Part VII Their helmets were suddenly filled with a loud static hiss as their communications channels were jammed. Not only were they unable to talk to one another but the unexpectedness of it was jarring. At the same instant, bolter shots rang out from the front. Vicconius' rosarius saved him: the conversion field blazed out in a quick flash as the shots were turned into light. One of the other Marines was not so lucky, and fell heavily to the fusilade. In an instant, the surprise was over, and the Dark Angels' training took over. Even without communication, they dodged away from the line of fire as much as the corridor allowed, raking their own boltguns back up the hall. Vicconius, oblivious to his danger from both in front and behind, stormed on, his flickering Crozius illuminating the way. In the flashing, pulsing light of the Chaplain's weapon and the staccato bursts of the Marines' boltguns, Ezekial could almost make out a figure farther up the corridor. Its own bolter spat blossoms of fire at them, and it appeared to be dressed in black. It was obvious what had befallen Baronus now: a surprise attack, their communications jammed, two men killed. Naturally, Baronus had given chase to the attacker, and had walked straight in to a trap. Why Baronus was leading from the rear was still unknown, since he had fallen here and not back at the site of the first engagement. As quickly as it began, the attack ended. The unknown person simply stopped firing and disappeared, taking his jamming with him. In the stillness that followed, the sudden silence was deafening. "Dark Angels, regroup!" Vicconius thundered. "Advance and attack!" He had apparently been giving orders all through the attack, the fact that no one had received them not registering with him. He had been too focused on the enemy to notice. Ezekial feared he would lead them exactly as Baronus had led his men, into a trap. Now Brother Mathias was dead; he would not let more follow. "Dark Angels, halt!" he ordered. "Brother Vicconius, are you mad?" He knew that there was no turning back now, but the survival of his men depended on him. Vicconius whirled as though Ezekial had physically struck him. For several long moments, he stood there, without speaking. That any Dark Angel could speak thus to an Interrogator-Chaplain was without precedent. Finally he found his voice. "Brother-Sergeant Ezekial, I will for now ignore your extreme breach of tradition in questioning my decisions. Your punishment, which will be severe, shall come later, after we have dealt with the enemy inside this building." Stalking forward as he spoke, he brandished his Crozius wildly as though he would hit Ezekial with it. "For now you will follow my orders, else you will tread the path of damnation with your insurrection, and no one will be able to save you. Marines, let your revenge be felt by the enemy." With a last long glare, he led the men into the tunnel after the attacker. Leading the way, he incanted the Litany of Retribution, thereby reminding all who could hear him of the Dark Angels' determination. Ezekial remained standing where he was, shaking with the enormity of his decision. He had gone against a Chaplain's orders, based on nothing more than his own presumption. If his faith was his shield, then at that moment he was defenseless. Still his duty to his men was strong, and he could not allow them to walk into a trap alone. He tried to make his thoughts known, but the Chaplain's Litany covered all his attempts. Instead he simply fell into place behind them, hurrying to keep up, praying silently to the Emperor for forgiveness. Vicconius barrelled ahead, chasing what he obviously believed to be the fleeing figure. Again, they had not gone far when the Litany was suddenly blanked out by a wall of static. Instantly throwing himself aside -- having fully expected the attack -- Ezekial missed the brunt of the assault. A huge explosion roared in their center, casting two Marines aside like rag dolls. Sudden gunfire erupted from the side this time, not the front as it had before; he felt a jolt as something solid collided with him as it passed, and he realized with a start that he had been wounded after all. His suit's autosystems were fighting to keep the pain down, pumping drugs into his body to stem the flow of blood. The mysterious black-suited figure had waited, probably in a side alcove, for the Marines to follow, then had struck as they were half way along. Bursting out, he had triggered a grenade in their midst, spraying the rest with boltgun fire to further confuse them, before charging back down the hall the way he had come. On his way, he had collided with Ezekial -- who had dodged the attack since he had anticipated it -- but he had still been able to wound him in spite of everything. Somehow the attacker had penetrated his armor in that split second of contact, striking exactly at its weaker points. Only someone well-versed in the use of power armor would know such things, and in a flash