Into the Darkness

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Into the Darkness By Max Koerner 

Colonel Jerran Slovneve of the Dernhelm 13th regiments 8th company ran for his life. He ran and ran, until his legs pumped acid instead of blood, until his legs felt heavier  than adamantium. His breath came in ragged gasps and tearing gulps, polluted air  infested his chest, burning away his lungs in a firestorm of pain. His flack armor stripped away from enemy artillery, his unbroken left arm clutched at his chest in a desperate but feeble attempt to stall the pain. And then he ran more. Where once there had been burning building flanking the once proud and noble  boulevards where he now sprinted lay desecrated and pathetic ruins concealed in the  bleak and oppressive darkness that was w as Karnoff VIII’s night. Where once the sound of  distant artillery, rumbling tanks and the constant flickering and cracking of building set alight with flame had filled the air around aroun d these buildings with a chaotic and frenzied atmosphere, now only a quite and routine silence had fallen, only broken by the colonel’s frantic breath, foot falls and squeaking of his one bionic leg. The numerous voices within the Imperium whispered in hushed rumors that no darkness fell in the Imperium like the darkness on Karnoff VIII, and now Slovneve could not agree more. He couldn’t see a thing in the darkness ahead. No moon to shed even a sliver of light on the roads before him. Even as Slovneve wagered his pupils had surpassed his irises he could no more make out the streets ahead of him when he had  begun his long run. He, along with his regiment, had assisted the Astartes of the Angels Sanguine and White Scars in purging Karnoff VIII when they had received word that the Alpha Legion, led by the foul daemon prince Voldorius, had begun its assault on Karnoff after years of  causing internal strife and Anarchy. Slovneve remembered they had been fighting the dread forces of Abaddon the Despoiler during chaos’s foul invasion from the Eye o f  Terror known simply as the 13th Black Crusade. Slovneve had received reports then that the regiment had been heavily depleted after a horrendous assault by the heavily mechanized forces of the Iron Warriors Legion. He had no doubt that his generals had agreed to come to Karnoff’s aide to rest and recover from the horrors of the 13th crusade. But even then they had suffered ore losses than was originally projected. Why the Astartes had come, Slovneve couldn’t say. Maybe they came out of a simple sense of duty to protect any and all of the Imperium’s citizens during this dark  time. Maybe they came to hunt hun t an ancient enemy, as the White Scars had departed after  Voldorius, curse his name, had fled with his legion. Slovneve couldn’t say for sure. Right now, however, he didn’t d idn’t want to have to think why the Astartes had left, he only prayed to the God-Emperor that they came back. He had tried, for the past few days, to piece together where it had all gone to hell. Three weeks after the Astartes left, the  planet had once more devolved into anarchy and strife. Riots racked Karnoff’s industry,  bringing its production to a halt. Gangs, despite the best effort of the Adeptus Arbites, had risen up to take over entire hives.

