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[:: Inloading Data-Packet; Lt. Tomas Foley :: ]
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“Any dropships in the vicinity of Sigma Lance’s crash site?”
“Negative, Sigma’s Valkyrie rolled hard, No grav-chutes, they are in the Emperor’s care now.”
They weren’t dead. Not yet. The words rattle around Tomas’ head as he shook himself awake, it wasn’t going to end like this. He could hear muffled groans around him, he wasn’t alone, he couldn’t be alone.
The scene was bleary, and jittered as he remained locked within the crash harness upside down in the overturned Valkyrie, his hands fumbling with the emergency release as thick rivulets of hot crimson ran down into his eyes, stinging as he fought to free himself.
With strained effort he tossed off the harness and felt his vision grey, the freezing cold deck racing up to meet him as he fell from the lock-bars onto the deck below. Fighting back the growing greying of his vision, he reached out grabbing hold of his las-rifle, he had to organize his men.
It's a standard drop, sector nobility and senior officers need extraction, it's an in and out. No heroics.
The briefings words rattled about within the confines of his mind as he hauled himself free from the smoldering and twisted remains of the Valkyrie dropship.
The air was tinged with the stomach churning scent of ionized air, from the relentless fire of superheated las-bolts, mixing disgustingly with the acrid and choking scent of crude gunsmoke. Far before him in the vast and fog choked distance, crimson lances of light danced between a seething tide of green hued flesh. A living sea of rancid oil and fetid leather that fought and made war upon isolated pockets of soldiers much like himself, striving like a stone upon which the sea did break.
Before him lay a canvas of mud and fire set before the backdrop of the hive-city, a burning artificial mountain of plasteel and ferrocrete, before it did swirling shadows move and roil in a living sea. These countless crude figures of greenskin barbaric savagery swarmed forth like a shrieking, seething tide as they raced towards the shattered wreck of the dropship.
Secure the dropsite, evacuate the command staff and high value targets.
Tomas gritted his teeth at the wordless recall, snapped him back into focus. With instinct at work, he levels the hot-shot lasrifle and fires into the nearest screaming brute, the heat from the las-beam blinding him for but a fraction of a second. The bolt energy’s power casting the axe wielding greenskin back down the mound of debris and mud it had struggled to climb.
As he blinks away the after-image of the shot, the billowing of distant movement catches his eye. Far off in the distance, amid the sea of green, vast plumes of crimson smoke lay rolling across the field, amid it several battered Valkyries and their teams waged a losing fight against the surging tide of green bodies racing to meet them.
The dropsite,we are off our mark, the mission it was…
“... Fire-Team Aurix, senior staff and House Lords are requesting extraction, we can’t spare anyone else with the loss of Indomitable and her troop complement. Their extraction site is near Sigma’s dropsite, can you confirm Sigma lancer is on station to secure the area? …”
“Negative, Sigma’s Valkyrie went down several kilometers short of the site.”
Tomas sharply moves his hand to the side of his helm, cueing up his vox-bead as he speaks with a hoarse and ragged tone.
“Negative! Sigma lance is still operational; we are in range of the dropsite. We can make it there-”
The words died in his throat as a sharp call of alarm at his back snapped his attention round. His head turns, eyes narrowed as he spies several of his drop-troopers clambering from the rear of the damaged Valkyrie, hauling wounded with them. However his senior Sgt. calls out to him, indicating to a nearby Greenskin that had managed to crest the embankment and cover the debris provided.
Sharply thumbing the selector for automatic fire, Tomas swings the barrel of his hot-shot lasgun towards the hulking, crudely armored greenskin, who was in turn leveling a cobbled together auto-gun squarely at him.
Foley felt the heat as the lasgun shrieks to life, sending forth a torrent of searing bolts of energy, just as he spies the Orks weapon belching forth a plume of black smoke. The hailstorm of crimson bolts found their mark and hew through the creature and kicked it back and away over the embankment.
However, the spiraling shot of steel spirals in the space between them, Foley uncomfortably able to make out the pitted and rusted steel that composed the bullets jacket, as it races forth towards him.
