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Quite an old tale, but people did like it. Still open for suggestions, but my English teacher read it, and couldnt find anymore spelling errors.Saved by a Space Marine
Tyson snapped numerous lasbolts into the greenskin position. He ducked behind the sand sacks they were using as barricades and an ork bullet flew over his head.
Tyson was quite thin and bony, but had built up some muscles from hours of weights. He had dirty shade of black hair, which some people said was almost grey. It was untidy from weeks of fighting. He had a thin layer of stubble from lack of shaving. He was clad in standard military fatigues that were tattered and worn. The bags under his eyes were getting larger, as every night he fought for his life instead of sleeping. He himself was dirty, his face broken from all previous hope.
He knelt back up. Behind him was an entrance to an underground Imperial bunker. They had been attacked by orks from one of the entrances and they had been slowly forced out. The bunker’s commander ordered the closing of all other entrances to the large underground complex and they were now trying to get out of the last one. But as they were leaving they had been attacked by the greenskins and now the guardsmen of the 29th Groundhog platoon were holding out until their reinforcements arrived.
The voice behind Tyson caught his attention and he turned to see what was going on. He saw the Commander, Corporal Jagson. Another guardsman stood next to him, about to deliver the message.
“What is it?” the Corporal asked in a gruff, worn voice.
“The Space Marines will be here soon,”
Tyson turned back around. He was excited that the Emperor’s greatest warriors were coming. He himself had never laid eyes on them. And to see them in battle would be amazing. It filled him with new energy, and he began firing more lasbolts, ready to make an impression.+ + + + + + +Half an hour later, the guardsmen were thoroughly weakened. They had been fighting for ages. Tyson slammed a fresh las pack into his lasgun. His hands were cramped from holding it and firing. His knees were aching from crouching behind the sand packs for so long. But he kept fighting. His comrade next to him was to slow to duck from an ork bullet, and it blew him to pieces. The fortifications in front of him were being overrun with orks eager for killing. It was the only thought that entered their primitive minds, and it served them well. Slaughtered guardsmen were everywhere; their limbs lying next to them, the results of their hand to hand combat with the greenskins. They were no match for the massive orks, bayonets being barley a match for the orks’ crude but huge blades, which they had probably made from bashing bits of scrap metal.
Heavy bolters nearby spat their cargo, cutting down the greenskins as they rushed forwards, those who manned them franticly reloading them when the ammo in the previous round ran out. Orks fell in fountains of blood, as their chests were ripped to pieces, revealing the gleaming flesh and muscle inside, and the white bones splintering and shattering in the manner of wood. Hundreds of red bolts screamed across ‘No Man’s Land’, as the guardsmen fought as best they could, hopes slowly drowning under the ork attacks.
Sergeants roared orders to the squads under their command, trying desperately to keep the men together as they faced the oncoming threat. It was the most violent place in the world, yet all around the universe, the bloodshed continued, and Tyson new that there were thousands of soldiers who were fighting in battles thousands of times more hellish than his own.
And ork cannon roared at the soldiers. They were unpredictable, but brutally effective. And Tyson found out just how effective, as the world in front of him exploded. Dirt showered everywhere as the fortification was ripped apart. Tyson flew through the air, into the entrance of the bunker he was defending. He slammed against the inside of the bunker. He felt the crack of his leg, and his head slammed against the metal wall of the bunker. Pain surged to his through it, as if it was on fire.
“Dammmm…..” he moaned, and he winced in pain. Then, listening to gunfire and cries of battle, he blanked out.+ + + + + + +Fifteen minutes later, Tyson woke. His head burned. He tried to move his leg, but when he did, pain shot through it faster than a bullet. He could hear the battle still raging outside.
“Brother Dangos, Brother Scipo, check the entrance to the bunker for anything suspicious.”
Tyson heard the voices faintly, but he didn’t know who they were.
“Yes brother-sergeant,” Two voices replied in unison
A few seconds later, he heard heavy steps clanging on the floor. Whoever it was was in a lot of armour. But Tyson could do with help from anyone at this moment.
“Unnnnngh…” It wasn’t the best cry for help, but it would do.
