Herald of the Stars - A Warhammer 40k, Rogue Trader Fanfiction - Chapter Twenty-One
Thoughts flit through my head. Half of them are curses, the others going through a loop of ‘why’, then I realise I’ve fucked up.
I left my warp-tap on.
Well, at least I can lure them all into my traps. Praise be my master baiting skills.
“What direction are they coming from?”
“Every direction,” growls Aruna from its perch on a barrel.
Ah, the vaunted six degrees of freedom space games are so proud of. Now I actually get to experience it for myself!
Yay.
Just as I truly start to panic, Odhran turns up on a big bike with wide tires and front facing bolters. Is that a scout bike?
I breathe a sigh of relief, “Sergeant Odhran, I am delighted you are here. We are in a lot of trouble.”
Odhran shrugs, “I know no fear.” Even through the distorting vox of his helmet, I can hear his amusement.
“The good news is I set all my traps. The bad news is the tyranids have detected us and are converging, so they’ll be missing most of the gifts I left them.”
“Four hundred and four tyranids by your last report. Has this changed?”
“No. A little under half of them are in our current target.”
“Good. I have enough ammo.”
I chuckle, “Let’s move back from this section to the adjacent storage room. It has a catwalk we can stand on above the door.”
“I will stay on my bike. Open the door immediately after the trap triggers so they don’t go looking for another route. Hopefully they will flee from your flames into the loving caress of my bolters.”
“I’ll forward the pict footage to your helmet so you can watch the traps too. They’re about to breach one with their main forces.”
“I shall watch and wait.”
E-SIM feeds the camera data from the titan hold into my head. The tyranids burst into the room, spreading out to every corner in seconds as they leap over abandoned tanks.
As the lead tyranid, a small gene-stealer, reaches halfway across the room, the turrets fold out from their recesses and open fire. A third of the tyranids are instantly pulped. Before they can find new targets, the hydrazine ignites, filling the room with an epic white flame. The cameras are good and E-SIM’s composite image shows me the massive back blast that rushes through the corridor the tyranids broke in from.
Much of the hydrazine settled on the tanks and floor, forming a sea of fire that burns for about ten seconds before it fades.
Odhran whistles, “Not bad for a newbie.”
“Thanks,” A big grin spreads across my face, “It was rather pretty.”
Tyranids pick themselves up and shake off greasy soot. The surviving turrets spool up; lasers and bullets streak across the room, picking off the fleeing xenos. Of the one hundred and seventy-eight tyranids that entered, nine flee.
“I’ll hunt the rest of them later,” says Odhran. “I don’t want them laying eggs inside the vessel.”
I wince, “I didn’t know they could do that.”
“Most of the gaunts can do that, the little ones with claws or bio rifles are famous for it. Can your machine spirits help?”
“You don’t have a secret stash of murderbots do you, Aruna?”
Aruna jumps down from the barrel and prowls around the scout bike, “Aruna does not know. It may have more compromised rooms with grand secrets and hidden marvels.”
“An adventure for another day. Pick them off with turrets if you can and have some servitors follow them. If they start breeding, smash as many eggs as you can before they hatch.”
“Aruna complies.”
“We’re all set up, please open the doors along the route towards us so that the tyranids can arrive at the last bulkhead together.”
“Hold that instruction, machine spirit,” says Odhran, “Let them break through their current door and give them an occasional obstacle. The hivemind will be aware we have traps, I do not want to spook them.”
I cross my arms, “Good point. Shame we can’t drive them towards us too, give them a sense of urgency.”
“If we could do that, we wouldn’t be in this predicament and could just blast them.”
“Good point. Please follow Sergeant Odhran’s suggestion, Aruna.”
Aruna’s voice grinds out of the bike’s vox, “Executing open door policy. 8% of turrets along the route remain functional. Harass boarders?”
“Go ahead Aruna. Shoot them just after they pass and drive them on.”
Odhran clears his throat, “Machine spirit, where is the brood lord? How many tyranids remain on the ship?”
“Two hundred and thirty-five tyranids remain, two hundred and twenty-six are heading to your location. ETA seven minutes. Brood lord is present and inbound.”
“Good,” says Odhran. “Get us to the next ambush room, Magos.”
I stride across the corridor and the door opens automatically, “It would have opened for you too.”
Odhran revs his bike and rushes past me, then pulls up, “Mine is a fleet based chapter. Our tech-marines are too few in number and often in the field, over the last century automatic doors have become a hazard, rather than a luxury.”
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author’s consent. Report any sightings.
I trigger the pump on the trap, follow Odhran, and the door shuts behind me. The room is the size of a large warehouse. An overhead crane in flaking yellow paint lies still above massive stainless steel vats that stretch almost all the way to the high ceiling.
“Don’t you have a contingent of tech-priests?”
“Yes, however, they lack materials, which is why I ended up in service to Explorator Epoloch299. My chapter master traded our services for one expedition in exchange for the required aid.”
“How long was that supposed to take?”
Odhran grunts, “No more than twenty-five years. With additional resources offered for overruns or losses.”
“Will your return cause problems for the Barghests? Your chapter will have been paid for a complete loss and likely spent everything by now.”
“Most likely.”
I nod, “Your brothers deserve to know what happened to you. If a mechanicus logis starts throwing a fit at balancing the books, I will do my best to help, even if I have to find a way to make up the difference myself.”
“Thank you, Magos, but there is no need. My chapter will weather their displeasure regardless.”
“I disagree. There is enough trouble to swamp the Imperium already, but we can save such debates for another day. Is there anything I need to know about our current circumstances, or you wish from me?”
“No, Magos. Take your position.”
“On my way,” I adjust my backpack and trek over the ladder and ascend to the catwalk. Another barricade would be good, but that would block Odhran in too, and with the numbers we’re facing, the mobility of his bike is likely his only chance.