Worse still, chaos had not fully left the world. After the Astartes, the only force that could keep order on Karnoff, left whispers among the devastated PDF crept like a virus through its ranks. Some had always served ch aos as agent-cultists for the Alpha Legion, some converted when they saw the Emperor’s Angels slaughter hundreds before them. Whatever the reason, the PDF, bolstered by the huge population, had risen up and attacked the Dernhelm 13th, the only loyalist force (save for the Arbites) left on Karnoff. The planetary governor of Karnoff had ordered the Dernhelm to attack any chaos forces on sight, a hugely repetitive order since the 13th had been ordered to do the same thing to any chaos forces in Segmentum Obscurus. But the order had been short lived since the traitor PDF had attacked the capital city of Nihanit, where both the regimental command and governor had been. It hadn’t taken long for a stray missile to hit the command bunker, killing all the 13th’s generals and the Governor. Slovneve had hoped the governor had been able to send a distress message to anyone within 100 light years of  Karnoff, because he soon found himself the highest ranked officer in the city, and he didn’t know how to do such a thing. A crashing flood of nausea caused Slovneve to double over, crashing to his knees, crawling into a ball on the ground. It felt like his stomach had been fried, baked and steamed all while being flipped over and over again. Slovneve pressed his hands against his belly, holding the gut-wrenching pressure and pain in. Slowly, he raised himself to his hands and knees, nausea still holding tightly to his stomach. He breathed, heavily, but he breathed which was something neither his commanders nor comrades could say now. His clothes had been shredded to pieces, and his flack armor reduced to nothing more than scrap metal, a weight which he soon tossed away. Slovneve had no idea how long or how far he had sprinted, panic had blurred any sense of time he had once held. Coughing, which caused his chest to seize with incredible pain, was soon followed by retching. As his stomach did one o ne last back flip, he felt the contents co ntents of his stomach, or what was left in his gut, flood up through his esophagus filling his mouth with acidic and disgusting fluids. His vomit hit the g round with a wet and rather putrid smack. Twice more was he forcibly made to empty his stomach until he was sure he stared down into a wet chucky pile of his own sick. Slowly, shakily, did he sit up, resting on his knees. It did him no good, as ever he stared into the darkness of Karnoff VIII’s night. How the locals had ever dealt with this  bleak and depressing blackness was simply beyond Slovneve. Nearly nineteen of  Karnoff’s 24 hour day was blackness. As a side effect of living on this world, all of  Karnoff citizens had developed rather slightly larger eyes and irises. But from what Slovneve had learned from talking with some of the PDF, it didn’t really help all that much. Slovneve looked around once more, knowing as he did so he wouldn’t see a thing, he just wanted something to occupy his thoughts. The Dernhelm 13th, like the PDF, had  been issued pairs of monoculars that could co uld pierce through the darkness by the mechanicus upon their arrival. Why the mechanicus had given them such a thing and not a simple light to stick on their lasgun, which worked better he often heard his troops complain, was beyond him. Right now, however, he would give his other leg for a pair. Hours ago his bunker, the newly deemed command bunker, had been hit by an earthshaker basilisk round, killing and destroying everyone and everything in the bunker.

But, whether by luck or the will of the Emperor, he had lived. Waking up hours after the shell had fallen, Slovneve was bloodied, bruised, and battered, his clothes shredded and armor ruined, but alive. Slovneve whispered thanks to the Emperor again for sparing his life. His eyes rendered useless by the surrounding darkness, Slovneve did as best he could at reaching out ou t with his other senses. He strained his ears for any noise, however  slight and dampened. He inhaled deep through his nose, trying to smell the sink of sweat and war. Hell, he even eve n tried to taste the air for men, and feel any quiet movements in the area surrounding him.  Nothing. Slovneve sighed, neither relieved nor distressed. It meant one of two things: it means he had lost his hunters, something he doubted very much so, or they were waiting from Slovneve to make a move. Slovneve knew deep down he would be caught, it was only a matter of time. He could co uld only prolong the inevitable, one option was by running through the streets of Nihanit, evading his hunters h unters as long as he could and waiting until sunrise to move out of the city to the countryside to try and link up with the rest of the regiment. The other was hiding, waiting w aiting for the rest of the regiment to arrive and purge the PDF from the city.  Neither was favorable. Slovneve sighed. This was a dark, Slovneve couldn’t help but chuckle at the pun, time for him. Every option overtime was a losing option, every plan was a loss waiting to happen. Slovneve beseeched the Emperor for strength, he had absolutely no idea what to do, and he knew it. Slowly, regaining the strength to stand, Slovneve climbed to his feet. His bionic leg squeaked and whined, the marks of a cheap and poorly made leg. Slovneve swayed slightly as light-headedness washing over him as blood surged through his body and  brain, resuming normal flow. Slovneve’s breath was still ragged and heavy, b ut he could at least stand, he could at least walk. Slovneve heard the wet splash of vomit as he stepped forward with his  bionic leg, the sound as sickening as its smell. Slovneve wrinkled his nose realizing he’d  be walking with the smell for who knows how long. Willing himself on, Slovneve walked, one foot in front of the other. Twice he ran into an undamaged street-pole, or tripped and fell over fallen debris cursing loudly as he did. The darkness was not only bleak and depressing, it was damn well infuriating. Slovneve chalked up darkness to his list of things he hated, right behind commissars and right before his leg. For what seemed like hours he walked in darkness, like a child wandering w andering  blindfolded through his home. He was sure that if there was anyone watching him, they would find his stumbling a right laugh. Slovneve cursed under his breath, maybe it was chaos not the Emperor that had spared him just to mock him as he walked blindly along the streets of Nihanit. It was damn well insulting. Slovneve ran into yet another thing, something he had stopped counting after he had ran into his eighth object, and cursed. But as he took a step back, something felt… off. This thing he had ran into had groaned slightly, exhaled when he ran into him. Hell it had moved slightly upon impact. It occurred to Slovneve that he heard a ragged breathing in front of him. But… not in front of him, no… all around him.

