Seraphs of the Emperor’s Judgment

Chapter 40: Bloodbath (4)

Upon arriving in high orbit, the Starfire immediately sprang into action.

The strike cruiser shuddered with barely containable power, the air thick with the static of its void shields and the throb of its primed lance arrays.

Replacing Soshyan, Lothar took charge of the command throne on the bridge, surrounded by a sea of hololiths and data readouts.

The blast shutters over the observation ports had lowered, and the space behind them now displayed the monitoring screens and observation augers dominating the center of the gloomy bridge.

Lothar watched the crew constantly busy themselves.

Generally speaking, Space Marines rarely paid attention to their mortal thralls, much less actually noticed their activities. This wasn't out of arrogance, but because of the immense physiological and psychological gulf—it was very difficult for superhumans to notice the frail humans scurrying about them. Those controlling the bridge were the most privileged among the tens of thousands of Serfs serving the warship; their experience and expertise afforded them better rations and living quarters.

Even so, they were useless and fragile creatures. Their pale grey robes hung loosely over their thin bodies, making them look gaunt.

In a futile attempt to imitate their masters, all had their scalps shaved, and some had added Aquila tattoos on their faces and arms.

Lothar observed them working at the comm stations and auger arrays, monitoring engine output, and preparing to coordinate firepower.

Everything was conducted in silence.At this height, no matter how hard he tried, Lothar found himself unable to distinguish any of them: old or young, male or female.

They were the property of the Chapter. Whether willingly or coerced, they had to serve aboard this ship for their entire lives.

This was the cruel and indifferent side of the Imperium of Man.

Choice, for the vast majority of people, was a luxurious power.

"Chapter Master."

Lothar activated the long-range comms, contacting Soshyan who had already arrived at the torpedo launch bays.

"We are catching up to that transport ship. ID scans and keel marks confirm beyond a doubt that it is the New Pharos. What are your orders?"

"Did you signal her?"

"Yes, but she hasn't responded. Close-range auger probes detect extremely few life signs. About twenty minutes ago, it launched a landing craft headed for the orbital station. I believe your speculation has been confirmed."

"It seems those traitors have already had their fun. That place up there is nothing more than a morgue now."

"Indeed, but before landing they might be able to provide us with intelligence, such as the identity of the traitors."

Lothar looked at the monitoring screens.

Even without magnification, the New Pharos could be clearly identified. The mottled, unappealing bulk of it was set against the swirling green and white sphere of the planet.

What had happened to her crew? What was it that now occupied her decks and spaces in the dark?

"Chapter Master, we will be in launch range in twenty seconds."

"Your control."

After waiting quietly for twenty seconds, Soshyan felt a vibration when the boarding torpedo encasing him launched.

Behind him, First Squad stood motionless, fully armored and armed. Auto-stabilizers and mag-locks kept them steady as the torpedo fired toward the flank of the New Pharos.

The Starfire had closed to extreme proximity, close enough to ensure that whatever defense systems the target possessed, they could not lock onto the Astral Knights' boarding torpedoes as they tore across the narrow gulf of the void between them.

The proximity alarm chimed, and before the narrow metal cabin was flooded with a fierce red light, the chronometer on Soshyan's faceplate showed less than fifteen seconds had passed.

"Prepare for boarding!"

Soshyan ordered, setting his stabilizers to maximum power.

Just as his armor locked, he felt the retro-rockets throttle a rapid collision, and the moment impact occurred, he grunted.

The power armor absorbed intense gravitational shifts, a force strong enough to tear a mortal into minced meat.

The torpedo seemed to pause for a moment, and then as the melta cutters in its nose burned through the New Pharos's outer hull, a new vibration passed through the deck beneath Soshyan's feet.

Soshyan naturally unclasped the power sword at his waist.

He could feel First Squad's desire for battle behind him; they had waited far too long.

But Soshyan found himself praying there weren't many living traitors left on board, nothing that would make the slaughter complicated. Right now, the Astral Knights couldn't accept not only failure, but any significant losses either.

Subsequently, Soshyan pushed his worries aside and focused his mind.

He was no longer an ordinary warrior.

Soon, shattered metal plates were blown apart by the boarding torpedo with a muffled detonation, followed immediately by the harsh staccato of auto-bolters.

The blinking light inside the torpedo changed from red to green. Before the ramp even lowered, Soshyan was already moving. The roar of his power sword's disruption field activating was met with a dead silence, while outside lay screaming darkness.

In the next second, Soshyan's auto-senses captured misshapen, unnatural forms. Torn apart by the explosive breach of the torpedo, their fragments scattered across the corridor made the scene even more twisted.

His auspexes detected the unmistakable, abhorrent stench of the Warp.

This was a group of highly corrupted Chaos cultists, possibly former mutinous crew members of the ship.

Their pale bodies were covered in profane symbols, their gaping mouths packed with fangs, wielding various primitive weapons as they lunged at these Angels of Death.

"Exterminate them."

Behind Soshyan, First Squad swarmed forward, rapidly wiping out the first batch of Chaos cultists rushing at them from the darkness. The Space Marines didn't even use their bolters; they used chainswords and fists to tear them into dripping gore and black ichor.

Soshyan trampled over their twisted corpses, while the traitors bared their fangs in hatred.

Such deformed horrors would shatter the sanity of most mortals. Bloodsucking fangs and newly grown secondary limbs writhed, attempting to grasp the silver-grey battle armor.

But before the Space Marines, they were still as fragile as paper.

Soshyan easily cleaved through them with his sword, sending chunks of black filth splattering across his armor.

Farzad charged down the corridor, the fury of his twin battle axes filling the enclosed space. The screaming fragments mixed with a rain of blood spotting him, making him appear a dark crimson.

Second Squad also quickly exited the landing pod. They guarded First Squad's flanks. Their volkite calivers hummed with energizing overload as they vaporized the Chaos cultists farther down the corridor into explosive flames and ash.

After the last Chaos cultist wailed and died beneath Soshyan's fist, he continued forward and saw an open compartment hatch.

He slipped sideways through it, seeking new enemies.

The auto-senses revealed the sheer slaughterhouse he had stepped into. What used to be the ship's chapel was inundated with blood and hanging severed limbs. Hunchbacked, cloaked creatures squirmed within the maddening butchery. The cultists flinched and retreated at Soshyan's appearance.

Soshyan did not hesitate; he swung his sword, tearing through their twisted limbs.

In order to escape him, the cultists did everything they could, clawing and hitting each other, but it was utterly useless before the silver-armored giant.

He quickly added these wretches to the slaughterhouse they had created.

"No other crew members found."

When Farzad came to report, Soshyan stood there breathing heavily, viscera dripping from his ancient armor.

He struggled to control himself, struggling against the urge to continue the slaughter fueled by his fury.

Simultaneously, he received a second combat report on his faceplate, coming from the Second Tactical Squad that had infiltrated the ship's engine room.

"No survivors."

Ustad stated all that he saw.

"No signs of traitors either. The engine room is currently secured."

However, Soshyan's attention was caught by a massive symbol on the chapel wall. His intuition told him this symbol was strongly related to the identity of the traitors, so he captured a pict of it and sent it to Lothar on the bridge.

"Lothar, did you receive the image I'm seeing?"

"Received, Chapter Master."

"What is this."

On the bridge of the Starfire, Lothar stood on the command dais, staring at the pict Soshyan sent displayed on his faceplate.

"Chapter Master, it seems all your speculations were correct. We have indeed encountered traitors."

On the wall stained red with dripping blood, a brass-colored symbol glowed with an evil light.

"This is the symbol of Khorne, the Chaos God. We've encountered a Khornate warband."