Awakening (Completed)

Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim, dark future there is only war.

Awakening (Completed)

Postby Bod the inquisitor » Sun Oct 02, 2011 11:19 pm

This particular piece got stalled because of the open window submission and another project I’ve been working on. It contains something new for me as a writer and I have to admit, I struggled with it, still not sure if I’ve managed to carry it off. Well I hope you enjoy it :D

Part 1 of 4

***

The figure striding down the corridor filled the dark space, not only with his hefty armoured bulk, but with an air of unshakable confidence. It was not arrogance that exuded from him; it was experience radiating from his every move like the summer sun. His size meant he barely fit in the cramped long corridor. The distinctive noise of metal scrapping stone occasionally broke the enveloping silence in the dark confined space. Though the noise was hardly noticed by the man, he was staring so intently at the weak light at the corridor's far end. A finger restlessly stroking the trigger of the heavy gun he held; the weapons muzzle was pointed unwaveringly straight down the corridor. It spoke of an implicit intent to deal death to anything foolish enough to appear within that light.

A bright flash of angry orange light surrounded the figure. It was instantly followed by an intense roaring; reminiscent of a huge rock filled land slide crashing down a mountain side; then darkness.

All the man could feel were massive heavy objects that slammed into him, battering him, until he lost the battle to stay upright and fell to the floor. A heavy weight smashed into his chest pinning him in place. His breathing became heavy, laced with pain. His arms and legs no longer responded; he could feel them, just not move them. He did not know if they were simply trapped or broken. The man felt like he was sinking, like he was disappearing into a thick, glutinous, warm liquid. It made the sounds around him grow faint, until they disappeared completely taking all the man's conscious thoughts with them.

***

A faint indistinct sound wormed its way into the man's mind, dragging him back into consciousness. A feeling of unease filled him. Until he realised that lung crushing weight was no longer there, no longer squeezing the life giving air from his lungs. He tried to open his eyes but failed, something was preventing him. The effort of such a slight action caused an eruption of dizziness to sweep through his mind; it threatened to push him back into unconsciousness.

More faint sounds filled his ears again and he focused on them, using them as an anchor in his fight to stay conscious. He realised the noises were voices and they appeared to be coming closer. They were confusing and slightly disturbing, though at first the man could not tell why; until a moment later he understood. They spoke a language that was alien to him. Then a single word leapt out of the confusion of sounds: sedation. Before he could grasp its true meaning, that treacle like darkness with its thick enveloping silence swamped his mind. He slipped back into unconsciousness.

***

An indistinct voice crackled in the man's ear as he entered the dark corridor with a faint feeble light emanating from the far end. He felt strong and fit and confusion blossomed in his thoughts at the sudden change in his condition. Until he grasped the truth, this was a dream. However, this realisation brought him little comfort, for it raised the question was he dreaming of past events or was this all a trick? A simple fantasy conjured by his subconscious mind.
The man's dream self entered the corridor, its walls were made of a smooth dark grey stone like substance. Despite the darkness he could see no interruptions to that surface. No sign of doorways or other intersecting corridors. Then movement drew his attention to the far end as indistinct shapes crossed the weak light. His sharp eyes picked out the distinctive shape of weapons held close to each strange figure. He counted three of the armed shapes but felt no fear at being out numbered, just a quiet inner confidence.

Then he became aware of a familiar shape and weight in his own hands and looking down he found exactly what he had expected to find there; a heavy brutal looking gun. Yet, strangely he could not remember its name, despite the familiarity of the weapon. Turning the guns muzzle on the faint light, he willed the strange figures to reappear, knowing if they did his gun would readily sing its song of death.

Before he could take another step angry orange light exploded around him, followed by that same roaring rumbling sound of rocks tumbling across rocks. A realisation dawned on the man as heavy weights once again slammed into him. He was having the same dream as before. What he desperately wanted to know was whether this was a fantasy conjured by his dream mind or a memory being replayed through his dreams. The question ran through his mind as the all encompassing darkness took him once again.

