# Ants of Therra Part 1



## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

Hello. "A Father's Vengeance" is the prelude to this story. Chapter 18 is in. I have no idea if anyone is in the process of reading this, but I will keep writing because I love doing it. I hope someone is taking the time to read it and really enjoying it. 


Chapter 1

Of the six planetary systems that were allied with Equa only one was left, the planet Therra along with its moons and satellites. Therra’s territories, but not her children, had remained untouched by the realities of the bloody face of war, because of the extreme distance that separated it from the territories of the Equan domain.

For generations, Therra supplied food, armor and weapons to those who were fighting at the front lines. Therra supplied new technology and the means to use it, but most of all Therra supplied her own dear children. They were soldiers. 

Therra was not the most powerful of the planetary systems. Take Mispiv Omega as an example. Mispiv Omega was the most powerful of the allies of Equa. Whole fleets of warships converged upon the allies of Chaos. Death fell from the heavens when Mispiv Omega’s fires were kindled. Her armies marched and could not be counted, for there were too many for even the well trained eye to number. 

They fought on countless worlds and rejoiced in the fruitfulness of their victories. But death came to their home world, in only the time it took for the planet’s full cycle around its sun.

A Chaos battleship of unknown design had somehow made its way past the outer fortifications on its farthest moon. By the time it had been detected, it was already too late. 

Virus bombs that reacted with Mispiv Omega’s atmosphere caused the air to become a seething firestorm that melted the flesh from the bones of every man, woman, child and animal upon the planet’s surface. The trees withered all the way down into the root systems and the oceans became acidic and melted the hulls of every vessel that floated upon its surface.

Everything that swam, slithered or crawled upon the surface of the deep either died or fell to mutations that could not be described for fear of falling victim to the warp and its daemonic hosts.

Upon hearing of the destruction of their home-world, Mispiv Omega’s children that were fighting off-world fell to the darkest and most deadly of the great enemy’s weapons…hopelessness. 

Within a month of hearing about their home world’s destruction, Mispiv Omega’s children surrendered, and swore their allegiance to those who had stripped them of the hope and power they once boasted so richly in. 

Mispiv Omega had once been powerful, but the most powerful is not always the most deadly. 

Therra was by far the most deadly in what had once been the territories of Equa.

Now, the years have passed. Equa is a lifeless ruin where great sandstorms rage in the place where forests once covered the plains, and the oceans seethe as the creatures of the warp dance at their depths. 

Caras has fallen to the armies of chaos, and their population is made to slave in the great forges and manufactories that had once served the Emperor’s faithful. 

The inhabitants of Bocee even now struggle to dig themselves out of nuclear winter and ozone poisoning. Mutations are rampant. Their once great and beautiful fields of grain will never produce again. 

Seartas Primary, Rexis and Mispiv Omega have now become staging grounds for the forces of Chaos and the creatures of the warp. Blood flows through their once beautiful streets, and things move in the light that could never have been imagined by the most insane.

Therra has become the lone survivor among the allies of Equa. It is as the Emperor wills. Therra will not give up and she will fight to the end, for only in death does duty end.

Only seven planetary systems still remain among the allies of what had once been the territories of Tarsus. Of them, only two major systems are still war capable.

Therra, knowing they were outnumbered and were in imminent danger of attack, invasion or complete destruction from the enemies legions, sent the armies of Therra to deal with the planets that most presented a threat to them. 

The Ants of Therra were the most revered of their armies. They were the feared assassins and sniper squads that had only been used in the gravest of times and in the two hundred years since their founding they had never known defeat.

The Ants of Therra were dedicated to the study of stealth, invisibility and killing in close combat. They were also greatly feared because of their ability to kill from afar and in great numbers. 

Each man not only carried their vast array of close combat weapons, explosives, and las-guns but they also carried powerful sniper rifles that were accurate for up to two and a half kilometers. By the time other armies knew the Ants of Therra were near, they were usually already dead. 

Each sniper rifle had been fitted with a day and night capable infrared optioned scope with light x-ray capability. A flash reducer and silencer were fitted with each of the five replacement barrels they carried. 

Energy disrupters directed the concussive force that discharged from the barrels as the bullets left the chamber upward and outward instead of downward into the ground. The result was only the smallest amount of dirt would be blown into the air by the concussion of the bullet’s exit from the rifles muzzle.

A sniper could fire from a selected position with little risk of dust or dirt being blown into the air around them when they fired their rounds, revealing their positions. 

Surprise and near invisibility is the key to a successful mission. Two kinds of ammunition were standard; fifty caliber heavy rounds with explosive tips, to take down armored men and creatures of the warp, and light rounds to be loaded quickly and fired into the unprotected flesh of the enemy both near and far…these were forty-four caliber shells. 

Of course there were also those trained in the use of flamethrowers, explosives and heavy weapons. 

Each man had been trained in a fighting style unique to Therra. It was a form of martial art that moved in circles, deflections and counters in order to put their opponent off balance.

They were trained in a form of take downs and ground work that used their opponents struggles against them. Bones would be broke, joints dislocated and nerves pressed in very painful ways. Death could be quick and nearly painless or it could take long tormented moments. It all depended on the mood of the Ant in combat at that moment.

In the event that during a combat mission all the members of their unit were killed, each man took part in a training exercise that demanded they worked alone. 

They each spent twenty days in the death jungles; alone without weapons, compass, or their mimic-armor. During that time their instructors would haunt them. When the Ant wanted to sleep, someone would be there to torment him. When he ran someone would be there to make him stumble. When he would seek to rest or eat, someone would be there to make him flinch. In their mimic-armor the instructors could not be easily seen.
When no one was around to test him the jungle itself would do it. It was brutal and alive and even more dangerous than anything the solder had gone through before. There were poisoned plants and deadly spiders, snakes and vines that would creep in the shadows and seek to feed upon his flesh. 

The Instructors chose a time when their torments would end and they would leave. They would let the jungle do its work. During this time the young Ant would either descend into insanity or he would grow to learn how to be sensitive to his surroundings, his spirit and the movements of even the vary air. 

While the soldier spent his time alone he would develop a confidence that could not be taken away. 

After the appointed time the young recruit would either walk out of the jungle with that confidence or never come out at all. 

Upon completion of their training they would be given their chameleon skin. Chameleon skin was a type of mimic armor that deflected most light rounds fired at them and mimicked the environment to give them near invisibility. 

Their heads were covered by a helmet that was made of the same material and was fitted with a self contained filter system and re-breather unit for chemically rich or toxic environments. 

Their armor provided a light weight and easily maneuverable shell that provided a certain protection and invisibility in the combat field but was in no way as strong or bulky as the feared space marines, but for what it lacked in strength and bulk it more than made up with the ability for stealth. 

In the two hundred years since their founding they had fought against everything the enemy had brought at them except the feared Chaos Marines that had been active in other star systems. 

They had learned from every campaign they had been in, from every mistake and from how every man in their units had died. 

Not ever repeating the same mistake twice their technicians would create as much as they could to protect their infantry. Failure and surrender were not an option because failure and surrender would result in the destruction of their home world.

During the Great War, the thirteen planetary who had been loyal to Tarsus had yielded to the ways of Chaos, taking on the worship of their gods, heeding to the craftiness of their priests and sorcerers. Their lust for death and killing and mutilation grew. More and more their humanity was lost. 

Lord General Josiph Seel, (War Chief of the armies of Therra,) sent messages by astrotelepath and the vox nets to the War Master for help in their fight against the forces of Chaos that were open mouthed to consume them. 

The War Master sent a reply that there was nothing he could do for them because their forces were tied up against the forces of Chaos in other star systems. 

It felt like the entire weight of his world was resting squarely on his shoulders because it truly was. The war had been extremely brutal and had lasted for almost thirty generations. His back was upon the wall and frustration and stress was eating away at him both day and night.

One by one the worlds would fall, whole planets bombed to oblivion or gassed to extinction or raided and used until all its resources had been drained, the planet becoming like a dead animal, putrid, defiled and lifelessly cold. 

Lord General Josiph Seel was very tired. He knew the forces of Chaos were closing in. 

Therra had supplied weapons, armor and food to many of its allies but as each system and world would fall, fewer supplies had to be sent.

The technicians were wise and planed for the day all their allies would fall, but they prayed that day would never come. Ominously the day did come closer and quicker than they ever dreamed and now Therra was deeper in this war and more alone then they could have ever imagined. 

They were one planet in a system of many planets with war on each one and Lord General Josiph Seel would do all he could to preserve the lives and way of life that everyone on Therra held dear. 

It was because of his love for the Emperor, freedom, family, their world and sanity that they would fight.

It was for these reasons he would send his very best into the faces of the enemy before chaos reached Therra. 

If the supply chains and the worlds the supplies came from could be disrupted or destroid it would be a massive set back to the enemy, one that they may not be able to recover from.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Chapter 2*

Chapter 2

The battle-carrier ‘Therra’s Pride’ led the way through the warp with the troops of Therra situated in its cold, dimly lit cramped belly.

One mistake traveling through the warp and the Ants of Therra would never reach their destination and fight for the survival of their home world. They would die in the wink of an eye, crushed by the force of the warp with its twists, nightmare creatures and deformed grotesques and the evil that dwelt with them.

The warp was the only way to travel in three weeks what would take seventeen years in normal space. But to everyone on board those three weeks were plagued by coldness, sickness and the screams that seemed to come from the battle-carrier itself.

Everyone had been effected, not the least the medico. The Chief of the medico was named Malici Zilar. He was short and stocky, balding with a rounded head that had a scar on the right side of his face that traveled from his crooked nose, under his right eye and up to his left ear. 

His eyes were the coal black of a deep cave and had the worn out lines that came with tiredness, stress and age. The scar was what was left after he had healed from a crushed jaw and cheek bone that he had received in training as a young cadet so many years ago.

Every member of the military structure had to go through the same training regardless who they were or what their job would be. 

There had to be the assurance that every member in the military structure would have the confidence and fortitude in every situation to fulfill their duties with deadly accuracy and precision.

Chief medic Zilar, after completing his first years in service, joined the medical unites and in the years ahead developed the skills and experience that led him to the position of Chief Medic of the Ants of Therra. 

He was in the medical supply room gathering medication to administer to the soldiers to help combat the sickness and fatigue caused by the warp. General Josiph Machais entered the medical supply room just as Zilar was getting ready to leave.

‘We will be in the warp for an estimated week and a half more. The troops must be combat ready and rested by the time our landing is in process. What do you think the chances are of this happening?’

Zilar took a deep breath. He was clearly on the verge of sickness himself but was fairing better than many of the other men on board. ‘General, I believe that by the time we get out of the warp the medication will have done its job and we will all be ready to attend to the Emperors will, but it will be tough for the next few days.’

