Fighting With Faith- Forty-Fourth Entry

Master Cultist Barnel watched in disposed sympathy as his adjutant slumped to the floor. His head lolled awkwardly to one side, blood pooling out the other.

The reason for his death was simple: The supposedly strategic deployment of the Carnifexes had failed- a whole company of Asat Guardsmen now rampages the Generatorium!

How incompetent! How foolish! Barnel snapped to himself after his third execution within the hour. He sighed inwardly, casting his gaze across the sea of swarming figures. Running, scuttling, hobbling about. The battle had turned for the worse.

Yes, that damn Titan may be down and out, but its demise was not brought in good time. It had taken down along with it at least a third of the walls, along with many other artillery and ammunition emplacements. Cultist squads, Tyranid broods and mutant bands now fought aimlessly through blasted corridors and overrun hangers. Still, those Chimeras kept coming; disgorging troops by the hundreds and pummeling through fortified and barricaded positions by its own means.

Damn those Imperials! To hell and back!

“Massster…” Barnel’s trusted assistant, Kaweit, hissed from behind.

Barnel turned, to be confronted with his brood-kin.

“Enemies in the Generatorium must be denied entry…we must do sssomething…” Kaweit added, before turning his attention to a cultist.

Barnel hesitated. Never once in his glorious life had he been faced with such dire consequences! What if he failed? No, he will not- he must not fail! The Hive Mind overwhelms all eventually.

Finally regaining his thoughts, Barnel commanded, “Alert all available forces within a two hundred metre radius to fall back to the Generatorium. Including whatsoever available Biovore or Carnifex broods. We shall counterattack from the Generatorium.”

Kaweit nodded obediently and strode away, efficiently relaying the orders to the rest of the forces on the battlefield to his lesser adjutants.

“Kaweit…” Barnel called.

The grim face of his brood-kin stared back, expression well tuned to the tense atmosphere.

“We go into battle once more in the name of the Hive Mind.”

“Covering fire down the hallway!” An unknown person yelled down the cramped and debris strewn corridor, of which Starut still recognised as a fellow cultist.

Reacting from training and experience, Starut leaned out of the doorway, along with the rest of his squad as they took positions along the lengths of the corridor and trained their weapons on the stairwell door.

Glow globes hung suspended on shuddering ceilings, oscillating wildly about its position, casting erratic hues of dim and wild, bright light in the corridor.

From where Starut was, through the shifting haze of yellowish glow globe lights, he could vaguely make out several figures of Asat Guardsmen and cultists engaged in brutal close combat. Other figures emerged from doorways along the corridor, similarly training their weapons at the mêlée unfolding at the stairwell.

Upon seeing backup, a cultist yelled for his squad to fall back from the mêlée, snake crawling over corpses and rubble as bullets and lasbeams whizzed above them.

Starut began to open fire, gesturing for the rest of his surviving squad to do the same. Within the first minute, at least a dozen of the unfortunately exposed Asat Guardsmen were shot down; bullets and needles impacting against their feeble body armour, blowing thick chunks of flesh and muscle off their bodies.

Blood spurted onto walls, floor, and even onto the Tyranid horrors that leapt onto them from behind, through some unseen vent that they were crawling through for an ambush.

Seeing that this minor skirmish was won, Starut leaned back into the room and studied the Biovores that were still obediently firing load after load of Spore Mines into the dwindling enemy convoys. It was then he realised how badly wounded they were.

Numerous cuts, gashes and even bullet holes were visible on their hides and carapaces. Try as he might, Starut couldn’t bear to ignore such pain and agony the Biovores must be enduring at the very moment while they dedicatedly carried out their orders

As though answering his plea, Shaolsen’s radio crackled to life. Starut leaned forward, eager to hear whatever was about to be broadcast.

At first, unmistakable static permeated the radio broadcast. Starut grimaced, giving Shaolsen a frown before turning his attention swiftly back to the radio as a voice came through the static.

“…to the Generatorium immediately. Repeat, all units within two hundred metres of the Generatorium are to fall back to the Generatorium through chamber one to six. Units assigned with broods are to take extreme caution to ensure the minimum, if not nil causality of their brood. Life unto the Hive Mind.”

As though in response, a massive detonation blasted down the corridor, sending bodies, rubble and shards of deadly shrapnel flying through the air. Several bits ricocheted off walls, spinning haphazardly into the tight confines of the room Starut was in.

A thin, unnoticeable blade whizzed past Starut, drawing a thin line of blood out of his right cheek even before he could react to the pain.

As though on cue, a mighty war cry rose down the corridor, echoed by hundreds of others throughout the warehouse, and on the blasted landscape around the warehouse.

Starut listened intently, his throbbing eardrums still trying to recover from the blast.

A minute passed, then two. His hearing now returned to normal, Starut recoiled in horror at what he heard.

The Guardsmen were storming the warehouse, and they were coming for him.

Fighting With Faith- Forty-Third Entry

Benlian lay on his stomach as he snake-crawled his way through the musky and dark interiors of the conduit. Queer, alien smelling ichor dripped its way through unseen vents and holes on the surrounding walls, giving off uneasy splashing sounds as it landed into puddles on the base.

