The Magus bid him rise, "I have a task for you. So far our attempts to induct members of the Arbites to our family have been...rebuffed. The hour of Ascension draws nearer day by day. Although we are not ready yet to rise up, more direct action must be taken. This is what I command of you..."
Ghaskin listened intently for to fail was to fail the gods themselves.
Precinct Sub-Fortress 12. 440 District. 1532 hours.
Communications Scribe Louk scribbled furiously with his autoquil as the voice on the other end of the autofone described perfidity against the holy law of the Imperium. Someone had entered a remote confession booth to report a crime.
"Okay, the generator station you said? Tonight at 2200? Okay. Do you know how many? Can I get your name? Okay mister 'Goody Naybor' I'll pass that on to the judges and thank you for your service to the Emperor.
Normally the booth would lock them in for further questioning but this one seemed to have malfunctioned. He made a note at the end of his report. Saboteurs! The thought simultaneously filled him with disgust and excitement. Family legend stated his great great great great great great x10 grandfather had been one of the Astra Militarum guardsmen that had settled this planet after purging it of foul xenos. In his desk he kept his prized family heirloom, said to be the actual issue knife his father carried.
He opened his drawer and gazed at it longingly, dreaming of plunging it into the heart of a mutant or heretic or jaywalker or something. Alas, as a lowly com-scribe, the tenth in his family line, such glories were not for him. He sighed, then closed the drawer and rushed down the hall to the watch captain.
Generator Station 0143Sigma. 440 District. 2248 hours.
Proctor Arcot "Thorny" Ramathorn surveyed the scene in front of him. The Generatorum hummed as it powered the the hive sector around it. It abutted against retainment wall structure 457 and was surrounded on three other sides but typical burnt out hive sprawl buildings. His men had approached tactically with professionalism he was sure rivaled the Astartes, if such giants of legend were indeed real. Sure enough, they found the body of a tech adept that had been recently murdered with signs of a struggle. They moved in and began sweeping the structure. Oddly there were no other signs of struggle.
Trooper Marcius "Mac" Womack swept the upper deck with his shot gun finally clearing the area where the power stack met the retainment wall. Nothing. He looked over to his tac partner, Robute "Rabbit" Roto. Roto covered Mac's rear sector, barrel going where his head faced. Mac to detect a slight wheeze to Roto's breathing. He suspected his partner had been hitting the corpse starch donuts a little to heavily recently but had not felt like it was an issue before now.
A voice broke the tense silence on their vox beads. "Nothing over here," reported Rodus "Rod" Favre. "You see anything Carl?"
Carle was Carl Foster. Carl had no nickname. Troopers got nicknames for funny things about their names or stupid things they had done. Carl was neither funny nor, within memory of anyone at the sub-precinct, had ever done anything stupid. Ice ran through his veins.
"Negative. Not liking this. Wait-movement on the permimeter!"
A stab of fear shot into Proctor Ramathorn as he raised his bolt pistol to the ready. He had led his men into a trap!
Shots rang out from the burnt out bell tower across the street.
The mining laser and heavy machine gun opened up on Favra, wounding him slightly.
"Breakout!" Thorny screamed into the the com bead and his men, with reflexes born of years of training knew what to do. This had all the hallmarks of an ambush and as even the ancients had know, the only way out of an ambush was to push through it. He dove off the top of the genratorum and snaped off a shot at his would-be murderers.
Rabbit and Womack also scrambled off the roof and ran for the plasma conduits for cover. Not ideal, but the best they could do under the circumstances. Mac made it furthest but Roto struggled to reach cover. One of the attackers, looked to Thorny like he was wearing mining gear, ran forward with a flame thrower. Flames bathed him but his army stood firm; he just took a minor injury. He was hurt, but still in action. Farva fired off a frag grenade at the source of fire on top of the building across the street. He couldn't tell if the shot was effective or not.
Carl, as emotionless as a servitor, lept off of the building and with contemptuous ease, blew away the ganger that had been shooting at him from behind some old crates. As the scum fell to the ground, Carl noted his weapon was a military grade autorifle. He filed the detail away for further reference.
Farva took a cue from Carl and lept off of the geratorium and sprinted for the plasma pipes in front of him Another stream of coherent light from the mining laser struck him and he tumbled to the ground. Dazed, he groaned from the pain of the impact. He was out of the fight but his instincts took over and he crawled towards a pile of trash near by. If he could not find cover, he would find concealment and hopefully not bleed out in the process.
Thorny charged the ganger with the flamer and miraculously charged through unharmed. "The Emperor Protects", he thought as he prepared to bring justice to this hive scum with his shock maul. Absently he noted that there did not seem to be many of these gangers around which was odd. This was far too few a number to ambush an arbites patrol with. Only the bravest, or most drug fueled pack try to pull this off. Of the perps he had seen so far, those did not seem to be much in display. His maul made short work of the the flamer bearer. Justice. Served. Behind the building in front of him, something lurked.
Ghaskin could feel the battle slipping away! Only one of the arbites was down-he needed more. It was time to step in personally.
With the power of an enraged grox Carl smashed into the ground floor of the building in front of him. All he had to do was make it out the other side and across the alley and he would be home free. He heard the footsteps of the gangers above him moving around.
Thorny sprinted towards the cover of the balcony of the building in front of him. Here he should be safe from the fire coming from overhead. Mac and Rabbit sprinted ahead, offering ineffectual shots at the forms on the rooftop above them. In the back of his min Thorny was still trying to figure out what was behind this attack when his questions were answered. Groust Seifer, fifth son of the fifth son, harbinger of the Ascension and purestrain genstealer erputed forth, his claws shredding the Proctor's armor. Simultaneously, Ghaskin charged into Mac in a flury of blades and claws. Not looking behind, Rabbit sprinted past these things and to safety. Mac successfully dodged the abomination and with centimeters to spare, ducked past it to safety.
Ghaskin howled in frustration. Although the Proctor, no small prize, lay at Groust's feet three of the arbites had outright escaped. Of the fourth, there was no sign. He would have to report his failure to the Magus.
Trailing blood and panting, Favra crawled down a side alley. He wasn't safe, not by a long shot. He had, despite being injured, gotten a good look at what had attacked them. This was no gang trying to prove itself. This was something much, much worse. He activated his emergency salvation beacon and with the limited assets he had, laid low and tended to his wounds.
Author's notes: First, apologies for the images. This crap about taking short movies rather than actual pictures needs to end. Hopefully it does not affect your view of the battle too much. The description does probably differ from actual events due to time passed and for dramatic effect but is still close enough. The battle was fought using Kill Team rules with the Arbites being counts-as Astra Militarum with some minor changes in weapons and load outs. As narrative games go it was a blast to play and we have already fought the sequel. Report to follow. We are still debating if we want it to take place on Vigilus as is the all the rage or our own setting.
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