Machais visibly relaxed and let out a long sigh. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms looking directly into the eyes of the Chief medical officer. ‘Malici, how long have we known each other?’ 

Malici Zilar shrugged and thought about the question for a moment. ‘Around thirty years, since we were just children. Why?’ 

‘You’ve helped me through some tough times, I don’t know if I ever thanked you.’ the General said half smiling but totally serious.

Malici Zilar frowned and raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s going on, Josiph?’ His voice had a wary tone to it like he expected there to be a “but” in there somewhere.

‘You don’t have to worry; I’m not going all soft or anything like that. I just wanted to say thanks.’ Josiph said. 

Zilar leaned back against a filing cabinet and just stared at his long time friend. Finally he asked again, ‘Josiph, in all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never said thank you. What’s going on?’ 

General Josiph Machais thought about how to answer his friend. ‘Doc, I’ve got a bad feeling about this mission. I don’t know what it is that’s causing it, could be just the jitters. But you know me. When I have a feeling about something, there’s probably a good reason.’ 

Malici watched his General, not as a General but as the friend that he had grown up with. ‘What do you really think is going to happen?’ he asked. ‘We will hit the ground, kill the enemy, secure the area and finish the mission. It is what we always do. What could be so different this time?’

The General dipped his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. Keep your head down when we hit the ground and stay close to me. Believe it or not, you’re the life blood of this unit.’

The Chief Medic smiled and saluted. ‘It’s nice to know you care.’ Malici Zilar was the only man that Josiph Machais fully trusted, the only man that he felt comfortable confiding in. If it had not been for Malici Zilar, Josiph Machais would never have lived long enough to become General of the Ants of Therra.

General Machais was a taller lean, muscular man with a scar riddled face from shrapnel that had shot through his face-shield like buckshot through a can. He had recovered from that only to lose his right arm and upper rib cage to enemy shelling that Chaos had fired into their advance.

Under the careful eye of Chief Medic Malici Zilar it had taken medical droids seventeen hours to graft the implants and his riddled body together, than another three months for him to be well enough to walk and begin the retraining of his body in therapy. Almost a year went by before he was fit for duty again. That was eleven years ago.

Chief Medic Malici Zilar, along with all the other field medics, surgeons and medical wait-staff walked out the elevator doorway and into the belly of the Therra’s Pride.

The hull of the ship opened into a lengthy, dimly lit floor space cluttered with cots stacked three high, sleeping bags, field kits and some personal effects the men brought from home.

The filter systems worked well but could not compete with the thousands of men that filled such a tight bit of space. The smell of sweat, gun oil and sickness was very strong, Zilar hoped that by the end of the cycle things would be different.

He looked around the immediate area until he found Major Anthoni Ri Shun, a strong and fit man that radiated confidence and a sharpness that no one wanted to be on the wrong side of.

He was tall and seemed to carry a shadow over his face wherever he went. Rarely did he smile and never did he laugh. His face was creased with a long scar that ran from his forehead to his right shoulder. It was thin and nearly unnoticeable but for the thin, pink flesh that exposed it.

He had received the scar on the planet Mispiv when a Chaos Captain sliced him with a power sword. Not a single drop of blood was lost because the power blade cauterized the wound even as it cut. With a kick to the chest of the Chaos Captain he pushed him back, and with the motion of his chain sword he decapitated the traitor. Back then he was just a Captain but now he was a Major in the Ants of Therra.

There used to be a Commissar that kept everyone in line, but he died. Every once in a while Major Anthoni Ri Shun still chuckles to himself about the circumstances behind the Commissar’s falling out. 

Now he kept everyone in line well enough that there was no need of a commissar. He had been through a lot to achieve a rank this high and had earned the respect of every man. 

Zilar motioned for him to come over. Major Ri Shun put the hand of cards he was holding down and excused himself from the table. He walked with fierceness in his step, like a beast from the forests of Therra.

His eyes were cold and deep like black holes that could take in everything and let nothing out. ‘Sir?’ he said with a surprisingly soft voice.

Zilar motioned to the men with a wave of his hand and a reassuring smile, ‘Major, if you would be so kind as to gather the men, we would like to administer antibiotics and anti-warp sickness meds.’ Chief Medic Zilar indicated his staff and motioned them forward. ‘Most everyone should be fit by the morning and ready for work.’

Since the space was so cramped, everyone had been touched in someway. The Major yelled out an order and the word was passed. Lines were formed so long the end could not be seen. All the medical staff, nearly two-hundred strong, went to work.

After a few hours everyone had received a vaccination, the chatter died down, the medico packed up their kits and left to restock and get some rest. By the time the lights went out most were feeling better and by morning bells all were able to work.

The filter systems ushered out all the remains of sickness but the smell of warriors gathering for war just could not be taken away. The fever had been broken but the nightmares remained until the Therra’s Pride returned to real space.

As the warp continued to envelope them, the Ants of Therra continued to gather their strength and begin training for the new environment they would be charging into. General Machais received word; they would exit the warp and enter real space somewhere near the fringes of what used to be the Equan territories; a place called Rexis.

Therra’s Pride would bombard Rexis from just outside orbit. When the bombardment stopped General Machais with the 35th and the 39th infantry would descend upon Rexis and under fighter cover blend into the environment, take up firing positions and rain hell upon the heads of the enemy. They had less than ten days to prepare for the assault and the exit from the warp.

General Machais called a briefing to be held in the ships meeting room on the thirteenth level. Generally used by the Admiral and the staff of Therra’s Pride, the meeting room was pristine, totally glassed on all sides, everyone who entered for the first time would fall victim to the view.

The room directly overlooked the massive fighter deck. Transports were being prepped for the assault to come. They had the look of large boxes with pintle-mounted guns at their front and massive thrusters set in their rear. They were heavy and thickly armored, built to get the soldiers to the ground as fast as possible.

Behind them were the Wasps. The Wasps were one man attack pods that were small and fast, extremely hard to hit and meant to annoy the enemy with their battery powered pulse-laser cannons in their nose and the tip of each of their four wings. They also had a limited supply of mini rockets.

Next were the heavily armored and massive bombers. They carried a payload that could level cities and make the enemy forget what they were fighting for.

All those gathered in the meeting room were very impressed with the magnitude of the deck below and the ballet of machinery and staff that seemed to dance with a precision that defied the senses. 

Ammunition carts and life-support vessels moved under the drawn back wing sections of the bombers and greeted the servitors that placed the supplies in their proper places and secured the loads.

Trains of needed parts moved slowly through row after row of transports where servitors picked and chose various tools or supplies in preparation for the launch.

Everything moved with a purpose and discipline that proved the worth of their training. The noise below shook the bones as massive engines were started and restarted for testing and configuration.

Many of the leadership in the meeting room above remembered the beginning’s of their careers as they started as menials or adjuncts to the mechanics or technicians so many years ago and were grateful for the learning experiences they had received.

Some of them smiled as they looked below, glad to have escaped those days. Where they stood now was another world entirely and the responsibilities were greater. Responsibility was to be sought after and loved not avoided and dreaded.

The bay doors were directly opposite the meeting room. With over thirty pulse guns and targeting systems the doors were well guarded. The bay doors were wide and barely taller than the largest transport.

Many fighter carriers, cruisers and battleships had been obliterated for lack of fire power at entrances like these, and clearly the Therra’s Pride had no intention of being next.

Major Anthoni Ri Shun along with the Captains, Sergeants and other command staff including Chief Medic Zilar were ushered into the large ornate meeting room at 0700 hours, ten days before company deployment.

The first thing one noticed when walking in was the long silver and brass table that sat in the middle. It was framed by fifty-two artistically carved chairs. They were of a dark wood that grew deep in the forests of Therra and were extremely rare. The trees were twisted and gnarled, thorny and smelled of deep foliage that had just drunk in a summer rain.

The wood carvers had used this to their advantage and had set each chair to its own perfection. Not a single chair matched, but was unique to its own beauty. Each represented an individuality and perfection that was second to none. 

All along the ceiling in the texture of eggshell and feathers were the most detailed carvings of history in picture form. Admirals, Lord Generals, Captains of old and heroes that had given of themselves so that others might know the freedom of life without fear were represented. 

General Machais hoped their sacrifices would not be in vain. It was still a long, hard road they must travel in order for there to be peace in this small corner of the galaxy. 

The floor of the room was overlaid with a thin carpet of dark green and gold boarder. A flag set in each of the corners of the room. On one, stitched in black, gold and dark green was the double headed eagle and the sign of the Emperor. It was the Aquila: proud, strong, the empire that never ended. 

The flag to its right held a wasp. It was bathed in simple colors of yellow and black. On the wings were imprinted the names of the fighter pilots, navy commanders and navigators that had fallen in the line of duty for the last two hundred years. 

The next flag to its right, in a dark corner of the room was the flag that bared the names of the allies that once fought alongside Equa. This flag sat in near darkness; a testimony of the importance of remembering the past in order to preserve the future. 

In the last corner, next to the plate-glass bay window stood the final flag. It was bathed in gold and bore the symbol of the Ants of Therra; a fierce six-legged creature that was wreathed in fire and surrounded by skulls. This symbol was also placed upon the weapons of each of the Ants upon graduation from the main armies of Therra into the ranks of the undefeated. 

Conversation was flowing like a river down a mountain side. It was rare having so many warrior leaders in one place, let alone a single room. It was a reunion that had not seen its like in nearly ten years. Everyone had a story of adventure and heroism that they shared with great pride and boasting. 

Many of the stories told had been exaggerated by those telling the story and most gathered knew that it was just part of the camaraderie and pleasure of being gathered together again. Since the Therra’s Pride left dock these men had not been able to spend time together. Many had known each other since childhood and the spirit of brothers united was palpable. 

General Machais allowed the staff to loosen up and just be men with friends they would most likely not see again for what could be months or years and in some cases probably never again.

The hour of fellowship would not be forgotten and the morale would need to be high for as long as possible. Breakfast was being served along with hot recaff in order to revive those that had struggled with whatever duties or nightmares everyone suffered with.

It was still cold in the ship, a constant reminder of the warp currents that they traveled through.

When the hour was up General Machais brought the meeting to order with the ringing of his silver fork against his spent water glass. The sound echoed through the room, cutting through conversations, laughter and the few boasting arguments that poured forth. 

‘Gentlemen,’ he said. He made a point of looking into the eyes of everyone in the room, ‘In two days time we will exit the warp and begin immediate bombardment on the industrial-world, Rexis. It is located on the outskirts of what were once the Equan territories.’ 

‘What we know about this planet is that it is a supply, repair and forge-world for the forces of Chaos. The world of Rexis was once an ally of ours, but fell quickly before the Great enemy. Billions suffered at the hand of Chaos and many were turned to the seductiveness of the warp. 

It is doubtful there are any that survived who remain faithful to the Emperor. The intelligence that we have received was gained through an anonymous source and through the use of spy satellites and sanctioned astrotelepaths.