***

As before the sound of voices drew the man from his sleep, voices that spoke a strange tongue that just seemed wrong to the man; though he could not say why. They made him uneasy not just because he could not understand them, but because of the way they sounded, unnatural, alien.
“I told you this is highly advanced, unpredictable to a large extent. I wish it were otherwise” said a voice, this time in a language the man recognised, though it had a strange lilt to it.
“Well considering the new information would you like to reassess your earlier prediction?” this voice also had a tone that told him the language was not the speaker's natural tongue. Though he was unsure exactly how he knew that.
“It’s hard to say this is so advanced very advanced. I'm having to increase the dose to maintain sedation. I expected adaption but not quite at this speed, it's phenomenal.”
“Yes, yes as expected but how long before we can move to the next stage?” asked the second voice. The man thought he detected a slight hint of impatience, but with the strange alien tone he could not be sure.
“If you're going to push I'd say anywhere between one to three days, his body is healing well, as expected extremely fast. Sorry I can't be any more precise than that.”
“Then we will have to be ready to move or wait, it is all we can do.”

Then a door slammed shut, terminating the conversation.

The man lay immobile, he had little choice, and he still could not move his limbs, if he had any limbs. They had only said he was healing well, not what his injuries were. The man found it strange that he did not feel any panic or fear at this thought. Surely he should, but before he could dwell on the subject that all too familiar warm sticky darkness rose up to claim him. This time he fought back, trying to stay conscious, but it was not a battle he could win, yet. Though even as he lost the fight he took some comfort in the fact this was a drug induced sleep and not some personal physical frailty; for some reason that mattered to him.
Last edited by Bod the inquisitor on Wed Oct 19, 2011 10:58 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Ordos: Lectorformator

Enter my children,
Enter and join the betrayed,
Enter and leave the light,
Enter and forever join the ranks of the damned.

My latest effort: Useful Adversaries and Heart’s desire

Stories from my past
User avatar
Bod the inquisitor
 
Posts: 457
Joined: Thu Mar 03, 2011 9:54 pm


Re: Awakening

Postby Bod the inquisitor » Thu Oct 06, 2011 11:05 pm

While working on this I've decided to split it up into four bits not three, should make easier reading. Well I hope its will.

Part 2 of 4

***

The man woke again and immediately noticed a difference to the last time. This time he could move his fingers and toes, it encouraged him to try and open his eyes. Though he almost regretted trying as bright white light flooded his vision; it was strong enough that it hurt. Yet his eyes seemed to compensate with surprising speed and the pain disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Above him was a white ceiling with four half metre long strip lights. By the shape of the ceiling he guessed the room was square, with each side five metres in length. He lay in a bed halfway along one side, tight against the wall, wrapped in crisp white sheets. Lined up against the wall opposite the man's bed were three trolleys packed with assorted equipment. The wall to the left was empty of any furnishings; while the right wall had a door and a large blacked out window. The door was slightly ajar.

“An hour you said it's just as well I came early is it not,” said a disembodied voice drifting out from behind the door. The man recognised it as one of those he had heard earlier; with its stilted speech.

“Well yes, his physiology never ceases to amaze,” replied the first voice from earlier.

The man focused on the door willing it to disappear, he desperately wanted to catch a glimpse of those that spoke. Then, to his surprise he got his desire, the door opened and three figures walked into the room. In the middle was a short creature with close cropped brown hair and glasses on an otherwise unremarkable pale pink skinned face, which was set in a look of apprehension.

He could not quite put his finger on why, but the two tall strange creatures with the shorter one appeared wrong, unnatural, ethereal, to the man. They had the right shape, yet the gray blue leathery appearance of their skin certainly did not make the man feel comfortable. Neither did their faces, which were flat with wide round eyes and no visible nose. Their eyes were deep black in colour which also did not seem right to the man. Their smell which was distinct, acrid even, compared to the smaller pinked skinned creatures sweet floral smell, also set the man’s teeth on edge.

Both the shorter creature in the middle and the odd creature on his right wore long black robes that were tight around the wrists and neck. That also seemed strange to the man. It just felt wrong that the two, obviously different creatures were wearing the same clothing; like it was against the natural order of things. The other tall creature wore a long brown robe that had baggier sleeves. It was the only way the man could tell the tall creatures apart.

As he mulled over his feelings of unease a question came at him from the depths of his mind. Surely he should know these creatures, he should know their races? For some reason he felt some small kinship with the shorter one, they had the same skin colour, though the man had only seen his own hands. He was not sure if that was enough to go by; could one tell kinship by skin colour alone? Did that mean he was of the same race as the shorter creature, what was that race? A single word came to him, human, though he was not sure exactly what it meant. Was it a race of people, was he human, and were any of these creatures human? It was the short creature in the middle who most reminded the man of the word; he decided it must be a human.

The human stepped forward, holding its hands up palms out.