“I though I heard something over here,” he heard one of the voices state. The metal footsteps approached. And then the figure came in to view.
He was at least 7ft towering over Tyson. He was clad in dark green armour, that had once been elegantly crafted, but it was now worn from much battle. Huge pieces of curved armour rested on his shoulders. They were dark black, with huge raised rims that were the same colour as the armour. There seemed to be some sort of Lizard symbol on the shoulder pad. His huge fists clad a bolter. Tyson had only ever seen them used by high ranking officers. It was said to be a holy weapon, that only the greatest of warriors could ever use. There was a metal belt around his waist, and was lined with pouches, grenades and a combat knife, glistening with fresh blood. It was finely wrought, thousands of times better than Tyson’s own bayonet. Parts of his armour were shining in the light from outside. Scripts were attached on various places on the armour, by bright red seals. His helmet reminded Tyson of a skull, due to the shape and look. He was a huge and imposing warrior, the likes of which Tyson had never seen. But the most striking thing was his eyes. They were bright yellow, and contrasted heavily to the dull green of the armour. The seemed to stare at Tyson. And Tyson stared back, amazed. And at that moment he realised he was staring at the Emperor’s finest. It was a space marine.
And then there was another boom from the ork cannons. This time, it hit the mouth of the bunker. Tonnes of steel showered down in front of the entrance. The second space marine cried out, as he was crunched to death by the falling metal. Not even his power armour could save him from the weight now pushing against it. The cave in had stopped, and there was a wall of metal debris. A small trickle of blood was oozing from it, all that remained of the once mighty warrior. Tyson looked up at the marine in front of him. He removed his helmet and began voxing through to his commander.
“Brother Captain Allgatoras. I’m trapped in the mouth of the bunker entrance. The metal I cannot shift. Requiring assistance.”
Tyson just stared, as the space marine listened to the reply. The space marine ignored him in return. The he spoke, no emotion, just a cold hard voice. He didn’t even look at Tyson.
“They will get us out when the orks are driven back. It shouldn’t be long.”
Tyson just nodded. Words escaped him, as he simply gazed at the mighty amour clad warrior.
Minutes went by. The space marine was motionless, simply gazing at the jumbled wall in front of them that prevented their immediate escape. Tyson simply gazed. He could not tear his eyes away from the figure. It was massive. A bulk. That was one of the most efficient killing machines in the galaxy.
After what seemed like an eternity, the marine was called by his com. Tyson could only watch as the space marine listened intently to what his superior said. Finally it ended with a “Yes Brother-Captain” from the marine. This time, he turned to Tyson, who guessed that it was of far more importance than the last conversation.
“The orks have beaten my forces and the remains of yours from the area. It will be months before reinforcements will be able to arrive, and we can’t beat the orks without them. We have to travel through the bunker to another entrance where my brothers have set up camp. There they will weld through the metal to get us out. But it’s going to be a long journey.”
Tyson finally stopped staring and thought. He knew the space marines were powerful, but they couldn’t stand up to what lay ahead.
“But it’s overrun by orks,” he said desperately “Thousands of them. We’ll be kill...”
The space marine cut him short, putting his helmet back on.
“Them you better scavenge what ammo you can from any dead. And I’ll bind your leg and head before we leave. There’s no way you can travel on it.”+ + + + + + +Half an hour later, Tyson’s leg was in a splint, and he was loaded with cartridges. Every time he took a limping step, his leg burned, and his headache was only getting worse from the constant movement. The space marine was travelling at a slow pace, so Tyson could keep up. Tyson could tell he was used to travelling much faster, even on foot. His armour clunked across the floor, in a steady rhythm that kept Tyson moving. He would’ve killed for a chem-inhaler right now.
The space marine just stared straight ahead, peering into the gloom. Some of the lights that lined the interior still worked, and provided a small amount of light. It was almost spooky, from the silence, and dark corners. But for some reason Tyson wasn’t scared. It must have been the presence of the space marine that kept him calm. He tried to make small talk.
“What’s your name?” he asked
“Save your energy for walking.” The space marine said in a cold voice, without even looking at Tyson, who didn’t feel in a position to argue. So he tried a different question.
