Editing /tg/ Heresy Writefaggotry (section)

===Blood in the Void===

''Please note, this is part 1 of the battle between the Iron Rangers and Scale Bearers. It is still a WIP, and will be concluded.''

The ships hung listless in the void. They formed a large cone, pointed and ready, but at what was unknown. The ships seemed to hang at seemingly discordant angles, but the trained observer could see beneath the mirage. They had been put there with absolute care, tended to and properly positioned to provide the maximum firepower to every angle. A great, grey and black ship hung in the middle, dwarfing the multiple kilometer long Cruisers around it. Tiran knew that ship, and this fleet. It had to be Merrill. Tiran was late to the battle. The Warp was unusually restless and caused numerous delays in their travels. He hoped he wasn't too late.

He took a closer look at the ships. Where almost every other primarch built their ships up with decorations, armor, and equipment, Merrill stripped his down to almost nothing. He had been inside them before, and knew how sparse the interiors were. The Iron Rangers tore everything out they couldn't use or wasn't necessary, leaving husks of their former glory. And the fleet was incredibly numerous, though the individual ships were smaller. Tiran guessed that only about half the fleet was actually manned. The rest were decoys and “suicide ships,” As Merrill called them. They weren't meant to survive a prolonged battle, just be shoved into a formation firing wildly to distract an opponent.

“My lord, you are being hailed.” It must be Merrill. Why wasn't he down on the surface, though? Maybe they had already won?

“Let him through.”

A holo of the friendly Primarch shimmered into existence, and there was his brother. Slight and unassuming as always. He gave out a small smile, from which there seemed to be little warmth. Then again, “warm” was not a word many would use to describe him. To be fair, though, neither was “cold.” He was simply...Merrill.

“Greetings, brother, two of us for one world?”

Merrill's smile turned into a more predatory look. “Hektor wants this planet smashed as an example. There will be no mercy awarded.”

Tiran thought for a second. “It still seems a bit... excessive.”

Merrill shrugged in response. “It's not for me to decide. Orders from Hektor. Tiran, I had been thinking. Care for me to send over a few Milwyr Cŵn to partner with your forces?”

“Merrill, are you finally looking for a bit of glory for your Chapter? Are you ill?”

Merrill laughed. “No, no, I just figured it would make things easier. They can clear a path for your cavalry to charge right out of the gates. I'll be working on taking out some of the heavy defenses and priority targets, there seems no reason why some of my men can't help you out with your tasks.”

“Fair enough, send them over to the following ships...”

-

Cellweirwyr walked the ship bay of the ''Emperor's Shadow'', giving last minute talks to the men about to leave. The 25 squads of  Milwyr Cŵn had been on standby for several hours, ever since receiving word of the approaching fleet. He went over the plan with individual groups a few times. 5 squads per ship. One was to secure they landing bay. Two were to take over the bridge. Two more were to eliminate the Sors.

Most Marines would be placing Oaths on their armor now, but the  Milwyr Cŵn were different. They were wearing their sashes. Not many knew the purpose of the sash, a custom brought from their home world. It was far superior to any oath. It meant one thing. Victory or vanquish. In the case of these Marines, it might mean both.

Normally, Merrill would be down here, preparing them. But this op was Cellweirwyr duty. Merrill was to keep Tiran occupied. The entire operation left to his Equerry, and Cellweirwyr was not about to let his primarch down.

The signal light went off. Good, the Scale Bearers were letting the troops board. The men who were smoking put out their lho-sticks and boarded, solemn as a grave.

-

Hela Blaidd was the first to step out of the Raven and into the ''Pes Lacerta''. They were greeted by a small contingent of Scale Bearers. The green and gold livery of the Bearers was an interesting reflection of the green, tan, and brown of the Rangers. The Space Marines greeted each other politely, shaking hands. Blaidd was the first to speak officially.

“My squad and Medelwr over there are supposed to link up at the bridge to discuss plans. Would you kindly show us the way?”