“Please, you're safe you're okay now, you were injured. It was not serious and your recovering, I know this must be confusing,” he said.

Cautiously the man sat up, expecting a bout of dizziness to hit him, but none came. He tried to speak, but all he could manage was a deep rumbling croak.

The human walked hesitantly around the man's bed to a table, he lifted a bottle unscrewed its cap before handing it to the man.

“Water, you've been asleep a long time your throat is probably dry,” said the human.

Reaching out to take the offered bottle, the man noticed his hand was massive in comparison to the little humans. So much so he could easily grasp the figures head in one hand. He struggled to hold the bottle, which looked so big in the short human's hand. Eventually he managed to hold it and take a couple of hesitant sips of the water, it tasted pure, clean, refreshing.

As the cool water slid down his dry throat the man took a moment to glance at his body and saw a muscular physique. Scars laced the muscles; some were old faded with age, while others were still red and angry, fresh. It seemed like the body of a warrior and a veteran, if the number of scars were any measure of such things. That felt right to the man. He was a strong powerful warrior, feared by his enemies and loved by those he protected. A flash back from his dream leapt to the fore front of his mind and he realised that the dream could really be something from his past after all. Though it did make him wonder just who and what he was and who he protected; surely not these strange blue skinned creatures that set his nerves on edge.

He realised there was only one way he would get answers to his many questions. Though something, some hidden instinct told him he should be cautious with this odd bunch.
“Where am I, who are you, how was I injured?” he said, surprised by the deep baritone voice that emerged from his mouth.

Contemplating the questions he would not ask, he suddenly realised that he did not even know his own name. It sent a jolt of apprehension through his stomach, but not fear. He wondered why he felt no fear, surely he should.

The blue skinned creature wearing the brown robe stepped forward and reached out to touch the man's arm. The man instinctively moved back, away from the reaching hand even before contact was made. The word unclean sprung out of his subconscious mind. Hesitantly the strange figure withdrew its hand, its face still set in the same impassive look it had worn since entering the room.

“You were injured upon a mission I sent you on my son; I am ashamed to say that while you were bravely carrying out that mission your warrior brothers mutinied. When they could not turn you they tried to kill you. They mined a building and when you entered blew it up,” said the figure, clearly not used to the tongue it spoke.

The odd creature cocked its head for a moment watching the man. He knew it was looking for a reaction but the man was determined he would show none. It felt like the right thing to do.

“Um, I feel to blame; it was me that sent you on the mission. We had thought you dead but when we recovered your body we were delighted to find out you were not. You're injuries were severe but we made you to be tough and tough you have proven to be.” Again the creature paused cocking its head while it watched the man for a moment. “However, you took a considerable blow to the head, even for one such as you; I am told that your memory may well be disrupted. I will tell you what little I know about those events,” said the creature pausing for a moment to study the man's reaction again. “We brought you home, this is the facility you and your brothers were created in, trained in.”

“What do you mean created?” interrupted the man.

“You are, were, a member of an elite fighting unit created by the alliance of Tau and human science: you are our child, our son, a warrior borne. Now you must rest, your training will begin again tomorrow. It is time for you to return to the fight, return to being a true warrior of the Greater Good.” replied the creature a strange look on its face. The man thought it was hesitation. But these creatures, these Tau if that was what they were, were just so alien to him he just could not be sure.

The man was not so caught up in his own thoughts that he missed the quick almost imperceptible glance between the Tau: before they turned without another word and left the room. It just added to the man's confusion and apprehension, it felt totally alien to him. The whole situation just seemed unnatural, but the reason he felt that way eluded him. Something within prevented him from asking anyone here, why he felt that way.

“I know it's all confusing right now but we hope your full memory will return with time, though of course it may not. Please try to rest, tomorrow will be a busy day,” said the little human before turning to leave.

“One thing, who am I? I mean what's my name?” asked the man, unable to contain the question any longer.

The human stopped and turned to look at the man a slightly hesitant look upon his face.

“Your name, yes of course part of the amnesia, your name is Syander, you chose it yourself,” he replied before turning and hurrying out of the room.

“Syander, Syander,” said the man, repeating the name several more times. It, like everything else at the moment, just did not quite feel right.
Last edited by Bod the inquisitor on Thu Oct 13, 2011 11:29 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Ordos: Lectorformator

Enter my children,
Enter and join the betrayed,
Enter and leave the light,
Enter and forever join the ranks of the damned.

