss, I quickly send another message burst to Caledonii and Hrothgar:
<<Additional: the Magos is considerably wounded. Vehicular assistance may abet transportation to extraction point. Be advised.>>
"Hail the Emperor! This is the Deathwatch. Do you copy?"
Hrothgar waits for a reply to his hail.
"Brother-Leader, ready to move out on your signal."
"Hail the Emperor! This is the Deathwatch. Do you copy?"
Hrothgar waits for a reply to his hail.
Pivoting his body at an angle, while still partially braced against the open door, Brother Hrothgar activates the loud-hailer built into his helmet, his voice magnified ten-fold by the effect of the amplified vox. The greeting is loud, but the sound of the Space Wolf's voice still barely cuts through the roar of the storm and the din of weapons fire.
Brother Hrothgar is about to repeat his hail, when a pair of the orange-garbed penitents firing from the cover of the overturned land-hauler's front tire tilt their heads, their body language miming confusion even at this distance. Looking at one another curiously through their thick snow-masks and respirators, they abruptly cease their autogun's withering fire, looking this way and that for the source of the noise. Seeing nothing at first, the taller of the two on the left finally looks behind him to spy Brother Hrothgar crouched and leaning close to the open gate. He frantically taps the shoulder of his cohort, who spins around himself to see for himself.
You can hear his muffled shout of alarm with the benefit of your auto senses, watching as he reacts with surprise and obvious apprehension at what he must perceive as a new threat. Others among the band of armed convicts begin to notice as well, and the fire being poured upon the hangar begins to slacken somewhat as more and more turn to face you and Brother Caledonii. Finally, one of the environment suit garbed gunmen, his chest and arms reinforced with a salvaged flak vest, roars an unintelligible order to the others through his bulky, wraparound respirator, eyes nothing more than unreadable black ovals as glimpsed behind his helmet's snow-shades. The penitents open fire, many adjusting their positions to gain cover, the loader on one stubber team circling around quickly as his gunner swivels the sponson-mounted gun around to face the gate.
Apparently, these are not faithful servants of the Emperor.
"We will follow the direction of the blood."
Answering swiftly to the Deathwatch call "Hail the Emperor! with some relief The Emperor protects indeed and victory is measured in blood; yours or our enemy"
You can hear his muffled shout of alarm with the benefit of your auto senses, watching as he reacts with surprise and obvious apprehension at what he must perceive as a new threat. Others among the band of armed convicts begin to notice as well, and the fire being poured upon the hangar begins to slacken somewhat as more and more turn to face you and Brother Caledonii. Finally, one of the environment suit garbed gunmen, his chest and arms reinforced with a salvaged flak vest, roars an unintelligible order to the others through his bulky, wraparound respirator, eyes nothing more than unreadable black ovals as glimpsed behind his helmet's snow-shades. The penitents open fire, many adjusting their positions to gain cover, the loader on one stubber team circling around quickly as his gunner swivels the sponson-mounted gun around to face the gate.
Apparently, these are not faithful servants of the Emperor.
With the apparent disregard to our authority I take my bolter flip the to full auto and fire upon the heavy stubber team as they try to reposition the weapon.
Answering swiftly to the Deathwatch call "Hail the Emperor! with some relief The Emperor protects indeed and victory is measured in blood; yours or our enemy"
"Hail brother Marine, I did not know there was any other Adeptus Astartes on this rock."
"Hail brother Marine, I did not know there was any other Adeptus Astartes on this rock."
They see a marine in light gray power armor, armed with a combat shield bearing a tribal symbol and a sturdy spear.
"My brothers are dead in the service of the Emperor marine, at the hands of xenos filth, I'm what's left of squad Radiates and I will not go down with out a fight." after a brief pause "I'm Decius of the Iron Snakes, marines let's show them the rightful way of the Emperor so they are purified and cleansed of their sins"
"Well-met Decius. I am Hrothgar and I like the way you think when dealing with filth. Forward then for the glory of the Emperor."
Hrothgar moves to a flanking position, creating a triangle with Decius as the lead point.