Bug Out!

by NDG

The oppressive heat radiated off the dark grey ferrocrete like a furnace.

The leaden colour of the sky was complemented by the ash and dust surrounding the Armoury bunker, no brighter colours alleviating the sombre landscape.

Somewhere above the perpetual clouds of pollutants the last of the transport shuttles was making its way towards this landing pad, Omega Six. Sargeant Carsten checked his chrono once more, his face clearly agitated.

"Come on, where is the damn Lieutenant!" he mumbled under his breath.

Around him, his squad worked like slaves, readying the equipment for the impending airlift. Carsten had just received via satcomm that the 'nids were heading this way, maybe two hours out. It was going to be close.

"JURGEN!" Carsten yelled, looking up from the checklist in his hand.

"Yah, Sarg, wassup?" A large head popped out of the Chimera's driver hatch, interface plug sticking into it's temple.

"Get that damn thing into position, now. We still have to load it up. MOVE IT!!"

"Ok, Ok, hang on a minute." Jurgen craned his neck around, checking behind him as he manoeuvred the APC up the loading dock. A crash of falling barrels left Carsten shaking his head.

"Sarg, we have incoming…I think it's the Lieutenant." The complug embedded in his mastoid crackled a little with interference. This world was an electromagnetic bath.

Emperor knows why they built a habcentre here. Wasn't for the scenery, damn sure.

" Tracking you, Roysten, come in to the base. We still got work here."

"Me too, Sarg?" a second voice called in. Durn fr

om the northerly lookout, the direction the 'nids were coming in from. The boy sounded a bit nervous. "Negative Durn. We need you out there. First sign, yell for help. Got that, soldier?"

"Uhh, yes Sarg. Damn ugly planet, this. What the 'nids want from it, anyway?"

"Stow it, Durn. Just keep those scanners up, OK. Out"

Carsten breathed a little easier, He wasn't sure that they would spot the Lieutenant before the 'nids.

" Sarg, Roysten again. Its friendly, but it ain't the Lt. Umm, think you should come out here. I…"

" What?, Roysten, copy me, over" nothing but static. Damn.

Carsten glanced up at the tall ash dune where Roysten was positioned, trying with his field scanner to find out what was going on. A small group of men, half a dozen or so, was making its way towards them. Five of the men were in bulky Marine armour, though it didn't appear to be powered.

It gleamed a deep black amongst the endless grey. Roysten accompanied them, seemingly guiding them to the Bunker.

After a minute, Carsten realised that a squad of Black Templar scouts were heading his way. He grimaced a smile. Ok. Marine support.

Things were looking up. He then noticed a flicker of movement.

Another figure walked with the group, hardly registering in the IR or UV. Camoleoline. A Gods' damned assassin. Praise the Emperor.

So the rumours about Inquisitor von Steiner's retinue were true.

"Corporal?" he said, without lowering his scanner.

"Yeah, Sarg?" Corp. Jones replied from within the powergen bunker, a grunt of exertion accompanying his acknowledgment. Even at this range, the reception was lousy.

"Move your arse. We have company."

**********

"Sargeant. You will take your squad southwest of here, utilising this vehicle as a transport, and reunite with your platoon. Lt Griff is expecting you to lead them in here." The Scout Sargeant was a full head taller than Carsten, and almost twice as wide at the shoulders in his armour, the black iron cross insignia stark on a dull white shoulderpad. He had given no explanation or greeting, just had started handing out orders. Carsten clamped his mouth shut and took it. No place to argue here.

"Right then," he replied. The marine wasn't even looking at him anymore.

"JURGEN!" he yelled savagely, "you still hooked to that Chimera?"

"Yeah!" came the reply from a hatch. His com was whited out with interference from the neural link Jurgen had with the APC.

" Well, pull it out an quit playing with it. I need you to fire up the Hellhound. Get it prepped, NOW!"

"Ok Sarg"

"Durn?"

"Here sarg, We leaving yet?"

"You got it. Five minutes and we leave you behind" Unnecessary bit of motivation, that.

"Corporal?"

"Reading you, Sarg."

" No more time, Jones. Get the men geared up and into the back of that 'Hound."

"Right, Sarg."

********

Carsten had been striding over to the Hellhound flametank whilst organising his squad, and now stood on it's hull, next to one of the giant fuel tanks for the Inferno gun. This thing was a monster, and Carsten had a little niggle of unease as he slid into the commander's position in the turret. One hit and BOOM. Looking across the landing pad which was still strewn with gear, he watched impatiently as the Marines set up a hidden position on the bunker itself, camouflaging their site with crates, boxes and barrels. One of the scouts, armed with a brute of a heavy bolter, was busy checking the ammo belt whilst his squad cleared the area before them, providing a clear field of fire.

The assassin was nowhere to be seen. That individual was truly scary, one arm replaced with a bionic powerfist, the rest of his body clothed in a tight bodysuit the colour of the grey ash. The meltagun slung across its back was probably the least of its weapons.

"Sarg?"

"Yeah, Corporal?"

"We are down and locked."

"Got it." Carsten softly kicked Jurgen in the back of the head." Lets go."

**************

Fifteen minutes later Carsten was cursing their speed over the soft dunes of grey and brown ash. Suddenly, his comlink chimed an incoming call from his command squad, patched as he was to the tank's own satcomm receiver.

"Sargeant Carsten, you copy?"

" Read you, Alpha Command. That you, Lt?"

"Yeah, Griff here. Carsten, where the hell are you?"

"Couple of kays out, I think. Haven't picked you up yet on the scanners."

"I've squirted you co-ords via satcomm. Your driver should have comped them by now"

There was a confirming tug on his boot from Jurgen.