My latest effort: Useful Adversaries and Heart’s desire

Stories from my past
User avatar
Bod the inquisitor
 
Posts: 457
Joined: Thu Mar 03, 2011 9:54 pm


Re: Awakening

Postby Bod the inquisitor » Thu Oct 13, 2011 11:29 pm

Part 3 of 4

***


Syander rolled over; despite the darkness in the room he could clearly pick out both the window and the door. Part of him expected this, but another part found it intriguing and begged the question; was his ability to see so well in the dark conditions normal? He was certain the Tau could not see so well in the dark. Every time they came into his room they switched on the lights. Why would they do that if they did not need them, as he appeared not to need them?

It was one of many questions that cycled through his mind, keeping him awake. Endlessly his mind tumbled over the questions without finding any answers to them. He was becoming more and more frustrated. There were so many things he just did not know and so much of what he did know, just did not feel right to him. The more he thought about it the more he knew he was right, there was something wrong, something abnormal about this whole situation. Though no matter how many times he mulled over that particular question, he just could not quite put his finger on what it was. He had realised it had something to do with the strange Tau creatures, something to do with their presence. It did not quite make sense; they said they were his masters that they had made him. Also the human had shown them respect even deference, indicating they were the masters within the relationship. It just did not make sense to him, that he felt wary of them, for them to seem so wrong to him. Even more puzzling was that his mistrust of the strange Tau actually felt right.

Syander watched as the door opened. He could hear heavy footsteps from behind the door, alongside an odd metallic squeaking sound. Lights burst into life, filling the room with strong white light, which Syander's eyes adjusted to instantly.

An armoured warrior stepped into the room encased in plates of armour that covered the soldier's body. They rested upon a heavy duty fabric overall. The left shoulder guard was larger and more elongated than its counterpart covering the right shoulder; both were deep red in colour. A strange sigil, painted in black, marked the chest and elongated shoulder guard. On the warriors left hip sat a holstered pistol. As the warrior was not wearing a helmet Syander could see it was one of the strange Tau creatures. The warrior walked confidently into the room, staring at Syander intently.

“Ah your awake I see,” said the warrior in a voice that was clearly used to command, used to having its orders followed. “They tell me you're well enough to train. They tell me you're willing; personally I think it's a mistake.”

Even with the Tau's alien aspect, Syander could sense some tension in the creatures face and stance. He could not tell if it was anger or fear, but it was clear the Tau warrior did not want to be in the room.

“Very well bring it in, time is running,” said the Tau raising his voice.

That metallic squeak drifted in from the door way, just before a human in brown overalls pulling a large trolley appeared; a second human pushed the trolley from behind. Syander sat up, it was not the trolley itself that caught his attention, but what it carried.

A heavy brutal looking set of full body armour sat on shelves, large and chunky it was the complete opposite to that worn by the Tau warrior. Its surface was smooth though Syander could see that quite extensive repairs had been undertaken on the chest plate. He could see fresh paint had been applied to it. Painted in a strange colour scheme, quartered blue and bone white, it was a complete contrast to the pale yellow orange colour of the Tau's armour. The paldrons were larger than the Tau's with a rounded shape like a quarter of a ball. One thing that struck Syander was that he could see no helmet. Why not? It was yet another question to add to his growing list of questions. A heavy duty, rugged metallic pack sat on the trolleys lowest shelf, it had two rounded nozzle out-lets on the top two corners. Syander thought it was a power pack. If anyone had asked him why he thought that, he would not have been able to tell them. However, the cacophony of scents coming off the armour was familiar to Syander. In amongst them he could just about pick out his own smell. The smell of his perspiration from long hours of hard effort, cleaned out, but still there from repetitive reinforcement. This was his armour, of that he had no doubt.

Then another thought hit him as he stared at the armour, there were no markings. Surely his unit, his brothers; he corrected himself, former brothers, would have had unit markings to help distinguish themselves from each other upon the battlefield. The scaring on his body suggested he was a veteran, so where was his battle honours. Surely he had some? He was also confused as to why this armour was so different to the Tau's, why would he need such heavy duty armour? Armour that was built for the thickest of the fighting, for brutal frontal assaults, it was armour for shock troops. It raised yet another question, why did the suit not come with a helmet; that would be a weakness that would condemn many a warrior to his death in such combat.

