Ok guys here is chapter one complete and ready for reading. I would greatly appreciate it if you could select you favourite bits and say why and least fav bits and tell how I could improve those bits. Thanks.
I'll probably have to do a few posts cause its pretty big.
“Move! Move! Move!” shouted Dariel Cain as he burst from the cover of the fallen tree. Around him the foliage erupted into movement as five other figures sprang from their hiding places and followed him. All of them, including Dariel were wearing Jungle pattern camouflage, dark greens and brown fatigues furthered by war paint of the same colours. They had been hunted, and the hunters had found them.
Shots burst from the foliage, one exploded against Dariel’s heavily reinforced chest piece. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of his followers get hit in the thigh. Thick red fluid flowed from the point of impact.
“Watch those rounds Uriah, I do not want to have to carry you.” He yelled over the noise of weapon retorts. Uriah Jacobs checked himself over mid run. His hand ran through the red fluid and he looked up.
“Ah shit, didn’t even feel it sir.” He called back.
“Always mister invincible this kid eh Dariel?” shouted Gaius Salomi off to his left.
“Frakk, I bet he could take an earth shaker shell and would be still standing.” Laughed Dariel.
“Kiss my ass you guys.” Roared Uriah, overtaking them all. Everyone laughed and gained the ground they had lost easily. Uriah looked sideways, seeing everyone besides him.
“Ah frakk it.” He said easing off his speed. Everyone laughed again. Far above a siren played.
The lights brightened, reverting from the darkness of the jungle. The shots chasing their heels ceased and a number of gun bearing servitors emerged from the thick jungle. The group turned back and walked towards them. Dariel walked over to the largest of the hunters, a behemoth of flesh and augmetics, sweat running from his face.
Running down the nose that had been broken to many times, his simple features and glistening on his close cropped brown hair, giving the impression that he’d just been to the showers.
“Well met Major Cain, your warriors are formidable runners. I wonder how good they are in a real fight.” Said the giant. Dariel brushed of the casual insult with a laugh.
“As did yours Scarl, but if you would like a real fight, then I’m sure me and my boys would happily oblige.” He said. Scarl was one of the Legio Extremis Skitarii, a huge creation of the Mechanicus, flesh forged in steel.
Over half his body was augmetic; he wore great spiked plate armour, covered in feathers and other trophies of war. His appearance was designed more to scare than for aesthetics. In place of arms were bulky weapon limbs, though much smaller than he was accustomed to. They fired small cartridges filled with paint, the same as all the other servitors. Much different from the usual lascannon or autocannon he would attach when going to war.
“Confirmed hits?” asked Dariel.
“Give me a moment Major. Processing data now.” Replied Scarl. His one remaining organic eye rolled back into his head showing only white.
“Data processed. Two confirmed hits on Uriah Jacobs, one confirmed hit on Garvel Hak, Gaius Salomi, Mithras Barak and Phrenz Klightus. No confirmed hits on Dariel Cain.” Said Scarl. His eye rolled back down to its normal arrangement. Garvel was high-fiving everyone.
“That’s two bottles of Amasec you owe me Uriah. Drinks are on me tonight guys.” He laughed to the applause of everyone other then Uriah. Garvel was his squad’s heavy weapons expert. He could disassemble and re-assemble a heavy stubber in 15.8 seconds flat. A burly man in his late thirties, Garvel was a, exceptional soldier. He and his heavy weaponry had saved Dariel’s ass on many occasions. He had a scar running down his left cheek and his right shoulder was entirely augmetic, a gift from an angry Kroot hound of the T’au. He liked to wear his jet black hair short.
“Fine, fine I’ll get them for you later.” Uriah said.
“You got any idea what this siren is for. Something happen with the fleet?” asked Dariel
“As far as I can tell, we are about to emerge from warp transition. Other then that I don’t know.” Said Scarl.
“All ready? That was quick. How long have we been here training?” replied Dariel.
“Roughly eighty seven hours Major, so I suggest that your men go get some well deserved rest.” Said Scarl placing his hand on Dariel’s shoulder.
“Any clue as to where we are heading? I haven’t been told anything.”
“No, when I try to download the data to my memory buffers it says that the data is restricted.”
“Restricted data, sounds like something is going down.” Said Gaius.
“I get that feeling to friend.” Said Dariel. “And it doesn’t feel good.”
She stood on the brink, between rationality and insanity. Before her, through the five metre thick observation glass and behind the rigorous protection of the ships geller field was the warp. A swirling mass of raw emotion, no semblance, always in motion, always changing. To an un educated mind, it would look like a swirling mass of colour, but to one psychically gifted like herself, it was something much more.
It was the raw primordial force of the universe, always a malformed reflection of the reality she lived in. As a psyker, she had the ability to shape the powers of the warp to her will, to use them, but never control them. Some critics believed that the warp controlled psykers themselves, and that that was what made them so dangerous to the Imperium. Other, more fanatical people, believed psykers to be humanities salvation, that they would usher in a new age of enlightenment and knowledge for the Imperium.
