# The Lost Ones: Book I - Three Scions



## AceSage (Jun 29, 2009)

Hey all, now I know I have another story, but I got really tired of it really quickly, considering I only wrote like...one chapter. It wasn't a piece of work I'm particularly proud of, though while I was gone over the summer, I started working on an imperial guard regiment, and I wanted to write a story with them. I've planned to make four books out of the whole overall plot, which I won't reveal just yet, but I can say that I'm not going to be discontinuing this story, as I've already done a lot of planning for it, and I'd hate to see it go to waste. 

And btw, a quick warning, my writing contains some graphic content of blood and gore, and some swearing, though not that much. If that sort of language offends you in any way...don't whine to me about it, you've been warned :wink:

Anyway, without further ado, here is: 

*The Lost Ones*

*Book I - Three Scions*
*Intro*​Have you ever been walking through a field and stopped to wonder why the grass is green? Or why the sky above you is blue, red, black...whatever colour it is? No, neither have I. I don’t have the time for such nonsense luxuries, though if I did I probably still wouldn’t want to do it anyway...seems like a waste of time if you a-

“CANAAN!”

Bane Redeemer Canaan Jairus was ripped from the confines of his own slightly-deluded mind by the voice of his squad leader, Bane Sergeant Junia LeMartin: a damned-strict sergeant out on the field and an even tougher woman while on downtime. Many male soldiers, some women too, holed up with the 1st Priam Elite Infantry Regiment, or more widely known as the ‘Redeemers’, on troop ships had tried their luck with Junia, only to return with a bruise the size of a small fist on whichever eye Junia had chose to punch. It was true, many men and women from other regiments tried it: after the first few Redeemers tried it, word spread. 

“For fuck sake Canaan! Stop dreaming and get your ass up here to the balcony!” Junia bawled through the inter-squad comm channel. Canaan complied and slapped the squad’s tech-expert on the shoulder, Mark Caid, who was currently firing Canaan’s hellgun that he never really used – the ammo for Mark’s melta gun having ran out last night during the midnight raid the rebels had sprung on them to try and retake the mostly-intact chapel Guardian squad had been tasked to defend.

The Redeemers had been on this backwater planet for nearly six months fighting the local rebel organization on what was only meant to be a two month-long tour, but due to lack of reinforcements and supplies, it had turned into a war of attrition. Canaan didn’t know one Redeemer who didn’t want to see the war all the way to the end, having put so much effort in and lost so many friends on this skid-mark of a planet. Canaan had been deployed with the rest of Guardian squad in this multi-storey chapel just over five days ago, and were told they’d be relieved within two days, but it had been delayed by the company Captain, Cairn LeBell, who had only managed to drop them supplies for another week’s stay in the chapel, claiming that their replacement troops were ‘needed on another front.’

What a load of shit, Canaan though as Mark took up his previous position at the heavy bolter mounted atop the makeshift barricade at the front doors on the bottom floor of the chapel. Canaan ran into a well-hidden alcove ten meters away and skipped up the steps of the circular staircase three at a time – being 6’7 did have its advantages. He jogged out onto the landing of the second floor overlooking the bench-strewn hall below, though the benches had been turned into fall-back positions for anyone on the bottom floor, and had several pockmarks dotting their sand-finished wood. He turned left and crept out the tall archway onto the balcony at the front of the chapel, where Hector and Junia were firing at the attacking rebels from behind the cover of the balcony’s metal railing. Hector Gabriel, the best scout in the company, was lying on his stomach firing a heavy stubber - which he had requisitioned from the dead of the rebel attack two days ago – through a gap in the railing. Junia was popping up and down from cover, firing off three or four shots at a time from her bolt pistol, exploding heads and tearing off limbs. 

Canaan ducked behind the railing and un-sheathed the hell pistol from its holster on his thigh, and blind-fired a trio of shots over the railing, hearing the dying scream of a rebel as one of the shots struck home. “Sarge?” He yelled through the comm-link in his Mk. II 
pressurized helmet. 

“I need you to run up to the tower and tell Aurora to stop using special ammunition in that sniper, they’re reserved for high-priority targets and we can’t waste any!” Junia ordered. 