of insight Ezekial thought he knew what they were facing. When the jamming finally receded, he heard the other Marines regrouping. One of them saw him and cried out, "Brother-Sergeant Ezekiel is down." For all his stern talk, Vicconius was the first at his side, examining the damage to his armor. Ezekial tried to speak, to convey his knowledge, but the Chaplain quieted him. "Be silent, Ezekial," he commanded rather gently, "conserve your strength. It will please you to know that Brothers Cepheus and Laertes died a clean death, fighting the Emperor's enemies." He paused, then continued, "I think perhaps you were given command of a squad too early in your training. You have poisoned your men with your questions and your caution. My faith protects me, my devotion is my strength; the Emperor's will is my salvation. I still live, while you are wounded and your squad dies. Think well on this lesson, whilst I track down and destroy our foe." He stood up, making ready to leave. "Brother Lucius, Brother Gabriel, purge your souls of doubt. Use this moment to bless your weapons, that they may fire true in your time of need. _In extremis, fidelis._" Ezekial felt the pain washing away as the drugs filled his system; he was wounded more gravely than he thought if so many drugs were being used. His mind was clouded, too, but he remembered what he needed to say. "Be wary, Chaplain. I fear we face a Traitor." Though spoken softly, the words grabbed Vicconius' attention instantly. "Traitor?" he hissed. "How can you know what we face, Brother-Sergeant? He has not shown himself to us for more than a moment." Ezekial struggled to clear his thoughts. "He wounded me with but a touch, Vicconius. How could some mindless abhuman breach this armor, blessed by yourself only four days ago? He must, then, be familiar with our holy protection, enough to be able to penetrate it so easily. Who else but a Traitor Marine could know such secrets?" The Interrogator-Chaplain hesitated before replying. Ezekial could tell he was weighing the warning versus his earlier behavior. Surely even the Chaplain would heed him, with the evidence bleeding in front of him! "You may be right, Brother Sergeant," Vicconius finally answered. "But it is immaterial now. His tricks are known to us, and the next kill we be ours. The purity of my faith shall purify these halls." With that, he took the remainder of Ezekial's squad and left, tracking the attacker back the way they had come. Ezekial's feeble protests were lost on their retreating backs. Instead, he lay in the dark, harboring his strength as his body's enhanced healing ability combined with the pain-suppressing drugs to restore him to at least a semblance of health. He would go after the Chaplain and his men when he was able, but for now all he could do was wait, listening to their echoing footsteps fade away. After a time, even the echoes disappeared until all that remained was the rhythmic sound of his breathing. Then, without any warning, explosions rang out far down the hall, and he knew he had waited too long. The chatter of gunfire spattered among the reverberations, becoming one long continuous noise of killing. Gradually the sounds died out, just as Ezekial knew the lives of his men were dying out as well. Many long agonizing seconds later, silence reigned again. The Sergeant wrenched off his helmet, feeling suffocated by its closeness. Gasping for air, he wept openly from guilt and shame, grief and anger at losing his men and Brothers -- a thousand conflicting emotions raged through him, tearing him apart. His faith was shattered, his men were dead, and the shame was unbearable. From so far down inside despair, he didn't at first notice the shuffling noises coming up the corridor. Gradually getting louder, he finally heard them over his anguish. Instantly decades of training took over, suppressing his emotions, priming him for battle. The sudden thought that it was the attacker made bright anger flare up in him. The idea that Vicconius had prevailed was, traitor-like, not even in his thoughts. He, Ezekial, would kill this betrayer of the Imperium, thereby avenging all his past failures. When the rest of the Dark Angels finally controlled this planet, they would find him here, dead from his wounds no doubt, but with the dead Traitor at his feet! Then would the Emperor smile upon him again. |
REDEMPTION By Kelly L'Roy |
TOMES OF VALOUR |
This item has been reproduced without the permission of the author. It's use here is not intended as a challenge to the original authors copyright and is reproduced here for the sole purpose of enhancing the Dark Angel spirrit and the warhammer 40,000 experience. Sadly all attempts at contacting the author have been unsuccessful and the original site where this was published no longer in existence. The story has been too invaluable to the DA community to be simply lost in the warp and therefre been reproduced here. If Kellt L'Roy happens to read these pages, please contact by email. |