The main supply and fueling port for the enemy is found on Rexis. Without the supplies this world brings, many of the enemy’s war-ships, carriers and supply vessels will simply starve from lack of fuel, and food goods. Many of their vessels would become prime targets for our fleet that will move in once our mission is accomplished. 

The surface of Rexis is primarily jungle and water. Our target is the forge city, Bandon, located here.’ He pointed to a large red blip on the holo map. The projectors gave the impression of it hovering above the table; its reflection glowed slightly upon the tables’ surface.

The holo map showed Bandon from above. Bandon was massive in its proportions and covered a great deal of the maps attention. The buildings, forges, power plants, towers and smoke stacks that produced great amounts of smoke-trails which the wind carried away from them were surrounded by a massive wall that spread almost the entire circumference of the forge-city.

To the south of Bandon lay a man made lake that supplied fresh water to the inhabitants and fresh resource for cooling their forges. ‘The objective is to destroy the power generators. They are here,’ He pointed to a bright yellow blip with his augmented arm and touched the screen. 

The upper levels of the screen faded, revealing the extensive blueprints beneath. ‘The power generators are here in sublevel ninety-seven. There are three massive areas here, here and here.’ He pointed to three green blips and again the upper levels faded away.

Everyone’s eyes were riveted on the map and they listened intently to every word spoken. Machais watched them as he spoke and made note of their reactions.

‘There are three supply conduits that run from these areas. They travel for twenty- seven kilometers in either direction to these underground rivers. The rivers are channeled in to supply power to the compressors and cool the titan sized engines below.’ He pointed again and once again the upper level faded away revealing one room, easily the size of a large city. 

‘This gentleman is our objective. All the feeds to the production facilities on this planet lead to this. We must deliver charges to the main supports and collapse this fortress in upon itself. The enemy is not aware of us so far, but when the first shells fall, all hell will break loose.

When the bombardment stops, we shall descend like angels from the clouds, under cover from those fighters out there,’ He motioned to the bay below. 

‘The 35th and 39th infantries will come down first, secure a base of operation and expect the 43rd and 91st infantries to follow. I don’t need to remind you of how bad things could be. We’ve all seen combat, lost friends, limbs and family to the horrors of war. Trust your instincts and stay sharp, the enemy knows the land and no doubt are dug in. Are there any questions?’ 

Sergeant Mikinzy Myres raised his hand and General Machais motioned casually. ‘Sir, why not enter through the river entrances? I’m sure they would not be so heavily guarded.’ he said. 

Machais thought for a short moment and looked at the holo map again. ‘The Intel we have received told us the best chance for completing the mission is a direct assault on Bandon at this exact time of the year. The Intel specifically stated that at this time of the year there would be less resistance than at any other time. 

We have been assured by command of the plans soundness and therefore have been ordered to make a direct assault with the use of force instead of stealth. Are there any more questions?’ 

The Sergeant shook his head, his wild red hair fallowing his movements. ‘Instead of stealth? Sir?’

‘Yes Sergeant. Instead of stealth.’ The General answered in a way that brooked no argument. But Sergeant Mikinzy Myres did not take the hint. ‘Who’s fracked up idea is that? I don’t want my men frack’n butchered down there!’ His black eyes were boiling with anger.

Everyone in the room took in a deep breath and seemed to hold it. The General bowed his head for a moment, as if restraining his anger.

After a moment he looked at the Sergeant and said, ‘Sergeant, I understand your concern. And truth be told, I share it too. But though I question the orders of my superiors privately, I will not question them openly. From now on you will not question mine openly. Do you understand the order and the warning given?’ 

The Sergeant gulped and beads of sweat appeared on his brow. His anger had turned into embarrassment. He knew he had overstepped the line. Humbly he answered the General. ‘Sir, I do understand the order and the warning given. I apologize for my outburst.’ The General nodded his head in silent acceptance.

‘Gentlemen,’ He began, ‘my feelings about this mission, off the record, are as fallows. Be careful and extremely watchful. I have seen enough and been through enough to know that nothing is as it seems with the forces of Chaos.’


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Ants of Therra Part 2*

Chapter 3

Preparations

Captain Demetrious Drea ordered his men forward through the hot and humid sticky jungle. Fifty men obeyed quickly and without hesitation, their trust of Captain Drea had only become stronger as time and circumstances wore on. 

Silently and disciplined they crept into the shadows. The jungle reverberated with the sounds of life from a hundred thousand different types of insects.

In the gloom where shadows ruled and the sun’s rays could not impose their will, the vines snaked out and covered the moist, dark ground, and blossomed giant cuplike heads that captured the ever present humidity and the hapless insects that were drawn by their powerful scent.

Giant bats with skin covered wings flew overhead screeching and receiving the echoes of their violent barks. They ducked and dived in the shadows in their chase of the larger insects and with the crunch of teeth penetrating and jaws crashing shut through the hardened shells of their prey they ascended into the jungle canopy and began to roost, hanging upside down in great colonies of slowly moving wings and fur covered bodies.

Tiny birds in mud lined nests squawked and fluttered from the low hanging branches as a giant centipede, red and gray with black oily colored legs stalked the same branch where they dwelled, in its hunt for food. 

One by one the Ants of Therra moved through the hunting grounds of the plants, the bats and the centipede as they searched for prey of their own. The fear of detection by line of sight was hardly a thought. The quiet vibrations in their chameleon-armor gave them confidence the mimic field was working well enough.

Even though the chameleon-armor made them virtually invisible, everyone knew discipline was the key to a successful mission. Through their armor’s sensors they could detect the slightest change in the currents of the air, the changing sounds of the environment around them and the screams that echoed through the trackless waste. 

The soldiers had been in stealth for over three hours, careful not to tip their position to the enemy. Captain Drea signaled an all stop. Corporal Alaxander Sill, fallowing ten meters behind, stopped and motioned to the rest. 

Drea voxed to everyone, ‘Spread out, web formation, surround and kill on my command.’ Their expressions could not be seen due to the face shields, but the intensity could be felt. 

The screams in the air weighed on them all. In the clearing before them a man burned.

Tied to a steak, surrounded by the spawn of Chaos, the man screamed. His skin popped and sizzled as the flesh was consumed. It had begun with the feet as the wet wood and brush struggled to light, but as the flames fought for life they spread and licked at the man’s legs and thighs. 

He had been skinned before being tied to the steak and even the very currents of the air caused him suffering, but as the flames ate away his flesh his torment could not be measured.

What had once been men were now mutated beyond normality. Disfigured and corrupted, the worshipers of death chanted and laughed as their sacrifice screamed again. Horned heads and backwards limbs beat upon distended chests alive with eyes and mouths that wept blood and drool as they reveled in the torment of another living being.

There were nearly three-hundred of them and they spat the curses of their god at the dyeing man.

Finally as the flames ate away the bonds of the tormented soul he fell upon the burning pyre and tumbled down onto the wet earth below. Screaming, the man stood upon bleeding, blackened legs and flung himself at the closest of his tormenters. With shouts of fear the torturers became the tortured as the greasy, burning flesh from the alighted man stuck to the mutated bodies.

Captain Demetrious Drea used this distraction to order the kill team in. The order was given; three seconds later fifty frag grenades blasted the outskirts of the chaos warriors into broken, bloody bits that fell among their peers.

The kill team broke from their position but the Chaos mutations could not perceive where the attack was coming from. Row upon row fell backwards into each other as their bodies began to disintegrate under the hail of fire being poured into them. 

Some brought up crude weapons and tried to fire them, but because of the chameleon-armor they could not find a target to unleash their fury upon. In their midst, blood-red blades appeared. Limbs fell from deformed shoulders and heads fell from the confused mob.

Those in the middle had nowhere to go against the crush of bodies falling against them. Heads exploded like melons dashed against a tree as fifty-caliber rounds blasted through them and impaled themselves into the bodies behind their falling corpses. Bone, brain and blood blasted like shrapnel from bombs made of living matter.

The sound of body parts thudding onto the ground mingled with the screams of those caught in the slaughter. In less than two minutes all of the mutated Chaos worshipers had fallen. A few still struggled to crawl from the clearing only to be dispatched by the kill team as they casually walked by.

The ragged screams of the burning man still echoed through the jungle, faded and finally stopped altogether as Corporal Alaxander Sill mercifully put a bullet through his brain.

Captain Drea touched a button on his faceplate and the jungle disappeared, the fire faded, the dead dissolved and the foul stench of the burning bodies and death dissipated.

Grids appeared in the walls, floor and ceiling of exercise room 101. Drea called out, ‘Gentlemen, like the ants, we are small, but even the small can overcome when unity abounds.’

The door opened and Captain Drea’s kill team walked into the corridor where thousands of soldiers were also gathering from their own training exercises. Everyone had a battle high from the adrenaline rush. 

The excitement of the coming events was like electricity in the air. They had just participated in a virtual battlefield. It was the first time since boarding the ship they had had a chance to exercise on this scale. The warp-sickness that had spread through the men had totally vanished and battle was only a day away. 

The Ants of Therra were made for war. They had been trained and bred to eradicate the enemy. They were anxious to meet the enemy on their own soil and gain for themselves the satisfaction of doing their part to win the war.

Sergeant Liotas Rizar removed his helmet and took a deep breath. His sandy blond hair fell limply to the base of his thickly muscled neck. His face was still young and lacked the war scars that so many of his brothers carried. His eyes were coal black and alight with the excitement of the prospect of battle.

He was broad shouldered and powerfully strong. At five-foot eleven inches tall he knew well how to use his height to gain leverage against an opponent whether in play or battle.

The filter system had recycled the same air over and over again for the last three weeks. Even though the purifiers and dehumidifiers were working, the sweltering, stickiness of so many people clung to his body. He didn’t seem to mind. He knew he was part of something much bigger than himself. 

Even though Rizar was a veteran, a Sergeant under Major Ri Shun, he felt the battle to come would be far different than anything he had ever been involved with. The feeling could hardly be contained. If the exercise room would be how it would really play out then victory was only a day away.

The Intel-report that General Machais had received was all they could go on. The expectation they had for when they landed was of a jungle world that mass produced Chaos battleships, tanks and armor, manned by a bunch of crazed cultists, mindless and bent on the destruction of the galaxy.

That is what the Intel-report had said. Rexis was once a great system, wise and proud until chaos came and stole their minds. It would be good to avenge those who had fallen in their attempt to protect it.

There was nothing else that could be done for the fallen now but to destroy the works of Chaos and make them pay for their many sins. 

There will be more coming soon.


----------



## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Chapter 4*

Chapter 4

Admiral Kregan set in his station throne tethered to the massive battle-carrier by feeds implanted through his skull and into his brain. 

