28 Chapter 3 Part 8

Chapter 3: On Death's ground

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Part 8

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Imperial lines

Pavonian Heartlands

"Purge the abominable xeno from the face of this world, Brothers!" Anteas' thundered, while his temper was fraying. They already lost one Inquisitor and his retinue on this cursed planet, he wasn't looking forward to explaining to the Inquisition how they managed to lose a second one in a short order. Said organization already looked at the Blood Ravens with more than enough unwarranted suspicion, thank you very much.

Besides, miracle of miracles, this one was actually rather sane and uncommonly reasonable, so far anyway. Having him die would be such a waste, and allowing the damn Tau of all things get him, that would be simply embarrassing, the Librarian grumbled to himself in the privacy of his mind. He emptied the magazine of his bolter pistol at a cluster of charging Kroot, the ammunition making a delightful mess of their heads, and put the weapon back to its magnetic clamp. He raised an open hand just in time to meet a large, roaring specimen with a blast of Warp fire to the face. The xeno collapsed, clutching its melting flesh and bone, kicking uselessly in the dirt, while Anteas moved on to the next threat.

Around him, Tactical Marines spread out, covering the flanks and keeping annoying pests from a Devastator squad, which set up on the ridge. A platoon of Guard armour followed the swifter Astartes, aiding their firepower to the onslaught. And just like that, the xeno assault broke in a showers of gore and explosions.

"Push them back! Don't let them regroup!" Anteas shouted aloud, both to his brothers and the soldiers who had to fight the enemy practically hand to hand when the xenos swarmed them.

He saw a familiar and sad picture as he approached the medical station – there were too many dead and dying people on the blood-soaked ground. The sight never failed to put a bitter taste in his mouth. This was what the Blood Ravens fought to prevent, this was why they hoarded all the technology and knowledge they could get their hands on – so one day normal men and women won't have to face the horrors of the galaxy with such ordinary equipment. The sad truth was that generally the Guard's equipment wasn't bad, it was just that you needed more in order to face most of the Humanity's enemyies on equal footing and win without paying with rivers of blood, and even then, there were foes that even the Astartes couldn't best without paying a steep price.

Anteas put aside those thoughts and returned his full attention to the skirmish at hand, well, its aftermath. The few Kroot still in sight were on the run, with his Brothers and especially the Guard, shooting them in the backs with a relish. Only a handful managed to make it over the nearby hills – it was a target rich environment after all, only for couple of Russ tanks to lob a few sells after the aliens. With the immediate threat neutralized, Anteas could put his full attention into locating the Inquisitor and making sure he lived to fight another day.

He soon found his target surrounded by a small group of shell-shocked troopers, most of them wounded, a very happy cog-boy, who was splattered in Kroot blood from the tip of their hood to the toes of the boots poking out from the hem of their gore-soaked robe and disgruntled doctor. The Inquisitor was on the ground and looked even worse to wear, the reason why was obvious – not just the Kroot attack, but a number of xenos dispatched by Warp sorcery, among the corpses surrounding this particular last stand.

"Medicae, report. What is the status of the Inquisitor? What do you need to keep him alive and what aid do your other patients require?" Anteas demanded answers.

While what was left of the forward positions could not be held with the available assets, an orderly retreat bleeding the alien bastards was very much in the cards, now that their treacherous sneak attack was more or less contained.

"Transports, medics, drugs, the Emperor's blessing, some of those poor bastards are going to need it all." The doctor grumbled.

"I'll arrange as much assistance as practical." Anteas said and switched comm channels to contact command. "What's his condition?"

"The Inquisitor should live, if we can keep him from becoming eaten, blown up or receiving any more blows upon the head." The Martian responded. "He'll need some Omnisiah blessed spare parts, so we'll be able to make a proper person out of him."

"Captain Thule, Brother-Librarian Anteas, we've located the package. He's still viable, but need extraction, medical attention..." Anteas gave Veil one good look, "and some spare parts."

"Good. Get him back to the Capital, we're redeploying the bulk of our forces there for the time being, including Apothecary assets."

"Affirmative, sir. We'll need transports and medics to evacuate the wounded before completing the tactical retreat..."

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Apothecary

Victory Bay

Kronus

Streams of Binary, sterile smell, comfortable bed and the absence of pain – somehow, those things didn't tell me that I've merely had a particularly nasty nightmare. The cog-boy speech intensified when they noticed me stirring. I cracked my eyes open to see couple of blurs nearby – one was reddish-brown, as expected, however, the other one was much larger and gayish in colour.

"Inquisitor, you're awake! Good!" A deep, jolly voice boomed with enough strength to make my bones rattle. "I'm pleased to report that the operation was successful, and you'll have all your new bits and pieces operational in a short order!"

Wut? I blinked at the giant figure, trying to process what it just told me. My brain wasn't working quite right, probably all the drugs, which sounded both wrong and right for some reason.

"What?" I asked, though what came out was a strangled croak. My throat was parched too – something that I just noticed.

A mechatendril shoved a bottle of water complete with attached straw right into my face and I took an experimental sip, wondering why was I getting the VIP treatment.

"What happened?" I tried again. My voice sounded weak, tired and alien to my ears.

"You charged an Ork Warboss, if the rumours are right, riding a Chimera no less!" The red blur cleared up somewhat, revealing the hooded face of a Tech Priest, who had at least his chin still made of good old fashioned flesh and blood.

"We've got helmet video of that stunt. It was one of the funnier things I've seen people do and live through." The deep thundering voice commented.

"That wasn't such a good idea in hindsight." I managed to croak. My memories were coming back now and I had some trouble believing what I had done. Charging an Ork, a Warboss no less?! Did I leave my brain, or at least common sense, back in orbit?

"Well, it worked, kind of." The large blur, which had to be an Astartes, said in something that might have been supposed to be a soothing tone.

"We don't have a confirmation that said Ork is very dead." The cog-boy waved a couple of spiky tentacles behind his back. "We're getting off topic. Inquisitor, I'm proud to announce that we managed to install all your new bits and pieces without an issue. You're now truly blessed by the Holy Cog, and the Motive Force!" He shoved his hand in my face, displaying five thin and long metal fingers, which gave me a thumb's up.

"What bits and pieces?" I asked warily. Nothing hurt, which meant it couldn't be that bad? Then again, I was dumb enough to charge an Ork Warboss, that was what Ogryns did!

"Left arm, the shoulder, some reinforcements so you could properly use your brand new bionics..." The Cog-boy began listing off on fingers tipped with very sharp looking points.

Those were a lot of bionics he was telling me about. What in the Emperor's name did I do?!

My brain dragged out fragmented images of screaming Orks, explosions, blood and Kroot of all things… I thought I heard an echo of laughter too, but then again, I was probably high up on drugs, otherwise I wouldn't be this calm under the circumstances, right?