Sheer blinding terror gripped Slovneve as he realized what was happening, and he felt his trousers, or what was left of them, moisten as his bladder released itself in a moment of pure panic. All around him he now began to hear a chuckling, clearly whoever found him was rather amused by his panic. Fear turned to anger an ger upon realizing this. His face a scowl, he stood up to his full height and looked around, no longer  showing fear. ‘Cowards,’ he muttered through clenched teeth. ‘Show yourselves.’ The chuckling continued for a moment, causing Slovneve to descend further into fury. As he was about to begin ranting and raging about, attacking anything him came into contact with him, there was a click and a slight fizzle. Light, brilliant white light erupted before Slovneve, blinding him after so long in the dark. Hot pain stabbed into his eyes and he threw up his hands over his eyes, shielding them from the light. He heard the fizzling pass him as whatever caused the light was thrown to sit next to him. His eyes took moments to adjust to the light, bu t finally he lowered his hands and inhaled sharply at the scene before him. Ten traitorous PDF troopers had found and surrounded him. Simple blue-gray shirts and trousers were covered by the modest and simple protection of their gray flak armor. Short, metal lasguns, their aquilas and servoskull icons scratched out, replaced with various symbols to the dark gods, hung by straps under their arms. Slovneve was disgusted to see the eight-pointed star the most prevalent of all these unholy marks of devotion. Raised upon their helmets were the very same monoculars issued to them by the mechanicus so long ago, covering the obvious star on the center of the foreheads. The Traitorous PDF before Slovneve smiled toothily, revealing brown and rotting  jagged teeth. Their skin had turned so pale, it now seemed to be transparent, but was contrasted by the bloody chaotic symbols carved into their skin. It was disgusting. Slovneve, trying to show as little of the fear h e felt, stood straight up and tall, befitting an Imperial Guard Officer, and spat on the ground before the PDF in front of him. The PDF surrounding him whooped and laughed, jeering at him in low gothic. The PDF’s smile widened, and he began walking towards Slovneve, removing his lasgun and tossing it to the ground. ‘You think you know no fear, Imperial?’ the PDF said to him in low gothic his voice hoarse with a tone halfway between curious and mocking. ‘You believe after  fighting beside the Astartes, you can say you’ve fought every horror of the galaxy and no longer fear it?’ ‘I have no fear of traitorous scum, such as you,’ Slovneve snarled, voice equaling as hoarse from lack of use. ‘The Emperor protects.’ The PDF laughed, amused at such a statement. ‘One year ago I would have said the same thing, but then the serpents came. They… they opened my eyes to the truths and glories of chaos. A service we’d be happy to give to you, Nurgle does d oes welcome all.’ ‘I’d rather have my body cast into the wrap, my soul ripped and flayed from my  body, and my mind shattered before I turn to your foul entity,’ Slovneve spat. Slovneve could see the pity in the PDF’s eyes, and bile rose in his throat. ‘When the Emperor’s wrath comes,’ Slovneve said. ‘I hope it is merciless to traitorous scum like you.’ The PDF shook his head, frowning. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, brother, I am truly sorry.’

