Fighting With Faith- Forty-sixth Entry

The tapping came again. Then stopped. It came again suddenly, and stopped as sudden. It came and went. It appeared to be part of the buzzing background at first, but soon became an irritant.

“Will you stop that?” snapped Commissar Alphaues Leetol as he turned away from a pile of blueprints of the warehouse and glanced vehemently at the source of the irritation. It was his second in command, Staff Sergeant Loughe.

Snapped out his trance, Staff Sergeant Loughe knew better then to stop.

Loughe stood up, straightening his posture and uniform. He cleared his throat as sweat beaded his face.

“My apologies Commissar. I must have drifted into a ponderous moment as I waited for the response from the assault elements and Titan Azrael. Both have not hailed our call.” Loughe replied, concern etched into every inch of his face.

Commissar Leetol, dressed in his peak-toped cap and attire, sat as silent as a tomb as he contemplated the odds. Abjax, who was several metres away in the corner of the room reviewing reports, sensed the Commissar’s silence and strode to his side.

“Abjax, what are the latest of the companies that are to assault the Generatorium? From what I hear, the other insertion groups aren’t holding up that well. The Generatorium insertion group must get their job done now.” Leetol urged impatiently, glancing at his aide.

“Commissar, we have lost twelve percent of our overall force in the assault’s initial phase, however it is to note that twenty-two companies of the Generatorium’s insertion group have entered the Generatorium and have reported sightings of enemy elements.” Abjax replied, calm and coherent.

Leetol nodded, settling back into his seat and leaned over to Loughe.

“Commissar, there are confirmed sightings of Master Cultist Barnel and Kaweit in the Generatorium. The enemy forces there are tripled of what we expected.” Loughe coughed out, barely containing his horror at the finding.

Leetol stood up, clearing his throat, drawing the attention of everyone else in the command centre.

“Men of Asat, the moment of victory is at hand. The enemy offers us a blade to their head. We are to seize it. Mobolise the reserve companies- I go to battle.”




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Three hundred metres…

Benlian gulped, forcing down the lump in his throat. He shivered involuntarily at the sight of the leaping Tyranid creatures. The mutants that followed were no better.

Although feeling the rising urge to turn and run, Benlian knew he had been trained for this. Looking across his squad mates and the rest of the company, Benlian suddenly felt a spark of pride. These were his friends, his men, his soldiers. They had went through perilous trials together and emerged united.

Already nearly all twenty-five pre-designated companies were present, which Benlian was grateful for.

Let them come, and let us smite them. Benlian intoned a silent prayer to himself.

“Target!” Benlian yelled to his squad. There was no use whispering now: The shambling mutants were howling in a chorus of depraved voices for fresh meat to eat and the Tyranids were shrieking at intolerable decibels that resounded off the distant Generatorium ceiling.

At the order, nineteen lasguns were armed and loaded. The sound of nineteen clicking metallic reloads was assuring.

Two hundred metres…

“Heavy weapons, open fire!”

The sound of deep thumping filled the air as shells fired from heavy machine guns were pumped inexorably into the wave of oncoming creatures. Several booms sounded and rockets arched towards the swarm, trailing smoke and ionised air in its wake.

Hundreds of creatures were blown apart, leaving bloody chunks in the gap where it used to be- only to be replaced by two hundred more.

Zeralton gasped. “Emperor help us…”

Benlian glared at him, causing the cowering soldier to offer an apologetic smile and glance warily back into the teeming wave.

One hundred metres…

“Take aim…FIRE!” Benlian commanded as the line of Asat Guardsmen exploded in a flurry of las shots. Beams crossed the air, stitching the Genestealers and Hormagaunts that were dying by the hundreds. The smaller, luckier creatures sprinted, eager in the commencement of the slaughtering.

Fifty metres…

“Flamers!” Benlian bellowed.

Superheated air bathed the Guardsmen as they huddled in their cover. A gush of flame swept over the rockrete ground, as wild as it was bright. It burned and consumed everything in its path. The first elements of the Tyranids force were immediately reduced to charred remains, unrecognisable lumps in the trampling claws and hooves.

Benlian could make out the vile aliens’ leering faces, snapping claws and glistening carapaces.

“Bayonets!” The voice of another squad captain somewhere down the line called out.

Bloodied and razor sharp blades were shoved into place as they were raised ostentatiously towards the enemy.