There were no cumbersome wires running from the machine spirit imposing their tremendous weight upon the Admiral’s body like other ship Captains and Admirals so often had to endure; restricting them to the same seat for years, until their bodies wasted away and became pools of ghastly ulcers that had to be removed by surgery that often resulted in the operators mind failing during the process.

Some ships had to be totally rewired due to the operator’s meltdown.

Kregan’s mind was part of the battle-carrier. The implants were part of Therra’s technology. He had the freedom to move around the bridge unrestricted and still see all the diagnostics and functions taking place every second. The ship was truly an extension of his own body.

At this moment he was still piloting through the warp. All his senses had been straining for weeks and there had not been any time for him to rest or sleep. 

In just a few hours he would guide the battle-carrier into real space and the timing had to be perfect. 

As the Therra’s Pride poured forth from the warp, all the weapons would come on line immediately. The engines would go through a purging and the ship’s shields would be raised in an instant. 

After that he would engage the ship’s stealth armor. The battle-carrier’s platforms, armor and even its engine signature would blend into space until the bombardment would begin. Everything had to be perfect. A moment to late and they would miss the Rexis system entirely; a moment to soon and the enemy would be upon them. 

His body ached as he moved his arm into the air and signaled the med-servitor forward. ‘I am tired.’ he said with hardly a breath.

The med-servitor climbed the stairs to the station throne; the med-servitor’s body, more machine than human. 

Its face was drawn and tight and pale. Its eyes were cold and black and flickered with the lights of the bridge. Dressed in a white smock it moved smoothly behind the Admirals back and extended a long syringe that bore a long needle.

The med-servitor’s role was to keep the Admiral healthy, sterile, and safe. It was equipped with medications of all types, each serum contained individually within the confines of its torso and limbs.

The med-servitor was also programmed to be the Admiral’s body guard and was equipped with a narrow spear that glowed dull green and was full of toxins. It would heal or kill as necessary to keep the brain of the ship stable. 

Of course there were fail-safe’s, there had to be. The Admiral’s body would eventually ware out, even the machine parts.

The servitor pressed the needle into the port in Kregan’s neck, released the serum and stepped away. 

The Admiral’s fatigue faded away, his eyes opened a little wider and his muscles tensed. The battle-carrier’s systems shuddered as his senses were renewed. Now he realized how putrid the air had become. The feeling and smell had become truly taxing. It was a byproduct of the sluggishness he had felt. 

With a thought the air purifiers came to full strength and within three hours the cycle was complete. Everyone could feel, taste and smell the difference. For the first time in three weeks everything felt like it was supposed to; except the warp. Traveling through such a horribly dangerous place was incredibly draining in and of itself. 

The night passed and with it the warp faded away. Condensation coated everything as the coldness of the warp met the warmth of real space. Time for a moment seemed to stand still as the stars; light years away, came into focus through the screens and the thick portholes that lined the battle-carrier’s middle deck.

General Josiph Machais, dressed in black breeches, a black leather jacket that displayed his rank and company and a black standard issue short sleeve collarless shirt that hugged his tight frame looked out of one of these portholes deep in thought. 

Feeling the weight of command that he had felt so many times before on other worlds he had fought upon, he steadied himself. His face creased in a tight mask that hid the concern and the plaguing thoughts of the mission ahead.

As he looked on, the outside of the battle-carrier began to change as it left the warp. 

Just for a fleeting moment, General Joseph Machais caught a glimpse of the spectacular sight of the daemon hands of terror itself releasing the unwavering vessel from its dark, diseased, cold, nightmarish grip. 

The blackish purple fog that had enveloped time itself closed violently like the walls of water collapsing back upon itself when a rock is thrown into it. Just like that the warp was gone, left behind in the time it took to inhale. 

As he watched, the battle-carrier’s shields rose creating a bluish metallic field around the three and a half kilometer space fortress. The ship’s cannons all came to life. They began to move slowly back and forth like a hunter watching for prey. 

These cannons covered the entire battle-carrier and vibrated with each movement as if they were in anticipation of their use. 

Triple armor lined the entire hull. Like a space marine in full battle armor, the battle-carrier was vulnerable only if it wanted to be. 

‘The men are excited.’ 

Machais turned quickly, shaken from his thoughts by Major Ri Shun’s dark voice. 

Shun was wearing a black beret with the sign of Therra. His cold dark eyes seemed to pierce Machais soul. He wore a silky black pullover that clung to him like the shadows cling to the wall and the unit jacket he wore was like the armor on the ships hull. His entire uniform was black just like his bitter soul.

His las-gun was strapped to his right leg and his cyber knife to his left. 

‘Yes, this I have seen but are they ready?’ Machais asked quietly. ‘I know they will fight well, they always have. There is a feeling I have had since receiving the Intel… like something is missing, like there is much more than meets the eyes.’

They were quiet for a moment. Shun was a quiet man mostly, but always dangerous. He had lived through seventeen planetary conflicts because he was fierce and smart and crueler than the enemy could ever hope to be. 

His cold eyes seemed to darken like the moon being covered by the clouds. ‘What do you feel?’ He asked. 

Machais looked square into his eyes and said, ‘It feels like we haven’t been given all the facts… like we’re going in unprepared.’ 

Therra’s Pride quieted and seemed still for a moment, as if the machine spirit was righting itself from the demagogue of warp space. 

The only feeling of the battle-carrier’s life was the slight vibration pulsing through the ships hull. 

Therra’s Pride had slipped into stealth. The mighty war-vessel moved quietly through the cold blackness of space, like the shark through the inky depths of lost oceans, piercing steadily deeper into the outer reaches of the Rexis territories. 

Like the calm before the storm, Therra’s Pride plotted her course through the solar system, constantly wary of the Great Enemy, like a hunter stalking her prey. 

Satellites moved through the blackness before them, echoing the readings and pictures taken from thousands of kilometers distant. If this was a trap than Admiral Kregan would know about it hours in advance and make his plans accordingly. 

He could feel the rhythms and read the excitement of the crews and solders as they planned for the mission and he drew strength from the energies they created.

All those who were faithful to the Emperor and loved Him, longed with great excitement for the fires of Therra to fall upon the enemies of life. Within hours Therra’s Pride would release her lightning and rain destruction upon the heads of those who would fallow Chaos. The cloak that covered the mighty battle-carrier lifted, revealing its glory to the planets face. At once the giant Roth cannons began to fire their volleys of flame and death upon the heads of the defiled inhabitants of Rexis. 

They focused upon the forge city of Bandon in hopes of breaking the city defenses before the invasion began. 

Because of the power of the bright and fierce las-cannon fire, the dark, cloud filled rainy skies of Rexis separated both east and west revealing the land masses and oceans below.

The Ants of Therra watched in trancelike excitement through the portholes and viewing decks; like children with their first taste of freedom, their cheers could be heard every time a volley was sent. 

To those watching the streaks of light, it seemed like the gods had left Rexis only to return and in anger release the lightnings of heaven against their unabated depravity. 

For hours they watched from portholes and view screens until the orders were given to gather their things and make for the transport deck. In a couple of hours the first transports would descend and engage this foe face to face. 

On the bridge, Admiral Kregan gave commands to the battle-carrier’s servitors by thought and brains fed electrical impulses to the eyes of the ship, to record and transmit the effects of the energies poured upon Bandon. 

Unit 11702-c13, a servitor whose body was directly connected into the ships systems and was more machine than flesh, spoke first, ‘There is a power-shield that is absorbing the energy from the laser and plasma bursts and redirecting it back into support of the city’s defenses.’ The servitor’s voice was hushed and lifeless like the breathing of a dying man on a respirator but was heard by all on the bridge.

Another spoke, unit 1176342-ct6. ‘The energy field will not break by plasma fire or laser.’ 

Both spoke together like they were of one mind and focus. ‘The shields will not stop the orbs.’ 

With a thought the Roth cannons stopped firing, retracted and were replaced by massive magnet propulsion cannons that fired iron orbs the size of transports. 

Each shot shook the battle-carrier as they exited the magnet cannons with planet breaking force. They looked like meteors as they entered the atmosphere then punctured, cracked and collapsed the energy shields. 

Each round slammed through the shields and collapsed buildings and forges and made thousands of sixty-foot deep by eighty foot wide craters throughout the forge-city streets. 

Smeltries fell in upon themselves spilling hundreds of tones of liquefied red hot iron into the streets and lower levels of the city. 

Fires burned the hab units to the ground and blazed orange-red as the tongues of fire swirled in heat caused tornadoes. 

Skyscrapers teetered and collapsed upon other smaller office buildings and iron works.

Thousands died by the concussive shock of the iron orbs or the flames or liquid iron in the first few minutes.

Every overpass and city street collapsed under the relentless bombardment and the walls that surrounded the forge-city fell flat and tumbled to the ground. 

Death reigned supreme and nothing survived upon the face of the earth. Only below the ground was deemed safe to dwell during the minutes that grew into hours. 

As quickly as the orbital strike had started it ended and nothing remained on the surface except crumbling structures enveloped in flame. 

As the soldiers made their way to the transports they felt the sudden change in vibration and noticed the dimming of lights at the release of each shot. They did not have the time to worry as the massive bay doors began to open, revealing the planet below. 

A force-shield nearly a meter thick glowed transparent blue as it separated the deadness of space from the Ants of Therra. 

The soldiers were intent and resolved, brave men with nothing to live or die for except the freedom of their home world and the protection of their fellow man. 

The fighter/ transport deck was the largest level in the ship, providing more than enough room for the soldiers, fighters, transports and bombers. Each of the men was given extra clips, barrels and power cells as they entered the bay. 

Sixty-four thousand men gathered en mass. Sixteen thousand (the 35th and the 39th infantries combined) would be sent in first to secure the forge-city, then sixteen thousand more (the 43rd and the 91st) would join them in their effort to hold it. 

Nearly thirty-two thousand would stay on board to pray for their brothers in arms.

Sending so few at landing was much different than the landings of the other armies of the empire.

Usually two hundred thousand were sent with armor and a crushing force that would not be denied. But the tradeoff was usually an eighty percent or higher loss. 

This may be considered acceptable to the Warmaster, but not to the heads of Therra’s armies. Their men were not expendable. 

They had been trained for war their whole lives and each man was valued and useful to the other person beside him. They were family; they were the Ants of Therra. 

Lord General Seel’s voice replaced the blaring claxons. Everything stopped as if caught in time. The place became still and quiet except for the ever present vibrations of the ships massive engines.

The banners of Therra and the Emperor along with strips of thin parchment scribed with the praise and prayers and promises and life oaths of each life aboard Therra’s Pride fluttered softly as the recyclers pushed stale air from vents placed along the great ceiling overhead.

Floating scribe skulls floated upon lime green grav-fields above the gathered mass and recorded even the most softly spoken word. Their machine eyes watched over every movement and the pict-recorders committed every aspect of the gathering to keep as a prized record of history for the generations to come. 