The Bearer, Captain Albier Tosor, nodded. “Absolutely. It's an honor to be working with the Rangers again. I've heard rumors about missions the  Milwyr Cŵn have done in the past.” He said, guiding with his hand. “Is it true you are responsible for killing 6 Ork leaders simultaneously at Ullanor?”

“Well, yes, but I wasn't part of that mission, we were busy in another sector-” Llwynog Gwaedlyd, in charge of the secondary objective, coughed. “Right, I had forgotten. We don't get to see other forces much. You don't suppose that Cysgodol and Malwr squads could go see the Sors? We were curious.”

“I suppose we have enough time to let you see them before we board our drop ships. Captain Nikkus, would you care to escort them?” The Captain stepped forward and gave consent. “And what of your other squad?”

Blaidd chuckled. “They drew the short straw. They are to stay and ensure the ships are ready for departure.”

“Fair enough. Please, follow me.” As they departed, Blaidd subtly activated his signal beacon once. Phase 1 was complete.

-

“... So, you can cover the x axis, while I cover the y?” Asked Merrill. He was refferring to the axis of a plane, rotating his ships to allow broadside firing in all directions.

“By all means,” stated Tiran.

One of Merrill's personal  Milwyr Cŵn tugged on his ear, behind the hologram. That meant that all troops were on board and heading to their respective objectives.

Excellent.

“Normally I'd suggest we move out immediately, but let's wait for our men to link up and discuss their plans. I'd rather not have us going into battle with any confusion as to our respective roles.”

“That I agree on. I'll send out word for my men to contact me when they are fully debriefed.”

With that, Merrill gave assent, and ordered his ships to join the fleet, moving them into a ready position.

-

Dynon Nikkus led the guest squad through the ship towards the Sor cages. As far as he could tell, the Squad Leaders were Llwynog Gwaedlyd and Cynddeiriog Broch (Cysgodol and Malwr squads, respectively). It was hard to tell though, as they all talked as equals. There was no use of rank or title, and they all seemed to use first names. He had heard of unusual rank structures within the fellow Legion, but this was a little hard to figure out.

Their loadouts were also unusual. All had power spears. A few of them had extremely specialized gear that he couldn't grasp what it was for. Two had a mess of communications devices. The majority wielded a variety of combi-bolters. A couple had long-barreled Bolters. They were loaded down with grenades of all kinds that Nikkus knew about, and some he had to guess. A few even had demo packs. Terra, one even had an auxiliary grenade launcher on his forearm. The oddest part was the armor, though. Most Legions gave their elite forces the best armor available, and these men seemed to be wearing practically skeletonized power armor. Aside from the Mk 6 helmets at their belts, everything was shaved down at the joints. Armor was thinner wherever structurally possible. Even their pauldrons were barely there.

As they walked, they exchanged friendly banter. Discussed past actions, battles they had been in, methods of fighting. The Rangers asked about Sor feeding and rearing, and the Bearers inquired on living behind enemy lines.

At last, they reached the cages.

“So these are the Sors, eh?” asked one of the Marines. “Beautiful creatures.”

The Sors seemed uneasy, and as the Ranger approached the cage, it became extremely agitated. It started roaring and rearing up, causing Nikkus to get in between the Ranger and the creature. “This is odd. They normally don't act this way.” He started to try and soothe it, making small noises and speaking in a calming tone.

“It's a shame though,” stated  Llwynog. Nikkus didn't have time to respond before the spear slid through his neck. He tried to strike back, but was tripped. He took a knee to the stomach on his way to the ground, followed by a kick to the head. As his vision faded from him, the scene unraveled. Rangers slaughtering the few Scale Bearers that were there, some of them tossing explosives into the Sor pens. He struggled to get up, to fight back, to get revenge on these cowards. Another boot hit him in the skull. Again and again it struck, until there was nothing functional remaining.

-

Hela Blaidd shoved the corpse from the console, tearing out several neural connections in the process. He hurriedly attached them to his hookups and took appraisal of the situation. Arth Rhedeg was already attaching demo charges to various bits of machinery. Clochdar Gigfran was busy getting into the ship's internal defensive systems. Gwalch Deifio, weapons. Blaidd Udo, internal comms. Medelwr and the Helwyr not busy with taking over the ship were preparing defensive positions. Then the ship hit Blaidd's consciousness. It was like being slammed in the head with a thunder hammer, and he reeled from it. He recovered quickly enough, but clearly attracted some confused and worried looks.

