The Musing of R. L. Frymire

IN THE CARGO, Dassius Xhin stood near the front of the vanguard, which was made up of six Reivers—including himself, three cloaked Eliminators, and five Vanguard Infiltrator. Filled with restless energy, his gaze flickered to his fellow Reiver. They all wore variations of their Chapter’s colors. The pristine white of their Mark X Phobos power armour proudly proclaimed the Chapter’s unquestionable purity of mind and body, while the right pauldron and gauntlet, as well as the left knee plate, were painted a brilliant purple.

The gold aquila was proudly displayed on their chest plate, with a gold trim along the edge of their pauldrons, honouring the noble Imperial Fists to which their Chapter had succeeded from. In the center of each Reiver’s purple knee plate was the golden numeral for their Company, and next to it, a golden icon of a close support squad. Their standard helms were white, except for the Reiver’s sergeant, Nussex Neizor, whose helm sported a red strip down the center. Sergeant Neizor was currently above deck with the flight crew as they flew across the skies of this unknown planet. There were no windows in the thunderhawk’s cargo bay where the fourteen Primaris Astartes waited patiently.

Or nearly patiently, Xhin Dassius amended silently to himself.

His gaze roved, settling on an Eliminator on the far side of the bay. Most of the warrior’s armour was concealed by a greyish brown, camo cloak, but unlike his Reiver brothers, the marksmen had obviously field stripped their Mark X armour for maximum discretion for stalking their enemy. The most noticeable aspect was the squad’s lack of helm. Their shaved heads were left bare, but their eyes were concealed by tactical goggles, while a breather unit covered the lower half of their face.

What truly caught his eye was their Mark III shrike pattern bolt sniper rifle. He’d seen the rifle’s optics at play on previous engagements. Once an enemy was caught in their sights, they were as good as dead. Armed with an array of special issue ammunition, there was no armour their rounds could not penetrate. Upon their knee, next to the Company unit, was a golden fire support specialty symbol. 

The vox link within his helm came alive, breaking his reverie. His Reiver sergeant’s gravelly timbre rumbled in his ears, “All units, standby for imminent landing.”

Adrenaline tightened along Xhin’s shoulders and biceps. To alleviate the growing tension, he rotated his stiff neck.

“You feel it too, eh?” commented his brother, the skull-faced helm favored by the Reivers turning to regard him through blazing amber eye shields. 

Xhin nodded. For too long, they had not seen any action, adrift in the void. Finally, they had purpose. The sighting of a fortress-monastery had come as a surprise, but one that left many questions. If this were an Imperial world, why had they not been greeted after breaking orbit or as they drew nearer the enormous citadel? 

Suddenly, they all felt a shuddering tremor along the length of the thunderhawk, then Sergeant Nussex Neizor’s voice blasting over the vox link. “We’ve been hit! Strap in. Prepare for a rough landing.”

Had they been mistaken for enemy forces and struck down by one of their own?

Before the command had been completed, the craft went into a rotation, the sensation causing Xhin’s stomach to summersault strangely. The craft jerked violently from side to side as the pilot struggled to regain control. His dual hearts flapping at a quickened pace, they seemed to fall for an eternity. When the impact came, it was sudden and jarring. They bounced once, rattling his teeth, then twice more, before sliding along the ground in a squeal of scratched metal. The distant cracking of splintered wood told him their violent passage fell dozens of trees, before they came to an abrupt halt that violently rocked the ship. 

For long seconds, no one moved. The sudden stillness and quite was disorientating until Sergeant Neizor strode into the cargo bay. “Form up!” he barked.  

His Reivers were swift to respond accordingly. In pairs of two, the six Reivers stood shoulder to shoulder. Their left pauldron was larger than standard issue Marx X armour, allowing for enhanced protection in advancing formation. Sergeant Neizor stood at the lead, while the Eliminator’s sergeant instructed his two warriors to encircle the Reivers, one on either side, with their sergeant taking up the rear. Their mission was to protect the vanguard from elevated attacks.

Face grim, Neizor informed them, “It is unknown if we were struck by friendly fire or other. Nor do we know which Chapter the monastery heralds. With the citadel high in the mountains, visual is scarce due to cloud coverage. Our ship is damaged and comms are down. We cannot reach our Chapter in orbit; however, the pilot has informed me our distress beacon went through before communication was cut.” He looked at each of them, his dark eyes calm. “I do not mean to wait here until reinforcements arrive. This is Imperial land. We will make way for our brothers who come after us. Should we come across hostilities, they will be dealt with.” Grabbing his helm, Neizor secured it over his head. “Brothers, prepare to move out!”

Abruptly, the sergeant turned to face the bulkhead. They did not have long to wait. With a grinding shutter, the thunderhawk’s forward ramp lowered, hydraulics hissing loudly before sputtering into silence once the ramp settled onto the ground with a jolt. The Reiver sergeant motioned them forward with a raised hand and the vanguard exited the gunship, weapons at the ready. The servo-motors engineered into their lighter weight phobos armour allowed them to move with more stealth compared to the typical tactical suits.

The Vanguard Infiltrator Squad was the last to emerge.

Outside the thunderhawk, their party was motioned to a halt. Sargent Neizor spoke, his voice filtering through the vanguard’s vox. “Stick to our channel. Though we cannot get through to our brothers in the monastery, we don’t know who may hear our chatter.” He turned to the Vanguard Infiltrator’s sergeant, who nodded. “Our battleline brothers will remain behind,” Neizor continued. “Not only to protect our ship, which I have been assured can be made operational, but to assure our reinforcements are made aware that we continue with our reconnaissance directive.”