As the question bounced around Syander's mind, his eyes fell upon a large heavy ferocious looking weapon. Instantly he recognised the gun as the one from his dreams, it was his weapon. Yet try as he might Syander just could not remember what the gun was called and that grated upon his nerves the most, he knew he should know that weapon. Just looking at it made his hands itch to hold it, to clean and tend to the weapons needs.

“These Skanak's are familiar with your armour and will help you put it on. They will then lead you to the tactical room. Be quick soldier,” said the Tau before turning and leaving the room.

Syander looked at the armour; he just hoped the Skanak's really did know how to put it on, because despite the familiarity he felt towards it, he was not sure if he could put it on by himself.

***

This time Syander knew he was dreaming, though he still could not be sure if it was just a dream or a memory. He hoped he would get more answers than questions this time.

His dream self was striding across a paved court yard with single storey warehouses on both his right and left. In front of him was a two storey building with four windows lining the top floor and a single door to the ground floor.

Syander knew he was wearing his armour and he knew without looking that he held his weapon in his hands, cocked and ready for action. He realised that he must be wearing some kind of helmet; information about his armour and surroundings scrolled across one corner of his vision. Also a small targeting reticule danced before his eyes looking for threats. The part of his mind that knew he was dreaming wondered where that helmet was in real life, what had happened to it? It was yet another question to add to the growing pile he already had.

The appearance of a figure in one of the windows on the top floor brought an instant reaction from Syander's dream self. It fired a short burst. A feeling of anger and intense disgust at the shadowy figure swept over Syander. It seemed like a natural reaction, but he did not know why that would be. Something innate to his being, a core belief told him; the figure was his enemy and deserved no pity, only death.

Just as the shells fired by his weapon reached the window the shadowy apparition disappeared from sight. Though Syander's dream self was unsure if it was because his fire had killed it, or it had managed to dodge the rounds. His dream self was determined to find out, to finish the job if need be. Increasing the length of its strides his dream self reached the doorway in short order.

Just as it was about to enter the tight portal a crackling in his ear drew his attention.
“Brother . . . No the Tau . . . building mined . . . Trap one . . .” said a voice that Syander knew well. One he was all too familiar with, but could not quite remember who it was. The part of his mind not immersed in the dream logged yet another question and the frustration he felt at the unanswered questions grew.

The dream Syander paused for a moment, but chose to ignore the crackling vox borne voice. Instead his dream self plunged into the dark portal, driving into the unknown darkness. It found the now all too familiar corridor, with its distant dimly lit exit. His mind, the non dreaming part, knew instantly what was to come and tried to stop it. It failed and watched helplessly; as that unwelcome familiar combination of light and noise flooded the corridor, with its inevitable consequence for Syander's dream self.

***

Syander snapped awake at the same point he always did, his frustration mounting higher and higher. The realisation he was missing some vital detail from the dream at the fore front of his frustration. He was now sure this was more than just a dream; it was a memory of the events leading up to his injury. Yet it also asked more questions, who was that figure in the upper floor window? Was the crackling vox message a warning and by whom? One thing Syander was sure about was that the figure in the window was an enemy, or he would not have fired. His training under the ever watchful gaze of the Tau had shown him he had excellent fire discipline and reactions. If there had been the slightest doubt he knew he would not have fired upon the mysterious figure.

Weariness settled over Syander, not one borne of physical tiredness, but one borne out of frustration. He had only slept in the hope he would have the dream again, hoping that this time it would provide some much needed answers. Instead he found himself with even more questions, even more reasons to ponder what he was and what he was meant to be.

It had been three days now since he had first donned his armour and he still had that strange uneasy feeling that something was wrong, that the situation was not normal for him. The dream had done nothing to alleviate his feelings; in fact it had only served to heighten them.

He was certain the vox voice was one of his so called traitorous comrades, it certainly felt like a familiar voice, one he would trust his very life to. One thing Syander was certain of was that the voice did not belong to the Tau commander. Even with the vox distortion, it clearly did not have that strange alien lilt to it. That and Syander knew he did not trust the Tau warrior. So was the voice carrying a warning about the Tau, or a message passed on from the Tau, both were possibilities?

The faint sound of armoured boots filtering through the door brought Syander out of his reverie, mere seconds before his room was flooded with bright white light. Then the door swung open and Syander knew it was once again time for him to go to the training arena.
Ordos: Lectorformator

Enter my children,
Enter and join the betrayed,
Enter and leave the light,
Enter and forever join the ranks of the damned.