“But don’t expect me to keep saving you. I’m not going to protect you from the all dangers in here.” He turned to Tyson, “Is that clear?”
But Tyson wasn’t listening. He was busy unslinging his lasgun. From around the corner behind them an ork had appeared. And the beast was aiming his huge unwieldy gun at the space marine. But it hadn’t seen Tyson. He quickly got an aim at its head and pulled the trigger. The ork heard the noise, and turned to see its source. But all he saw was the lasbolt screaming towards him. It cried out as the bolt hit it square in the face, and blew it away.
“Good work. That ork had been there for a while. That was a test to see if you’re worth saving because you might be able to fight. But we must get moving, they’ll be more of them.” The marine said his voice now alive and ready for action.
The marine quickly attached his combat knife to the end of his bolter, and then ran over to Tyson. Before he knew it, the marine had grabbed Tyson around the middle and was hoisting him onto his shoulder. His head swung around uncontrollably, and the headache got worse. His leg hit the marine’s armour and the pain in that started up again. And now his chest was getting sore from bouncing up and down on the shoulder as the marine sprinted down the corridor, revealing the true speed at which he could go. Tyson would have never guessed he could travel this fast, because before he had to slow down for him. As they continued forward, orks began pouring from all corners and doors. They surrounded them, and both ways, forward and back, were blocked. And they were charging towards them. Tyson turned his head around. The marine was charging the orks, and the orks were charging back. The marine was firing shot after shot from his bolter into the orks. Tyson had seen nothing like it before. Each shot fired was accompanied by a boom from the gun, and an empty shell fell to the floor with a clang. The bullet then flew towards the enemy like a small missile, blowing greenskins apart. And then the hand-to-hand came. The space marine hit the orks lines, barley faltering in his run, hacking left and right with the bayonet, and kicking with his legs.
An ork swung with its crude blade, but the marine ducked. Then he stood back up, and a single thrust saw the blade go straight through the orks weak armour, and into its hide. The marine quickly withdrew it and swung the gun across, connecting the top of it with the side of an ork face. It cracked right through skin, flesh and bone. The orks face was decapitated, and its lifeless body fell to the ground, blood oozing from the crushed face. The combat had slowed the marine down, and the ones charging from the rear were now almost upon them. The one in the lead leaped at Tyson’s face.
“Look out!” he shouted. The marine span around and fired a bolt just in time, and the ork’s face was blown away. His comrades were covered in the remains of its face. The orks were still coming, but the marine showed no signs of tiring, slaying ork after ork. But he couldn’t go on forever. They needed a way to escape the greenskins. The answer was a lesser number of orks reinforcing on section of the circle. The marine saw this, and turned around, so Tyson was now facing the thinner layer.
“See where the fewer orks are,” said the marine to Tyson, and hint of desperation in his voice, “Get a grenade from the back of my belt. I think you know what comes next.”
Tyson flailed a bit, trying to grab at the explosive, and he finally got a firm grasp. He unhooked it from the belt. Lifting it to his mouth, he bit at the pin with his teeth. With one sharp pull with his neck, the pin came out of the grenade. He spat it to the side and prepared to lob the explosive. It would be hard because he was hanging over the marines shoulder. But he managed to lift his arm high enough to lob the grenade into the tightly packed orks. The space marine turned just in time, as the grenade blew on impact, ripping a huge hole in the orks. The marine was undaunted and ran straight through the confusion and carcasses. He saw an elevator shaft, and kicked down the door. Without a moment’s hesitation, he leapt down it. Tyson looked up to see the orks looking down the shaft, firing their huge weapons. But the bullets missed, either bouncing harmlessly of the marine’s powerful armour, or ricocheting of the walls of the shaft.
Tyson had no idea how they were going to get out of this. He just relaxed himself on the marines shoulder pad and prayed to the Emperor that they got out of this alive. But the marine was already acting. He pulled a grappling hook from his pouch, using his free arm that wasn’t holding Tyson. He flung it into the air, and it swung around a pipe. They were suddenly jerked from their falling path and began swinging towards the wall at high speed. The marine managed to keep a hold onto the wire, as he slammed against the wall, with a loud clang of metal on metal. The only area that the metal touched on Tyson was his leg. It crunched against it.