The conduits had shrunk from standing height, to doubling over, to crawling level as they progressed through the network of bizarre tunnels. Tiny organisms scuttled past every few steps, along with mild reverberations of the ongoing battle beyond the tunnel.

No one had spoken since they begun crawling. They were concentrating on their arduous trek and the surroundings. Sweat trickled down Benlian’s face as he turned to acknowledge a tug on his sleeve from Arthelp. The torch on the barrel of Benlian’s lasgun illuminated Arthelp’s similarly strained face. Black ichor and grime shone off his face as he said spoke.

“Ben, one of the scouts of Kennil’s voicing his concern over the rising heat signatures detected on his…uh, detector.”

Wiping the sweat and slime off his sweat slicked face, Benlian said, “Is it coming from up ahead?”

Benlian thought as he waited for Arthelp to pass the message down the line of crouched soldiers. These tunnels they were in were abandoned maintenance tunnels; the route they’re on now being servitor-accessible passages. Aside from the tiny, harmless organisms scuttling about them, what else could have been emitting heat?

“Ben,” Arthelp’s voice snapped him out of his pondering. “He says… it’s coming from beyond these walls.” he said, he himself also surprised at the answer.

Benlian’s mind raced. What monstrous entity must be around them now to emit that much heat, even detectable through the thick walls of the conduits?

Suddenly, before being able to give an answer, a section several metres in front of Benlian was ripped open. Bright, blinding light poured into the gloom of the tunnel. Gasps of astonishment and surprises came from the soldiers as they sought to shield their eyes from the dazzling light.

A mighty, bestial roar ensued the screeching of metal as the hole was tore wider. Several similar roars followed the first as soon as the tunnel was tipped forward, sending the soldiers of Bel Company spiraling down and out of the tunnel, into a sea of snapping claws and whipping tails.

Benlian landed on his back on his backpack, glad that training instincts had taken a hold on him as he fell through the air flailing. Several others fell similarly, with minimal injury from the short fall. Stratile landed beside him, gasping from shock.

Benlian got up and looked wildly at his surroundings. It was nothing he had seen before. The stench, the sight and the aura that pervaded the chamber they were in was repulsive in the most extreme.

Carcasses of an assortment of human, animal and even Tyranid lay strewn about the gore splattered circular chamber. Several still writhed and pulsed, unwilling to face death.

A soldier behind Benlian vomited as he witnessed the scene.

Large shadows loomed over Benlian and his splayed squad, causing them to look up.

On first sight, the things appeared apologetic, tilting its head to a side and sniffing the new visitors through its thin and slimy nose slits. They was huge, nearly three metres tall and heavily muscled and plated with chitin armour. Long and deadly looking blades grew from their limbs, coated thick with blood. They then turned away and faced each other, as though communicating in an unseen manner before raising their heads to roar in unison, shaking the very bones of the soldiers.

Yes, the monsters were communicating, but they were not going to kill in unison. They were hungry.

“GET COVER!” Benlian yelled as the monsters began charging at them, head- butting each other to get to their prey first. He managed to jump out of the way of one as it barreled past him, mouth wide open.

Benlian was running for his life to notice the slightest stench of the horrible smell that came from its mouth.

Screams, shrieks and roars ensued the monsters’ charge as it smashed into the ragged line of Asat Guardsmen. Several had fired upon the monsters, with little effect. Small chunks of flesh tore off from the thick hides of the monsters.

“BENLIAN! OVER HERE!” Kennil bellowed as Benlian leapt away just in time to avoid being smashed to pulp by another Carnifex.

Benlian turned, seeing Kennil and several other soldiers huddled against a wall. Kennil was looking at Benlian earnestly, beckoning him over.

Benlian began to sprint; jumping over corpses and carcasses, there was no difference. A Carnifex shrieked past him, a limb sliced neatly off as blood pooled out of it. The ragged sound of lasguns firing had increased in volume as the soldiers had taken up defensive positions, forming a firebase behind two massive pillars where Kennil was.

“Ben, take a look at this.” Kennil said as Benlian came close enough to hear.

Benlian leaned forward, studying a panel. It was caked in dried blood. Upon closer inspection, Benlian could make out several words above the panel, along with obscured lights beneath the veil of dried blood. It was a control panel.

“What’s it say?” Kennil asked urgently.

“Gen...Gene...Generatorium. Generatorium!” Benlian exclaimed as he immediately began prying the layer of dried blood off, to Kennil’s extreme distaste as he himself helped.

A rune glowed, which Benlian absent mindedly punched. A klaxon rang throughout the chamber, causing even the Carnifexes to pause and glare around in fury.

A door along the wall to the right of the panel grinded open, rising from the floor to reveal an even larger chamber, its ends unseen, beyond. Large, hydraulic pistons and machinery clanked and toiled around the chamber, with an eerie hue of green cast over it.

“MEN- GET THROUGH THAT!” Benlian bellowed as the Carnifexes regained their composure and charged straight to their fleeing prey.