My latest effort: Useful Adversaries and Heart’s desire

Stories from my past
User avatar
Bod the inquisitor
 
Posts: 457
Joined: Thu Mar 03, 2011 9:54 pm


Re: Awakening (Part 3 13/10/2011)

Postby Bod the inquisitor » Wed Oct 19, 2011 10:57 pm

And finally we get to the end, thanks for reading :D

Part 4 of 4
***

Syander walked into the largest training room with a broad smile despite himself. He knew from his past experience it was the largest of the many training rooms he had used. Though at one thousand square meters it was more a cavern than a room, he had yet to determine its height. It was dominated by single and two storey buildings forming a typical small human settlement, according to his Tau tutors.

Of all the different types of combat Syander had undertaken as part of his rehabilitation, urban combat was his favourite. The most intensive and testing form of fighting; it required him to concentrate with all his considerable senses.

As he had come to expect Kais Mont'yr, his Tau commander was standing beside a tall weapons trolley; tended by the same two Skanak's that always helped Syander with his armour and weapons. He ran a practiced eye over the trolley looking for the two weapons he already knew he would choose, even before hearing the mission brief. The heavy saw toothed shin'sow sword and the compact balo wundo pistol. Part of his training was to select the most appropriate weapons from the trolley for each mission. In his experience there were few urban missions that were not suited to these two weapons, they were ideal for the cramped conditions of urban combat. Syander did not like the names the Tau used for the two weapons, like much of the whole situation; they just did not feel right. Though he realised he had little option but to accept things for the moment. At least until his memory returned; then he would get answers to all his questions. For now he would concentrate on the impending training mission, giving it his whole undivided attention.

The Tau commander nodded a curt greeting before launching into the mission brief. As with all his training so far it would be an infiltration mission to find and destroy a specific target; or in this case targets. He welcomed any chance to test and hone his skills, but he was becoming frustrated with the monotony of the infiltration missions, even though they were in varying terrains.

Syander stepped up to the weapons trolley and selected the pistol and sword. Just as he had expected he would, he added several frag grenades to increase his fire power. They could prove useful in the confined spaces of the buildings. After stowing the disc like grenades he pulled the magazine and checked its load: before firmly slamming it back home, working the slide, chambering the first round. He then mag locked the weapon to his left thigh before taking three spare magazines for the powerful pistol and stowing them in pouches at his waist. Taking up the shin'so sword he activated the weapons motor to test it was fully functional. The swords motor screamed its high pitched wine as it spun the saw toothed chain around.

With little ceremony, other than a brief nod to Kais Mont'yr, Syander turned and set off at a jog.

***

Syander stood in the shadows of the small alley. Showing consummate skill, he had chosen the exact spot where, despite his massive size, he would be all but invisible to anything more than a determined observer. He stood stock still like a dead tree, listening for any sign of movement in the back garden of the shop he had chosen. If his calculations were correct, the shops upper storey would afford him a clear view of the square at the villages centre.

He had only been in the village for a few minutes, but had already attacked and destroyed two hard points he could not have by passed easily. The occupying forces had proven to be little opposition to his advance. Especially their feeble patrols, which had singularly failed to locate him, despite his attacks. He hoped the forces guarding the target bunker would prove more of a challenge than he had met so far. Though he was not confidant they would.

Deciding the garden was unoccupied Syander moved slowly, to minimise the noise his armour made. Stepping over to the gardens back entrance he tried the door, it proved to be unlocked.

As he stepped through the cramped entrance a relative storm of las bolts slammed into the wall around him. A distinctive sharp crack was quickly followed by the smell of burning stone filled his senses. Syander reacted even before the last sizzling energy bolt had struck home. Spinning he dropped to one knee, pistol raised, he already knew where his target was before he had completed half the manoeuvre. The very instant his pistol came on target he fired, unleashing three rounds at the enemy trooper in the upper storey window of the house immediately behind the shop. His target dropped from view. The trooper's rifle fell out of the window, tumbling end over end. He was up and through the garden gate before the weapon hit the floor. In three great strides across the garden, he reached the shops back door.

Moving to one side he narrowly avoided another storm of las fire. They left behind an oddly beautiful lattice of holes in the wooden door, each with blackened edges. It wasn't the first time Syander had seen such beauty in the after effects of war; he found it strange that such a destructive activity could on occasion, be so creative and beautiful.

