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+ + + 1823998/M41 + + +
Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease, Lucien thought as he scanned for
lifesigns. Choked with piles of shattered masonry, the dark alley bore
testament to heavy fighting that had torn through this sector and moved on.
Scattered contents from the buildings on either side smouldered feebly in the
incessant drizzle. No sign of life, alien or otherwise.
He backed out of the alley and turned to survey his surroundings. Primative
structures, most showing some signs of damage, lined both sides of a narrow,
cobblestone street. Here and there sprawled the gutted remains of a domestic
vehicle, but few bodies. This area of the town was mostly made up of
commercial buildings, but even so, the few casualties in evidence were Dark
Eldar and marines slain in 2nd Company's initial push. Menchhoffen, until
recently a thriving settlement on the peaceful agricultural world of Corelli
VI, could not have been less prepared for the attack, and the small number of
human casualties suggested the raiders had been taking prisoners.
Better that they had died than fallen into the hands of Dark Eldar.
Lucien's commlink popped twice (something which had long puzzled Lucien, since
the commlink was patched directly into his I/O ports and made no actual
"sound") and then came the voice of Sgt. Culebra: *Dreadnought Four... what is
your status?* Culebra, whose 2nd Terminators--the so-called "Misfits"--were
securing a nearby sector. Along with Lucien and several squads of scouts, the
Misfits had been ordered to secure the town and hold it in case the Eldar
attempted to use it as fallback position from the 2nd Company tactical and
assault units who were at this very moment attempting to outflank the aliens.
If they managed to escape into the rugged hills to the northeast of
Menchhoffen, there would be no finding the devils.
He opened an output port to his commlink and activated his transmitter. *No
sign of hostiles here, Sergeant. Sector Kilo-16 is clear.*
*Acknowledged. Proceed to Kilo-15.*
Lucien froze in his tracks and upped the gain of his auditory sensors.
Nothing... then, as he was about to move on, there it was again: a faint cry,
coming from the building across the street. He moved cautiously in the
direction of the structure's shattered front wall, and through it made out what
appeared to be some sort of large, wheeled agricultural implement.
Stepping over a pile of rubble onto the packed clay floor of the warehouse,
Lucien again stopped to listen. The sounds were definitely louder here and
coming from somewhere deeper within the building. Light entered the building
through dusty windows set high in the walls, but much of the interior was
hidden in deep shadow. Despite the gloom, Lucien was able to make out an
assortment of machinery in various stages of disassembly, steel shipping
modules, and debris from collapsed portions of the walls and ceiling, and he
moved slowly to avoid these obstacles. Somewhere in the darkness, an air
compressor chattered noisily to itself.
As he approached the left rear corner of the building, Lucien heard voices
coming from behind what appeared to be a some sort of large harvesting machine.
Male voices, speaking in the syrupy, lilting tongue of the Dark Eldar.
*Dreadnought Four here,* Lucien transmitted on the commlink.
A momentary pause, and then Sgt. Culebra's voice. *What have you got, Four?*
*I mark hostiles in Sector Kilo-15. Some kind of repair facility. Three,
maybe more. It sounds like they have one of the locals. I'm checking it out.*
*Acknowledged, Four. Smiley, take Dupuis and back him up.*
*Sir.* came Smiley's reply.
Smiley, mused Lucien. Now there's irony. Jack Smiley was possibly the most
ruthless psychopath he'd known in all his 269,306 days. He wouldn't waste time
joining Lucien if there was a chance for a fight, but the aliens' captive might
not have even that much time to spare.
Checking that his weapon interlocks were disengaged, Lucien stepped around the
harvester and activated his shoulder-mounted searchlight. The warrior on
lookout had not been wearing a helmet and stood blinded as the dreadnought
stepped forward and caught hold of him, locking the stubby fingers around the
base of his spine with a satisfying crunch. Crouched over something in the
corner was a hideously deformed haemonculus. Three more warriors who had been
standing with their backs to the lookout now fled the glare, making their
escape along the wall to Lucien's right. The Eldar were quick, but the ancient
space marine had anticipated their reaction and had already begun pivoting in
that direction. The aliens, stumbling over machine parts scattered along the
wall, were slowed just enough for Lucien to track with his heavy flamer. The
paralysed warrior dangling from Lucien's power fist felt no pain as his legs
were incinerated by the flamer's jet, but his brother warriors spoke for him,
screaming as the sticky fuel coated and hungrily devoured them.
Lucien faced forward again to find the haemonculus grinning at him. "Back
away, machine," she hissed, gesturing with the barbed hook she held in one
hand, "or I shall kill her."
A young woman lay slumped against the wall in a large, dark puddle, wearing a
rictus of pain and fear on her ruined face, but little else. Flaps of shredded
skin hung where they had been flayed from her chest and arms. She stared
wide-eyed into the glare of the searchlight, and Lucien realised that she had
no eyelids.
"No," Lucien rumbled, "you shall not." Servos whining, he brought his
multi-melta to bear. Realisation dawned and the haemonculus' grin faded. A
momentary hiss, followed by the crackling whoosh! of the young woman's
nearly-instantaneous vaporisation, and then Lucien turned his attention to her
tormenter. He raised his power fist, still clutching the gurgling warrior, and
almost felt a chill as the twisted alien's grin returned and broadened in
anticipation.
"Yessss--"
Bolter fire chugged from behind Lucien, and a pink mist bloomed in the
searchlight's beam where the creature's head had been. Pumping gouts of ichor
from its neck, the body took a faltering step forward, gesturing feebly with
the hooked instrument before stumbling to its knees and slumping, lifeless, to
the floor.
"Plannin' on makin' a day of it, was you?" Smiley.
Lucien turned and faced his brother marine. Dupuis was standing behind the
other terminator, shifting uncomfortably.
"You're an animal, you know that? You enjoy... this... just a bit too much.
Brother."
Smiley brushed the indictment out of the air, gesturing casually with his
storm bolter. "Long as it's inna service of the Imperium I'm sanc-ti-fied,
'Old One'. 'Oly as the Emperor's birfday, *I* am." Time hung for an
uncomfortable moment between the trooper and the ancient Ancestor. "C'mon
Boo-Boo. We've got work ta do." He turned and strode past Brother Dupuis, who
seemed to have something to say but only followed.
Flames, starving for fuel, but not finding any within their reach, flickered
and died. The air compressor continued its chatter. Lucien let the Dark Eldar
warrior fall from his grasp and made his way outside to the street. He
activated the commlink.
*Sector Kilo-15 is... clear.*
End.
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