‘Enough…’ Slovneve never finished as the PDF’s fist collided with his face, sending him reeling back. Slovneve could hear the rest of the PDF’s platoon whoop and cheer. Shaking the pain from his face, Slovneve moved to attack the PDF, but never got the chance. Pressing his advantage, the PDF stepped forward and swung his foot out, colliding with Slovneve’s knee. Crying out in pain, Slovneve collapsed on his hands and knees. Trying to rise, Slovneve felt the PDF’s foot slam into his midriff knocking the wind out of him. Slovneve curled up into a ball, the whoops and cheers of the PDF troops filling his ears while feet kept kicking him all over. Again and again, it never seemed to stop. For one last time before he lost consciousness, Slovneve looked into the Darkness. He stared long and deep, looking for something, a stir in the blackness, a figure moving towards him, anything. Nothing answered his silent pleas, nothing but the same oppressive darkness that always remained answered him. As the PDF’s boot slammed into Slovneve’s face knocking him out cold he only saw the same blackness that had haunted him for hours before. Unmoving. Unchanging. Just Darkness. Cold, wet and foul smelling fluids drenched Slovneve and threw him from the  bowels of sleep. Coughing, Slovneve felt nausea creep through his stomach once more as the smell of the fluid hit his nose fully, making him gag. Breathing heavily to keep the nausea at bay, Slovneve opened his eyes and surveyed the scene around him. The PDF platoon had taken refuge in the ruined shell of what looked to be the old administratum building. Its roof blown open, large chu nks of its walls stripped away from artillery fire, the building was a shell of the proud thing it had once been. The PDF had cleared out a large enough e nough section in the middle of the ruin for a small camp site, lined with ragged cots and with a camp fire which burned in the center. Slovneve heard a dull metallic clang as one of the PDF tossed away a beaten and rusted metal pale. Slovneve recognized this PDF as the one that had beat him into unconsciousness who knows how long ago. Dull pain flooded through Slovneve’s head as he remembered the fight. Slovneve was sure that if he wasn’t drenched in this foul liquid, whatever it was, his blood would be streaking down his face where w here the PDF’s boot had slammed into his head. Slovneve tried to move his arms, only to find that the PDF had bound them above his head with chains. As he tried to move them, he felt their rusted metal scratch and bite again his skin, drawing blood. Slovneve bit back a cry of pain as he stopped moving, realizing he was trapped. Slovneve also became aware, due to a light breeze that ran through the ruin, that he had been stripped nearly naked, save for a mediocre loincloth tied around his lower   body. Slovneve felt humiliated at being shown so weak, so frail before these foul traitors. By the Emperor, he hoped their last moments were terrible. The PDF stood before him, smiling as last time, but even more mockingly, even more victoriously. He knew he had Slovneve right where he wanted him, that he could do anything he wanted to Slovneve and no one would care. He had Slovneve and knew it, and so did Slovneve. ‘Well, bother,’ he said, his amused smile never leaving his face. ‘What do we do

with you now? Flay you? Torture you? Sacrifice you? O h, the possibilities are nearly endless.’ ‘Damn you,’ Slovneve muttered through clenched teeth as pain throbbed through his head. ‘Too late for that,’ the PDF chuckled. The other PDF laughed, calling out and saying something in their native tongue,  jeering at Slovneve by the sound of it. The PDF in front of Slovneve laughed along with his comrades, before returning his gaze to Slovneve, looking him over. Finally, he pursed his lips and nodded, coming to a decision for Slovneve’s fate. The PDF reached down and unbuttoned a rather large looking knife from his belt. Slowly he drew the large blade and waved it before Slovneve. It had once been a proud  blade, Slovneve knew, brilliantly cleaned and shining bright in what little light Karnoff’s day had. Now it was a chipped, rusted hunk of sharpened metal, a mockery of the blade that had come before it. In the firelight Slovneve saw that it also gleamed with a vile greenish slime that dripped from the blade. The PDF ran the blade along Slovneve’s chest, relishing the resentment and disgust on Slovneve’s face. ‘I think I’ve figured out what to do with you, Imperial,’ the PDF said musingly, cradling the knife in front of him. ‘Our lord, Nurgle, welcomes all followers, even those forced into servitude.’ Realization came to Slovneve. ‘No.’ ‘Yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, brother. I’m going to carve our lord Nurgle’s very mark into you chest, forcing you into his servitude, for only his blessing can save you from my knife’s poison. And once you’re in,’ the PDF leaned in closer, whispering now, ‘you can never leave.’ Slovneve drew his head back and rammed his skull into the PDF’s face, his last act of defiance. The PDF shouted in pain, stumbling back as two of his fellows rushed forward pummeling Slovneve with the butt’s of their lasguns. Slovneve took only satisfaction he had caused the PDF some pain. With a word, the PDF stopped h is comrades, and they backed away. The PDF walked back towards Slovneve, his amused smile now a bitter and angry an gry frown. Slovneve took pleasure in seeing a small trickle of blood fall down from the PDF’s hair line, the crimson of his blood contrasting heavily with his pale skin. The PDF tapped his knife on Slovneve chest, almost in rhythm with Slovneve’s own heart. ‘A little fight in you,’ he whispered, all amusement in his voice gone replaced with venomous anger. ‘Nurgle likes that. I’m going to cut his very mark into your chest,  brilliantly and brightly, so as your soul walks through the warp ev ery denizen will know who you serve.’ Slovneve spat in the PDF’s face. There was a satisfying smack as the glob hit the PDF right under his left eye. For a moment, the PDF just looked at Slovneve, anger clear  on his face. Finally, the PDF threw back his head and spat all over Slovneve’s face. Slovneve could not repress a cry of absolute disgust, even now he felt the PDF’s bile  begin to burn and sizzle on his face. The other PDF once more laughed, taking pleasure in Slovneve’s torment. Slowly, painfully the PDF began to carve into Slovneve’s chest. Slovneve cried out in pain, both the jagged, chipped edge of the blade cut and tore chunks from