The thunderous crack of pain ripples through the right side of his face, as it feels as if he is picked from his feet by his head and crushed down firmly onto the stone and twisted steel beneath him. His world is ripped from him as he is left falling in the inky pit of unconsciousness.
We were so close, and yet …
Tomas felt the world ebb back to him, as he felt a sharp pin-prick on his temple. The sudden flick of pain was just as swiftly replaced with a cooling and dulling sensation that sapped the pain from his face as he once more opened his eyes.
Upon a heavy crate he found himself sitting, staring at the chipped and damaged side of the squat and angular dropship's nose, gone was the roar of crude ballistic firearms and the hiss of las-rifle replies replaced instead with the dull ambiance of the hanger.
Inwardly he wanted to take stock of what was around him, yet as his vision was returning to him a twinge caused him to wince once more as pressure made itself known. Moving round his head was a blur of white padding winding its way to find its place upon his temple he casts an unamused glance towards the medic tending to his wound.
“Throne, I am not trying to get a new helmet made out of gauze, you do know that right Muldoon?”
The medic freezes as Tomas throws a sideways look to them, only to immediately regret his words, forcing him to bite his tongue. The medic in question was not Muldoon, nor was he greeted by the normally sardonic and gaunt features of his unit's medicae. Instead, knelt beside him was a medical officer from another regiment, looking on with some measure of worry and concern.
The young lass adjusts the heavy face wrap she wore atop the heavy deep tan carapace plate, pulling down her face cover to reveal her deeply tanned flesh, and scarred feminine face.
“Ah, sorry Lieutenant, I am not Specialist Muldoon. Your medicae did not make it off world, I was sent to tend your injuries, I am Specialist Zeineb from the Dune-Breakers. ”
Tomas glances away, trying not to show the fact he had been caught up replaying the last battle over in his head. Inwardly he felt a pang of shame for the slip up of having referred to the outsider by the name of his friend that had fallen on Ichorus V.
“Ah, my apologies Ma’am, just caught me unaware was all. I was just trying to figure out what sorta weapons made the damage here on the Valkyrie’s nose. Old girl had been through alot.”
Tomas indicates to the battered and pitted nose of the dropship, trying rapidly to shift the conversation. All while Zeineb gives him an uneasy look, her hands now returning to bandaging his head. She’d speak up after a few moments and glance towards the ship's nose.
“Mhmm, I think you and the Valkyrie have something in common there. I’ve never seen a helmet catch a slug at such close range. You're lucky and blessed by Him on Earth to have escaped with only the glancing shot it gave you. Seems you and your men dropped square into one of the fiercer zones of fighting.”
Tomas merely responds with a shrug of his shoulders, whilst the medic does her work bandaging his head.
“Straight into hell it seems, such is the luck of a drop-regiment. Tell me, your Commissar-Captain, was she able to extract your regiments Officers from the Hive? Or is your regiment in a similar sort of shape as ours?”
Zeineb pauses her tending, moving to anchor down her gauze work, a sight sigh escaping her as she steps back to inspect her handiwork.
“No, from what I understand, Colonel Saffia wasn’t able to be located, thus forcing us to pull off-world with what we could. We had to leave some elements of our motorized coven down on Ichorous. Word from command is that we are going to be forced into mix regiment fireteams now. Not that it's strange for you, didn’t you escape planetside with a mixed unit?”
Feeling the medic complete her work, Tomas idly rubs the side of his head, the bandages overlaying the grazing hit he’d taken.
“Yeah, most of my team went down with the Valkyrie and the fight to the evac site. When we boarded the Valkyrie, we had gained a few others from various survivor holdouts. I have got to head bridge-side and find Major Bruma, more than likely he will want to hand over new squad roosters before we transition back to real-space.”
Zeineb pauses as she moves to pack up her medical kit, glancing off towards a milling squad of the dune-worlders own kin, their own number patched up sorely as they rapidly work keen their blades. She raises a finger and indicates to the Lieutenant as he makes ready to depart for the bridge.
“Oh! Lieutenant, one more thing. There was a strange figure making the rounds sometime earlier looking for you. Claimed to be an Imperial noble from the Hive, she was crediting her rescue to you and your team. Do you have any recall of such or shall I send an aid to usher her off?”