Reluctantly he shattered the beautiful art work of war with a power full kick, as he primed a frag grenade. He paused briefly before he threw the active grenade into the hall way beyond. It exploded with a loud roar and blinding flash that kicked up an eruption of dust with lethal chunks of the grenades casing mixed in.

Syander rushed the hall way even before the deadly after effects of the exploding grenade had died down. He trusted his armour to protect him. Lying in the debris were the shattered remains of three mechanical dummies. Their machine innards had spilled out of their ruptured bodies, like some macabre mechanical parody of organic life. Unlike those soft innards the machine parts crunched under Syander's heavy armoured boots. The sound broke the odd parody for Syander. Even though he could not exactly remember the sound; he knew real organic organs and flesh would have made a different one.

The warrior found and quickly climbed the stairs leading to the upper floor. His massive armoured feet barely fit the steps, yet he never stumbled. Reaching the top of the stairs he moved straight into a back room over to the window, to check if he was being followed. Standing stock still he watched, searching the alley for any sign of movement. Finally, satisfied nothing was following him, he turned and moved to one of the front rooms, in the hope he could observe the village square.

He was not disappointed; the window gave him a clear unobstructed view of the square and his ultimate target, a heavy squat bunker which sat in the centre of the square. The presence of heavy weapon emplacements on each corner of the bunker was not a surprise. Positioned as they were no one could approach the bunker without coming under fire from at least two of the sandbag protected emplacements. He had expected some kind of defensive emplacements, though they would have been more difficult to deal with if they had been on the bunkers roof. Or better yet, for the defenders, if there had also been emplacements on the roof.

Sizing up the distance Syander quickly realised the emplacements were within his throwing range. It would have been a different matter entirely if they had been on the bunkers roof. Seeing no reason to delay his attack he turned and moved off heading back down to the ground level. Taking four grenades he mag-locked them into pairs. It did not take him long to reach the front of the shop and without pause he marched through the door fracturing the plexiglass into a thousand pieces that rang and chimed as they bounced off his armour on their way to the ground.

He launched first one, then the second, pair of grenades. They sailed high into the air before beginning their descent, finally disappearing down behind the sand bag walls of the two closest emplacements. They exploded within a fraction of a second of each other, enveloping the two weapon pits in a mini fire storm laced with razor sharp shards of metal. The explosions obliterated the two emplacements, turning them into smoking piles of mangled metal and smouldering material.

Syander had started his dash across the square before the two bundles of grenades had even started their descent. His great looping strides ate up the distance as he randomly twisted and turned changing his angle of approach. He was only three metres away from the bunkers dark entrance when las rounds started buzzing around him. They kicked up little chunks of burnt rockcrete as they impacted; not one hit his armour, the erratic path proving its worth, disrupting the aim of his attackers.

As he raced across the last few metres he primed another grenade then threw it with unerring accuracy into the bunkers entrance. It exploded a mere second before Syander chased it into the darkness, again putting his trust in his armour to keep him safe from the lethal after effects of the explosion.

His eyes adjusted to the dust filled gloom almost instantly and he saw four hulking figures, each as large as himself. Yet he did not fire, something stopped him firing his weapon, something held his arm, preventing it from striking out with his buzzing sword. The figures all wore armour like his: even painted in the same colours. Then a difference leapt out at him as he studied the figures. On the chest of each sat what Syander thought was a magnificent carving of a double headed eagle. It filled the entire breast plate; its wing tips lost around each figures side, it was so big. They also had a twelve pointed star that haloed a jaw less skull adorning their left paldrons.

Both symbols seemed familiar to Syander. He looked down at his own chest plate, at the flat unadorned surface. Unconsciously he mag-locked the balo wundo to his armour and began stroking the fresh paint that covered his own chest plate. A sense of loss grew slowly in him, as he realised he should have the same sigil upon his chest, a sigil that he had once worn with pride.

Suddenly a memory leapt out at Syander. A crowded hall, battle banners depicting glorious victory in battle, lining each side. The floor space filled with figures wearing the same armour, proudly baring the same sigils as those before him; with not a single Tau in sight.

“My brothers one and all,” he whispered, realising this was his home.

That realisation felt right, felt better than anything he had been told by the Tau. It triggered a storm of memories, of training and fighting with his comrades. Fighting in countless engagements against numerous enemies of all descriptions, of brothers lost in battle. Finally a name came leaping out of the confusion of memories that swarmed through the warrior's mind.