“I'm fine, just not used to handling something this...massive.” That seemed to placate the others. They went to work, shutting off onboard comms and security systems.

Gigfran activated the security system in the armory, turning off its friend-or-foe recognition. “This'll keep them busy for a bit.”

Blaidd Udo was yelling at Arth as to where, exactly, to place the charges so the comms couldn't be reconnected. He must have already severed the internal system.

Hela Blaidd simply steered the ship, rotating the sides to aim one at the Imperator Rex, and the other at the Stelio Regis.

He then sent a brief “all accounted for” message to the Rex.

-

One of the ship's crew approached Tiran. “All ships state that they are ready.”

“Did you hear that, Rogerius?”

“I did, brother. And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry.” He swept his hand, and the command deck was engulfed in chaos.

-

Once they fired a salvo into their neighboring Scale Bearer ships, Hela Blaidd disconnected from the console, as did the other members of Helwyr squad. They left the bridge of the ship, running back towards their vessel. Raising their own comms, they reached Tawelwch squad, back at the landing bay. “Everything clear?”

“Roger. Just clearing up a little problem we had.”

“Cysgodol?”

“Charges in place, ready for your command.”

Blaidd signaled Arth. “Detonate in exactly 10 seconds. Out.”

They ran out of the room, sealing the blast doors behind them. That should give the Scale Bearers pause in their recovery attempts. They turned and ran at full speed down the deck, back towards the launching bay.

The ship reverberated from the explosions at either end. There was minimal resistance in their route, as Blaidd imagined that the Scale Bearers were too busy dealing with the rogue security gun emplacements in the armory. Not to mention the sudden lack of comms. But there was still some, and there would be more, after the blasts.

-

The ''Imperius Rex'' was reeling. Damn Merrill. All their targeting systems were jammed or flooded with targets. Their communications with other ships were jammed. Damn that man. Damn Aubrey. Damn those bastards, those renegades, those “traitors.” Tiran didn't even notice the words hiss forth from his mouth. He clenched his fists, glaring at the scene in front of him, trying to make sense of it all. Silence finally fell as he put his fist through a nearby console.

“What. Do. We. Know?”

The men around him stared, awestruck.

“WHAT. DO. WE. KNOW?” He shouted. They snapped out of their daze.

“Communications are jammed.” “Tracking and targeting is jammed, offline, or blind.” “Visuals are reporting mostly unresponsive.”

Another volley rocked into the ship. Merrill. That man will die, thought Tiran. He took a deep breath. “Fine. Continue to try communications with the other vessels. Don't stop. Try every frequency, every bandwidth. Don't stop until you find one that's not jammed. Weapons! Switch to manual aiming and firing. I know it's far less accurate, but it's better to shoot inaccurately than sit here and get slowly torn apart.”

-

The ''Emperor's Shadow'' passed another Scale Bearer's ship, hitting it with a full broadside. They were still reeling from the initial shock, but some were starting to reorganize. The Rex was beginning to shoot again, albeit occasional shots by individual guns. Tiran must have figured to order them to fire manually. Although Merrill was beginning to regret not adding more firepower to the ships he had. True, the armaments in his fleet were incredible for ships of their size, but he had to draw the line to save them in weight and structural integrity. Things were starting to get interesting. 

He saw a few ships deploying Thunderhawks and Storm Eagles for short bursts, before they returned. Smart. They were using the dropships to gain insight into the battle formations. It was still probably too complex and cumbersome to be truly effective, but it was better than flying blind.

“Send an order to the fleet. Target their weapons systems and any dropships that are seen deployed. That takes priority. Have they found anything to beat our communications jam yet?” The man shook his head. “Excellent. Inform me when they have.” He sat back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together in front of his mouth. “Have Cellweirwyr report up here.”