Slovneve’s flesh while the foul smelling green bile that dripped from the blade burned and poisoned his body, infecting his h is blood stream with Emperor-knows-what. And that was only from the first circle. The minutes dragged on and on, each of the three circles of   Nurgle’s mark taking a small eternity. Slovneve knew this was the PDF’s punishment for  him for both causing him pain and spitting on him. The only pleasure he could take was that he had cause the PDF pain and anger. Finally, the PDF stood up, marveling over the three circled mark of Nurgle he carved into Slovneve’s flesh, a satisfied smile painted across his face. Slovneve could feel a combination of blood and puss oozing from the mark, and knew he was beaten. He could not help but let tears come to his eyes, he had failed. He had failed his men, he had failed the Imperium, and her had failed the Emperor above all else. He heard the PDF chuckle at his tears and rage rose within him. The PDF resheathed his knife, crossed his arms and admired Slovneve before him. ‘Now,’ he began, smiling once more, ‘pride should always e left to the  perfectionists who worship Slaanesh, but I think this is my best work yet.’ The PDF walked up to and patted Slovneve on the back, ever smiling. ‘You should take pride, brother, now you follow a warm, loving god who answers your   prayers, not merely a corpse that sits rotting on a throne.’ Slovneve scowled at the PDF, feeling hate like never before for this one single man. ‘Go die,’ he snarled. The PDF laughed. ‘One day brother, you’ll…’ The sharp crack of a lasgun in the distance cut the PDF off mid sneer. They all stood stalk still, looking in the direction where the lasgun was fired, fear painted on their  faces. The PDF for not knowing what that was, Slovneve for being found with such a foul symbol carved upon his chest. Moments dragged by and nothing came. The PDF began to talk among them, speaking in their native tongue which Slovneve could not understand. Clearly they were afraid, what was that? Was it one of  their comrades? Or was it something more? The PDF that tortured Slovneve was barking at the others, clearly, Slovneve realized, he was their sergeant. Of the six PDF left in the camp, including the sergeant, three more were sent out into the darkness to investigate. Slowly, grumbling as they did so, they moved off into the darkness. Many moments of silent followed. The Sergeant and h is two remaining comrades stood silent, listening and watching the darkness. For a moment, Slovneve wondered if  the lasgun shot was merely a misfire, or an accidental trigger pull. As the moments dragged on, Slovneve began to believe it was so. He could see the sergeant and his comrades ease up slightly, coming to the same conclusion, thinking in moments their  comrades would walk through the darkness saying that it was nothing. Dozens more lasgun crack and flashes filled the air, causing the camp to jump  back, almost a full metre. There were sounds of yelling, screaming, of everything coming from everywhere it sounded to Slovneve. And suddenly, it stopped. No more cracks, no more flashes, no more screams. Nothing but the silent darkness. Slovneve felt a smile twisting on his lips and began to laugh. Clearly the sergeant was unnerved, sending his last two comrades into the darkness. Slovneve laughed at his fear, one simple man clinging to the light while darkness. It was pathetic. The sergeant was too scared to even register Slovneve’s laughter. Slowly the Sergeant backed away from the fire, towards Slovneve.