Tomas is given pause, his mind rolling back to the hazy blur of the battle at the foot of the Hive Primus, vaguely interspersed in the clash of bayonet, axe and lasrifle he could see flashes of color as countless throngs were herded into the squat form of landers and merchant ships that braved the fire to evacuate the survivors planetside. Faintly he does recall a particular noble and her retinue they had extracted, strange lot certainly their attire and air didn’t truly match that of the other nobles they ushered into the transports..
A woman clad in lavender …
“I … might recall something of that matter, our extraction was messy, we had a lot of foot traffic through the extraction site. It all sort of blurs together and the details are muddy after the shot to the helmet. It's entirely possible, if I see her I’ll make sure to wave her over. Thank you specialist, be there anything else?”
Zeineb gives a shake of her head before she departs with a few cordial words of encouragement, heading back towards her unit as she works to patch up some of the more minor injuries among her kin.
Tomas merely gathers to him the equipment of his kit, thumbing on his data-slate as he makes his way from the cloistered corner of the hanger. His course led him winding between dozens of the tightly packed and squat forms of Valkyrie dropships as they lay in haphazardous patterns, packed in like grox in a pen.
His pathway took him along several of the under work Valkyries, several dozen men clad in matte crimson carapace plate worked tirelessly to re-arm their unit and swap their damaged gear for that of restored or at least patchwork replacements. The nearest figure catches Tomas’s eye as he makes his way onward, it was the youngest of his unit.
Trooper Albert sat unmoving against a heavy stack of boxes, thumbing over his lasrifles selector switch as he almost robotically moved to cycle the energy cell clip from the weapon over and over in faux remedial drills. The younger man's glassy eyed stare at the battered deck plate giving him a sense of forlorn despair.
The Lieutenant reacts from the gut whilst he thumbs off his data-slate, moving to squat down beside the younger drop-trooper, slapping a hand on his carapace shoulder guard to jostle him back to the world.
“Hey, Albert, you still with me mate? I think your las-rifle is working just fine there. You good to go?”
The younger trooper is jostled and flinches at the impact, shaking his head as his focus returns to him, his thumb pausing their perpetual cycling of cells as he turns to face Tomas with a somewhat lost look upon his youthful face.
“H-Huh? Sir? I… I was caught up in something. Sorry Lieutenant. I am up for whatever command has for us.”
Tomas works his jaw idly, nodding along a quick glance around him at least letting him know the battered drop-trooper was at least completing his pre-drop prep despite shock that had set upon him.
“Good man, I want to make something clear to you though. From what we can glean, we are going to end up planetside or in boarding actions once we drop back into real-space. I want you to head over to the Dune-breaker Blade Coven there and find out what they need to get operational again.”
The younger man’s face hardens as he stares past Tomas, his lips pursed as he stares at the dune-worlder as they go about preparing their kits and moving cargo at a Tech-Priests request. His words are curt, laden with venom as he continues his gaze.
“The feral dune worlders Lieutenant? Frackin bastards… if they had held their positions we wouldn’t have missed our drop.”
Tomas gave the younger trooper a stern look, his grip tightening on the younger trooper's shoulder guard as he raised a finger in warning.
“Don’t start it, we all know what went wrong down there. This isn’t the time to start pointing fingers and blaming. Don’t let your hatred for the greenskins bleed over to your fellow soldier, understood? Save that rage and use it where the Emperor needs it.”
The younger trooper shudders giving his acknowledgement, as he moved to sit himself upright properly, sliding in energy shells into the en-bloc clip their las-rifles fed from.
“O-Of course sir, I will make sure to … speak with Sargeant Mahali of the blade breaker coven here once I finish reloading my clips. Sorry sir.”
Satisfied with the answer, Tomas stands up once more, indicating his intent to leave before slipping away. Inwardly he felt the same twinge of resentment well up within him for the other regiments that had travelled along with them on this botch push to save the Ichorous sector from oblivion. For truly had the Asharii Dunebreakers and Balvarian Iron Hounds departed the battlefield in pursuit of their own regiments personal goals and quests for valor. This left a simmering mote of ire to roil in his gut.