“What about her comm-link?” Canaan asked, ducking further down into cover as a rocket screamed over head and through the archway, smacking off the roof of the church and rocking the building, leaving a black slap-mark where it hit. 

“She’s not responding! Either her comm-link’s screwed or she’s being a total bitch and not listening!” Junia responded with a laugh. The joke was more of a tension-easer than anything else. It was common for soldiers to make jokes in the midst of battle, it often helped ease their nerves. Canaan was about to reply when Hector’s voice burst over the channel. 

“Emperor-dammit, the gun’s jammed again! That’s the second time today that’s happened!” He cursed as he had to open the gun from the top and fix the jam. Canaan didn’t really understand why it was jamming, Mark had been manning it all-day yesterday and there hadn’t been one problem, though Hector was known for being extremely unlucky, so he guessed he wasn’t totally surprised. 

Hector managed to fix the jam and within seconds the heavy stubber was hammering rounds at the rebels once more. Canaan didn’t say anything but merely nodded to Junia, who nodded back, and he ran crouched down to the opposite end of the balcony to another circular staircase, this time leading to the tower of the chapel. 

Once he appeared at the top of the stairs, he immediately dropped to his stomach and crept forward to behind one of the four columns where he backed himself up against it, sitting down. He turned to see Aurora without her helmet on, using her bipod-mounted sniper rifle to take down a rebel every five seconds. Canaan looked past her and noted her helmet on the ground a few feet away from her. Without being asked the question, Aurora answered Canaan’s thoughts. “The last rocket hit the roof and knocked debris onto my head, knocked me out for a few seconds, too, and it messed with all the electronics in the helmet, so I threw it off.” Canaan nodded. “What you up here for anyway?” She continued, flinching as the slight recoil from her weapon kicked into her shoulder as she fired, taking most of a rebel’s chest away. 

“Well, if you don’t want me here, fine, I’ll leave,” Canaan joked, making to fake leave, when a hand grasped his gauntleted forearm. He turned to look into Aurora’s eyes – what was that look in her eyes...love? Canaan shook off the insane though and sat back down against the column. “I was only joking, I’ll stay, though Junia sent me up to tell you to save the special ammunition, high-priority targets only, w-” Canaan was cut off.

“You mean like rebel Captain’s wielding a chainsword and pistol?” She asked as she looked through her scope. 

“Well, yeah, I suppose. Why so specific?” Canaan asked. Aurora never moved her hands off her rifle, but instead used her elbow to nudge a pair of magnoculars towards Canaan, who set his hell pistol at his side, rolled next to Aurora on his stomach, and scooped up the magnoculars. “Courtyard entrance, madman with the shabby cape, left side,” Aurora mentioned, and Canaan whisked the magnoculars over to where Aurora had just described, intensifying the range slightly to get a clearer look. She was right - a wiry man in a tattered red cape and stupid cap was waving a revved chainsword about in the air, shouting something Canaan couldn’t make out. His hastily-scribbled shoulder insignia indicated he was a captain.

“What do you think he’s saying?” Canaan asked, still peering through the magnoculars. Over the roar of battle he heard the distinctive, sharp feral roar of Aurora’s sniper rifle firing, a mille-second before he saw the lower half of the captain’s face explode, before the corpse toppled to the ground. Canaan watched as his chainsword bit into the soldier next to the dead captain, scything off one of his arms on the downswing, before tearing through the captain’s chest and coming to a bloody halt on the ground.

“What’s he saying?” Aurora said, turning to look at Canaan through his visor, smirking, “nothing now.” Canaan laughed out loud through his comm – which he had turned off on his way up the stairs to the tower. A small beep sounded in his ear, indicating incoming comm-chatter. A second later, Junia’s voice sounded in his ear, “Canaan, you better get Aurora and head down to the vox room, Captain LeBell is demanding we all be there to hear his orders.” Junia sounded a little worried. Canaan screwed his face in puzzlement, before keying his comm-link on.

“What? All of us? What’s the old bastard up to now?” Canaan said humourlessly. 