-

Three of Malwr were already dead. Two more wounded. Two and four for Cysgodol, with Llwynog Gwaedlyd counted amongst the corpses. Resistance was getting heavier and heavier as they approached the landing bay. But that was to be expected, as explosions, screaming, and bolter fire have a way of attracting attention.

Broch slammed another Marine in the shoulder with a hammerfist, spun behind him, and ripped his knife through his former brother's throat. He kicked him to his knees and put a bolter round through the back of his head, just underneath the armor before spinning into a wild strike with his knife. It swung through empty air as the next Scale Bearer backed up, firing several rounds into Broch. One went through his shoulder, charge exploding against the bones of the joint. He reeled with the pain as Ddistaw Tylluan fired a plasma bolt through the attacker's chest.

Three and three. Well, at this point, they've already accomplished their mission. Broch struggled to get back up, with the help of Neidr Solet, the Milwyr Apothecary. Cwningen Hela, the Cygsodol Apothecary, had died already, trying to save Bêr Cryf. He gritted his teeth as Neidr cut through the remaining tissue, fully severing the arm, and packing the wound with bandages and medicae to stop the bleeding.

Broch looked around. They had made it less than halfway to the landing bay. They probably weren't going to make it there. He gave out as much of a chuckle as the pain would let him, pulled out a lho stick, and lit it.

“Well, friends, it looks like it's about that time.” He started to chant his death-song as he picked up his spear and continued down the corridor. A few seconds later, his voice was joined by a second, and a third...

-

Blaidd blasted the Scale Bearer in front of him with his combi-melta and charged headlong into the fray. Bolter rounds skidded off his armor and went narrowly wide as sheer momentum and battle-lust drove him forward. He stabbed one Bearer through the chest with his spear, pulling it out and spinning it around into another's head. He stopped bothering to count the dead anymore. He knew they didn't have enough. But it didn't matter. Hand signals were no longer used, he ignored all communication, he just sprinted forward, letting loose a sound equal parts primal fury and the laughter of a madman. He was lost in the hunt.

The other remaining members of the squad, he wasn't even sure who, or if they were in his squad, followed closely behind. Only the close combat specialists were staying near him. As they progressed, they let loose a steady wave of death.

A steady stream of blood issued forth from Blaidd's armor, and he wasn't sure if it was from him or his enemies. It didn't matter. All that mattered was taking down as many as possible. He vaguely heard the sound of death-songs behind and around him, but he paid no heed. He needed no death song. ''He was the fury. The rabid wolf amongst a flock of sheep''. His screaming, his maniacal laughter, had a rhythm all its own, and would make a more fitting song than any his brothers would sing. 'This may be my last days' he thought, throwing the spear into another marine before charging into him, unleashing a short burst into the shocked Astartes' throat, ''but it will also be the last of as many as I can take with me.''

-

Two of the Ravens had been destroyed in the Landing Bay.  Tawelwch squad had constructed crude barriers out of the wreckage, in order to protect the other three and protect their grounds until the other squads could return. Only one had been wounded, in large part thanks to using the now destroyed craft as cover. The only man not behind the barrier was Chwerthin Arth, who had been digging through the wreckage for a “bigger gun,” whatever the Warp that meant. Tylluan Hylif let off an exasperated sigh, taking another drag from his lho stick. That lunatic was going to get everyone killed one day. Tylluan just hoped it wasn't today.

“Next round incoming!” Tylluan grabbed his long-barreled combi-plasma, waiting for them to start pushing through the door. A grenade came in first, of course, so they all took cover. As soon as it went off, they were back up, firing at the Marines trying to push their way through.

Sound took a second stage for a second. The best way to describe it was paper tearing at 175 decibels. 2 Scale Bearers had been vaporized, a third nearly cut in half. Tylluan looked to the side to see Arth knocked over, holding... Holding a damn assault cannon from the destroyed Raven. The man let out a raucous laugh as he got back up, bracing himself and letting off another burst. Ammunition was wrapped around his chest, and dragging behind him for at least 5 metres. This time he stayed upright. He made his way to the barrier, letting off another burst before dropping for cover, still laughing.

“You're joking, right?”

He shrugged. “I told you I needed a bigger gun.”

“How did you even fire that thing?”

Arth showed him some wires, taped to a piece of metal with a button attached. “Jury rigged it. At least now, we'll get some decent firepower. I figure if I'm careful, I can probably get about 50 bursts out of it.”

He let go with another. “Forty-nine.” He said, with a smile.

-

Merrill frowned. Of the 5 missions he had assigned, only two had come back. One was entirely dead. Another had their Ravens destroyed, and were fighting for another vessel. Likely dead. The last, unknown. Any attempt at communication had only received brief reports and the sound of bolterfire.  Cellweiriwr sat next to him, watching the screens intently, and listening for further information. Of the 5 Battle Barges they had sabotaged, 2 were also coming back online, their crews proving to be intelligent as they abandoned the primary bridge for the secondary. It still took time to reroute all of the systems, but it was an advantage. The Scale Bearers had managed to find some frequency not blocked by Merrill's jamming signal, and were starting to become more organized. And while the targeting jammers were still working, they had exhausted some of their more mundane methods. Weapons were firing more accurately every minute. Merrill was very quickly losing the advantage, and had too few kills to account for it.

“Use the suicide ships.” One of the crew members turned. “Have 5 suicide ships move into the middle of their formation, deploying all weaponry at all viable targets. Then ram the ''Rex'', and detonate upon impact.”

“But, sir, we don't have many of these, and without the full weight of the Mechanicum behind us, we may not be able to replace it.”

“I understand you problems, Admiral, however we are losing the advantage. If we can break up their formation and create more confusion, we can retake it.”

The man nodded and began to distribute orders.

“And Admiral,” Merrill moved fluidly, covering the distance of the bridge before the Admiral could turn around. “If you ever publicly question me again, I swear your skull will decorate the spear at the prow of this ship.”

Merrill calmly walked back and sat down.  Cellweirwyr leaned over and said, “You shouldn't mistreat these men. We'll need them later. And you know that fear is not always the best motivator.” His only response was a stare that would freeze most men where they stood. Cellweirwyr shrugged. “You know I speak the truth.” Merrill's gaze let up, and he nodded and returned focus to the myriad of displays and screens around them.

-

The bridge of the ''Imperius Rex'' was a screaming sea of chaos. Requests for, and responses to, damage and status reports. Those suicide vessels weren't large, but they packed a hell of a punch. Several weapons batteries were damaged or destroyed. Whole decks were opened to the void. Several other ships were crippled or damn close. If Tiran had clenched his fists any tighter, they would start bleeding. But he refused to fall to the anger. He would keep calm and collected. Going up against any other Primarch required that mindset. He just had to figure out what Merrill's plan was. It was like watching a swarm of locusts in the void. He had taken at least a dozen of the Ranger's fleet, plus the five that hit the Rex. But Merrill could afford that many ships. More than Tiran could afford the 5 he had lost so far.

He knew 2 of the sabotaged vessels were coming back online, and a third was in the process. The fleet was working with as minimal communications as they were able. They didn't know what the enemy could hear. He suddenly hatched a plan. “Admiral, send a message to the fleet, we're going ahead, full burn. Immediately.”

“Sir, what about the ships that are crippled or still suffering from the sabotage?”

Tiran gritted his teeth. “Have every ship deploy every Storm Eagle and Thunderhawk to pick up as many men from those ships as they can carry. If this works, and with no small amount of luck, we might just be able to pick them up in a return trip.”

-

Orders were issued across the deck of the ''Emperor's Shadow'', as the tangled web of the Iron Rangers' fleet stirred into action. It was a complex tapestry of quick strikes, diving throughout and within the Scale Bearers' fleet, delivering as much punishment with a barrage from the broadsides of the ship, then exiting before the Bearers could do much damage.

Something was changing, though. Tiran's ships were moving together, and they were moving ahead at full burn.

Merrill leaned forward. “Brother, are you fleeing? Where's your pride, man?”

“Sir?” The Admiral asked.

Merrill waved a dismissive hand. “Follow ahead, continue the attack.”

“What of the remainder of his fleet?”

“They're heavy with the wounded and dead, and their ships are crippled. They're not going anywhere.” Merrill said, leaning back in his seat.

The admiral nodded and returned his attention to the deck, barking out orders to the crew.

“There's something else going on...” The primarch quietly stated.

Cellweirwyr gave him a sideways glance. “He's retreating. It makes sense.”

“No... Tiran would never leave his wounded behind. He's doing something else. He has a plan of some sort.”

Merrill called for the Admiral. “Give the Scale Bearers some space. I don't know what they're up to, but I want some distance from them.”

-

Tiran took the helm. He barked out orders for a new formation, using code words to ensure his brother couldn't understand him. He hoped this gambit would pay off.

-

Merrick dove over the barricade, arms full of magazines. Not a second later, the air above erupted full of bolter shells.

Arth quickly let out another burst from his patchwork behemoth before ducking back into cover. Tylluan tossed another frag grenade over the barricade, snatching a couple of blood soaked magazines from Merrick's pile, as did the other members of the team.

“Any friendlies out there?”

Merrick shook his head while he reloaded. “Just more Scale Bearers.”

“Frell. Of course. What the frell is taking them?” He launched another blast of plasma over the barricade, taking down another Marine. He vented the gun. “Arth, how many bursts are left?”

The bear of a man looked at the remaining belt, and then stood up, releasing another wave of death on the Scale Bearers. “Nine.”

They heard the chanting before they saw anything. The unique sound of an Iron Rangers death song.

“ALRIGHT, LET'S GIVE THEM A WARM WELCOME!” The team lept up as one, firing at the entrance, taking down as many Scale Bearers as they could. Arth decided to use his boltgun, and Tylluan silently thanked the gods. Rhys went down with a shot to the eyepiece, blood and brain matter exploding from the back of his helmet and trickling down the empty eye socket.

A small team of Iron Rangers burst forth from a side corridor, blood streaming from spears, knives, fists, and feet as they carved a bloody path through their former bretheren.  Cynddeiriog Broch led the charge, minus one arm, as a teammate fired the auxiliary grenade launcher attached to his arm. They sprinted down the bay, diving behind cover with the remaining team. A couple were carried on the backs of others.

Warp, there were only about 5 left that were fully operational. Broch made his way towards Tylluan, hand on his spear, bolter slung, lho stick in his mouth. “Got a torch?” He said, glancing at the missing arm to reinforce his point. Tylluan helped him out. “Thank the gods.” He set down his spear while inhaling, picked up his bolter, and exhaled a cloud of smoke through his nose like some great beast of old. “Nice little hole you've got here. Any word from Blaidd?”

Tylluan shook his head. “Last we heard, he was going berserk, butchering his way up here, likely heavily wounded, and not expected to survive. They lost several men, but didn't say how many.”

They ducked farther into the barricade as another burst of fire ripped over their heads. A second later, they were up and firing a response. With a distinctive thump of a grenade launcher, the intersection was engulfed in flame.

“Personal recipe,” Amren Yates stated proudly. “Should keep them off our backs for a few minutes.”

“AND YOU DIDN'T USE THEM EARLIER?” Yelled Broch, releasing a quick burst.

Yates shrugged. “I only have a few. Seemed like the right time to use one.”

-

The fleet burned forwards, chased by beams of energy and missiles streaking in their direction. On the bridge of the ''Imperius Rex'', Tiran stood before his throne, issuing orders to the various consoles. He leaned forwards, intent on the screens and words being shouted below. Though they had beaten the range of Me-no. ''That traitor's'' jamming devices, he knew that once they were back within range, they would fall victim. But this time, they would be prepared.

-

Merrill watched from the command deck with curious, predatory eyes. His prey's scent was heavy in his nostrils. Suddenly, the enemy fleet split apart.

Were they trying to disperse?

...''no''... They were turning to charge.

“Tiran, you magnificent bastard!” Merrill laughed. “All hands, prepare for evasive maneuvers. Let the entire fleet know. Lotus Maneuver.”

The hands on the bridge looked quizzically for a second, then proceeded to relay the information.

