Untitled

[GenocideAlive]

The Captain stepped commandingly through the smoke, skulls and chitin crunching beneath his heavy boots. He paused at the top of a small, 10m high mound of corpses and flipped over to his retinal scanners. His helmet's eyes burning a furious green in the darkness, the air was a deathly still, the only sound being the rasping of his respirator clicking on and off. "Mark 5. 150m, bearing 313!", he barked.

Violently disturbed, the peaceful air around him flooded with a torrent sounds. Heavy boots came crunch-crunch-crunching up from behind him, and three heavily armed Space Marines dropped to a kneel in sniper's positions on either side. IR scopes whined to life and comm gear blips and static scuttled in low tones as the Marines waited, statues in the thick, toxic smoke. A heavy Bolter made a lone sharp CRACK and an inhumane squeal sounded and abruptly ended in the distance. "Don't waste your ammo.", the Colonel remarked, not looking down.

Several squarks and crackles spit from the comm channel, announcing the presence of the Colonel on the link.

"Reed." came the voice, toneless and blank.

"Yes, Sir!"

"I have a report of a Mark 5. This is your report?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Repeat, a Mark 5?"

"Affirmative, Mark 5, 275m--"

"That will be enough. Prometheus inbound." The radio quarked loudly and fell mute once more.

"Shit!", Reed hissed. Everybody bear 133, double-time! MOVE!" His cadre snapped up their weapons, turned, and secured them on their backs with a twist. Each of them broke in to a fast-paced jog formed on the Captain, strained from their gear and heavily armored suits. As they reached the bottom of the mound, other Space Marines positioned around the periphry broke their positions and wordlessly joined the squad. Heavy Support Marines, just reaching the outskirts of their position, turned 90 degrees and fell in behind the rest of the group.

"Looking good, Marines!" Reed gestured towards the Heavy Support group, hoping that their pride would fill in where their limits of exhaustion left off. He knew they were already tired from trying to keep up with Tactical.

"We're not going to make it. Shit!" Reed looked behind him, trying to gauge distance, then frentically whipped his head back and forth, taking quick inventory of the surroundings.

"Break formation! Cover South in three!" Pointing to each of the mounds of blast debris and wrecked vehicles, he barked "One! Two! Three!" Each of his squads broke into a run for their assigned mounds, with Reed pushing them, spurring them on as they ran past. "GO GO GO!"

Suddenly, Reed could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. "SHIT! DOWN!" The last of the Heavy Support made a heaving flop towards the indistinguishable wreck of a Rhino just as the lancing beam of Lascannon lit up the sky. Reed could feel the searing heat as the blast traveled overhead, closing his eyes and praying to the Emperor. Its enormous hum took total command of the skies, blazing and throbbing until its abrupt departure.

Reed could see the heat smoking his Marines' armor, and some were entirely too slow in getting up. He clenched his teeth hard, and swallowed the lump in his throat. The comm quarked.

"Reed.", came the dead, toneless voice.

"Yes...sir.", Reed managed.

"Status."

"Sir, unable to immediately determine--"

"Unacceptable. Status report, one minute."

"Fine. I--" the radio quarked again as the signal was cut off. Reed's mouth guard began to fray as he clenched his jaw for the Nth time.

"Scouts! Inventory. Status. Priority 1." Within moments, Reed was greeted by salute of his full Scouting squad. "Break camp. Watch perimeter, and observe the--"

"What the holy hell was that?" came a high pitched voice, accompanied by some gruff stomping.

"Sargeant! Do not EVER interrupt me!" Reed snapped, swiveling his torso around.

"We got 3 HS with Category 1 injury, don't give me that trash! Where the hell did a Lascannon barrage come from? We're going to be down 5 men in about 5 minutes if we don't--"

"Sargeant. Not now. Just...not now." said Reed, unusually calm. His second slowed his walk and his footsteps came less heavy.

"Chief, what's..." he said, approaching cautiously. Reed swiveled back around to face his scouts. They were gone. He smiled under his helmet. Good.

Reed grimly assessed the situation from the top of the melted slag he was reconnoitering. There were remnants of thousands Tyranid corpses strewn across the landscape, melted and smoldering. He punched the comm link on the side of his helmet.

"Patch me through to command."

[kongurous]

The only complaints I have are the length and names, and the names are really just a matter of preference than anything else. The Imperium's huge, so different styles of names are abound. It is a tad short, but as my knowledge of Space Marines as far as ranks and such go is rather limited, it's the only thing I can criticize for sure.

It's good as is, but a little more meat in the sandwich, so to speak, wouldn't be bad.