“HOLY TERRA!” he cried as the pain surged, the pain was greater than any that leg had taken in this ordeal so far.
“Do not speak such blasphemy against our Holy Terra!” the marine shouted in a voice that Tyson had not yet heard. It was filled with the flames that burned all heretics it came into contact with. And Tyson was scared stiff. He barely managed to keep a hold on the marines shoulder.
“Sorry.” he said in a small whimpering voice.
But the marine was no longer listening. He was busy watching the grapple about to come undone. There was a small click as the hook came undone. The marine abandoned the line and began to grab onto something to stop their descent. His hand somehow managed to get a grip on a ledge, jutting out. The space marine gripped it with his hand, the other still holding Tyson around the waist on his shoulder. Directly below them was the door to an elevator entrance. The marine swung back and gave it a hard kick. The thin amount of metal easily gave way to the powerful kick, and the marine swung inside.
They were now in another hallway that had various turns. The area down was much more secure than the others. The doors were thicker and made of stronger metal. There were security cameras on the roof, some fine, some damaged and some lying crushed on the floor. Discarded shells, cartridges, weapons, helmets and other variables lay on the floor. The walls were riddled with bullet holes and lasgun scorch marks. But the worst thing was the bodies. Both ork and guardsman lay on the ground. The fight had been sometime ago, and they were now in the middle of decomposing. The stench wafted through the hallways, rotting flesh, burned skin, and just about anything else to turn the stomach of a simple guardsman. But not a marine.
“What the hell is that smell?” Tyson said from behind the marine, his head still staring at the ground behind the marine.
“It’s best you don’t find out,” said the marine, “but now its time to check on that leg again and rest. Keep your eyes closed. It’s not vital but you’d be better to do so.”
Tyson took the marine’s advice and clenched his eyes shut, as the marine, found a room for which the door controls still worked. He pressed a button and the door slid open with a hiss. They were now in a munitions room. The walls were covered in racks, holding lasguns and pistols, autoguns and pistols, hell guns and pistols, plasma guns, shotguns, a holy bolter, frag and krak grenades, knives, power swords, and a mighty power fist lay in a cabinet with coded locks.
“This must have been the officer’s weapon storage room…” Tyson said in awe.
Some of the mightiest weapons only dreamt of by troopers, all in the one room. Tyson just stared.
“Do not touch the power fist or bolter, but the rest is at your disposal. Take what you need, and then I shall bind your leg again.”
Tyson walked through the racks of weapons. He found some suits of carapace armour, and tried them on until he found one that fitted him well. Then he chose to hell pistols and holsters that he slung around his waist. He took an atuogun and slung it over his back, and hefted a combat shotgun for permanent carry. He loaded himself with cartridges for the various weapons, discarding his previous lasgun and them ammo for it. Lastly he took a power sword from the rack. He twirled it in his hand, then swung it forward it a wide arc. It felt good in his hand. He activated it, and it hummed into life, glowing blue with energy.
“Careful with that!” said a voice from behind.
It was the space marine. He was busy attaching the bolter rounds that he had obviously taken from the bolter rack to his belt.
“Are you almost done?” the marine asked, “You certainly look it.”
The marine was right. Tyson had multiple belts around his waist, three separate handles poking out. His across his chest were straps loaded with cartridges. A hellgun handle poked up from his back were it was attached.
“Almost,” said Tyson, and he quickly grabbed various grenades from the shelves and attached them to his belt.
“Okay,” said the marine, “time to rebind the leg.”
“If you don’t mind me asking after all that’s happened, what is your name?” Tyson asked. This time the marine replied.
“I am Brother Scipo from the Salamanders chapter, of the 5th company under Brother Captain Algatoras.”
“What’s a chapter?” Tyson asked.
“An organization of one-thousand marines.”
“Well I’m private Tyson of the 29th Groundhog regiment.” Tyson said in a satisfied voice.”+ + + + + + +
Tyson’s leg much better know. He could walk at his normal pace, with the new bandages. They left through the opposite door and found them selves in another hall. Only the smell had reached this far, not the battle itself. They walked for a bit before they heard voices from around the next corner.
“He said dat we gotta go dis way for patrol”
It was an ork arguing with another or more. Tyson was in the lead, and he turned back to Scipo. Scipo pointed to his eyes and pointed around the corner. Tyson understood and peered around the wall. There were just, two orks fighting over which way they were supposed to go.
“E said to turn right here!”
Tyson turned back to Scipo and held up two fingers. Scipo replied by drawing his fingers around his neck. Tyson grinned. He walked from around the corner and said,
“I don’t care where you want to go, I’m ending you both to hell,” and then pulled the trigger.
The shotgun recoiled wildly, but Tyson held it firm. The ork was blasted back and fell to the ground dead. Tyson slid the handle at the front of the gun forward and back putting a new bullet in the barrel. Then he turned the gun on the second ork. A second pull of the trigger killed the second one and it was over. While Tyson admired his work, Scipo came from around the corner.
“We need to hide the bodies so that don’t know what happened.” He said, turning Tyson’s head.
Tyson grabbed his ork under its shoulders. It was heavy and stunk. The huge flashy mass was covered in grease. He dragged it along awkwardly, heaving with all his might. Scipo picked his up and carried it horizontally over his shoulders. It hung limp, a gaping wound in its chest where the shot had caught it. Scipo had picked it up effortlessly with his genetic muscles. They went to closest door and opened it. They walked inside and found themselves on the balcony of a vehicle hanger. It was metal floor with railing at the edges, and a set of stairs going to the floor on both sides. Down in the hanger there were tanks and sentinels. Leman Russes and all their variants, hellhounds, chimeras, basilisks, salamander scout tanks and griffon mortars. But the strangest thing was the bikes. No guard regiment had ever been known to have bikes before.
And orks. The place was swarming with them, like a giant green moving mass. There were mechanics busy looting and altering the vehicles, switching parts and making them more “orky” to their whim. There were some orks walking around with new parts, others painting various ork designs onto their tanks.
“I have never heard of a guard regiment that had bikes in it before.” Scipo said.
“Neither had I…” said Tyson walking up to the railing.
He had never seen a sight like this before. It was all too much. First the officers armoury, the likes of which he had never heard of. Then this. He didn’t even know these rooms existed. Such was the life of an ordinary guardsman. Secrets were kept, for the benefit of the superiors, or just to prevent any traitorous or rebellious guard getting their hands on anything too powerful. But the bikes. He had never seen any before. He knew that the only army to use those were the space marines. His thoughts were interrupted by an arm snaking around his waist and pulling him back.
“What are you doing?” growled the marine, “You were standing at the railing practically asking for them to see you! They’ll probably be swarming all over us in a second!”
Scipo was to right. The orks were all shouting war cries and running towards the stairs.
Grabbing his bolter he ran to the top of the stairs, and began loosing off shots at the approaching orks.
“Get over there you fool!” he shouted at Tyson, pointing towards the other set of stairs.
Tyson unslung his autogun and strapped back on his bolter, and ran to the other stairwell. They were slowly fighting their way up, pushing and shoving for a chance of slaughter. A large nob in front was shouting and pushing his men back, desperate to kill Tyson himself and make impression on the boys he controlled. Tyson found an easy answer to the situation. He unclipped a frag grenade from his belt and bit into it. Spitting out the pin, he lobbed it down the stairs. The orks were oblivious to the destruction heading towards them.
The grenade landed, shards of metal flying everywhere. The orks were slowed in the confusion, and Tyson took the chance to begin pumping autogun rounds into the orks. It rattled in his hands, empty shells flying out and littering all over the ground. When the dust from the explosion cleared, Tyson noticed the nob wasn’t leading the charge. The bodies piling up slowed the orks progress, but they were still coming towards him, and the ammo couldn’t last for ever. Scipo noticed this, and called Tyson back. He hurried towards the centre of the platform near Scipo.