"Yeah, Lt, got it. ETA bout ten minutes."

"Make it five. The orbital scanners have located that bug force. It's about an hour from Omega Six. The shuttle is about 30 minutes from the pad. We have to hold the pad and the Armoury long enough to get the gear boarded and us out of here. The marines and their friend should buy us some time"

"Err, Sarg?"

"Hang on, Lt. What?"

"Sarg, its Conner here. Umm, it's the corporal…"

"Damn it, Conner, what's the problem?"

"It's Jones, Sarg. He's actin' …strangely"

********

"GODS DAMN YOU TO THE FIVE HELLS!!" Carsten screamed out after the receding Hellhound. "JURGEN, GET BACK HERE!" There was no reply.

They had all baled out of the tank when the corporal started to writhe around. There wasn't much room in the back to hold him down and dose him, and Carsten had been hauling out the medikit when Corporal Jones had thrown himself at Jurgen, still in the driver's seat. He was trying to claw the driver's eyes out, Jurgen screaming at him to stop and Jones screaming back incoherently. Carsten was just about grab Jones when Jurgen powered up the tank, sending the crouching sargeant flying out the open rear troop hatch. The tank slewed through the ash drunkenly, almost rolling at one point, while Carsten and the rest of B squad watched in dumb silence. Abruptly, the Hellhound scraped to a halt. Inside his head, Carsten heard his systems voice inform him that Corp. Jones was no longer outputting. Another static squeal, and Jurgen cut in.

"S-s-sarge?"

"Private, what the hell happened!?"

"Uhh, the corporal..exploded sarge. He's d-dead"

"Get that rig back here, now, private. You read me?"

"Yeah, I..oh god" there was a sound not unlike retching.

"Emperor save us!" muttered Durn reverently, looking spooked.

The rest of the squad looked a little green also. Jurgen's com cut out again, and the 'Hound started to grind its way back towards them. Running out to meet it, Carsten jumped onto the hull, standing on the heavy bolter secondary armament. He pulled open Jurgen's hatch. The stink was already getting bad. " Any other problems?" he yelled down at Jurgen,who was visibly shaking. Gods, what a mess.

"Umm, yeah, I…I think the turret mechanism is jammed or burnt out. The onboard comp can't get the backup online, neither."

"You mean the turret won't rotate?" Carsten asked, a little incredulous.

"That's about it, Sarg." Jurgen yelled back, casting a quick glance over his shoulder, which was covered in gore. He winced as he brought the tank to a halt. Then he just sat there, staring into space.

"Roysten, Durn, give me a hand here. The rest of you, cleanup detail. Conner, you're acting corporal."

"Wonderful…." Conner muttered, the comlink echoing Carstens own thoughts.

*********

B Squad's link-up with the rest of the platoon was less than rosy, the Lt fairly tearing strips off him in front of the rest of the men. Carsten seethed inwardly at the treatment, brought on no doubt due to the presence of the commisar who sat in stony silence in the hatch of the Command vehicle, arm being bandaged by the medic and a hulking Ogryn bodyguard crouching beside him. There was little time for elaborate reprimands, however, and the platoon was soon running for the Armoury bunker at top speed, guided by his co-ordinates. Jurgen was holding up well, considering, and kept pace with the other vehicles over the difficult terrain, no mean feat considering the Hellhound's cumbersome handling. They were late, and the Lt was blaming him for it. Carsten sat , stewing in wounded pride and choking on the clouds of fine ash that worked its way past his respirator. The loss of Corporal Jones was bad enough, without being held to blame for this whole mess. The rest of his men were morose, the interior of the tank still a vivid and foul reminder of what had happened, and what they were going up against. The commisar; Colonel-Commisar Howser no less, had taken one look at what remained of the corporal and concluded that it was some sort of Tyranid spore infestation, after some of the green and red goop had dripped onto his arm, eating through his jacket instantly.

  The Comissar merely looked at his arm in distaste, and continued the examination. Some sort of internal parasite, probably inhaled by Jones as he had worked. This worried Conner, who had been working with him in the powergen bunker. The man wore a look of desperate horror, despite the clean medscan by the platoons medic.

" B Squad…" the vehicle's comlink crackled in his ear, barely heard above the general din of the tank.

" Carsten here, sir." Carsten was coldly formal, playing by the book.

"Sargeant. Get that flametank up front now. We are approaching the landing pad, and we have enemy contact." God, here it comes.

"Yes sir. B Squad out." Carsten nudged Jurgen with his foot and yelled orders at the top of his voice.

*********

The whole platoon was dismounting from their transports, quickly forming up. The Lieutenant had already sent Jurgen forward with the Hellhound, supported by the Stormtroopers that had been assigned to Alpha Platoon for this operation. The remaining Chimeras were moving off to the west, trying a flanking manoeuvre.

Lt Griff had taken A Squad up the right flank, skirting the large lake of pollutants, aiming for the cover of some supply crates.

C Squad advanced with to the left of the lake, supported by a squadron of three sentinels, the walkers striding forward to gain early contact with their assault cannons. B squad was bringing up the rear- in disgrace, Carsten assumed, watched closely by the Comissar-Colonel. The look he gave Carsten was one of calculation, as if he expected them to bolt at any second. The Ogryn bodyguard strolled along, as if on a pleasant outing.

Weapons fire forward brought the sargeant's mind back to matters at hand. Ordering his men forward at a jog, Carsten sent B Squad into the fray, the seething alien masses clambering over all obstacles in their path. Heavy weapons fire opened up as Alpha Platoon dug in and prepared to hold Omega Six.

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