[GenocideAlive]

Was Prologue, noob. ;)

[kongurous]

Was Prologue, noob. ;)

Your opinion doesn't count, mutant. Five balls is heresy in the Imperium :P

[GenocideAlive]

"Reed." thudded the dull voice, once again.

"Yes sir, I have a report." Reed responded.

"Report."

"Land has suffered several type 1 and type 4 damage from the Lascannon salvo. Physical change includes several new crevasses, and a damaged river. Burn damage is moderate, with--"

"Reed." the voice cut through his droning Imperial standard. "I am ill-concerned with the change in the landscape. Report on the aliens."

"Yes, sir. My scouts and I have counted roughly 1,300 dead Tyranid. Mostly Gaunts, Genestealers, and Warriors." Reed was having difficulty breathing, and he knew it wasn't from the increased gravity of the planet. The radio silence wasn't helping.
"Are you visually confirming these kills, or are you relying on your scouters?", the Colonel sounded dubious.

"Sir, the scouts are running exhaustive checks of both scouter and gene-imprints for confirmed kills. All data and statistics have been supported by followup gene imprinting. There have been no Ripper-ribbed data." Reed began to sweat under his armor. His armor prompted him for a cooldown sequence, and he denied it.

"And how many Rippers do you count, Captain?" the Colonel's voice was short and terse. Reed knew he was in dangerous territory.

"Incalcuable, sir." he swallowed hard. A moment passed, then another. Reed's legs were getting tingly and he dared not move. Time was dragging, and he started to shift his weight slightly.

"Hmmm. This will prove interesting for you and your company, Reed." Reed jerked to attention, scatting some bones and carapace. A skull bounced down the large mound. Colonel Argus' voice was relaxed, and melted away some of the tension in his body. He exhaled deeply, his respirator punctuating his breath with a loud click.

"Yes, interesting indeed. You and your company of 'Death-Speakers.'" the Colonel slowed down his voice to emphasize the last two words. Reed didn't know why Argus always said it that way, but he knew it made his skin crawl. He tried to suppress the wriggling feeling under his armor.

"You will return to your supply ship, and drain it. Make camp there. You will receive further orders tomorrow at 0900."
"Yes, sir". Reed replied, just in time to hear the quark of the radio line as it cut off. Reed reached up to his face and popped off the scouter, sighing deeply.


Making his way back down the mound, the Sargeant stood with his helmet off holding his Bolter.
"What the hell gives?" he squeaked. Reed grimaced. The Sargeant's voice took a little getting used to, because it was about 2 octaves higher than a man his size usually has. Reed rolled his head to the left in the cradle between his armored shoulder pads to look at the Sargeant.

"Sargeant, we just hit a Mark 5 squad of unknowns." Reed said, dryly.

"Yeah, I know that! Hell, the whole company knows, now! This was supposed to be a scout-and-rout for a small patch! This isn't backwater hellhole isn't big enough for a Mark 5!" the Sargeant was almost chirping now, voice strained. Reed supressed a grin.

"Yeah, well, this 'backwater hellhole' is a Size 9 Planet with known subterranean features. An entire race lived here underground not too long ago. And when those 3 suns come up in a couple of weeks, it'll be obvious why." Reed looked up at the sky, enjoying the cool air and looking at the odd arrangement of stars. He enjoyed the peace and serenity of its grey shround for a moment, before the Sargeant broke in again.

"Sir, what are we going to do?" he said, secretively.

"Gather the men, we're going heal up here and then we're going back to the ship." he nodded from a distance at the Company Chaplain. The Chaplain signaled that they were ready to move, and Reed nodded again. The Sargeant's eyes bugged.

"Back to the ship? We can ride that cow back into orbit, but our ride isn't even there. They took off to Hel V, to try a bombscan there." the Sargeant looked worried.

"We're not going back, yet." Reed said, and smiled. "We still got business here, Damascus." He punched on his helmet and its sensors lit up. He yelled for his Company, over the Sargeant's shocked voice of protest.

[SHISHKABOB]

I think it's nice. But it needs more "for the Emperor" stuff, since the Space Marines are very religious and stuff. But other than that I like it. Don't forget about the Apothecary, those guys are the best.

[CrazyTom]

Wow... Space Marines made competant. I prefer the story without all the 'for the Emporer' business, but I guess GA doesn't have to go overboard with it. Still, these people are pretty much indoctrinated from day one.

Quibble: numbers written as numbers. They always seem out of place to me, I guess others may not think the same. But particularly in speech, I just don't like the look of them.

Good work though, I'm gonna keep reading this.

[GenocideAlive]

Quibble: numbers written as numbers. They always seem out of place to me, I guess others may not think the same. But particularly in speech, I just don't like the look of them.
Well, numbers one through nine are supposed to be written, but 10 and above are supposed to be written as numerals. That's my understanding, anyway.