Benedictia Ch.2

The fleet hung silently over the planet. The ships, many larger than entire cities, held themselves silently, broodingly over their prey. Below, visible even from space, was a hive city. For the past hour the ships had hung there, like the audience of some terrible performance, and had watched as the city was being slowly overrun. A call for aid reached the ships once again, and at first it seemed to be ignored as the last had been. However, finally prepared, the fleet gave its answer. The greatest of the ships, a behemoth even among its brethren, brought itself into position and began to release its payload. Silently, they began to fall towards the dying city. The ship had fired no weapons, nor had it launched any ordinance. None the less, the ship continued to rain down its own form of death upon the world. The pods screamed and vibrated as they entered the atmosphere, but if their occupants noticed or even cared, they gave no sign of it. Hundreds of these transports carried the warriors within down to the dying city of Benedictia. When they arrived, the men inside would be outnumbered by the thousands. Still, they would be enough. As the pods reached the correct altitude, their thrusters screamed to life and began to slow the vessels' decent. Landing in the desperate city, they opened and disgorged the warriors that they had been carrying, and the greatest of the holy Emperor’s warriors brought with them the wrath, flame, and fury of the imperium.

And the city burned.

***

Striding through the habs of Benidictia, Brother-Seargent Rodius of the space marine chapter The Sons of Dorn surveyed the city. Many buildings lay dead and hollow from artillery. The walls of others were pockmarked with shrapnel and solid rounds. Many others still burned from the passing battle and were now groaning and collapsing as they slowly died. Wreckage and the bodies of the fallen littered the streets. An armored transport, torn open by an anti-tank round, lay smashed against a wall. Its engine was still warm from when it had been carrying men. Now it was little more than a blackened, smoking shell. The man gave thanks that most of the inner city had been saved, and that only the outer habs were in this condition.

He and his reinforcing space marines had arrived just as the enemy had taken the walls, and with a ruthless and savage efficiency had turned back the invading tides. The planet’s own personal defense troops had halted their retreat and rallied around the charging marines. Whether they had done so out of inspiration or out of sheer fear of what the marines would do to those that fled, the troops had staged a new counter push that had retaken the walls and forced the enemy out into the thinner habs that surrounded the city. The enemy would have to be dislodged from there with ground troops in order to salvage what was left of those areas. Orbital strikes would ruin the lands and destroy the agri-domes that would have to feed the city once retaken.

Rodius’ commanders would use the time that their victory had won to establish lines of supplies and troops from orbit, and to strengthen defenses in the city. The officer walked by a detachment of men that were gathering and burning the bodies of the foe. Rodius took a moment to finally get a good look at what he had been fighting for the past seven hours. The enemy wore filthy and torn fatigues of a deep blue. Their faces and arms were heavily pierced, and the chaos worshippers had also tattooed and cut foul symbols into their skin. Many wore the stigma of mutation in forms ranging from weeping sores to deformed limbs and faces. Their leaders were marked by the intricate masks they wore, each different in their own disturbing ways. Some took the form of the faces of demons, leering or screaming at the world. Others were completely smooth and did not even have openings for eyes or mouths. Rodius did not wish to know how these men communicated with masks like those, but he did not doubt that the filth had found a way.

The men in charge of the disposal stopped and gave hasty salutes to the captain. The marine replied with an encouraging smile and motioned them to continue as he began to walk away.

“As always, your charisma could inspire men to jump to there very doom”, came a voice from his side. Rodius looked to his left to see brother Jascus, his company’s librarian. In the past, Rodius might have startled at such an abrupt appearance, but he had grown to expect it from Jascus. His silent nature was something Rodius was now accustomed to.

“Isn’t that the job of any commander?” replied the marine.

“You would have to ask the chaplains about that one brother. We psychers aren’t usually relied upon to uphold morale. Being conduits for the warp doesn’t usually garner trust.”

Rodius gave a dry laugh at the man’s prod. He had always enjoyed how the librarian had seemed to avoid the severe natures of most psychers. “So”, he continued, “What has brought you all the way out here? Shouldn’t you be with high command, advising on the current affairs?”

“High command has enough psychers to keep them happy. I was sent to investigate the field in order to see if the enemy had been using any warpcraft that we had not already detected. Walk with me. We need to talk.”

The men continued down the roadway. They discussed new barricades and the enemy’s tactics, and how best to start retaking the outermost habs. Eventually Rodius turned his friend and asked, “So? Why not stop talking in circles and get to the reason you really came here.”

A grin grew across the wrinkled face of the librarian. “Always to the point. You might go farther if you were to indulge the right men in their own ramblings.”

“And chaplains and inquisitors alike are falling over themselves to please you?” replied his friend.

The psycher gave a low chuckle. “No, I fear that I do not follow my own lessons sometimes. That’s probably why neither of us is racing up the ladder of command. I digress though. You probably realize that I’m not here for pleasantries.”

“The thought had occurred to me.”

“Well, it appears that our recent… political tactics have not gone unnoticed by this system’s inhabitants.”

“Really? Have they now?”

“Yes”, continued Jascus, “Apparently, the presence of the largest fleet this backwater system has seen in millennia has raised a few eyebrows at the nearby Craftworld.”

“Those xenos are here?” demanded Rodius. Rarely had the space marine run afoul of these ancients over his century long service of the Emperor, but he had seen enough when he had. The elder race was rarely one to treat lightly.

“Yes”, continued the Librarian, as if he had not heard the surprise in his companion’s voice, “And they don’t seem thrilled with our presence. You can calm down, you know. Local planets have had a treaty for a few centuries now.”

“I have seen the effectiveness of treaties on the Eldar”, spat Rodius as he subconsciously rubbed the scar above his left temple.

“And I have seen the enflamed wrath of a Craftworld”, the Librarian cut in, “You forget your age. You have seen skirmishes with the Eldar; I have fought wars against them. The blood their wrath can spill is something I do not wish upon this world or any other. They have offered to negotiate, and command has seen fit to agree.” The harsh tone of his friend quieted Rodius and he turned his gaze to avoid the eyes of his brother.
“And what does the “higher” race demand?” grumbled the humbled marine.
“Surprisingly little. They say that we can continue to purge this world as long as we allow a representative of theirs to oversee and make sure that we do not have any other plans.”

Rodius coughed and complained, “Show me an Eldar I can trust, and I’ll show you a corpse.”

Jascus smiled at his friend’s caution. “Apparently, command agrees. They’re sending inquisitors to escort the “diplomat””. The last words left the man’s mouth as if they hadn’t wanted to go.

“Kec! Can things get any better? Now we have to contend with those witch hunters?”

“More than you know. You see, the inquisitors need bodyguards and who better than the Astartes?”

Rodius raised an eyebrow in disdain at the direction things were heading. “You aren’t telling me I’ve been reassigned to this circus?”

“We brother, we have been reassigned.”

“Those who assigned us do know my record, correct?”

“I wondered that myself. Neither of us is known for our civil tongues” sighed the Psycher. “We will be meeting the inquisitors and the Eldar in a day’s time. The meeting will be planetside. The Eldar refuse to meet onboard any of our ships. Why they think meeting on the ground is safer is beyond me. Bring a still tongue and a loaded bolter just in case.”

“The second of those I would never leave behind”, grinned the marine.

“And the first you have never heard of. Just try not to start an extra war while you’re there. The one we already have is enough for now.”

“I can make no promises.”

“I was afraid of that.” He sighed.

Both men turned and walked their own ways, leaving clouds of sand on the dusty road.