Forcefully, Lord General Seel’s voice boomed over the feeds, ‘Remember why we fight, and remember for whom we fight. This war is greater than we are and larger in scale then we are, but we will rise up like the ants that are on a trillion worlds and make the enemy pay for their treachery! 

We will make them pay for what they have done to our brothers and sisters! We will make them pay for their lust for blood and death with their very lives! When fear comes to your inner man, greet him with a kiss and depend on him to guard your lives! Fear is not our enemy; they are our enemy down there on the planet’s surface. 

Remember the cost of freedom is high, but the prize shall be great. Body parts can be replaced but our home world cannot. Kill the enemies of Therra! Kill the enemies of the Emperor! Honor God, honor the Emperor!’ 

With one voice the men responded to the Lord General’s words of blessing. They stomped their feet and gave thanks that they were born for such a time as this.


----------



## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Chapter 5*

Chapter 5

Two-hundred and thirty six heavily armored, mat-black bombers hastened away from the hanger bay a full ten minutes before the transports and their escort of Wasps.

The blackness of space enveloped them, their dark glare proof bodies blending well with the inky darkness. 

They fell away from Therra’s Pride in single file until the last one exited through the giant bay doors. 

At first glance they appeared to just free float, turning slowly downward toward the planets surface and the green tinged glow from below. But as the time seemed to ebb by, the lead Bomber flared its engines and they burst forth…six fiery suns illuminating the next bomber in line. 

Like angry avengers, they moved with purpose and broke the outskirts of the stratosphere, thunder-cracks of energy booming as the weightless silence of space gave way to the planets gravity. 

The sound of their engines could no longer remain empty and like the roaring of an angry god they announced their defiance to the world below. Like birds of prey they swept down through the heavy purple and black choking dust and smoke in the Rexis atmosphere. 

The clouds had evaporated and fled because of the bombardment giving way to the billowing smoke, rising dust and blackened ash from the ruins of the forge-city below.

All two hundred-thirty-six bombers came in with such speed the enemy, still reeling from the surprise attack was cought out in the open and unprepared for the next assault.

Life Force was the leader of the Last Angels. 

Marcus Chaven was its Captain and had flown many sorties in many battles. So far everything was going to plan, just the way Regis Plose had said. 

Regis Plose was the leader of squad Fist and the Captain of Silent One. Marcus Chaven and Regis Plose had grown up together, went through basic training together and had flown together many times. They were the best of friends…more than that they were brothers. A relationship like that in this war-torn universe was hard to come by…a rare thing even at the best of times.

After the bombardment had stopped, they knew the next move would go smoothly. They would come in and unload their massive loads then exit the scene in time for the transports to land, escorted by the Wasps. 

Life force was the first one in, followed by his command; half of the legion, one-hundred -eighteen bombers…the Last Angels. 

The first bombs were dropped and fell into the massive power plants and past the rust covered exhaust stacks. They exploded upon impact and decimated everything near them. Liquid flame purged everything above ground, while the bombs impacts shook the levels below.

The shock waves from the deadly onslaught ripped through nearby buildings, tankers and exhaust stacks leveling many of the structures and shaking many more to their very foundations. 

The next bomber came in and released his load, then the next and the next until every one of them had exhausted their loads. The destruction was nearly total. 

Flames and blue electric lightnings shot out in every direction and black fire filled smoke rose up in massive clouds that only added to the denseness of pluming debris in the air. 

Everything went exactly to plan until, from the low mountains to the east a section of stone opened and like flying lice… the enemy poured out. 

Bo’sae Wrokle was the first of the many pilots to see what was happening. The smoke was so thick most pilots were flying by instrument and not by sight, but Wrokle looked out the nose-cone view port. His surprise was short lived! 

‘Frack! Frack! Were under fire from behind! From behind! Oh Frakssssssssss!’ 

The Chaos fighters emerged from the smoke and engaged their prey from behind. They were covered in signs that were foul and deamonic and the skins and skulls, hands and feet of the dead along with other unrecognizable body parts adorned the dread enemy’s crafts. 

Las cannons puked dark energy at the vulnerable bombers. Hundreds of them enveloped the bombers and forced them into tight formations where they could not fight back with their many las-cannons that dotted their hulls for fear of catching each other in the crossfire.

In the first few minutes sixteen bombers came apart and fell to the heavily jungled ground below where they would be swallowed up and never found again. Many more were wounded but still fought back as best they could. 

The Chaos fighters were very fast and well piloted. Captain Plose in Silent One directed a massive counter attack and was able to spread the forces of squad Fist into covering formations. The Last Angels were being torn apart. Already seventy-eight bombers had fallen from the sky and thirteen more were under direct assault.

Squad Fist came in from above in loose covering formation and began to pick off the enemy that sewed themselves between the remaining bombers of the Last Angels. 

Caught by the surprise attack from the Chaos fighters, the bombers were not able to exit the landing zone, instead they and the enemy clogged the air space. 

The entire sky above Bandon was blackened with the smoke of exploding shells, damaged craft and exhaust from the spent fuel it took to carry on. 

Some of the bombers put up a violent fight for their own survival, firing round after round into the enemies ranks of fighter craft, but were overcome by the sheer force of overwhelming numbers and determination of the enemy.

The first transports left the safety of Therra’s Pride. Three hundred and twenty transports and nearly five hundred Wasps were sent ten minutes after the bombers disembarked. They were like hive wasps leaving their nests, angry they had been disturbed.

As soon as they were past the ships bay doors the force of gravity lifted and the weightlessness of space enveloped the eager passengers. 

For a moment the weight pressure of their chameleon armor, packs, weapons and field kit vanished. There was a feeling of total freedom. 

Captain Drea’s unit settled in to the vertical benches they leaned against, the net belts supporting them as they descended to the planet’s surface. 

Condensation appeared on the walls, ceiling and floor as the transports left the safety of space and entered Rexis atmosphere. 

Demetrious Drea could hear the pilots, their voices becoming more strained as they entered the chosen area for drop. Their monitors were relaying the transmissions of the bombers. 

‘Silent One to Life Force, things are too hot down here! Drop your load and get out!’

‘Life force to Silent One, we hear you.’ static filled the monitor for a second. ‘Life Force, lift and exit! Lift and Exit!’ 

‘Silent One, we can’t. Were hit! Oh, Emperor’s Blood were hit! Were going dow…..’ The scream’s of the crew of Life Force blasted through the monitor.

Being the closest one to the pilot pit, Captain Drea could hear more than most of the others farther back from the com’s and monitors. He could hear the pilots yelling into the head mics. Then he began to hear one of the pilots begin to scream as fire enveloped his body.

The transport began to vibrate wildly, lifted and then for a moment seemed to fall for the longest time. The men inside held on to the web nets that surrounded them so tightly the sound of their knuckles popping could be heard like gunfire from a small stubber. 

They clenched their teeth and began to pray to the Emperor they would live to fight. A few of the men began to panic as fear took hold of their hearts and tears rolled down their faces. None wanted to die, but dying without even having fired a shot was shameful …the thought of that was torment to an Ant of Therra.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion as one side of the transport buckled and pinched three men in half, their chameleon armor severed like paper. Blood shot directly across the isle and covered the men on the other side. The buckled compartment erupted and fell away pulling all those strapped in to that area out and away into the blistering atmosphere beyond; their screams could be heard over the roar of the engines as they fell away.

Instantly the pockmarked glare of the besieged planet charged in to momentarily wrestle and overtake the darkness in the once sealed vessel. The wind laughed at those that remained in the transport and the suction, because of loss of cabin pressure, pulled violently on them like a giant playing with a toy. 

Captain Drea saw all this. He knew it all happened in less than a second; it was as if time had stopped and let him see clearly what the enemy could do in the blink of an eye. At that moment fear came to his inner man. He looked at those who remained and knew that fear had come to them also. 

They all looked out across the sky and landscape and saw fire plumes erupting all around them and the other transports. 

The Wasps were flying like humming birds and blasting at the enemy fighters that had come to greet them. There were collisions and flashes of light! 

Bodies burned as they fell to the ground far below as transports came apart and their fuel supplies burst into flame.

One of the transports spiraled out of control having been struck directly through the nose-cone. A moment later the walls exploded outward, bodies were flung out through the new openings and slammed into the intakes of oncoming fighters, disintegrating the engines as the burning bodies came apart and jammed their workings.

Blue flame and black smoke surged snakelike from the transports entire body. Then like a rock it fell away into the jungles where it slammed into tree after tree and came apart like glass thrown against a million walls. 

Drea and his men tried to turn away but fear held their faces firm in its icy grip and lanced their hearts with its steely finger and pointed out every detail of what was to come.

Then Captain Demetrious Drea called out with a loud voice ‘Men of Therra, fear does not wish to hold us captive but to enlighten our senses; when we land fallow me!’ 

Even though the world around them was spinning out of control, the pilots of the many transports gathered their wits and bearings and flew as if this was their last flight…for many of them it was.

The murderous Chaos fighters were relentless and fought to the bitter end. They had taken the bombers by storm and all but decimated their ranks, fewer then half the bombers would return. But the tide of the battle was pushed quickly back once the Wasps entered the fray. 

The Wasps and the Chaos fighters took off after each other like six hundred flies chasing each other with las cannons blazing. 

Wasps were melted and fell apart when struck by the massive las bursts that belched from the Chaos fighters. 

Men fell like burning, screaming lumps of meat from their broken cockpits.

But the enemy did not fare any better. For each Wasp they shot out of the atmosphere, ten of theirs were lost, exploding violently when their ammunition or fuel tanks were touched by the las bursts of the Wasps. 

Another transport was struck from underneath as a Chaos fighter ascended upwards like a daemon escaping the darkest reaches of the warp. It unloaded four rockets at almost point blank range. The floor of the transport blew upwards and instantly cremated the men inside. 

Those that had not died in the initial burst fell out and one by one met their deaths bursting on the trees, rocks and burning buildings below like jars of jelly dropped upon a concrete floor. 

General Joseph Machais was in a transport with Chief Medic Zilar and his team of field medics. They were accompanied by thirty of the most battle savvy men in the units. They were personally hand picked by General Machais, one man from each forwarding unit.

He was accompanied by Sergeant Omais Quavel. Omais Quavel was a smaller, thin man, but he was a master strategist. He was cunning and one of the quickest men Machais had ever seen, both mentally and physically. 

Machais knew the field medics had to be there, in the hell to come. He knew their skills were essential to the mission. They were not the only medics. There were at least two per fifty men. There were not many field medics so they were highly trained and protected. 

Chief medic Zilar and his team was larger than most, a small unit of six men who were used for higher risk missions. They would be part of the insert team that would infiltrate the Bandon power plant. 