As he spoke, the five Vanguard Infiltrators took up position around the thunderhawk, their marksman bolt carbines held at the ready. They were, also, equipped with an assortment of krak and frag grenades, and a bolt pistol. If any were foolish enough to attempt attacking the gunship while the forward vanguard was away, the Vanguard Infiltrators were more than a match for whatever might spring from the surrounding forest.

“Vanguard, move out!”

The sergeant led the way, stealthily creeping through the dense foliage at the base of the mountain. They had a long trial ahead. The thunderhawk was nearly two kilometers from the mountain’s base before the steep climb.   

DIAZYOR SOLLAZ GRIPPED his Mark III sniper rifle, his tactical googles zeroing in on even the most minimal movement. The Eliminator stood on the right of the vanguard, skillfully avoiding stepping on any sticks or kicking rocks hiding beneath the grass and fallen leaves, when his acute senses caught a flicker of motion. Smoothly sighting his rifle, he peered through its optics, and saw a small blur escape into a burrow at the base of a thick tree. An animal? The hole was too small for much else. He relaxed, though something nagged at the edge of his mind. Even with his optics, he had yet to catch sight of the small critters that occasionally rustled the undergrowth, except for an exotic explosion of colors.

He tried imagining what animal could be a vibrant pink when a blue shape raced across the ground. It was coming towards him, streaking fast in chaotic, darting movements. Sighting his scope without effort, he squeezed the trigger and heard a satisfying shriek, followed by frantic scampering through a pile of dry leaves. He frowned, knowing he had not missed despite the creature’s sporadic activity.

“Sollaz! Explain yourself,” commanded his sergeant from the rear. They’d all heard the unholy scream and turned to face him expectantly. 

The Reiver sergeant lifted his fist, calling the vanguard to a silent halt. Beside him, Reiver Xhin shifted his weight, as though impatient to continue. What could he expect from the zealous elite?

He answered calmly, trying to track where the creature had fallen but saw nothing. It was…unbelievable. “Target unclear but something charged me.”

“Target status?”

The answer should have gone without saying, but though he was loathe to admit the truth, Sollaz forced himself to swallow his pride. “Unclear.”

The silence was loud in his helm, before his sergeant’s disbelief whispered softly through the vox link. “Unclear?” The secondary question went unsaid but he heard.

“Direct hit,” he informed curtly. “However, I believe the target remains live. Sergeant, there isn’t just one of these…things, but multiple; though, full visual has not yet been made.” The admission left a sour taste in his mouth because he should have known. More so, his target should have been eliminated. It was his prerogative as an Eliminator.

“Things? That’s the best you got?” Xhin spoke not through vox channel but loud enough for Sollaz to hear his muttering.

His head turned towards the offending Reiver. “Say that again,” he dared softly, uncaring that the Reiver most likely spoke from pent up frustration of prolonged inactivity rather than a true slight against his abilities. 

Before the Reiver could reply, Sergeant Neizor broke formation to stand before Sollaz, the sergeant’s white helm moving from the Eliminator to Xhin. “Is there a problem, brothers?” his gravelly voice was deeper, growling in warning.

Sollaz’s anger simmered as he and Xhin responded smartly with a firm, “No, Sergeant.”

The white helm settled on Sollaz. “If you see this thing again, speak.”

He nodded acquiescence, and the Reiver sergeant stalked back to the lead, before motioned them forward once more. The vanguard moved fast through the forest, and silent, the only sound being the whispering of the foliage brushing against their cremate armour. There were no further strange sightings. Whatever that thing was had disappeared. Even stranger, the forest was still. Quiet. Seeing no signs of danger, they did not slow until they came to a clearing.

They Reivers were brought to a halt, triggering the Eliminators on either side of the formation to move forward. Utilizing their scope’s thermoscopic vision and precision auspex scans, they detected no sign of life. Beyond the tree line appeared to be a small village of Imperial design with obvious signs of neglect.

“Reivers, split into pairs. On my mark, scout the area,” instructed Sergeant Neizor. “Eliminators, give them support. Go!”

Sollaz separated from the group, heading stealthily through the trees. Once he found a good spot, he scaled a tree sturdy enough to carry his weight and climbed to a high branch. With the help of his cloak, he concealed himself further by using the thick leaves around him, before he signaling his readiness, as did his fellow Eliminators. Next, the Reivers were on the move, entering the small village at separate points. They worked as one machine, anticipating each of their needs. Nothing but the vanguard moved.

Through his scope, Sollaz could see signs of previous battle. The foundation of many of the buildings were cracked, roofs caved in, and windows broken. The hamlet was abandoned—of both the living and the dead. Had the settlers evacuated? The citadel would be the obvious point of refuge.

It was not long before the Reivers gave the ‘all clear’ signal. Sollaz descended from his perch with agility and speed, his field stripped armour allowed for a wider range of movement. He returned to his position as the vanguard’s reformed formation. There was something eerie about the stillness of the abandoned town. Before they could make their next move, the vox link opened.

Static distorted the voice of the Vanguard Infiltrator Squad’s Sergeant. “We…under…fir— Repeat, und— he—vy fire!”

With a curse, Sergeant Neizor commanded sharply, “Return to the ship. Now!” The vanguard turned as a unit and surged back the way they had come as though a fire had been lit beneath their feet. Whoever, or whatever, was attacking the thunderhawk had to be of impressive strength to force the battleline squad to call in back-up, which meant, their reinforcements from the Chapter in orbit had not yet arrived.

They were on their own.