“We need to get to downstairs somehow. If we run into the halls, we’ll just be chased and hunted down like dogs. I’ll give you a grappling hook. Throw it around that hook over there and we’ll swing down. But wait for my command.”
He handed him a grappling hook and line. The hook was an industrial hook used for lifting heavy parts for tanks, or the tanks themselves. The orks were approaching much faster now, without the firepower raining down on them. The ones in front were now on the platform charging towards them, guns blazing. Tyson slung the autogun over his back. He was almost bending over from the combined weight of the two guns. He quickly drew a hellpistol and loosed of a few shots. He had his hope on the orks lack of accuracy with a firearm, as carapace armour could only do so much.
“Put it away, and prepare to jump!” Scipo commanded in a gruff voice.
Tyson holstered the pistol. The orks were only meters away, and Tyson was worried Scipo was just going to keep them there to die. When they were just 3 meters away, Scipo shouted,
“Throw the line now!”
Tyson flung his towards the hook, and obviously some St looked upon him as it wrapped itself around the hook and was wedged in place. He put one nervous shaking foot on the railing, and pushed off with it. He went sailing off the platform and through the air above workshop below. Scipo was not far behind, flying through the air with ease.
“Go lower!” shouted Scipo from across the air.
Tyson let the line slip through his hands, getting closer to the ground. He was careful no to go to fast, being wary of burns from scraping along the rope to fast. Scipo was going much faster, his armoured hands removing any thoughts of it. Tyson finally made it down, his hands burning from the prolonged slide.
He now saw why Scipo had made them wait before jumping down. Most of the orks were blocked on the stairs, pushing scrambling and biting to get some violence. Some on the top level were fighting each other to get in line for the stairs. He watched as one turned his huge blade against the one next to him, slicing through his head with one blow.
“Get on!” Tyson turned to see Scipo sitting on one of the bikes.
We weaved through them to get at the ones near the front which Scipo had chosen for easy escape. Tyson jumped on the back and sat, holding onto the marines back. The marine punched the ignition and began to move. They turned sharply, almost skidding to get to get in line with the door. But Scipo seemed much at home on the bike, and they sped through the door into the corridor. It was much larger than the ones above, probably so the vehicles could be moved through there.
“We are on a steady slope. We might be heading for the surface.” Scipo roared over the din.
When he listened, he could hear more than one bike engine powering up the hall. He turned behind him to see orks, on the bikes as well, chasing them, slowly gaining on their personally souped up bikes. But they are also proved to be quite unpredictable, and one near the back blew up in a spectacular explosion. Now there were just the ones in front of it to defeat, the others stopped by the presence of a flaming wreckage. They sped ahead, getting closer. With one hand he drew a hellpistol, the other still firmly grasping the marine. He fired a few shots at the closest bike, none of them finding a target. He took a more careful aim, aiming towards the ork driver. He pulled the trigger once again, and this time it hit. The ork’s head snapped back in recoil, as the bullet hit him smack in the face. With its driver dead, the bike swerved and hit the wall, crunching and smashing the metal from the high speed impact. He turned his pistol on another. But the ork saw this, and opened fire with its own weapons. The imperial bikes had been fitted with autoguns in their fronts. The ork took advantage of this and opened fire, its clumsy fingers somehow finding the triggers. But the bullets simply missed, bouncing and ricocheting of the metal, clanging of the floor.
One was getting dangerously close, so Tyson drew his power sword. He pressed the activation button, and it began to cackle with energy. As the bike approached, he took a swipe. He was to far away to hit it, and it swung through the air between them, humming with death. The ork roared at him, eager to take the challenge. He suddenly swerved, slamming into the side of Tyson’s bike. It shook from impact, but Scipo managed to keep it under control.
“What was that?” he roared at Tyson.
Tyson didn’t answer keeping his eyes on the bike behind them. It went for another swerve, turning the cross bar in a wide arc to slam their bike. But this time Tyson was ready. He swung at the bikes tyre, tearing it to shreds, the powerful blade ripping through the rubber. The front tyre now was completely torn away, and the bike skidded until it flipped over and rolled a bit.