“I don’t have a clue, but we better not keep him waiting, you know personally how impatient he gets,” Junia retorted, cutting off the comm-link with Canaan abruptly. Canaan clicked the latches on his helmet and pulled it off, setting it down next to him. Aurora turned from her sniper and looked at him quizzically. 

“What’s the news?” She asked innocently. 

“LeBell is transmitting a live-feed and wants us all to be there,” Canaan replied blankly. Aurora didn’t reply. Her thoughts were the same as everyone else’s in the squad: a live-feed transmission, everyone present to hear it, it sounded like the Captain was going to give the squad a last rites speech and tell them that there is no extraction, no reinforcements, no supplies, and that they probably wouldn’t last further than tomorrow in the chapel. It wasn’t good news. 

“Coming?” Canaan said, holstering his hell pistol and picking up his helmet. 

“I’ll be right behind ya, there’s just a few stragglers left in the courtyard, we don’t want any of them sneaking up on us and wasting the lot of us,” she replied, winking at Canaan before returning to her rifle. Canaan chuckled and made a dash for the top of the stairs, just in case a lucky shot were to take his head off: that would be even worse news than hearing they were all about to die – hearing was one thing, actually having a squad mate who you’ve known for many years dying is a whole other deal. Especially if it was a lucky shot, too. 

__________

“Now, I know you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here to listen,” Cairn M. LeBell began, talking into the comm-unit sat on the table in front of him. 

“Cut the crap Bell, tell us why we’re here already, there’s a war going on,” a retort sounded through the comm-unit. Cairn knew exactly who it was. 

“Alright, Canaan, I’ll cut the formalities, but you better address me as Captain LeBell next time, soldier,” Cairn heard a small laugh from Canaan and frowned. Canaan was known through the entire regiment – then again, what Bane soldier wasn’t known throughout the Redeemers, never mind the best of the Bane soldiers – but what he was known for was his immense skill in battle, especially close combat, and for always undermining his superiors. After all, Bane squads only answered to their company’s captain and the regiment’s Colonel himself; only took orders from those two people. Even the Commissars didn’t have rule over them, discounting Elvira Samson who led the Angels, another famous Bane squad. It wasn’t just when he became a Bane soldier that Canaan had developed this attitude, no, Cairn had read all his personal files, and found out that even early in his career he was mouthing off to his superiors, even went as far as to knock out a drill instructor during training with a shock baton. However, despite Cairn’s loathing for the man himself, he had to admit, Canaan was a damned-excellent soldier when it was crunch time. 

“I’ve got good news and good news, Guardian. The good news is that we’re being pulled out of this theatre; we’re being redeployed to a small crusade to retake some worlds from the Tau. I don’t know all the details, though the Colonel will brief you once we’re in transit.” Cairn stopped to give them a few moments to think about what he had just said. It was silent for a few seconds, before the comm-unit was over-flown with curses and yelling, mostly from Canaan and Hector, though the rest of the squad were getting their fare share in. Cairn didn’t even speak, he had to let them work this out on their own - interfering would just anger them even more. Their anger was understandable, even Cairn had gotten a bit mad when he had first found out they were being redeployed: he had lost a lot of good men and women in the six months they had been here, it was hard not to get upset when you were told all those soldiers had died for nothing. 

The yelling subsided into total silence on the other end of the comm-unit, and Cairn let the comm-unit cool down from having to process all that speech at once, before he continued. “The other good news is that you’re being relieved. A platoon of the Cadian 222nd will be taking your place. As we speak, the first two of six valkyries are on their way to the chapel with the first two squads, you will board one of the valkyries, I don’t care which one. They’ll be at the chapel in fifteen minutes. Oh, and before I cut this live-feed off, I’ve one more thing to say: fuck you Canaan.”

__________

“That asshole!” Canaan cursed as he, Junia, Aurora and Mark sat at the base of the huge altar on the bottom floor of the chapel, talking about what their Captain had just told them. 