“Jingan,” he said as he lifted his arms into the air, almost touching the cramped bunkers ceiling. “I am Astartes; I am one of the Emperors chosen. I am an Angel of Death,” he yelled into the dusty darkness around him. “I am a Novamarine,” he whispered as he lowered his arms.

The sound of armoured boots on rockcrete intruded on Jingan's thoughts and he swung around, snatching his pistol from its resting place. The weapon's true name leapt out of the tempest of memories that swirled through his thoughts, bolt pistol. Three fully armed, armoured Tau warriors entered the bunker.

Jingan’s bolt pistol roared.
“Speak not unto the alien,” he shouted in unison with the powerful voice of the bolt pistol. “Listen not to the alien,” he yelled even louder a moment before the pistol spoke its song of death two more times. “Look not upon the alien,” he said as the three shattered bloody xenos corpses fell to the floor.

As he looked upon the dead Tau warriors he finally felt like himself: like this was his true place in the galaxy. The very purpose for which he was created; to kill and destroy the enemies of the Emperor, to wipe the galaxy clean of heretics and aliens alike. Feeling better than he had since first waking up in this benighted place, Jingan strode out of the bunker. Not even sparing the dead Tau a cursory glance as he stepped over their ruined bloody remains.

Emerging from the bunker he found five more Tau warriors waiting for him. Forming a rough semi circle, they each held their weapons levelled at him. He did not give them a chance to fire; instead he attacked with lightening speed.

A short burst from his bolt pistol brought one Tau warrior down in a tangle of arms and legs. A second had his left shoulder shattered by two bolt rounds that slammed into the thick shoulder plate. They failed to penetrate the tough armour, but did punch deep dents into the plate, before rebounding off in random directions. The alien fell to the floor dropping its weapon. Jingan was upon the creature in moments, one armoured boot crashing down upon the unfortunate alien's chest. Servo's wined as he exerted all the pressure he could muster. The creatures armour resisted for a second then gave way and Jingan felt the soft innards pulping under the enormous pressure. Even as he crushed the life from the alien beneath his boot, he twisted at the waist and fired upon a third Tau. He missed, but caused the Tau to shift position, putting its aim off for a fraction of a second.

Finally, feeling life fleeing from the Tau warrior beneath his boot Jingan turned and leapt at a third warrior. He thrust his chain sword, point first into the creature’s chest. Its armour proving little defence against the adamanitium teeth. The alien jerked and jinked as the vibrating blade dug deeper into its body. It was like some macabre marionette puppet dance. Small bloody chunks of flesh were spat out as the chain sword ripped and tore its way deeper into the alien's body. Jingan waved the tip of the deadly chain blade about, dicing even more of the Tau’s innards for good measure, before he ripped the weapon free.

Just in time he turned as a wild shot from one of the two remaining Tau sliced passed his left paldron. The warrior was backing off as it fired, the movement disrupting its aim. Jingan did not give the xenos a second chance, a twist of his wrist and he fired his own bolt pistol. Three bolts exploded almost simultaneously creating a near deafening blast which all but vaporised the creature's torso. Chunks of its armour flew out of a rapidly expanding pale purple cloud tinted with blue.

The final alien turned and ran for its life. Evidently it had decided it did not want to face the furious avenging angel before it. Jingan gave chase and in four great strides he was upon the frail little alien. A powerful over head strike brought the whirling teeth of his heavy chain sword down upon the top of the fleeing aliens head. The creature's helm proved useless, driven by Jingan's rage and frustration at the xenos trickery, the churning blade sliced down through the head and neck into the alien’s body. He withdrew the blade, flicking it to dislodge the bits of alien flesh and bone that had stuck to it.

The ground beneath Jingan's feet shook and a heavy thud washed over him. Spinning around he found a Tau battlesuit had landed three metres away and a smile totally divorced from mirth split his lips for a mere second. He knew this was going to be a true challenge and he welcomed it as one worthy of being a Novamarine. He charged: chain sword held high, bolt pistol singing its deadly song.


Thanks for reading. If you want to know a wee secret about this little piece than just drop me a note and I'll tell all ;)
Ordos: Lectorformator

Enter my children,
Enter and join the betrayed,
Enter and leave the light,
Enter and forever join the ranks of the damned.

My latest effort: Useful Adversaries and Heart’s desire

Stories from my past
User avatar
Bod the inquisitor
 
Posts: 457
Joined: Thu Mar 03, 2011 9:54 pm


Return to Board index

Return to Warhammer 40,000

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest