Blood Angels: 7th Black Crusade- A Short Story (1)
An as-of-yet unfinished short story by Yb124oaaai, centering around the Blood Angels Second Company during and after the 7th Black Crusade.
The Crimson Dusk's descent down into the surface of Vitria Prima is slower than usual. Of course, this is to be expected, given the damage undergone to the Thunderhawk Gunship- it is one of the vessels recovered from the Sanguine Tear, still being repaired from its gutting by the Betrayer.
The gunship itself is crawling by with one engine constantly flickering in and out of function, but Galeno has insisted upon taking it to the meeting point- it is older than the Heresy itself and will be seen by their allies as a beacon of hope and better times. Acrimona has seen it as otherwise- a flying death trap that sorely needs a paint job.
"I doubt they will see it as a paragon of greatness if we crash before we get there," curses Acrimona as another shudder reverberates throughout the ship. He directs a curse at the pilots as they steady the craft, and turns back to Galeno. "Even if this was to be 'a beacon of hope', it certainly will not look so in this state."
Galeno is silent for a moment, sparing a moment to glance into the cockpit. I follow his gaze to find the temporary object of his attention- a serf in the navigator seat, directing coordinates with a calm precision. The Astartes acting as his superiors, by contrast, appear nervous by comparison- I can see their fingers hesitate before each push of a button or relay of a signal.
They are nervous, I realize. These are novices, just barely trained in the art of piloting such a vehicle.
"The old glory of such vessels will shine through their recent blemishes," spoke Galeno, bringing my attention back to their conversation. He continues, his gaze scanning the small throng of Astartes passengers next to us. "Although we are weakened in number, we are still the forefront Sons of Sanguinius. If we do not prove brave enough to continue on, our allies may fracture as well."
"We could have well proven our strength on a craft with all of our engines working, at the least!" The First Captain, exasperated, gestures to the back of the Thunderhawk, where the guilty engine coughs up an emission of smoke. Then he gestures at the rest of the passengers. "And we could have well left this lot on Baal to defend from the attacks, instead of having to fit your Sanguinary Guard and Command Squad on a second Thunderhawk!"
Despite Acrimona's disparagement of forces in my command, I am inclined to silently agree. The 2nd Company is typically lead by the Master of the Watch for good reason- we are to defend the home planet and system from hostile threats. In addition, we are now one of the companies with the highest strength- even if it is less than a quarter of what it should be. I am perplexed that he would take us of all companies off-planet when Black Legion forces have been readying to finish us after Mackan. The situation is already troubling enough that Galano sent High Librarian Leonardus, who is beseeching the Senatorum Imperialis to send more available Militarum and Navy forces over to assist.
As Galano continues to debate with Acrimona, I spare a second look at the gunner's seat. It is usually occupied by a veteran, even in a role where they are unnecessary, such as dropping planet-side to a heavily defended meeting of Imperium forces. Now, a servitor has taken the role. It brings a deep melancholy to my mind, even more than if the seat was unoccupied. Having to rely on the unthinking and unfeeling for our own defence is a travesty.
Who says our allies will not fracture anyway, if we attempt to show strength while so obviously weak? I think to myself unconsciously. I would say such out loud, but it is not my place to question the new Chapter Master and First Captain- especially given the latter's temper as of late.
"Who says our allies won't fracture anyway?" Alistair catches my attention. He has been staring at our group for quite some time, and asked a question that I myself was reluctant to. Acrimona turns in his direction, and churlishly addresses him: "Elaborate, Epistolary, I have no time for playing games with you."
He turns to stare at me, as if he knows he has done me a favor by asking- and I realize with some shock that he has been reading my mind. I nod back to him, temporarily dumbfounded by my lack of confidence being discovered by another- but thankful he has spoken for me. He appears to take that nod as a cue to explain further. "The other Sons of Sanguinius, along with the other forces we have asked to work with us- Astartes, Guard, Navy, Inquisition- have suffered heavily in losses. Some of our cousins have been decimated, due to actions we took a large part in leading. They may not take our symbols of strength well, especially when we are obviously weak."
"They chose to be lead by us," scoffs Acrimona. His scorn feels so concentrated it might permeate the air. "If they have issues with being lead by a Chapter as honoured as ours, whose legacy is unmatched from the time of the Great Crusade, so be it. It is not as if any of them will abandon us, not if we continue to appear strong."
"We command them because they allow it, nothing more." Galano counters. "They are as much Sons of Sanguinius as you or I. But we have been foolhardy as of late. All the attempts of Acrion, inspired as they were, have both reduced our numbers and our favorable standing with much of the Imperium. The chapters of all other Primarchs stand strong as we did behind their own main chapters. Losing their favor may just break all of us."
Galano then turns to me, with a small smile. "What of your thoughts, Galilei?" The other listeners, mostly the other leadership, shift their attention as well- First Captain Acrimona, Reclusiarch Perdix, Epistolary Alistair...
"I have only just been elected to command Second Company on a temporary basis until a true leader is chosen," I demur, "so I may not be most qualified to-"
The debate is forced to a close when the klaxon sounds. The copilot calls out. "Chapter Master, we are arriving at the city. Touching down in thirty seconds."
"We shall finish this talk another time, brethren," Galano finishes, "but for now follow my lead." He readies himself for when the Thunderhawk lands and relative anarchy ensues.
Acrimona gives a grimace as he takes his helmet and gingerly equips it- he does not enjoy this part of the work. Around the gunship, many are doing similar actions- checking armours for a once-over, grabbing weapons and helmets, ensuring their backpacks are at full power. I myself check that my bionic arm is completely functional through a calibration, with my helmet HUD showing full marks on all ends.
"As bad as this year has been," comments Ajax, "I hate this part almost as much."
He always did hate the parades.