Though she didn’t care much what they thought of psykers, she would continue to serve the Throne regardless. She turned from her silent vigil and walked away from the window, issuing a voice command to have the shutters close again. The gargantuan steel shutters closed slowly, causing a loud clang to reverberate around the state room. Without the strange light of the warp, the room descended into near darkness again except for the small glow lamp on her desk.
Its light revealed many ruffled pieces of paper, with seemingly to semblance. She walked over and sat behind the large wooden desk in a cold steel chair, the chill running all up her back.
She tried to give the papers order but found she couldn’t, there were simply too many documents to sort through. Behind her, lounging about on a dark leather sofa, she finally noticed a man. He looked up from the book he was reading and looked at her.
“Hmmm. Must you always have your head in the papers Novia? Come sit, have a drink, read a book, I don’t know maybe go and have some fun.” He said.
“As always Haxtes I must tell you that this is my job and yours as well. I’m trying to learn about the situation we’re getting ourselves into, and the people that we’re dragging down with us. We are Inquisitors, after all, that is what we do is it not?” asked Novia.
“Yes that is what we do but we are entitled to have some fun.” Said Haxtes.
“How can we have fun when the Orks are running rampart throughout the entire Palaran sector? How can we have fun when thousands are dying by the day? Duty only ends in death Haxtes, and only then.” Retorted Novia as she shook her head.
Her stark red hair swaying about her shoulders. A deep contrast to her pale skin. Freckles spotted her small button nose and a small scar from a vocab enhancement ran down the right side of her neck. Haxtes sighed.
“Yet again you make a very un compelling argument Novia. The people of the Palaran sector should be rising up and fighting the Ork threat to their homelands, but instead they cower and wait to be put to the slaughter like cattle. Those kinds of people hardly deserve to be saved at all. And when we get there, we are only there for the mission, not to evacuate the populace. Is that clear?” grumbled Haxtes. Novia gave in.
“As you wish lord.”
Novia had waited until Haxtes had left. He had gone to look for more drinks after he had drank all the alcohol in the room. She had waited until then to call for the servitor. It entered through the room’s main door on a wheeled locomotion. It wore a simple red robe of the local Mechanicum forge, covering its gross augmetics and implants from public view.
It moved over to stand in front of Novia who was sitting on the leather sofa Haxtes had been on only moments ago. A series of clicks and whirs sounded as it lowered itself to the floor.
“How may servitor designation 1101 be of help my lady?” it said in a heavily computerized voice.
“Access record logs of all members of the 1st Legio Infantry Special Operations squad.”
“As you wish my lady. One moment please.” It said. There was a clicking noise coming from under its hood followed quickly by a chime.
“Records found on members of 1st Legio Infantry Special Operations squad. Information is ready to be exloaded at your discretion my lady.” It said, pulling out a data slate from under its robes, its fingers connecting like cables to the input ports.
The data slate flashed into life lighting up the darkened room. It presented six names to Novia. She tapped the first name, changing the screen to a series of flowing columns of data undecipherable to Novia’s eyes.
“Translate if you’d please servitor.” She said
“Of course my lady. Squad leader: Major Dariel Cain, Legio Infantry. Has been in active service for 15 years. Taken part of one hundred and seventy nine covert operations. Leaded one hundred and five of the actions. The major also bears the Winged Skull, the unique Supreme Scarlet Wing and a triple skull medal.” Said the servitor. Impressive thought Novia.
“Any service before the Legio Infantry? PDF duty maybe?” she asked.
“Yes my lady. It says he was an under hive pit fighter of the brutal sort. He was found by a member of the local PDF Commissariat and taken to join the PDF. ” Answered the servitor.
“A Pit fighter? Well I guess that could come in handy.” she said.
“Yes my lady.” Said the servitor.
“Tell me about the others.”
“Yes my lady.”
The ship burst from the warp, tearing itself from the spectral dimension. The rift it had opened spilled multicoloured light into the void. The ship was of gargantuan proportions. A huge stylised skull dominated its prow, the maws of massive lance batteries protruding from its empty eye sockets. The hull was painted in bright silvers and gold’s, the livery of The Legion. It had been hand crafted on Terra many millennia ago, before the Great War that almost snuffed mankind from existence.
Gothic towers burst from its surface, like bony fingers reaching for the distant stars. Weapon systems the size of cargo freights lined its hull, ready to annihilate its foes. The Mortifer Umbra was a ship of war, the mobile fortress monastery of The Legion, a Space Marine chapter that could stake its claim with other greats like the Ultramarines or the Space Wolves. The ship contained its own Mechanicus forge along with a Titan Legion and an entire battle force of Imperial Guard, the Legio Heavy Infantry. Though the majority of the ship was held by the chapter itself.
Trailing behind it was a fleet of much smaller cruisers of many different styles. Dauntless cruisers, Endeavour and Victory battle ships, and even an ancient Apocalypse class vessel. Countless other escorts followed closely behind them.