The Ork Noble, in its heavy, thick suit of armor painted with yellow moons and sickened suns, had Lugerev raised up by an unwieldy power claw. The metal talons bit deep into the sides of his power armor, cutting his flesh beneath and causing him to bleed. He was pinned against a boulder as the Greenskin roared its victory, savoring the moment just a little while longer. Its face was filled with an odd mixture of anger and exhilaration behind the false lower jaw made of metal. A ridiculously large gun barrel was suddenly pointed into the Marine’s face.
Lugerev hastily called for reinforcements over the vox channel he had been on.
Something, he wasn’t sure what, smashed into the beast half a second later, sending its enormous frame flying, broken and bloody. The Primus Medicae dropped to the ground with a thud, but quickly got back to his feet. He could hear Kunzhardt’s tanks in the background, firing their salvos and rumbling forward. Perhaps it was one of them, that had saved him. It seemed that for all intents and purposes, the battle here was won. The Orks had been routed and the Iron Warriors were moving in, doing what they did best, fortifying.
Nature. There was still some here. The Grand Company clearly hadn’t been here long, yet. A couple of hours, perhaps.
Lugerev moved to the other side of the massive boulder, and began walking along a shallow trench which soon turned into a small vein of water. He was likely needed to tend the wounded...but his apothecaries would do their jobs. As he began to shake off the near-death experience he looked upward. He slowly removed his helm, and held it in the crux of his arm.
Bright, slow paced explosions of huge proportions were scattered throughout the twilight sky, varying in size. Iapetus was making quick work of the rubbish Ork fleet.
He left caked foot prints in the soft, damp dirt behind him. The tributary became a brook, a creek. The planet’s sunlight glistened off of the soft ripples made from the thunderous vibrations of the Mechanized Fist up ahead, and the Titan Breaker’s forces following suit behind him. Some short trees and shrubs held onto their leaves, blowing with the winds of war. The kind of war Astartes made. Their fluttering shadows further played with the light dancing over the water.
He was looking calmly at one of these shadows as he walked, which soon became that of his younger brother’s. The familiar whir of mechanics, and coiling of mechadendrites came with it.
‘Hello, Adriun.’ Said Lugerev, still looking at the flowing water as his brother caught up to him. his greeting was warm, but saddened. After a moment, he fixed his stare on Adriun’s faceplate.
"Medicae, is there something you wish to say to me? Your eyes speak for you."
‘There is.’ Lugerev turned his head. They both looked forward now, the sunlight reflecting brightly off the immaculate edging of their Iron Armor.
‘I wanted to talk to you about one of your techmarines, your Master Genetor, Loakk. I know more about handling geneseed than anyone else in this Grand Company, Adriun.’
The massive Master of the Forge left much deeper footprints in the soil than the Primus Medicae.
‘If he wishes to handle this precious material, I would very much like to assist him. I have no interest in using foul Wolf genes for myself, so it matters little to me that he tinkers with such a degraded specimen type. Even so, I think we could help each other improve, and a techmarine knowledgeable in that field frees up some of my spare apothecaries for use in the other Companies.’
As he finished this sentence, Lugerev watched as fifteen dark, ominous figures moved up along the river’s edge in a hurry. They surrounded he and Adriun, all facing forward still, and then slowed down. Some fell into step behind them, some to the side, and some rushed forward to walk in front. Five of them were significantly larger than the other ten.
‘I don’t know how much blood still courses through your twisted body, but whatever is left of it, is Olympian blood. And I know you are cleaved between the Cult Mechanicus and the IV Legion, but you are still a truer brother than most in these odd times of post-rebellion guerilla warfare.’
He stopped dead, and turned sharply to face Adriun. Storm Eagles and Thunderhawks screamed overhead.
‘I took you out of that shuttle, that escape pod. I gave you your new life. I tended to your wounds as a neophyte, and as a full battle brother. I watched you wander into the red hands of Mars and become what you are today, letting your new practices take care of your wounds instead, and I have done so ever since. Now, I have wounds that I need your help in tending. There are wounds in this Grand Company that need your help in tending.’
Lugerev didn’t break his stare from Adriun’s faceplate. As they stood in the undecorated hallway of the Ferra Perpetua, surrounded by terminators and a breacher squad marked for the 7th, he waited for a response.
You can never be prepared for the unexpected