A soldier from another company screamed, insanity taking a hold of him as he bolted out of his cover and ran head on into the swarm. Benlian stood transfixed as the soldier was reduced to bloody scraps of flesh within seconds.

It is not possible. Benlian thought in horror. His heart now pounded in his chest, threatening to break out of his ribs.

They were upon them.

Immediately Benlian’s vision was much more obscured, only to be replaced by a wall of shifting limbs, snapping claws and hungry mandibles.

Within seconds, all hell broke loose. Benlian looked around.

A blade lashed out, causing blood to spurt from a ruptured artery as a soldier fell to the floor choking on his own blood.

Several tiny creatures no more the size of rats bit at their ankles. Poisonous teeth sank into fresh flesh.

Bayonets batted off carapaces uselessly as the creatures turned angrily to the soldiers, fork tongues licking the air, tasting the fear of the men.

Benlian took aim at a pulsating organism roughly the size of a head, latched onto the back of a Genestealer and fired. It exploded in a rain of black slime and pungent odour, coating Benlian.

The Genestealer turned, nostrils flaring as it closed in on Benlian.

It charged towards Benlian, knocking him off his feet.

Benlian landed on the ground, nearly blackening out as he struggled to get back up on his feet. His vision clearing, Benlian opened his eyes to see the face of the Genestealer right in front of him.

Trying all he could against the awesome weight and might of the creature, Benlian still could not sit upright. He was pinned down; a prey to be feasted upon.

Benlian cried out in absolute terror, glancing about to look for help. All around, Benlian could see death and wanton carnage.

Heads rolled on the floor; eyes still wide open in pure terror. Limbs lay mangled on the ground, its owners writhing in agony beside it.

Blood showered the scene.

Suddenly, powerful shells slammed into the Genestealer above him. It shuddered, shrieking in agony as it tried to stay upright and sought the source of the bullets. A shell soon found its way to its head and blew it up, bathing Benlian in alien goo.

“MEN OF ASAT- KILL THEM ALL!” A voice boomed.

Benlian got to his feet, stumbling and turning around shocked to see Commissar Alphaues Leetol.

The Commissar emerged from a doorway, flanked by soldiers as they joined the bloody fray.

Benlian watched in joy as the Commissar holstered his pistol and held his scabbard high. The Commissar effortlessly sliced a Termagaunt’s head clean off, followed by firing shells into another.

With renewed vigour, the Guardsmen fought on.

Fighting with Faith- Forty-fifth Entry

As briefed in the brief but harrowing journey in the Chimera Transport, Benlian immediately recognised the place he was in. It looked bigger then he thought, a circular chamber, stretching to unseen corners. Squad Bel entered from doorway 8. To their right and left, doorways 7 to 9 lined the circular walls. Both doorways nearer to Squad Bel were opened, ushering similar squads cautious of Asat Guardsmen through.

High, elongated walls arched overhead, ending in a focal point on the ceiling where a pillar of glassteel extended downwards, ending in a buttressed and crenellated base. The pillar had a viscous, unknown liquid flowing through it, shifting and sifting through unidentifiable objects within.

Wait, or are the object not mere objects- but organisms? Benlian thought to himself.

A howl emanated from behind, snapping Benlian out of his ponderous moment.

More howls ensued, followed by a detonation that swallowed the cries of the Carnifexes and shook the walls about them.

“Consider them obsolete.” Kennil mused from behind, casting his eyes around the eerily empty Generatorium. Save for the light green hue that was cast all over the chamber from within the swirling pillar, the only light sources were control panels that dotted the various levels of the base of the pillar.

Suddenly, the lights of the control panels went out.

Benlian felt a moment of dispositional discomfort; as though he was falling through empty space as his gaze fell upon the only light source that was the enigmatic looking pillar. The contents within it swirled and dance, nearly coaxing Benlian to move his limbs in response.

Nearly.

“Visors shut. Night-vision tuned to zero point five setting. Seek cover behind the silos ahead.” Benlian immediately blurted out, studying his surroundings as he sought cover behind the silos and hurried after his squad. His vision, slightly enhanced now, could make out the other side of the chamber.

Was it figures running along the walls- or mere flickering of shadows?