“What is it?” Asked  Cellweirwyr.

“He's learning.” Merrill smiled. He had no idea if Tiran's gamble would work, but it would be a glorious sight.

-

Blaidd let out several ragged breaths, arms soaked to the elbows in gore. He crouched above another Scale Bearer's corpse, cutting a finger off the marine's hand. The squad's apothecary, Bran Hier, used the short pause to attempt to check him for injuries, of which he had no doubt were numerous. The defenses were becoming lighter and lighter.

Blaidd tried to get up, but was tripped and forced to the deck, Bran not yet finished with his analysis.

“He's got a few fractures, several deep lacerations, a concussion, missing a few fingers on his left hand, and a couple on his right are only connected because they're being held in place by the armor.” Bran connected a tube from a vial in his pack to a connector in the struggling marine's armor, and blood started to move through it. “Small blood transfusion should help him out. Not sure how much he's lost, but it's enough to wonder how the bastard was still standing.”

A couple of the other marines nodded, bolters pointed down corridors to avoid any surprises. Not that it should matter terribly, there were a couple of surprises waiting for the Scale Bearers who tried to follow their path.

“It seems that they're not as concerned about us.” Stated Gwalch.

Bran nodded assent. “Perhaps they're evacuating?” He paused, wrestling Blaidd's arm down and away from the transfusion tube.  “I'm just hoping that we can get to the Raven. Any word from the others?,” he asked Udo.

The man shook his head. “I haven't been able to reach them. I think the vox was damaged, and we don't have time for me to tear it apart and make a full inspection.”

Blaidd started screaming and struggling again, and Bran had to slam him back to the ground. He re-ran the numbers. Blaidd's sudden insanity did help keep the casualties down, unfortunately the close combat specialists took the brunt as a result. Of their original twenty, they were down to 12 combat-ready marines, with another 3 wounded. It seemed calming Blaidd down was out of the question.

“THE BLOOD MUST FLOW,” screamed Blaidd, before lapsing back into unintelligible noise.

“Well, that's four coherent words so far,” chuckled Gwalch.

“Yes, but I'm going to have to sedate him. His lunacy might cost us from here out. And I don't want to travel in a small, confined box with him like this. I don't care how long or short the trip is. Once we get back to the ''Shadow'', we can see about getting him back to sanity. I'm just waiting to finish this transfusion, no telling how it could react with his system without enough blood.”

He finished the transfusion, and used the Narthecium to inject something in the raging man's neck. They held him down until he lapsed into unconsciousness.

“Alright, grab him. Udo, keep trying on the vox.” Udo let out an exasperated sigh and followed through, talking into the mic as they moved.

-

Tiran grabbed the vox mic. “RAMMING SPEED. FIRE AT WILL.”

-

The death-songs began anew. The assault cannon had long since been emptied. Arth looked more like a boy who had his favorite puppy taken than a man about to die. Their magazines were running low, and the press outside the doors was too heavy to risk another run to restock. One by one, the  Milwyr Cŵn took out their lho sticks and ignited them. They hung their sashes by the barricades, and counted their rounds.

Not enough.

Another grenade came through the door, and the collected squads ducked behind cover and their corpses. As it went off, they jumped back up, firing their weapons in semi-automatic, every round finding home in the body of a Scale Bearer. They moved back down and changed positions slightly before the Scale Bearers could get any beads on targets. When they raised again, one less man joined them.

-

The Scale Bearers fleet pushed forward, faster than one would think possible for anything so massive. From afar, it would have seemed a dart, the ships were so close together. Tightly they dove towards the Iron Rangers fleet, engines pushing as hard as they ever had. Lasers seared through the black as they moved, and the Iron Rangers fleet stayed on course. As the two fleets converged, Merrill's fleet exploded into a blossom of steel, enveloping and entwining the smaller fleet. Mighty broadsides belched fire and metal as the smaller faster craft swarmed and spun, spinning while ejecting salvos of missiles and beams of nuclear fire in circles at their enemies. Hulls burst and ruptured, and decks were ripped in half as the dance played out amongst the stars. More died than either side had time to count, floating to the rhythm of Merrill's laughter and Tiran's rage.