If they hadn’t quit the field so soon, we could have pulled more of our own troopers from their posts and we wouldn’t be in this short handed mess.
His eyes glanced downward once more to his dataslate as he started to read over the casualty statistics and the remaining unit strengths they were presented with. The reports were grim, the Kathados Sky-Raiders, his own regiment had been badly mauled by bad drop-zone information leaving them to drop directly into heavy enemy formations and air defense unsupported.
His path wove him finally past the angular and squat forms of the Valkyries his regiment utilized into the section of the hanger now packed, side to side by hulking and bulky formed Leman Russ tanks. Side by side they all sat, some in horrific states of mangled repair as their regimental unit worked tirelessly to try and salvage what parts they could with the assistance of a sizable multitude of crimson robed Tech-Priest Enginseers.
Tomas thumbs to their reports as he passes by the predominantly female tanker crews racing to and fro to haul in spare parts and muntion, checking over their casualty reports as he makes his way towards the bridge.
The Balvarian Iron Hounds were just as mauled, from what he could glean from their after-action reports. Despite hailing from the same frozen Forgeworld, their Ad-Mech Overseers had contentedly thrown the Iron Hound armored regiment against a sizable host of looted ork armor and left them without support only to sustain horrific losses to buy time for the withdrawal of Skitarii and Mechanicus aligned elements.
Though it was clear Asharii Dune-breakers had fared the worst in the fighting. Having abandoned their pre-planned defensive positions, the feral worlders far too fond of chain blades and storm-shields had lost a large portion of their host in the vainglorious pursuit of claiming the Ork warlord’s head to satisfy their lust for revenge. Their casualty reports were fairly appalling as they had remained behind when the planet-wide withdrawal was called in a measure to redeem their dereliction of duty. In truth it was them which allowed ork armor to find a comfortable place to wait till the Sky Raiders own Valkyries made planetfall.
By his estimates, the three regiments were far below strength, leaving them woefully underprepared to handle the impending conflict with any sizable force once they returned to real space. Hard times for them all it seemed.
Finally arriving at the heavy steel doorway, the heavy doorways hiss draws the focus of the distracted Lieutenant upward from his data-slate as he takes stock of the corridor's state. His pathway down the corridor towards the bridge was unremarkable surprisingly enough, the few figures that moved past him did so with fervent speed as they raced to accomplish duties from their superiors.
However, moving towards him were a pair of figures, two women of more youthful age that seemed to focus on Foley as the door slid open. The pair would gravitate towards Foley, slowly maneuvering themselves alongside the distracted officer. The nearest of the pair, was garbed in a vibrant violet dress, ruffled and trimmed white, with a fairly sizable ruffled mob cap to adorn the long golden locks of hair that trailed down about her. Her face veiled behind a paper fan, her dull amber eyes watching him intently as she drew closer casually spinning a fairly large parasol in her free hand.
Moving in perfect tow with the billowing dressed woman, was her compatriot or bodyguard of sorts. Whilst garbed in a fairly close fitting body glove, she was clad in some measure of armored void suit, her frame concealed save for her face and head. Tall and imposing the lass bore a sharp and keen edge to her features, an even keener intellect hidden behind her golden eyes. Her hair cut above her shoulders, her dull blond locks bobbing as she keenly kept her gaze and serious expression locked upon Tomas.
The pair draw near the hapless officer, as the woman bearing the fan politely inclines her head cordially in his direction, spinning her parasol idly in her grip as she speaks up with a smooth and coy tone.
“Ah! There you are Lieutenant Foley, I must say I it is only fitting to properly thank you for you and your companions timely assistance back on Ichorous, t’was a dreadful experience in every sense of the word.”
Tomas gaze moves between the pair, whilst the noblewoman seemed cordial if not overly gracious, his gaze warily fell upon her escort, the stoic face and expression written on her set wrong with him. He does however provide a tight lipped smile to the noble, inclining his helm as he toggles off his dataslate.