Damn, Benlian thought as he leaned against a silo. The cool surface of it licked his skin, but was ignored by a sudden booming knock coming from behind. It vibrated the hull of the silo he was leaning on, its echo seemingly excessively loud in the silent darkness.

“Sorry.” murmured Arthelp as he stooped down beside Benlian. “Just checking for those organisms.”

No one answered, both glad and saddened at the same time. Glad, knowing that Arthelp had risked his life to secure everyone’s safety by knocking on the silo.

Saddened, by recalling how Marcum had been slain.

Benlian glanced around, sighting more squads of Guardsmen trickling into the chamber. They took positions around the chamber, behind silos and above platforms.

Squad Captains were hand signaling each other, confirming sightings of enemy units at the opposite side of the chamber. Heavy support units lumbered into position, similar to Lent and his counterpart as they deployed their heavy machine gun, covering a particular field with another squad’s heavy weapons team several metres away.

Suddenly, as though at the commencement of a great show in a great theater, the pillars disappeared. Or at least, the green, luminescent liquid lost its radiance as it turned black.

Fortunately, for the Guardsmen, their visors served its purpose well. Although made to shield their eyes from over radiation, it also served as a night-vision, optical enhancer tool.

To their dismay, a wall of black figures swarmed their vision of green through their visors.

Benlian could see scuttling creatures, leaping on limbs that bore immeasurable strength and agility. Robed and hooded cultists milled about, whilst shambling hordes of mutants streamed into the chamber.

“Holy Emperor of Terra…” Arthelp whispered beside Benlian.

Two lithe figures strode through the seething throng beneath them. Indeed, there were beneath them in every aspect. The Hive Mind had seen to testify that fact.

Master Cultist Barnel took a moment to admire his army. At least a few hundreds of cultists had made it, along with nearly all of their assigned broods. Cultist bowed their heads in awe as they shuffled wordlessly pass, paving a way through the crowd.

Praise the Hive Mind.

The mutants, despicable even in his sight, gaped idiotically at Barnel rudely, their simple rotted brains not able to comprehend respect as Barnel glared back at them.

Never mind, Barnel thought, more cannon fodder for the slaughter.

The duo reached the control panel which regulated lighting within the chamber.

“Masssterr...” Kaweit had reconciled with him before. “Do we strike from the veil of darkness or in the light?”

Barnel had considered this long before hand. “Kaweit, the Hive Mind has been known to drive a human insane and full of fear simply by revealing her forces to him. They fear us. They call us abominations. Creatures of their worse nightmare. Monsters. That is what we shall be.”

Kaweit had absorbed his wise master’s words in silence, nodding his head in reverent respect as he deciphered the answer.

Kaweit flicked the switch, bathing the chamber in white, dazzling light as both his and the enemy’s forces flinched at the sudden intrusion of light rays into their weak retinas.

Weak, incompetent beings. Barnel mused to himself as he eyed the arrayed Guardsmen before him hungrily.

They will still serve the Hive Mind well… he thought again, lifting his head high to let loose a wild laughter, echoing off even from the distant chamber walls.

Several hundred metres away from Barnel and Kaweit, in complete darkness, Starut sat perched atop a Biovore. He liked this particular one; tame yet strong. Starut decided to name it Tob.

Starut was eager for the fight to start. He knew it was part of the plan, but was not ready for the waiting.

Tob gurgled and looked up, along with many others as the lights flickered back on.

Starut cursed to himself as he shielded his eyes in time to avoid the worse of the glare.

“Master’s balls.” Shaolsen cursed as he was not quick enough. He sat down, rubbing his palms over his tortured eyelids as the Biovores and Starut watched on emphatically.

A Biovore belched, as though giving a light chuckle.

Starut hopped off Tob and squinted, looking across the Generatorium.

Wonder if Bel Squad is amongst them… Starut thought.

Would be good. I would like to skin them alive.

As though sensing his thoughts, a wild, raucous laughter drifted from afar. It was unmistakably Master Barnel’s. Starut’s spirit lifted, glad that the leader was here amongst them.

Yet again goaded by an unseen force, the Biovores lumbered off, heading behind the cover of a massive collapsed beam. Tyranid forces and mutant bands began advancing as well, thousands of creatures scuttling off to the Guardsmen lines, eager to kill.

Cultists followed calmly in their wake, well aware of the fate of many of them.

Starut’s face broke into a smile.

Now’s the time.