The Fate of Katsuo Squadron (Rising Sons)
This story is part of the community effort on the Rising Sons chapter. On a remote, abandoned world a Space Marine detects life signs other then his own...
Enhanced eyes surveyed the land before him. The air was stale and dry, the earth barren and sandy. The sun was dim; burning halfheartedly to cast what seemed like an eclipsed light over land. The marine took a moment to appreciate the feeling of being the only living thing on an entire planet. In the distance, he could make out the skyline of the ruins. He was close. The marine stomped his armored foot against the accelerator of his jetbike.
A voice murmured in his ear. “Status report.”
The marine tapped his vox bead, “I am almost there. Has the scan picked anything up?”
“Actually, it has.” His battle brother replied.
“Five readings of life within the compound. There is too much interference to determine what kind, I’m afraid.”
A sneer escaped him. “I thought this was a dead world.”
“Perhaps animal life still persists.”
“Perhaps someone was fool enough to come here.”
“Do you think we’ve been tracked?”
“Has the radar picked up any drop ships?”
“Only remnants of minor warp activity. We assumed a recent warp storm or...” There was a pause on the other side of the channel followed by a curse.
“I apologize for my poor judgment. If their ship is cloaked we will find it.”
“See that you do. I shall deal with the five down here.”
He was within the ruins, now. Obsidian pillars black as pitch flew past him. His jetbike eventually slowed to a halt before a building as massive as it was ornate. Sleek and black, it featured golden inlays of mysterious runes of a language long forgotten and towering statues of an alien race that looked nearly human. If what he was looking for was anywhere on this desolate planet, it was here.
Stepping inside, he felt the temperature drop to frigid temperatures. He looked down the black abyss of the unlit corridor before him and sighed as he reached for his helmet. Through the lens, a green haze cut through the dark. It was deathly quiet, only the sound of his footsteps sharply echoing off the walls. And something else. Other footsteps not far behind him. The five other had caught up with him. He spun around with frightening speed and raised his plasma pistol. He sent a three shot burst soaring down the hall.
This was quickly followed by a distressed vox cast:
“Brother Mitsutora is down! Target is hostile! Engage! Shoot to kill!”
The marine grinned and began his sprint down the hallway as bolt rounds zipped past him and lodged into the tight walls of the corridor exploding fist-sized divots into architecture untouched by life for millennia. He fired over his shoulder. He could see the opening to a room glowing with green light at the end of the hall. A bolt round struck him in the pauldron and blew out a chunk of ceramite.
The force caused him to spin around. As he was forced to turn and face his assailants, his pushed off with his heels and sent himself sliding away from them, his pistol spitting plasma all the way. He could see one of his shots strike an attack in his midsection, downing him. His momentum died shortly after sliding out from the hall and into the room. The plasma pistol was hot in his hand.
He tossed the weapon aside, preferring not to have it explode on him in the midst of battle and drew his power sword. With the press of a rune the sleek, slightly curved blade hummed to life.
“Face me if you dare!”
He roared. The first came charging from the darkness of the corridor, chain sword whirring. He was screaming a battlecry, but did not get to finish it. With the flick of his wrist, the fanatic was stumbling past him gurgling in his own blood. The marine grimaced. A new recruit, most likely. What a pitiful standard these warriors had. Before his body hit the ground the final two emerged. They had holstered their bolters, one drawing a combat knife, the other with a chainsword.
“Do you accept my challenge?” He said with intensity. “One on one combat.”
The knife-wielding enemy glanced at who looked to be his superior, who in turn nodded.
“We accept. I shall face you first.”
“Very well.”
He grinned and threw his sword at him. The enemy died with a look of surprise on his face that never left him. His subordinate cried out
“Brother-Captain Katsuo!” And reached for his bolter. Before he could even get his finger to the trigger, the marine had a melta pistol pointed at him.
A moment later, he turned from the puddle of flesh and metal, chuckling “Too easy…”
Before him was a monolith with staircase leading up to his prize. An ornate gold-and-obsidian orb. He sauntered up the steps and wrenched the orb from its stand. An unearthly low hum quaked the building. He winced. If he were human, he would be writhing about on the floor, shrieking and clutching his head. He waited until the hum subsided before tapping his vox bead,
“This is Akechi Mitsuhide. I have the orb, but I’m afraid I have woken a sleeping giant. Have you found their ship?”
“Yes, my lord. It has been dealt with. I trust you made short work of the loyalists.”
“I have. Returning to the drop zone.”