Screams of agony and fear pierced the darkness, screaming until brutally and suddenly cut off, echoing throughout the darkness. Slovneve saw the sergeant trembling with fear, and laughed even harder. Now the sergeant registered Slovneve’s laughed and turned to face him. Slovneve thought that the sergeant’s face could not become paler, but fear of the unknown had drained even more color. Slovneve smiled. ‘Remember when I said that the Emperor’s wrath would be merciless on you? Well, I hope you feel every second of it.’ A dark shape fell from the ruins above them, slamming into the ground behind the sergeant, shattering it. The sergeant spun on his heels, facing the shape. Before he could even fire one shot from his lasgun, the figure shot up with inhuman speed punching through the sergeant’s chest with four curved blades, lifting him up off his feet. The sergeant looked down to see a gigantic coal black fist with four energy sheathed blades punching through his chest. Looking up he saw the rest of the figure was covered in the same coal black power armor, with one shoulder trim a dark burnished gold. A single white raven on his left shoulder guard shone brilliantly in the fire light. A cape of black feathers cascaded c ascaded from his shoulders, rippling to its own accord in the now windless city. The face was covered by a beaked black helmet with bright red eyes. The eyes regarded the traitor sergeant for a moment, unreadable. In his last moments the sergeant wondered if h e was ever wrong to turn to Nurgle as he was torn to pieces by the Astartes claws. Slovneve laughed as the Astartes ripped the traitorous to piece, relief clear across his features. The governor had sent a distress call, and, above all else, it had been answered by the Emperor’s angels of death. Slovneve’s relief was palpable. The sound of  metal on metal broke the silence around them as the giant Astartes retracted his claws. ‘You’ve come,’ Slovneve breathed, ‘you’ve actually co me.’ The Astartes paid him no heed, reaching up with one massive gauntlet to consult his brother Astartes via his inbuilt vox. For many moments, he and Slovneve stood there in silence. It was a long time before the Astartes lowered his hand and looked at Slovneve. Finally, the Astartes spoke. ‘Who are you?’ it said, its voice harsh and metallic through its helmets speakers. Slovneve sighed, relieved. ‘Colonel Jerran Slovneve of the Dernhelm 13th regiments 8th infantry company, serial number 0946573.’ The Astartes nodded. ‘Governor Tormez? Gen eral Gernal? What of them?’ Slovneve shook his head. ‘Dead. A stray missile struck their command bunker, killing them instantly. I’m the highest ranking guard officer in the city now. Though, I’d wager I’m the only guardsman left in the city.’ The Astartes nodded, raising his hand to his helmet once more, consulting the vox again. Suddenly he stepped forward, releasing his claws and raised them to Slovneve’s throat. Slovneve cried out in shock at the movement, fear transparent on his face. ‘Where are they?’ the Astartes snarled through his helmet. ‘Where are who? I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Slovneve shouted, fear  encasing him. What was happening? Why was the Astartes doing this? What was gong on? ‘You know who,’ the Astartes snarled again. ‘The legion, where are they?’

‘The legion? You mean the Alpha Legion? We came here to purge them, not fight along side them!’ Slovneve shouted, desperately. ‘Then explain the three headed serpent on your shoulder,’ the Astartes said, inclining his head to Slovneve left shoulder. Slovneve turned his head, looking down at his left shoulder. There, tattooed on his flesh was a green twisting three-headed serpent. Fear drained all color from Slovneve’s face. No, it couldn’t be. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘No this can’t be. I didn’t… this isn’t… I’m not…’ ‘No?’ growled the Astartes, never lowering his claws. ‘Records show colonel Jerran Slovneve revealed himself and his company to sleeper agents of the Alpha Legion during the PDF’s uprising on this world.’ Slovneve looked at the Astartes, tears flooding down his cheeks. ‘No…’ ‘It wasn’t a stray missile that destroyed the command bunker, killing general Gernal and Governor Tormez, you ordered your men to attack the bunker. Basilisks, lascannons, mortars, missiles, everything you could find you fired at the bunker.’ ‘No! It was stray missile, I swear!’ ‘I’ve been to that bunker!’ the Astartes Shouted through his helmet. ‘A missile couldn’t have done the damage I saw.’ ‘I don’t know what happened, I swear! I’ve never served such foul thing as the Alpha Legion!’ Slovneve cried. ‘Secrets and lies! The mantra of your patron legion,’ the Astartes rumbled, ‘where are they?’ ‘If I am a traitor, how was it that the PDF shelled by bunker when they knew I was traitor,’ Slovneve countered desperately. ‘Loyalist survivors found your bunker and tossed grenade after grenade into that confined space,’ answered the Astartes. A startes. ‘It was a fluke you survived.’ ‘Then why was I hunted by PDF soldiers here? Why did they attack me?’ ‘Did you think they knew that? Even with their monoculars they still couldn’t tell it was you, traitor.’ Traitor. The word stung more than the PDF sergeant’s knife. Slovneve looked at the blank beaked helmet of the Astartes, searching for something to prove e wasn’t a traitor. ‘Please,’ whispered Slovneve, fresh tears rolling down his face. ‘I’m not a traitor. I’m Colonel Jerran Slovneve of the Dernhelm 13th regiments 8th infantry company. I have served the Emperor and the Imperium faithfully for eighteen years. Three weeks ago I was fighting with my men on the soil of Cadia, fighting against the foul forces of  Abaddon the Despoiler, curse his name. Please, I’m not a traitor.’ Silence fell between them. The Astartes never once lowered his claw, clearly, it seemed to Slovneve, he was considering Slovneve’s words. Finally, he spoke again and Slovneve sank deeper into despair. ‘Where is the Alpha Legion?’ ‘I don’t know, damn it!’ shouted Slovneve. ‘I a m not I traitor! I serve the Emperor, not the Alpha Legion, I don’t know!’ Having heard enough the Astartes plunged his claws into Slovneve’s chest, silencing him. Slovneve felt the claws puncture his chest, but felt no pain, just pressure. What?