“But of course Ma’am, you must be the noble that was looking for me, I uh, must say it was an honor to be able to render assistance to you and your House. Though I fear the excitement of the extraction site has left me less than able to properly recall our previous encounter, I broker no disrespect... Lady?”
The noble in question merely gives a mellifluous laugh, as she bows her head in acknowledgement, indicating between herself and her escort with a tilt of her parasol.
“Ah! Fret not Lieutenant, you and your friends managed to save I and my companion here back on Ichorous from those green-skin brutes. I merely wished to repay your kindness by providing some curious tidbits of information I uncovered recently. As for my title? You may address me as Yukari Yakumo. Strange name no doubt, you will find my considerable holdings far from this place and stellar cluster.”
Tomas nods slowly, his pace towards the bridge even, yet no matter how steady he remained in his course he realized fully this noble would not broker any rebuffing of her inquiries till they were satisfied. Thus he comes to a halt, inwardly steeling himself for the droll of speaking with an aristocrat, before turning cordially with an indication to continue.
“By all means Lady Yakumo, as a humble servant of the Golden Throne, I will gladly hear out whatever it may be you need, though I will stress I am currently on duty and due to the urgency of our impending transition to real-space, I may not be able to properly route the information you provide me in a timely manner.”
Yukari merely inclines her head, tutting away the idea as she gestures towards the bridge with a bob of her head.
“Oh, but of course Lieutenant, I mean not to ensnare you unneededly. What I wished to inform you of some curious information I managed to dig up whilst in the Hive itself and those that dwell within it. I had hoped such would grant you and your officers some insight into upcoming events, so that preparations could be made for such.”
The statement truly did catch Tomas off guard, as he glances between the pair with a furrowed brow, he crosses his arms and indicates curtly.
“Oh? Well if you have vital information, I’d be remiss not to ask what it was you were harboring. Was it perhaps something pertaining to our impending naval action? We have taken proper precautions in the event we do not manage to transition smoothly into real-space”
Yukari shakes her head, indicating for Foley to lean in a hair closer, as she lowers her voice to a hushed tone
“Nay Nay, nothing like that, more so a warning for what is to come. For as it stands, you and your fellow soldiers have been swept up into something far beyond what you’ve trained for. As such, I wished to lay bare for you my insight into various individuals that compose the ship's menials and their ill-intentioned plans for you and your friends. For you see, our venerable vessel’s transition into real-space will be unlike that you nor anyone aboard has ever experienced, I have foreseen such.”
A twinge of cold ice floods his veins as Tomas shoots the lass a suspicious look, his own tone lowering to match hers as several menial men meander by with heavy tomes.
“What… an ominous statement Ma’am. And by what means did you manage to uncover this strange revelation?”
Yukari merely bats her eyes at him, the gesture falls short leaving that frigid chill growing in his chest, as she continues.
“Call it personal intuition, the vessel will most certainly suffer some measure of catastrophic failure conducted no less by those aboard her now. The individuals intending to enact this are far more malign and corrupting than would initially appear from first glance. If they manage to complete their task aboard this ship, I will be forced to take drastic measures to prevent the loss of this vessel and her trailing fleet as a whole, I would much prefer if I was not forced to, hence why I inform you now of such a possibility.”
The baffled Lieutenant begins to open his mouth to try and formulate some measure of a reply, before Yukari interjects once more.
“But what of our destination, if this seditious plan comes to fruition, aye? Let us just say it will be a realm over which I steward. One with the keen habit for collecting things forgotten or lost to time. Though I hope such does not come to pass, for within my realm there are those that would seek to use you to their ends. Do try and do your best to prevent such a fate!”
Why does it feel like she has foreseen something terrible for us ...
Tomas motions to her placatingly as he casts his gaze at her stoic and unmoving companion, trying to glean any information, but she remains as opaque as ever.
“Ah, alright Ma’am, let me for a moment presume that I believe what you're telling me here. That by some means in which you won’t disclose, you have information pertaining to some seditious elements within the crew, and they intend to do something that would impede our transition back to real-space. As for all this talk of arriving at some distant realm over which you rule, Well I am certain you will have to take such up with Him on Earth. For none but Him are able to divert an entire battlegroup, or well maybe the orders of Segmentum Command could as well.”