“I can’t believe after everything we’re just being redeployed like we didn’t lose a lot of friends,” Aurora remarked, looking extremely upset, as if she was about to cry. She was sitting in between Mark and Canaan, and Mark put a hand on her shoulder, “Don’t worry, I know some things that can ease your stresses,” he joked with a wink. Aurora stood up sharply and slapped him across the face, before she sat back down and leant against Canaan. “It was worth it,” Mark said, rubbing his already-red cheek. Canaan put his arm round Aurora and punched Mark in the shoulder; though Aurora seemed to think it was something different and snuggled up closer to him. Mark raised an eyebrow at Canaan who just shrugged his shoulders and put his arm round Aurora. He saw Junia looking at him and Aurora out the corner of his eye with something like jealousy on her face, and Canaan quickly focused on something else - he did not wish to be on Junia’s bad side. 

The moment was ruined when Hector, manning the heavy bolter at the front of the chapel and keeping an eye out for rebels, shouted, “ENEMY CONTACTS!” His voice echoed around the hall, and before the last echo was finished copying Hector, the four Bane soldiers were up and already running to their posts in the chapel without even a command from Junia. They were all professional soldiers, they knew not to let their personal feelings affect them during battle – that sort of thing could get you killed. 

Canaan ran up to the second-storey balcony with Junia and Aurora. Aurora ran past to the tower and Junia took cover behind the railing as Canaan hefted up the heavy stubber, folded the bipod, and placed the barrel on top of the railing. He picked up a belt of ammo and fed it into the side of the weapon, stopping when he heard a click. He ducked instinctively as a bullet whipped by his head, before resuming his position and crouching slightly to look down the dangerous barrel of the heavy stubber, eyeing a group of cultists hunkered down behind a thin stretch of wall. He swivelled the barrel round and squeezed the aged trigger, feeling the heavy weapon kick back against his armoured shoulder and his aim falter for a split-second before he adjusted. The rounds tore through the thin brickwork of the wall and hammered the rebels now caught in the open, who thrashed wildly as they died. He took down six more with a concentrated arc of fire, before he took the time to look over the enemy force. Maybe four hundred soldiers were milling about at the entrance to the chapel courtyard, and he spied more and more running to the large, broken double gates of the courtyard from the winding road beyond. This force was nothing like the previous one; it was the 
most numerous attack yet.

Fifteen minutes? Canaan thought, not even nearly enough time.

Canaan had proved himself wrong. Almost fifteen minutes after his ominous thoughts, he and his squad were still fighting back, though they had been pushed back into the main hall of the chapel as the squad – outnumbered almost 100 to 1 – had to fall back into cover of the hard-wood benches. The heavy stubber had long run out of ammunition, and only the heavy bolter, being manned by Hector still, was the only heavy weapon Guardian squad now possessed. It had proved hard pushing the rebels back, but they held them out long enough so Hector could set up the heavy bolter further back down the chapel, towards the large archway at the back leading out to the large gardens. Aurora was on the raised platform of the altar behind a large stone table, firing from a slit in the table’s masonry. Junia, Canaan and Mark were shooting from behind Hector, using the myriad of overturned benches as cover. Canaan dropped into cover and reloaded his hellgun in less than four seconds, tossing the empty power cell away. He counted to five, before jumping back up out of cover, twisting round and bringing his hellgun to bear, sighting a target, aiming down the scope, and pulling the trigger, then repeat, before he ducked back into cover. He wasn’t exposed for more than ten seconds, any longer and you were sure to get a round through the teeth. 
Canaan wasn’t ready for what happened next. No one was. Not even Hector himself saw it coming. A massive flash, almost blindingly fast, flashed over Canaan’s head and took all of Hector’s head clean off, and his limp body slumped over the heavy stubber. Canaan watched as the ID tags previously secured on a chain around Hector’s neck fell off, following them as they seemed to fall in slow motion towards the marble stone floor, a speck of blood landing next to them. It seemed so much like a story – the slow motion-falling tags, the single drop of blood from an otherwise cauterized fatal wound – that Canaan didn’t at first believe it. The realization hit him like a brick and he ripped off his helmet, screaming in rage. 

“Where the fuck did they get a lascannon from!?” He bellowed over the sound of weapons firing. 

Junia, beside him, answered. “I don’t know, but all I do know is that if we don’t take care of it, we’ll be joining Hector!” She yelled, struggling to be heard over a new, booming noise. “And what the hell is that damn noise!?” She shrieked, before the source of the noise revealed itself: a Valkyrie gunship flew over the church, making the walls seem as if they were vibrating. 