As quickly as it came, it was over, the Scale Bearers through the formation, and continuing onwards, not slowing in the slightest. The Iron Rangers banked and turned in place, desperately trying to change course to stay with their prey. Before they had a chance to finish, the Scale Bearers fleet was beyond them.

-

Onwards they pushed through the corridors. Ever onwards. Scale Bearers occasionally appeared, and were cut down as quickly as they came. Heavy with the wounded, the squad continued to push. More desperate than determined. Their earlier luck came back to haunt them with a vengeance. They had more wounded in the past few minutes than their entire trip before Hela Blaidd had collapsed. Bran tossed another frag grenade down their next corridor before two marines turned it, firing long bursts down the hallway. ''We have come so far'', thought Bran, “WE'RE NOT DYING NOW, BROTHERS!,” He cried, putting false motivation in the yell, “LET'S SHOW THEM WHAT THE MILWYR CŴN CAN DO BEFORE THEY DIE.”

Briefly reinvigorated, they pushed forwards, fighting, not as men desiring to live, but as men desperate to win, even at the costs of their own lives. 

-

Merrill cursed and yelled as his fleet attempted to match speeds. It was obvious to all that was not an option.  But still they tried, pushing harder than the ships were meant to. But the Mechanicum of Mars made the finest ships, and they held together, even as the Scale Bearers fleet shrunk in their viewscreens.

-

A sudden cacophony of noise erupted from the corridors, and  Tylluan risked a brief glance over the barricade.  The Scale Bearers were being pushed out of their defenses.

“We've got incoming friendlies!”

They jumped up, engaging the Scale Bearers with what little ammunition they had left as their missing brethren pushed them into the open. As they did so,  Gwalch Deifio came into view, dragging a wounded marine behind him. Followed by another, and another. Few remained, and all were carrying, dragging, or supporting someone wounded.

“DO WE HAVE ANYTHING READY TO FLY?” 

Tylluan responded in the positive as they dragged themselves to the barricades.

“Get it ready to fly, let those who can still fight hold here until the wounded are on board,” said Bran Hier.

Collectively, they moved. They started loading the wounded into the awaiting Raven.

“What about this one?” Questioned Neidr Solet, indicating Hela Blaidd.

“Leave him sedated.” Bran thought for a second. “And restrain him. I don't want to take any chances.”

Neidr looked confused, but complied, and the engines of the craft began to spool to life.

-

The long, thin formation of the Scale Bearers didn't even slow as it approached its crippled and broken ships. Thunderhawks and Storm Eagles spread from the corpses as swarms of small insects towards the larger craft, flying desperately to be able to land on board without the larger ships slowing. As they landed, many crashed into the decks or against the hulls, but most made it somewhat safely.

-

The ramp closed as the last Milwyr Cŵn boarded the vessel. The craft lifted, and began to push forwards, as the ''Pes Lacerta'' collapsed around them, being ripped apart by the passing Scale Bearer's fleet.

-

Merrill watched hopelessly as the enemy fleet jumped into the Warp, safeties be damned. He calmly sat back down, placing his fingertips together, index fingers placed against his lips.

“Cell, dispatch a team to the remaining vessels. Search for survivors. Kill any Scale Bearers, and bring any remaining Milwyr Cŵn back. Find me a trustworthy group for an upcoming operation. No more than a Troupe. Make sure there are a few Milwyr Cŵn squads. I'll debrief you in a short period. Admiral, could you come here please?”

The man came forward as Cellweirwyr left the bridge to perform his duties.

“Tell me our astropath managed to identify their warp signature.”

“He did, sir.”

“Excellent. Have a message sent to Hektor, explaining that the majority of their fleet is crippled and routed. I am currently regrouping and assessing my losses before continuing the pursuit of my prey. Assure him that the Scale Bearers will fall by my next report.”

One of the lights on the console flickered to life, and Merrill flipped a small switch.

“Sir, I have something to report.” It was Cellweirwyr.

“Go ahead.”

“We've found survivors.”

Merrill smiled. It was a good hunt.