Yukari shakes her head, waving her fan before him as she indicated to him, tapping his carapace’s chest plate with the edge of her fan.
“Nay, not in the slightest, I don’t foresee this being much of an issue with your Immortal Master on Terra, as our long standing compact is as steadfast as ever. Your story is just unfolding truthfully, and I eagerly await to see what paths you take and what the future holds for us.”
Yukari pauses as she snaps her paper fan closed, a sly grin written across her face, as she continues.
“ But I digress, as a reward for risking your mortal life to save my own, I will provide you the boon of my dear servant Ran here, by transferring her into your service. Her presence will allow us to continue this conversation at a later date. As I must soon retire for the time being, much ground work is left to be done.”
Foley stares dumbfoundedly at Yukari and then at her companion Ran, who merely has bowed her head in response to her master’s orders. Tomas raises his hands trying to brush off the deadweight he suspects a private guard will provide to his team in the coming days.
“Ah, that will not be necessary, I can assure you of such. Truthfully I am uncertain and uneasy of all this talk of fated encounters and grander schemes. I am to assume that the stresses of combat have fatigued you unduly, I will route a medical officer to your suite. More importantly, what in His name did you mean by ‘old compacts’ in relation to Him on Earth, your sounding ever more mad by the moment.”
Yukari merely shakes her head, providing a humorous chuckle to proceed her response, dismissing his trailing statement.
“Nay, I shan't be needing any such treatment, for I am firmly about my senses. Before you can contest my recommendation as well, I have already spoken to Major Bruma, and he has approved this transfer. I do hope you will take good care of Ran here, she will serve you well.”
No, there is no way in hell that I am going to get saddled with a high-born’s servant playing soldier.
Tomas flicks his eyes down to his slate, awakening it from it's slumber as he rapidly moves across his received orders. He feels his eye twitch when he spies that, indeed, Major Bruma had sent him a message confirming the transfer, effective immediately.
“How in the name of Terra itself did you manage to convince Major Bruma of this, in addition what about those seditious-”
As he glanced upward, he’d notice he was standing alone with the stoic Ran, further up the corridor, he spied the violet dress fluttering as Yukari made her way away from the scene. With a graceful wave of her fan she’d bid him farewell.
“Fear not Lieutenant Foley, I have tilted the balance and stacked the deck in your favor. I will be watching, do try your best, aye?”
Foley moves a few paces down the corridor, hand raised and calling out, only to watch as the eccentric woman slips away down one of the side passages. He is left alone, a short distance from the bridge's blast-doors, dumped with a damn servant soldier in his lap.
Just one rolling storm after another, I have to speak to the Major at once, this is a mistake.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could feel the gold eyes of Ran burning a hole in the side of his head. He clears his throat and turns to her, only to spy her bow deeply, tone firm and instant.
“I entrust myself to your care, your word will be that of my Master.”
“Alright, take it easy there, I’ll speak with the Major when we get to the bridge about this. As for you? Eh, I guess you can make yourself useful and get us a cup of recaff, aye? Let’s try to keep your Master’s whole foresight nonsense to a minimum as well, if we go yelling about it to the officers, we surely will end up flogged and in the brig.”
Ran nods sternly, indicating for him to lead the way as she finally speaks, a soft and concise voice that conveyed what he assumed was equal displeasure at this turn of events.
“Of course, if that is what you will. Whilst I find our current arrangements less than satisfying, if such is my Master’s instruction I always see it through. In our case, if that includes serving you, then it shall be done. Though I suspect this arrangement will be temporary, much to our mutual relief no doubt. We shall part ways soon enough.”
Tomas nods his head along with the sentiment, despite being saddled with her, at least the woman had her senses about her.
“Mhmmm, good answer as I’ll give you that. Come, then let us head on in. The Major will be expecting us and hopefully, we can get our final orders and thus get ourselves squared away.”
With a mutual nod, the heavy bulkhead starts to cycle, jets of steam roiling from the heavy machinery as the titanic portal is rolled away, the duo moving within post haste as the muttered chatter from the officers issues from beyond the doors threshold.