I pull up the footage of the rampaging tyranids. Aruna’s sporadic turret fire has pushed the broodlord to the middle of the tide from where it was lingering at the rear.
“E-SIM, is the tyranid’s leader the same one that faced the orks? I can’t tell.”
++Unknown. The data downloaded from your lanyard implies tyranids are capable of rapid change, stymying identification. Sergeant Odhran confirmed their hive mind. As long as it dies, it does not matter.++
“We should still make it a priority target. Any disruption we can cause is good.”
++I will highlight it for you.++
“Thanks.”
The tyranids arrive at the last door, as they start to attack it, the door recedes almost instantly, a turret pops out behind the tide and opens fire, driving them into the fuel filled air. The front line tyranids baulk at the smell, but cannot retreat as their fellow spawn push forward, trying to avoid the hail of explosive rounds pounding their ranks. A moment later, the hydrazine ignites, setting most of them alight.
The corridor is too long to saturate and the fire isn’t enough to kill them, but it does leave the tyranids sluggish. The final door opens half way, forcing the tyranids to bunch up.
Odhran’s bike opens fire, lacing the chitinous tide with bolter rounds in short bursts. Each round obliterates the small bodies, leaving room for more to clamber through. The turret herding them forward runs dry, the fire dies out and their frenzy abates.
Aruna opens the door further, but the tyranids are now much more cautious and my scanner shows them scrabbling up the walls of the corridor, looking for other ways in. They find a hatch near the top where a cargo rail runs into the vat room, where we’re hiding, and they dig into it.
With a flick of Odhran’s wrist, a grey puck flies through the doorway and explodes in mid-air, mulching the hiding tyranids. Acidic blood sprays everywhere, pitting the floor and walls while leaving the remaining tyranids unharmed.
Odhran’s voice booms through my vox, “Numbers?”
“One hundred and fifty-three remain in this group. The brood lord has returned to the rear. It is a hundred and eight metres to the right of the door.”
“I won’t risk it. Not yet. Anymore tricks?”
“No!”
The tide pours in through the door and a score of tyranids break in from above. They scurry down the walls and leap onto the catwalk.
I point my sprayer at them as Odhran unleashes his overpowered guns on the tyranids below me.
A dozen bio rifles open fire.
Horror fills me as E-SIM reports they are firing parasites at me. My finger clenches on the trigger, incinerating the oncoming projectiles, leaving my cylinder dry. There are eight clawed tyranids between me and their lethal shoots. I rush forward, then slide into a crouch, eager to get them between me and more flesh-boring beetles.
Rather than try and reload, I swap modes and coat the whole group with nanites. It does a fine job of disrupting their aim and focus.
The clawed tyranids, hormagaunts, I recall, answer my challenge rushing towards me along handrails and the catwalk, coming at me three at a time.
The termagants open fire.
I drop my sprayer against my chest and roll forwards, taking one round in my right arm and another in my thigh. The second round deflects off, but the first hits straight on, knocking me sideways and the grape sized monster punctures my armour and gnaws right through my arm.
Screaming, I draw my pipe and thrash, severing the catwalk in my panic. It’s too sturdy to fail from smashing one end, but a trio of hormagaunts are less fortunate. They spasm on the ground, chunks missing from their chitin and flesh.
The remaining five pile onto me, punching down with their claws.
E-SIM pumps me full of drugs and my mind becomes crystal clear, suggestions fill my head as I stay low and sweep the blades aside. My arm shoots out and I grab a leaping hormagaunt by the neck, stand, and disintegrate it’s neck.
It twitches, scoring my armour with its claws.
I hold the corpse before me, using E-SIMs projections to keep the body between me and everything trying to kill me. My pipe lashes out and I kill the last four hormagaunts. I charge the termagants. More beetles impact my armour, knocking me about and punching two holes in my chest, then I am among them.
Half the tyranids retreat at a steady pace while keeping up their fire. A beetle smacks my helmet and I get far too close a look at the flea-like creature and its fanged, munching maw. It opens up the helmet, but expires before it can get any further in.
Thank the Emperor these vile xenos only persist for a handful of seconds.
Six termagants throw themselves at me, firing their guns at point blank. I chuck the battered hormagaunt at them, absorbing their haphazard shots. Repeated blows shatter them in under two seconds, though it feels like forever.
I grab another body and sprint at the last six termagants. My shoddy shield isn’t enough and I fall flat on my face as I lose my knee. I really, really wish I’d had time to upgrade my skeleton.
The termagants continue to back up, peppering me with weapons. I can’t catch them now, and I can’t reload before they kill me and my nanites won’t be fast enough either.
Gripping the catwalk, I sever the remaining support and the section beneath me falls away, I land atop a tide of chitin and claws, barely surviving the ten metre fall. I am stunned and winded, but the drugs and the hyper-oxygenated blood flooding from my reserves keeps me awake.
E-SIM sends an emergency message to Odhran who ploughs through the tyranids and slings me over the back of his bike like a sack of shit.
“So much for covering me from above, Magos.”
E-SIM transmits for me, ++Twenty tyranids fell upon the Magos from above, six remain. His implants will repair him but he is no longer functional.++
“Another machine spirit? The Magos sure is blessed. Can’t say the same for his combat skills. Or equipment. Is he conscious?”
++Yes, he will be capable of conversation within a minute. This machine spirit recommends Sergeant Odhran takes the Magos’ weapon and reloads the front canister with the one on his belt labelled ‘nanites’. As long as the Magos is within five metres of the silver spray, the tiny machines will dissolve the tyranids over a minute. Now their numbers are low enough, you can drive in circles until they die.++
“So he does have some of the good stuff.”
++Yes, yes he does.++