What hap just happened? Was he… was he dead now? No, it couldn’t be. The Astartes had to believe him, he wasn’t a traitor… was he? Two words range in his mind, two simple words but incredibly powerful. For The Emperor. Memories flooded through Slovneve, repressed memories, memories they didn’t want him to have, memories sealed away. Of fighting Dernhelms, of carving something in his shoulder. Of… of standing in his presence. Slovneve smiled as he remembered it all. Captain Ajaz Solari of the Raven Guard second company watched, repulsed as the traitors head, even after his claws had pierced his chest, rolled up and smiled at him, mocking him. Slowly, it laughed, revealing yellow, rotting teeth. Solari had seen few other things so disgusting. ‘You think you’ve won, Astartes,’ it croaked, bile and blood cascading from its mouth. ‘You haven’t won. Even Eve n your betters, the Ultramarines, millennia ago failed to destroy the Alpha Legion, do you think you or the White Scars can? Cut one head and three more will grow, thus is the hydra.’ Solari fought hard to keep the bile in his throat from filling his mouth as the thing  before him laughed. ‘Where are they?’ Solari asked once more. The thing laughed again. ‘Quintus. He’s moved to Quintus to establish a beach head like they did so many years ago when Alpharius, praise his name, walked among humans.’ Solari watched as the thing began to melt around his claws, becoming no more than a black and bleak slime. It smiled at him again. ‘You and your bothers will fail in destroying my lord Voldorius,’ it said, laughing at Solari. ‘I’ve seen his power, felt his aura. Yo ur bother scars will fail.’ It laughed and laughed as it melted away, sloping to the ground in a sickening slap. The slime that coated his claws c laws was burned away by their potent energy fields. It was only after the thing that was Jerran Slovneve had melted away that Solari lowered his claw, his eyes on the pile of slime before him. ‘On their own they will fail,’ mutter Solari to himself, ‘but only without help.’ Reaching up to his helm he activated his helmet vox unit un it and raised his battle  barge, Raven’s Pride. ‘Ardek,’ he said into the vox, ‘send word to Shrike in the Targus system that the White Scars will need assistance in destroying the Daemon Prince Voldorius of the Alpha Legion.’ A long pause followed as his message was sent and a reply was given. Finally his vox crackled to life once more. ‘My lord,’ it was full of static, but unmistakably his champion aboard h is battle  barge. ‘Are you sure that we should shou ld assist the White Scars in their hunt of this foe? They are our greatest rivals.’ ‘I know that Ardek, but this is a foe that should be silenced at any cost, and  judging by its power, they will need all a ll the help they can get.’ Silence followed once more. ‘I am sure you know what’s best, my lord,’ Ardek’s voice cracked in Solari’s vox  bead once more.

‘I do, it shouldn’t matter whose claws are enemies fall to, so long as they fall. And it is time we go above the petty rivalry of our forbearers, lest we become no better  than the Dark Angels and Space Wolves. Send the message.’ Silence. ‘By your will,’ Ardek’s voice sounded once more an d then the vox feed was cut. Solari lowered his hands and cast his gaze to his surroundings. His armor’s night vision was vastly superior to the monoculars issued to the guard and PDF and easily  pierced the night around him. For now he could no longer worry about Voldorius, the White Scars and his Brother Raven Guard, for now, he had a planet to purge. Without a word, Solari Melted into the darkness, away from human eyes, to where his brother Astartes lay in wait. The war in Karnoff VIII’s darkness had only just begun.

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