Machais knew that if worse came to worse Zilar’s team could fend for themselves. They had gone through the same training the other soldiers had gone through and more. The medics could not afford the distraction of close personal combat; they had to be freed up to attend to the injuries that most certainly would come upon them. 

This is why General Machais assigned these thirty men to protect Zilar and his team until they could meet up with Major Ri Shun and his insert team. Machais knew they would not fail in the mission, if only they could reach the ground in one peace first.

In order for there to be an ending there had to be a beginning and landing was the beginning. The whole transport was shaking violently because of the turbulence and concussions of enemy fire from the ground that had only just recently added to the confusion.

Chaos fighters were relentless in their attacks and stitched the atmosphere with their las-cannons and plasma bursts. Though shaking from the transports moving, dropping and sudden lifts, General Machais kept everyone calm and focused. 

He had been through these types of drops many times before and had come to the realization that when it was his time to go not even the mighty Emperor could persuade death’s hand from snatching him. He had made peace with death a long time ago, but he could read on the faces of some… they had not. 

‘Relax as best as you can, stressing will not help you get to the ground any safer…besides when we get done with this mission many of us will have a great story to tell and maybe some scars to show the ladies.’ He said with a smile. 

For a moment everyone just stared at him as if he were crazy.

It was loud and the vibrations were alarming. The thrust of the engines was almost unbearable and the sounds of the concussions from exploding enemy shells could be heard and felt above the din. 

One of the soldiers revealed a scar on his arm as he laughed and said, ‘I don’t need any new scars, the wife back home was worse than the enemy on the ground. That’s why I came on this mission, I needed a break.’ Everyone laughed despite the situation they were in. Everyone seemed to relax a bit and set themselves to their prayers for the mission to come. 

Many of the bombers were still in the area unable to escape the web Chaos had spread. Captain Regis Plose and the crew of Silent One had personally shot down thirteen enemy fighters, but in the process had become so badly damaged there was no way they could return to the battle-carrier. 

Plose ordered all that could, to return to Therra’s Pride. He knew he had to do something to save as many lives as possible. Many of the other crews protested the order, not willing to abandon their leader, but an order was given and the order would be carried out. 

Plose looked at the gauges, they were going wild. Fuel was leaking and the hydraulics were damaged. Flames were beginning to caress the skin of the bomber like an evil woman’s embrace. Many areas were already filled with electrical charges and smoke was thickening throughout each compartment.

The filters in each man’s armor were working. At least breathing was not a problem. Through the dark grey, smoky atmosphere Captain Plose could see where the Chaos fighter reinforcements were coming from. 

The side of the mountain that had opened and vomited the enemy out against them was still open and Chaos was still pouring out like angry bees from their nest. He knew the opening had to be closed at all costs. 

Plose knew there was no going home, he knew he and his crew was going to die. But how they died was still a choice that they had and that could not be taken from them. 

As the crippled, burning bomber approached the entrance to the mountainside; the enemy took notice of them and began to pour all the fire power they could muster in their direction. 

Parts of the bomber fell away and were caught by the wind. The bombers payload had already been used, the only weapons they still had were the giant las-cannons that had been firing violently from many points all over the ship.

The crew knew this was it, many were already dead, shot, burned or blown apart by enemy shelling. The Captain made his last transmission through the barely working vox systems. 

He switched to the all channel frequency and said, ‘No greater love can a man have than to lay down his life for his friends,’ He paused a moment then added, ‘You have all been my friends!’ 

With that, Silent One slammed violently into the opening, careening murderously into seven or eight Chaos fighters that were trying to escape the openings gaping jaws.

The payloads of the fighters, combined with the weight and fuel of the bomber lit up the mountain-side like a thousand suns. The whole side of the mountain crumbled in upon its self; rocks and trees fell freely to the jungle floor below. Smoke and dust erupted, bursting into the upper stratosphere and was carried away by the solar wind. 

The sacrifice of Captain Plose and his crew stopped the advance of the Chaos reinforcements. Many of the Chaos fighters locked in combat lost their nerve at the sight of the mountains collapse and were cut to pieces as they tried to disengage from the fight. 

The battle for the Rexis atmosphere had been won.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Chapter 6*

Chapter 6

The surviving Wasps patrolled the airways above Bandon and allowed the transports to proceed to their various landing sights, where the Ants of Therra could deploy under minimal attack from above or on the ground. 

The organization of the men as they deployed was simply astounding. As soon as the transports landed they were emptied of men and cargo immediately. 

The soldiers that were on the ground ran as fast as they could and took up firing positions that covered and overlapped each others field of fire. Pretty much everything on the ground had been totally and utterly decimated! 

The bombers and Therra’s Pride had been thorough. Giant jungle trees had been blown to peaces with nothing but the splintered stumps or the root systems showing. Rocks were overturned and giant craters dotted the ground for kilometers around from the iron spheres that smashed through the deflector shield. 

The air was filled with the smells of war, fire and burned chemicals and flesh. 

From a hill not far from the transports landing, the once proud industrial forge city of Bandon could be seen. 

The runes stretched out across the landscape and fire still burned, violently fanned by the wind. The assault had only destroyed and killed everything on the ground, not what was under it.

Even through the flames, smoke and debris, movement could be seen. Mortar fire landed among the transports, they were an obvious target. Though the men could blend into their surroundings, the transports could not. 

The mortar fire was not within range and was sporadic, falling like rain all over. Trees and dirt erupted as the mortar shells came closer to the transports. It would not take long for the enemy to find their range. 

As soon as they could, the transports were unloaded of their cargo and men. Once the transports were freed from their heavy loads they ascended back and away from the area, away from the threat of enemy shelling. 

Within minutes the Ants of Therra had begun their advance into the face of death. 

They closed the distance between the jungle floor and the demolished, burning structures of Bandon. The enemy continued the shelling, sending shell after shell into the jungle hoping to destroy at least one of the transports as it unloaded its contents. 

The explosions sent shockwaves and shrapnel into the advancing armies of Therra that sent men fling in shredded, bloody peaces that fell like rain among their peers. 

The mimic-armor the men wore saved them from the worst of the enemy’s retribution but could not save all of them. Mortar rounds explode where they land and destroy even the things the eyes miss. 

What the enemy saw as they climbed from the ruins and looked out past the fallen forge-city walls they did not fully understand. If they had understood, they would have retreated back to the relative safety of the burning ruins behind them. 

Like heat waves advancing towards them the Ants of Therra marched, their chameleon-armor bending the light and wrapping the view of the surrounding jungles around them. 

The armies of Chaos continued to erupt from holes in the ground, collapsed basements and cracked structures; many of them having fresh scars, burns, and self inflicted mutilations that caused glistening gore to run down their bald, pale, deformed bodies. 

Some were well armed, having las-guns and rocket launchers while others were armed with knives, pipes, broken glass and rocks. They rose from beneath the forge like rats flooded in the sewer. In their sickness they could not possibly understand the danger they were in. 

The enemy began to scream and howl and surge forward hoping to overtake the transports that had withdrawn to a safer distance and slaughter those inside before they could escape. 

General Machais gave the order to open fire and immediately nearly fourteen and a half thousand trained soldiers sent skilled, well aimed shots from their sniper rifles. With so many firing, many shot the same target. 

Nearly six thousand of the damned were shot to pieces, their bodies collapsing and coming apart as small holes appeared in their chests and exploded out their backs in fountains of blood and viscera. 

They fell like trees pushed by nuclear winds. The enemy stumbled over their dead in utter confusion. They could not see who attacked them and began running in all directions and lashing out at each other. 

They cursed their gods and cut themselves even as they began to wage war upon themselves! Their blood flowed freely from their wounds and pooled in the craters and cracks in the ground. 

General Machais called in an air strike onto the enemy position and ordered the men to take cover. Within two minutes the Wasps came back around and fired their hellfire missals into the teeming masses of Chaos filth. Bodies instantly vaporized and came apart as the floods of fire poured into them. 

Those on the outskirts were set ablaze and screamed as they writhed on the blackened ground as their skin melted from their tormented souls. 

The sounds and smells of their death would forever echo in the minds of the armies of Therra… the survivors of the battle of Rexis and the forge city of Bandon. 

General Machais stood up as the sounds of death began to subside and gave the command to advance once more. The Ants of Therra marched into the forge city killing anything that still moved.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Chapter 7*

Chapter 7

Captain Drea’s unit had been struck hard even before crash landing. What were once fifty men was now down to thirty- seven. 

The transport had crash landed deep in the jungle that surrounded Bandon. 

While one pilot burned to death the other pilot tried to create a controlled fall after they had been blasted by enemy fire. 

Like a comet, the transport tumbled from the sky violently rolling in tight circles, smoke and debris cascading in ashen trails behind them until the pilot was able to regain a semblance of control. 

‘Brace yourselves!’ was all the pilot had time to scream before the transport slammed into the thick jungle trees and began to roll it‘s thirty ton mass over and over again. 

Its massive armored hull crashed and deflected and tumbled through the splintering trees and where the Chaos fighters had blown holes in its side, branches were thrust in like spears that ripped apart anything or anyone they came in contact with.

The noise was absolutely deafening and the vibrations from the transports rolling decent disorientated the minds and shook the bones of the men inside. 

The transport continued to twist and fall until it struck the jungle floor, rolled, flipped and came to a jarring stop in a brackish moss covered swamp bed. 

The protective crash-nets that held the soldiers in place had been pulled away from the ship’s frame in many places, but most of the individual safety straps had constricted tightly around the soldiers bodies and prevented the men from being flung throughout the transports body.

The pilots were dead. Having endured the full brunt of the crash head on, their bodies were smashed into paste and their bones crushed into thick pasty powder. 

Anything that had not been securely fastened or bolted down had been flung about the inside of the transport and strewn about the crash sight. Each peace of flying debris had become a potential weapon that injured many of the men that had been struck. 

Many hung limply, trapped in the netting and unconscious; their breath rasping through their respirator filters in their full faced helmets. 

Almost immediately the transport began to sink in the waist high water.

It seemed the mud’s depth could not be measured for as it sank, brackish, moss covered water poured in; filling every space it came in contact with with pungent foul smelling, mud filled sludge. 

Bubbles rose and popped releasing long forgotten gasses and spores into the air. Snake like creatures and meter long centipedes swam in the freshly churned muck. There was a light fog or mist that rose and swirled ankle high, it covered everything with dew. Insects buzzed and skittered everywhere creating an almost eerie musical sound in the air.

Lichens, mosses and vines covered everything or hung from tall trees; from the highest limb to the deepest hole and dark green and blue tinted leaves created a curtain so dense it became claustrophobic. 

Wild exotic flowers and funguses displaying a wide spectrum of colors and smells that grew from giant lily pads, the ground, tree bark and even from the very rocks themselves where everywhere .