But more bikes were still coming, and the end of this tunnel was nowhere to be seen. The orks opened fire once again. This time, some shots managed to hit a target.
“We’re hit!” Tyson screamed at Scipo.
He managed to keep the bike under control, and swing it to the side, as now bare metal served as a wheel for them. They span around a few times, but eventually came to a skidding stop. Scipo leaped off the bike, Tyson following. The bikes were still coming trying to stop. As one passed, Tyson leapt at it and sliced of part of the bike. It went skidding and hit the wall, bursting into flames. The others past, and went to turn around.
“Get in here!”
Tyson turned around to see the marine standing inside a door. It had obviously been out there for tunnel matinence. He ran inside and Scipo slammed the door behind him.
They were in a small corridor. Scipo quickly used some wire and a grenade to rig the door so that the pin would be pulled out if it opened. Then they began to run to the right, hopefully to the outside.
Eventually they heard a boom from behind them. The orks would now be coming. But they found some stairs. They led downwards, but anything to throw the orks off track.
They quickly jogged down them, trying to make minimal amounts of noise. Despite the fact he was a huge heavy warrior, Scipo seemed to be making absolutely no noise, compared to Tyson whose military boots thudded with every step.
Eventually they came to the bottom. Scipo led them to a random door, and then through the other side of that, then through another random door. They were constantly running, Tyson not trying to remember where they had gone, just following Scipo as he smoothly ran from door to door, opening and shutting to his will, running through to make the orks task of finding them even harder.
They ran to another door, and Scipo swung it open. Now they were in a huge room. Tyson gazed. It was huge. He had never seen it before. It was lined with computers that were connected to huge screens. Runes of all kinds were placed on the boards.
Tyson also noticed the dead bodies. There were only about five, and they didd’nt seem like warriors. The orks must have got them, so no they lay there without the honour of a burial.
Scipo was now at what looked like the main computer, carefully selecting the right runes to take him deeper into the computer. He kept going through information, touching rune after rune. Tyson had no idea what he was doing or how he was doing it.
Eventually Scipo left the computer and walked back over to Tyson.
“From what I have read I have some idea of what this is. This bunker was built to store information of great security, including the bikes that you have seen before. It tells of tactics, plans and the next assaults. It is of great security, and should it fall into the wrong hands, it could give them a great advantage over the imperium. I am guessing these bodies were the people who were to destroy this data, when you were beaten back. Now we must destroy it for the sake of the imperium.”
Tyson understood. He started unloading grenades from his belts. There were many of them, both krak and frag.
“Hand them here and go relax. This will be a tricky task, with which I must concentrate. Reload your weapons. We still must get out.”
And with that Scipo began to wire the grenades together so they would go off and destroy the computers and the rest of the area.+ + + + + + +
About an hour later the marine was finished his work. He walked over to Tyson, who was sitting with his back against the wall, polishing a hellpistol.
“It is all done. I have looked at the maps of the complex, and discovered the rout to the exit near my brothers’ base. We will go there as fast as possible.
Tyson gazed up at him, like the first time, when they were in the mouth of the bunker. He was still an awe inspiring figure, clad in a suit of green, with yellow eyes that pierced the face like none Tyson had seen before.
“What are you staring at? Get up and let’s go!”
Tyson dropped his rag, and stood up, holstering his pistol. All his weapons were fully loaded, and once again he gripped the shotgun that had previously been on his back.
They began moving towards the door. When they got in the threshold, Scipo turned back around with his bolter. He aimed carefully and fired a single shot at the first grenade. As soon as he had pulled the trigger, Scipo turned around and slammed the door.
“Run!” he shouted at Tyson, who immediately began bolting up the hall.
Scipo came up from behind him, and overtook.
“Follow me,” he shouted, “It’s time to get out of here!”
Again they ran through the corridors, but this time Scipo did not lead them through various doors to lose pursuers. They ran along a straight corridor, Scipo glancing left and right, looking for somewhere to turn. He had obviously memorised the path they were required to take.
After about an hour of running. They suddenly took a right. This path seemed to be at angle, and Tyson was sure this would be the end. He heard a shout from behind him.