The Valkyrie stopped and hovered in mid-air above the gardens at the back of the chapel, before setting down carefully. The drop-ramp had barely hit the ground when another Valkyrie whooshed overhead and set down inside the gardens, ruining the picturesque landscape. Canaan was soon joined behind his bench by three troopers from the Cadian 222nd Shock Troop regiment; their armour joints clanking together as they sprinted into cover under fire. Canaan looked up to see another trooper a little late running to the same cover, before a dozen auto-rounds pounded his chest armour. The weak flak armour proved ineffective and half of the shots penetrated, tearing his chest to pieces. The three troopers beside him began shooting blindly overhead, not even attempting to stand up and shoot after seeing how their friend fared mere seconds ago. Canaan frowned and stood up, sighting an enemy, targeting, and blowing his mid-section out. He ducked into cover again and noticed another trooper from the 222nd beside him. He eyed the gold insignia on his navy blue shoulder armour: a corporal. The man began to speak, but his voice was monotone and Canaan could only pick out certain words over the din of battle.

“...got to go...in charge here....under control...hurry...valkyries...-on’t last long” Canaan stared at him menacingly before the corporal looked away and fired over the top of the bench – one handed and not even caring where he was shooting. Canaan shook his head in disappointment and sighed. Counting to three, he took a deep breath, and sprinted for the one thing he had to collect before he left. Las and auto-rounds whipped by him, and a las-shot struck his back, but the hardened carapace armour held fast, and the impact only made him stumble. He slowed and reached to the ground, grabbing Hector’s ID tags, his finger dragging through the drop of blood as he did so, before he continued sprinting for the door to the gardens. A high-power las-round hammered his right leg, making his knee buckle, and he dropped to the floor, landing on one knee and his hands. He didn’t have time to think before he was helped back up by an unseen pair of hands, and he was running again. The pain in the back of his leg was excruciating, but he ignored the pain and kept on running. He saw Aurora pull ahead of him – she must have helped him up – and she sprinted through the archway and into the gardens. Canaan exhaled and inhaled deeply, before powering himself forward, passing Aurora before launching himself onto the slightly-raised drop-ramp of one of the valkyries. He landed on his side, turning to look back for Aurora, but he found himself looking down at her sprawled, face down, on the ground. A hand on his shoulder made him turn to see Junia.

“Just leave her, we’ve no time!” She shouted, and Canaan frowned at her words, simply shaking his head, and he made to get back up, but Junia’s hand tried in vain to hold him down, before he pushed Junia off, who fell to the deck on the drop-ramp. Canaan jumped off the end of the drop-ramp and ran the fifteen-or-so metres to Aurora. He dropped to one knee and rolled Aurora over, holding her head up. He looked for any sign of injury, but he found none, and guessed it was something internal, or probably she had just been knocked down by a bullet like he almost had. Except when she landed she must have hit her head pretty hard, as she was unconscious. Her head lolled back and Canaan kept it steady in the palm of his hand. 

He pulled her up into a sitting position and hefted her onto his shoulder and stood up. He felt the full weight of her and stooped slightly, before he focused himself and shifted her weight slightly and began jogging towards the valkyrie. 

It took all of the power in his legs to hop up onto the drop-ramp and the strength he didn’t know was left to run into the middle of the troop bay, before he collapsed entirely from fatigue, letting Aurora land on him so she wouldn’t get hurt any further. This jolt seemed to shake her into consciousness, and she opened her eyes with a start, before she realised she was on top of Canaan and rolled off to lie on the deck of the troop bay beside him. He turned his head round to look at her as he panted silently, and she began to say something, but Canaan brought his arm up and pressed his finger to her lips, and mouthed “later” before he put his arm back down at his side and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep.

The last thing he felt was a distinctively feminine hand clasp his, before he was asleep in record time.

Well, that's the intro, pretty long for an intro huh? Yeah, I do suck at short stories in school  Anyway, hope you all enjoyed reading, leave comments/criticism...or don't, though it'd be better if you do. 

Later k:


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Good Work!


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