Darkness seemed to be all encompassing except for the shafts of light that moved ever so much with the swaying of the trees.

With all of this, the humidity in the air became thick with the smells of mold, dead plants and decomposing creatures that saturated all it touched… a powerful force that weighed down everything and made it hard to breath.

The transport began to sink more quickly as unseen forces from below, tainted by Chaos wrapped it’s choking death grip around it and pulled unmercifully. 

The transport began to roll ever so slightly. Lt. Alaxander Sill woke up twisted, upside down and hanging from the webbing that had saved his life. His head was spinning from blood pressure and gravity. 

Every muscle and joint hurt from the crash. He was bleeding from his mouth, ears and nose. The blood had collected in his helmet and saturated his hair up to his forehead. 

As he released himself from the netting he could feel the blood running down his neck, back and face as all that was collected in his helmet drained and was pushed down by gravities hand. He felt cold, dizzy and numb. 

He fell from the netting and landed back first into the warm putrid water. His watertight suit kept him dry, but the shock of all that was happening caused him to flounder like a drunken man in an earth quake. 

He heaved but did not vomit. He was sick to his stomach, probably a concussion. His vision cleared a bit as he looked around. 

Some of the men had already come to and had released themselves from their restraining straps but still struggled in the crash nets. Sill stepped forward through the rapidly rising swamp muck as he tried to take in the scope of the situation.

Some of the branches that had entered through the hole in the transport’s side had pierced themselves through the torsos of two men like nails through a finger. One of soldiers would never wake up, the other was fully conscious. 

Izak Zomel was glad for the briefest of moments that he could not feel what had happened to him because of the shock he was in, but after a few moments the pain accompanied by fear slammed into him and he began to scream as loud as his punctured torso would allow. 

He would scream until the air left his lungs, inhale raggedly then scream again too totally consumed by shock and fear to be able to control himself. 

Lt. Sill stood waist high in the filth almost frozen in place listening to the dieing man’s screams and watching blood filter down to mix with the mud and water. 

Captain Drea hung limp in his netting still unconscious from the trauma, the restraining straps meant to hold him in place hung limply above his crumpled form. 

Lt. Sill quickly assessed the situation and found they had precious little time even as the transport began to roll a little more. ‘Come to!’ He yelled. 

Heads turned slowly in his direction as if looking through a dream. There were moans and yells as others began to realize the danger they were in. 

Bodies splashed in the muck as men fell from their netting and struggled to right themselves. Many of the survivors struggled through the transport fighting to get to the unconscious and injured. 

‘Get everything and everyone out as fast as you can, were sinking. Jajo, help me with the Captain. Medics, is there any way to save the life of that man?’ He motioned to the man that was pinned and impaled to the inside of the ship. 

Bubbles popped, plopped and burst inside and outside the transport as it listed to the side and took on more water. As it did so, the branch that was pinning and impaling the unfortunate soldier lifted upwards to the transport floor.

With a breathless scream the man was pulled apart. His mimic-armor held and his inverted body slumped. Blood poured from his neck seal and respirator as his helmet filled and finally overflowed.

The medics looked back at Lt. Sill and shook their heads.

Sill and Jajo grabbed the Captain firmly and freed him from the webbing he was held into. They set him upright and pulled him towards the opening in the side. 

Coday Chopple pulled his cyber blade and cut the branches out of the way. The transport continued to roll causing everyone to slide in the slick mud and struggle to gain their footing. 

Those that could do so, grabbed the wounded first and exited the craft. 

It all seemed like slow motion as the transport finally rolled over the rest of the way. Trapped inside, several men still struggled to gain their footing. 

The hole was now almost directly above them. 

Mud and sickeningly sour smelling water flowed in like oil through a funnel. Every step they took was like stepping through wet sand with hundred pound weights on their legs. Everything they grabbed had become slimy and oily. 

The men inside began to panic and call out to their brothers. Outside those that were close enough tried to help, but the suction was so great they were being dragged down with the ship. 

Lt. Sill and several others formed a chain of arms, belts and guns trying to save as many as they could. Those closest to the transport had no choice and had to be pulled to safety themselves even as they began to sink quickly as if being pulled by unseen hands. 

Weeping and in shock all those still alive and conscious watched as the transport and those inside slipped away never to be seen again. This place would forever be their tomb.

Giant air bubbles rose to the surface and burst until at last the water became calm, the floating plants drifted back into place and only the sounds of the jungle could be heard. It was as if nothing had happened there, just like death was not as close as everyone had just seen.

Lt. Sill had been so excited back on Therra’s Pride, but now his excitement was gone. It was replaced with physical, mental and worse of all spiritual pain. Their unit had started with fifty men, soldiers of Therra. And before they had even seen the enemy twenty-one of his fellow soldiers, men he had known, fought with, laughed with and mourned with were dead. 

Everyone in the unit could feel the loss. No one moved for a long moment. Lt. Sill motioned to the medics and with a now very tired, strained voice asked them to look after the captain and then to check on everyone else. They were all aware that their mission was far from completed.

Captain Demetrious Drea came to with a snap. His head was in a fog and there was a foul moldy stench in the air. His helmet was off. 

He felt the breezeless air with its humidity kissing him. His eyes burned and the headache he had, descended down to his lower back, hips, right leg and also in his left arm. 

‘The painkillers will kick in in a moment. Where do you hurt the most?’ Drea looked up wearily into the faceplate of Jo’or …one of the medics. 

‘My right leg and left arm both hurt quite a bit.’ Drea responded like he was drugged, slowly trying to gather his wits. 

Jo’or quickly scanned for injuries. ‘You’re going to have some real bruising and stiffness but there are no breaks.’ He said. 

‘How long was I out?’ Drea asked slowly shaking his head. The fogginess was beginning to leave him as he set up and looked around. 

‘About twenty minutes’ Jo’or answered while watching Drea’s eye movements for signs of concussion. As Drea focused on the sight he noticed the wide, long and debris strewn path the transport had made. He fallowed the path to where the ship should have been. ‘What happened?’ he asked. 

‘The pilots tried to put us down safely, but we had already lost too much altitude. We crashed over there and sank almost immediately…we saved all we could.’ Jo’or answered with a pain in his voice, but with controlled emotion that came from many years of discipline.

Demetrious Drea could tell the medic was struggling to hold on, everyone was. With his helmet was off he could not see where everyone was, just outlines and shadows.

Everyone blended in to well in their chameleon armor to be able to keep track of without the proper equipment, he wanted to know the state of the unit and their strength. ‘How many of us are there and what is our location?’

Setzer Kreol answered, ‘Sir there are twenty-nine of us left.’ He paused for a moment to let the captain take in the loss and then continued, ‘We are here, sir, about seventeen kilometers from Bandon… here.’ He motioned to the data-slate he held in his upturned hand. 

A data-slate with a copy of all the maps on file for Rexis had been given to every communications man and unit leader before deployment so everyone would have a clear understanding of the objective.

This map was an over view of the twenty-seven kilometer area of Bandon and the surrounding jungles along with the three river entrances that led into the heart of the planet. It was as detailed as could be given considering the cloud cover and denseness of the jungle below. 

It was clear enough to show where they should have been and the general area of where they were. 

The forge city, Bandon, was near the center of the map, but the area where they had crashed was south west from there. The three rivers that supposedly ran under the forge city and into the core of the planet were marked. 

It was obvious to captain Drea that his unit was much closer to one of the river entrances than the battle front. ‘Kreol, try to reach command and see if you can arrange a pick-up anywhere close by.’ 

After a few moments of trying to reach command without success, the decision had been made. The river entrance was the only logical place to go…straight south, into the heart of the jungle.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Chapter 8*

Chapter 8

Every step was like walking through poison. The churned up muck and stirred water and filth released noxious fumes and sickening smells that caused their eyes to water and made it hard to breath even though their respirators. 

They had traveled for hours but it felt like days had gone by with little progress. There were many times they came to an impassable area where the mud would collapse under their feet. 

Where the mud collapsed, the water and muck would seek to fill the emptiness, causing mighty vortexes that would pull at the very souls of the men near the gaping holes.

Torturous nightmare screams could be heard from deep below as two men had been sucked down with no hope of being saved. Others had fallen into the vortexes but had grabbed onto overhead branches or roots of near by trees until the hole would fill. 

They had to find solid ground soon. 

Each of the men felt like they were being stalked by the jungle itself. Trees seemed to move and sway in a way that cut off all long distance view. Sometimes the trees would lower their branches only to be cut off by a well placed cyber-blade. 

Rat sized leeches attached themselves to their chameleon-armor and bore through with thousands of razor like teeth, inject an anesthetic like fluid, and slowly drain the blood from their host. Every few minutes everyone would check the person nearest to them, quickly killing the parasites. 

Thousands of different kinds of insects ran, swam and lay in wait to engulf their prey. 

There were tiny gnats that flew in massive clouds that resembled rolling fog on a moonless night that threatened to clog the respirator filters and air intake ports of the men‘s helmets, making it difficult to breath. 

Their skin began to crawl from the fungus that seemed to permeate everything including their mimic-armor. 

Massive root balls rose up nearly four meters out of the water and gave the impression of massive spider legs. Creatures of all kinds lurked and traveled through the cave-like environment they created. 

This was truly an ancient place, untouched by man. The tree trunks were massive in this part of the jungle, almost as wide as a transport truck. There was very little light in this part of the jungle because the branches of the trees had grown together creating a type of crust that separated the sky from the jungle floor.

Light was a rare thing here. 

Massive fireflies flitted, bobbed and dipped, appearing and disappearing in the jungles darkness. Everyone in the unit was wary and tense knowing the chameleon armor they wore was not much help here. There were things stalking them that hunted not by sight, but by sense, smell and vibration.

It seemed that death permeated everything around them, even the very air was tainted by the sour smells of death and decay. After several hours of fighting the mud, humidity, parasites and environment, the unit pulled themselves up out of the mud and rested for several minutes on the spidery root systems that rose in places almost ten to twenty feet above them. 

Alidor Solmon distributed vitamin packs and rations of water which they drank while battling the insects. After several minutes, captain Drea sent out Weland Jajo and Timothi Mirok to scout ahead. 

Both master scouts, Jajo and Mirok were deadly, smart and efficient. They worked well together and trusted each others instincts as if they were their own. 

Setzer Kreol climbed up beside the scouts before they went ahead. ‘We’ve been moving to the south-west for about six hours. That’s about five kilometers in this frack. You already know all of this, but with all the twists and turns there’s a chance of losing direction. The jungle trees seem to be moving all around us.’ 

Kreol was young, but very confident. Even in this filth he felt he should point out the obvious; but to him the obvious was still something that couldn’t be taken lightly. Most of his training had involved the secrets that lay hidden in the obvious. He had been taught to never take anything for granted.

