Sister Ines racked the slide of her bolter and heard the meaty clicking of the first round of a new magazine sliding into place. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to keep her focus and drown out the barrage of artillery that screamed and roared around her. Her training and her faith were more than enough to control her fear, but the murderous torrent of shells still had ample effect on her more tangible senses. She shifted her shoulders and stretched her arms, checking the sounds and feel of her armor’s servo-joints. Satisfied, she turned back to the rest of her squad. Four other Sisters of Battle were flexing their respective grips on their respective bolters and checking their weapons for signs of significant wear or trauma.
Sister Freyda continued her seemingly endless muttering of litanies and prayers, as if the Emperor would cease to know her should she stop. Sister Maniku shifted uncomfortably, trying to lessen pressure on her two broken ribs. Focusing a rage-filled glare on the landscape beyond the squad’s cover, Sister Area looked like a vengeful raptor seeking prey. Between all of them, Sister Superior Joanna pressed her vox-link bud into her ear and closed her eyes in an attempt to assess the overall tactical situation. Each of them had been blooded and their wargear had taken savage beatings.
“Sisters, ears to the vox,” the Superior ordered. “Please repeat, my mistress” Joanna yelled into her link.
The metallic growl of the communications network flooded Ines’s ears and was swiftly replaced with the voice of the Blessed Canoness.
“Squad Joanna- traitorous Astartes have been sighted in your area,” the commander said. “Fall back and regroup at a more defensible position. We must consolidate and not allow them to attack us piecemeal.”
“Negative, mistress. We have made significant ground in this sector,” Joanna responded. “My squad can defend th…”
The barking retort of a bolter, heavier in caliber than those of Squad Joanna, cut off the Superior’s remarks by hitting her in the pauldron, spinning and dropping her. She herself was superficially damaged, but she tore the piece of armor from her shoulder and cast it aside. She rolled aside as a three round burst exploded in the space she formerly occupied, showering the squad with rockcrete and shrapnel. As one, the four Sisters counter-attacked, barely emerging from cover and opening up with their firearms. Sister Area’s head exploded as she pulled her trigger, scattering her shots to the wind but forcing her massive Astartes murderer to move to cover.
The giant was absurdly quick and relentless, loosing off single shots as he moved, each of which came perilously close to a squad member. His thick, burgundy, statuesque armor absorbed several direct hits which did little more than make him grunt in defiance. Some thirty meters behind him, a swarm of obscene and frenzied cultists was advancing and butchering any soldier unfortunate enough to be wounded.
Rather than move between the cover, the Chaos Marine thundered through it like a runaway vehicle, forcing Maniku and Freyda to leap and roll out of the way. Superior Joanna drew her power sword and leapt forward into the mass of ceramite and debris, the weapon held out like a lance of light. The Astarte plowed through her, sending her airborne body spinning and slamming into the rockcrete.
“Ave Imperator!” Ines cried as she rose and emptied her bolter. The repeated impacts pulverized the Chaos Marine’s backpack generator and staggered his bulky form. Ines allowed her bolter to kick hard in her hands and use the recoil to bring the shots toward his head. Even as she fired, her eyes caught the golden glimmer of Joanna’s power sword embedded to the hilt in the traitor’s belly, and she smiled.
“Suffer not…the unclean…to live!” Joanna heaved in ragged gasps as the Chaos Marine dropped to one knee and the icon of a grey, screaming demon was scoured from his shoulder. The final shot cleared the barrel of Ines’s weapon and struck the Marine just beneath his helm, tearing his throat into a bloody ruin that barely kept his head on his shoulders.
Sister Freyda approached the dying Astarte and gripped his horned helm with both hands. With a throaty scream, she torn the Word Bearer’s head from his shoulders and turned to the cultist throng beyond.
"We are the Daughters of the Emperor! His Holy Avengers! See our wrath and know what awaits you, heretics!”
No comments:
Post a Comment