“Look. A humie and a marine boy. Get ‘em!”
Tyson looked behind him. Orks were pouring from doors, hundreds of them, chasing after them. Once again, the competition was fierce to get to the front and pulp the enemy. He could pick out no leader, just a green wave, pulsing with a lust for fighting and bloodshed.
“Scipo, behind us!”
But the marine just looked ahead. And Tyson realised why. Ahead was the sealed door. And a glowing pattern of a square was appearing. He was once again amazed at the technology of the Imperium. They had obviously detected their coming previously and began going through.
They reached the door. Tyson turned back, and saw the orks approaching. Scipo too watched the greenskins coming. Then he took up his bolter and opened fire, a war cry exploding from his lips. Tyson almost fell over, the sound blowing him away. Then he unslung his autogun and began firing. The two of them stood there, guns ablaze, the metal behind them slowly melting away.
The orks fired back. One managed to hit Scipo’s chest, blasting right through the body and incinerating most of he centre. It had obviously been customised to be more powerful. Scipo fell to the ground, horrifically wounded, but still alive. His bolter crashed to the floor with a clang. It was now up to him to defend them until the others got in. He looked at the ring off metal. It would still be a minute or two before they got in, and he knew there was only one way to save one of them.
Tyson solemnly drew his power sword and activated it. He braced his autogun against his arm with one hand, his finger ready on the trigger. He looked back at Scipo.
“Goodbye Brother Scipo of the Salamanders. May the Emperor watch over you.”
“Goodbye to you too, Private Tyson of the 29th Groundhog regiment. May the Emperor protect.”
But Tyson didn’t hear him. He was charging towards the orks, his finger pushing as hard as it could against the trigger of the autogun. His lose grip caused it to buckle wildly, but he somehow held it firm. The orks at the front were falling, Tyson charging right at them.
He hit the orks lines, swinging the power sword wildly, cutting orks left and right, showers of blood coating him. He still held the trigger of the firearm, as it swung around with his movement. But he did not care. He kept fighting, regardless of what happened around. He was determined to make up for the many times that Scipo had saved his life.
He turned to see the progress that the marines burning through metal had made. They were now through. The plate of metal had fallen, and marines like Scipo were pouring through. He stared at Scipo. Two of them were starting to drag him back through the hole. Scipo looked back at him.
And then Tyson felt a blade protrude his back, and blood rushing from the wound. Then he fell to the ground and felt no more.+ + + + + + +
Brother-Sergeant Scipo looked at the ground beneath his feet on the planet of Vicorna IV. The stared at the grave in front of him. It was made from a precious marble only found on the planet, the seemed to give of its own light, dappled in the suns light.
The sky was a beautiful mixture of reds, yellows and browns, yet the death lingering in his mind seemed to turn it to a dark grey, even though his head was not covered by a helmet, no flashing runes or statistics.
Just his eyes. And ears. Feeling the area around him, and the sorrow that surrounded it, but only for him.
He sensed another marine approaching.
“Brother, it is time to leave. We must return to the Thunderhawk and go back to the ship.”
“He would have made a marine brother-captain.” Scipo’s voice was solemn and dead.
“He may well have, but instead he valued a friend’s life more than his own. There was no way that you both would have made it out alive. What if he didn’t survive the trials and become one. He made the right choice, even though he now lies dead. He will go and sit by Emperor. His name will be forever recorded in our records, as will yours. He will also be added to the guardsmen records. There is nothing more that one could ask for, than honour through death in the service of The Emperor.”
“You are right brother-captain. But his memory will never leave my mind. I will never forget the guardsman who saved my life.”
They both turned around and started back towards the Thunderhawk.
Thats was a very good read. I look forward to more of your writing.
Why use science and education when ignorance and superstition will work just as well.
That was great writing mate! Exciting and with an end I didn't expect!
"Fight for justice, not revenge."
FoW Gepanzerte Panzergrenadiers who took a wrong turn at Tunisia and magically appeared in Normandy as Panzer Lehr: Wins: 11 Losses: 8
Im working on an idea as we speak. Glad you like it.