C. Goto - Dawn of War

The scouts were striding over to the Blood Ravens’ encampment around the spaceport’s shrine, while a team of other Marines walked back towards their bikes, presumably to make the necessary offerings to their machine spirits before they would be ready to go out again.

Watching the scouts, Brom noticed a group of Blood Ravens emerge from the shrine to greet them. One of them caught his eye immediately-slightly taller than the others, his armour was the colour of a clear blue sky. He bore the insignia of the Blood Ravens on his auto-reactive shoulder guard, and his gleaming armour was studded with purity seals. In place of the grey raven that adorned the chests of his battle-brothers, the figure had a starburst of gold and, although he had no helmet, his face was obscured by an ornate hood that was somehow integrated into his armour. In his hand he held a long staff, crested with the wings of a raven with a glowing red droplet in its heart.

Brom made his way over to the Blood Ravens’ compound and presented himself to the unusual Marine. “I am Colonel Carus Brom of the Tartarus Planetary Defence Force. It is an honour to be in the presence of a Librarian of the Adeptus Astartes,” said Brom formally, after a short cough.

Isador turned. “Wait,” he said sharply, then turned back to the scouts that were about to enter the shrine to make their report to the captain. “Corallis-Captain Angelos should not be disturbed at the moment. He will be finished soon.”

The sergeant nodded his understanding to the Librarian and stood to the side of the doorway, as though on sentry duty, and Isador turned back to face Brom. “Yes?”

“I am Col-” began Brom.

“Yes, I know who you are Colonel Brom. What do you want?”

In the rapidly fading light, Brom could not see Isador’s face under the psychic hood, and the reddening sunset had transformed his pale blue armour into a disturbing purple. Brom swallowed hard, more cowed by this Librarian even than by the rampage of orks that he had encountered that afternoon.

He collected himself. “I wish to know how the Tartaran Fifth can be of service to you.”

Isador watched the man closely, noting how the fear in his voice competed with the fierce pride in his eyes. There was something unspoken in that stare-something both hopeful and desperate at the same time.

“I saw you fight today, colonel. You are a brave man.” Isador’s voice was calm and matter-of-fact.

“Thank you, my lord,” said Brom, genuinely proud.

“I am not your lord, colonel. We must all be watchful for false idols. I am a servant of the Emperor, just like you,” said Isador, watching Brom’s response with interest.

A voice seemed to be whispering into Brom’s mind and tugging at his consciousness. Without thinking about it, he flicked his eyes from side to side, looking for the source of the noise.

“Colonel?” inquired Isador, and Brom’s gaze snapped back to Isador’s shrouded face, where his eyes seemed to be glowing with a distant light. “Is there something else?”

“No. No, there is nothing else, Brother-Librarian,” replied Brom, picking his words carefully.

“You are a brave man, Colonel Brom, but it seems that your men are merely shadows of your resolve. Brother-Captain Angelos is doubtful about their efficacy in this theatre,” said Isador frankly.

Brom smarted. “I shall strengthen their resolve. You may rely on that.”

“See that you do, or we shall be forced to do it for you.”

Brom took a breath. “I should like to offer my assurances and the Tartarans’ services to Captain Angelos himself.”

The Librarian nodded slowly. “As you wish. But you will wait until the captain has finished his prayers.”

For a few moments the two men stood in silence, but then Isador spoke again. “You have something else that you wish to say. Say it, colonel.”

“I have no gift for words, Brother-Librarian,” said Brom, a little taken aback by Isador’s astute question, “so I will be blunt. Some of the men are talking about the fate of planet Cyrene, and I was hoping that you could set the rumours straight before they get out of hand.”

“What are the men saying?” asked Isador, checking that Gabriel had not yet emerged from the shrine behind them.

“They have heard that your company cleansed the planet of a terrible heresy,” explained Brom, hoping that the Librarian would finish the story for him. But there was silence, so he continued. “They have heard that you performed an exterminatus, down to the last man, woman and child.”

“Rumours are dangerous things, colonel,” said Isador, leaning down towards Brom. “Colonel Brom, your company and even your precious Tartarans are welcome, but such questions are not. You would do well not to ask the captain about Cyrene if you wish to retain what little good will he currently has towards you.”

The door to the shrine creaked open behind Isador, and Gabriel stepped out into the night air, stooping slightly as he passed under the mantel. He nodded a quick greeting to Isador and glanced down at Brom before turning swiftly to Sergeant Corallis, who stood crisply at the side of the doorway. Isador took a couple of steps towards Gabriel to join the briefing, leaving Brom standing on his own in the gathering dark.

“Sergeant, what news?” asked Gabriel.

“We found the trail of two mobs of retreating orks, captain. They appear to be heading on intersecting trajectories, presumably towards a rallying point deeper in the forest. If we leave now, we should be able to catch one of the mobs before it reaches that point.” reported Corallis.

“Understood,” said Gabriel. “But what of the other mob?”

Corallis looked slightly uneasy. “We caught up with it on our bikes, captain, or what was left of it.”

“Explain.”

“Something had already taken care of the bulk of the mob, and we had no problems cleaning up the remnants, captain,” explained the sergeant.

“‘Something?’ sergeant? What? Who? The Tartarans?” asked Gabriel.

“With all due respect,” said Corallis, flicking a glance towards the dim figure of Brom, “that is most unlikely. The attack was incredibly precise and the attackers left no trail at all. It is as though they just vanished after the battle. Not that there was much of a battle, it seems. More like a slaughter.”

“Marines?” asked Gabriel with some concern.

“No, captain. The wounds on the orks were too delicate to have been caused by bolter fire. It was as though they had been shredded by thousands of tiny projectiles. I’ve never seen anything like it. When we caught up with the stragglers, they were so dazed and confused that it was hardly worth wasting ammunition on them.” The report clearly disturbed Corallis as much as it did his captain.

“Very good, Corallis, thank you,” said Gabriel turning to face Isador. “Isador, what does the good colonel want?”

“Brother-Captain, the colonel wishes an audience with you,” replied Isador, stepping back and sweeping his arm to indicate that Brom should approach.

“Captain Angelos. I wish to place the Tartarans at the disposal of the Blood Ravens. As you know, we have suffered many casualties, but between the fifth and seventh we can offer an entire regiment. They stand ready to serve you in the protection of the city. I realise what you may have seen, but my men wish to make amends for-”

“The Tartarans will have many opportunities to prove themselves warriors worthy to serve the Emperor, colonel. The Blood Ravens are leaving the city, and we are leaving its protection in your hands,” said Gabriel, already on his way to organise the departure.

“Very good, captain,” said Brom with a slight bow. “I will ready my men. May I ask what your next course of action might be?”