As a communications officer it was his job to maintain every detail of his units’ position and the general developments of the ongoing situations pertaining to the battlefield, so, in the event he was called upon, he could give decisive information to those around him. 

It was a testament to his expertise that in this situation, buried in the death swamps of Rexis, cut off from all the other units and the main battlefield, with no useable signal at all, that he was able to gather any information that was in any way useful.

As he pulled the data-slate out to show the scouts where they were, according to the programmed maps of the battlefield and the surrounding areas, Jajo noticed Kreol was shaking a little. ‘Kreol, when was the last you ate or drank anything?’ 

Kreol stopped and had to take time to think. He removed his helmet, revealing a smooth face with dark eyes that shone like the stars. He was sweating like a cold mug in a hot room, his blond hair was drenched and he was cold in spite of the sweltering jungle heat. ‘I really can’t remember.’ He said. ‘Maybe while still on the Pride.’

Jajo called over Solmon and Jo’or to attend to Kreol before he died of heat stroke and dehydration. Sometimes even to the most detailed of people the obvious isn’t obvious enough.

While the medics checked everyone else for dehydration and other discomforts, Jajo and Mirok slipped away and blended in as if they had never been there. 

Drea had seen the scouts leave and knew they were the best in his unit, but he was concerned none the less. This place was not like anything they had ever seen before. While everyone hydrated themselves, cleaned their weapons and respirator filters, he watched, listened and prayed. 

Jajo and Mirok stalked through the quagmire intently aware of every movement, sound and ripple around them. This place was like a nightmare that they were trapped in and they hoped they could find a way out. 

Nearly an hour had gone by before Mirok stopped dead still and motioned to Jajo with one finger than with two fingers, pointing straight ahead in the dense jungle beyond. Jajo stopped and aimed his las-gun in the area Mirok had indicated.

Mirok snaked his way forward into the shadowy foliage, cyber-knife drawn. Mirok was not a man who was easily spooked but clearly something had his full attention. As Jajo watched, the vines around Mirok exploded with movement.

Mirok gasped and swung his blade instinctively back and forth cutting the vines one after the other even as others exploded from the foliage around him, wrapping themselves about him quickly, tangling him in silken threads as a spider might ensnare its prey. He fought to save himself but the harder he fought the more entangled he became. 

Jajo wasn’t sure what it was exactly that he saw. The vines wrapped around Mirok’s legs and pulled him to the ground, cocooning him until he was helpless and screaming. Jajo ran as fast as he could through the mud and filthy water, tripping over submerged roots and rocks. He holstered his las-gun and pulling his cyber-knife even as he dived into the vines. 

He slashed fiercely, cutting away massive vines from Mirok. The vines constricted with a mighty force in an effort to keep their prey, causing grinding, popping, crunching, violating sounds as bones were broken, dislocated and pulled from their sockets. Mirok’s armor cracked and the air in his lungs was forced out through his mouth in steady, weeping, begging pleas for help. 

His ribs popped and turned inward piercing his lungs and heart. As he died the trunk of a tree opened up vertically, revealing a massive gullet and thousands of tiny, razor sharp teeth. The vines retracted and in the blink of an eye pulled Mirok inside. 

Jajo fought with all his might trying to save his friend, then all at once realized he was ensnared as well. 

He jumped backwards falling into the muddy filth in an effort to escape the deadly vines but it was too late, the vines had wrapped around his legs and were pulling him back. He felt helpless against the will of the vines. As fast as he cut a vine it was replaced by another. 

The vines wrapped around his waist and torso, around his arms and shoulders. He dropped his cyber-knife and began to black out as the roots constricted. He knew he was going to die, but in that moment there was no fear, no flashing of his life before his eyes, no last wishes, there was only coldness and silence as he slipped into darkness.

Jajo woke groggily as Jo’or and Solmon forced air back into his lungs. He vomited up water and filth than took a deep agonizing breath. He hurt all over. Why was he still alive? 

‘You’re going to be fine, just lay still for a moment.’ Hands held him down as he tried to sit up. He looked over and saw the tree splintered and burning. 

Coday Chopple had been first in the area after Captain Drea had sent everyone out in the direction the scouts had gone. His concern was well founded. 

Chopple had seen what had happened and was determined to do what was necessary to save his friends. The explosive pack he had thrown into the tree’s mouth exploded outwards and collapsed it into fiery splintered shards. 

Chopple pulled Jajo free and voxed the unit. This jungle would become a deathtrap if they stayed to long as it‘s guests. 

Captain Drea motioned to Kreol, ‘Find us a route to the river entrance as direct as possible. We’ve got to get out of this place before nightfall.’


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Chapter 9*

Chapter 9

It did not need to be said because everyone in the unit were sure they would not live through the night.

Captain Drea’s unit had crashed deep within the jungles of Rexis, far to the south of Bandon…their primary goal. That had been nearly eleven hours ago.

They had left the battle-carrier with emotions running high; with excited hopes and eagerness to meet the enemy head on.

Some were scared or nervous, some anxious or had trepidations about the future, but all the solders of Therra were easily able to master those things that held them back because of the call to duty and the excitement that ran through their blood. All their training was meant to prepare them for the dangers ahead. They would be victorious. They had no doubts about that.

The plan had been to land and exit the transport at the edge of the Jungles that surrounded the industrial forge city of Bandon, and to join with the rest of the 35th and 39th Infantries in the initial assault.

Instead the transport had received heavy damage from enemy fire. With a hole in the side and the inability to control their direction and descent, they had tumbled from the sky and plowed through the jungle canopy.

Crashing and sinking in the mire, many had barely escaped with their lives and now the jungle was literally eating them one by one.

They had left the Therra’s Pride with fifty men in their unit. Now with only thirteen men alive the despair was palpable.

The dark jungle had become pitch black as night entered. In the darkness the jungle had come alive with shrieking beasts and sightless bat-like creatures that leached themselves to the wounded. They had to be cut from the wounds and pulled from exposed flesh.

Those with exposed wounds bit their tongues to keep from screaming as parasites and the night creatures struggled to bore into them. As hard as they tried to keep the blood drinkers from the wounds they could not do it.

The most they could do was cover the places where their chameleon armor had been ripped from the crash or pierced by flying debris.

‘Kreol, where are we?’ Lieutenant Sill asked while climbing over a fallen tree; its branches scraping the mud off his armor where he slid between them.

Setzer Kreol didn’t answer for a moment. He was sliding through the mud about three meters ahead and was exhausted.

Tidus Weilon was further ahead on point. He was usually pretty light hearted, the joker of the group. Most of the time the man could not stay serious for thirty seconds.

Most of the time he could lighten the mood but tonight he was somber, quiet and somewhat detached.

This place was toxic to the senses. It was like the air around them had been drugged. It might have been the flowering plants and vines that both smelled sweet and waxy through the filters of their respirators or it may have been the yellow powdery pollen the flowers exhaled onto their face-shields as they passed by.

There respirator filters kept filling as the gnats plagued them; they would have to be cleaned at least one time an hour or they would become too clogged and have to be replaced.

As if on cue, Weilon answered for Kreol, ‘I think I hear the river, it’s still a ways off yet but, yea, I’m pretty sure it’s the river.’ You could tell he was smiling in his helmet, proud of himself, as if he was the one that put the river there in the first place.

Their night-vision turned everything a glowing dark green, but cut through the darkness well enough so they could see up to fifty meters in this type of darkness.

‘I saw movement up ahead.’ Jajo said. He was pointing with his las-gun and crouching on the fallen log behind Lt. Sill.

Weilon stopped dead still. He was point man and was responsible for what he led them into; he scowled behind his facemask and focused diligently up ahead. There, almost forty meters ahead, he saw the movement as well.

He should have seen it first and was angry at himself for not doing so. He could have given away their position or even worse gotten everyone killed.

He motioned the hold sign to the others then crept ahead slowly, depending on his chameleon armor to aid in his stealthy observations.

With every step he closed the distance. As he inched forward he came to the edge of the tree-line and was able to see clearly the source of the movements.

Tidus Weilon lifted his hand and spread his fingers wide. With discipline everyone spread out, readying themselves for covering fire if need be.

The sound of the river was still a ways off yet, but everyone could hear it now. Captain Drea stepped closer to Weilon, as did Weland Jajo the scout leader. ‘There, between those trees across the clearing.’ Weilon said.

Drea pressed a button on his helmet’s faceplate. ‘Magnification ten times.’ He whispered. The trees suddenly came closer and seemed to part, revealing a tall figure holding a crude las- rifle.

It seemed he was looking directly at them, but there was no sign he had seen them.

Brauman Schisco placed the familiar sniper rifle’s stalk up against his shoulder and peered through the scope. He activated the scope’s night vision and x-ray settings. The x-ray wasn’t very powerful but was useful for looking through thin walls and dense foliage. He whispered ‘Two more beside him, behind the trees.’

Drea motioned Marcus Collen and Freemun Borok forward. Silently they walked directly to the two trees where the figures were. The enemy had no idea they were about to die.

Borok stepped out first and thrust his cyber-knife deep into the back of the first figures neck, twisted than pulled it out and threw it at the second figure’s chest, it glowed as it spun through the air until it slammed into the chest of the other man even as he turned at the sound of his partners’ death.

The blade plowed into the corrupted flesh and pierced through sternum and heart in a powerful display of force. The figure fell to his knees and died in a kneeling position as if praying.

Collen came about, quickly slicing the third figure from the lower back up to his collar-bone; the glowing blade cauterized the wound as it nearly cut the man in two. The enemy soldier silently writhed as pain seemed to explode throughout his entire body.

With Collin’s hand over his mouth his screams were virtually nonexistent; as he fell his body kicked about violently as the shock of the blade ended his life.

A fourth figure in the darkness began to fire his gun, blasting at the shadows that had killed the others. A bullet glanced off of Marcus Collin’s chest and imbedded itself into the stump of a fallen tree. Once more the chameleon armor did what it was designed to do.

The warped Chaos solder’s screams of rage were cut short as one shot from Brauman Schisco blew the enemies head apart.

For a moment the body just stood there, no one moved or spoke until at last the corpse’s knees buckled, the body collapsed and finally fell forward onto its chest onto the rocky, moss and vine covered ground.

Drea spoke first, ‘All clear?’

‘All clear.’ replied Collen stepping out between the trees. As they crossed the clearing, the sounds of the jungle faded behind them, drowned out by the sound of the river not far away.

What was left of captain Drea’s unit proceeded cautiously until they finally stood at the edge of a steep cliff. The ground closest to the cliff glistened from the faint moonlight that reflected off the wet rocky surface.

They cut long vines together and lowered themselves down to the riverbed. Near the moving water it was much cooler and the men relaxed a little as the stifling jungle heat passed away.

Large smooth round rocks covered the area where the rivers currents had once ran violently through the eroded cleavage. They were slippery and moss covered from the mist that billowed from the massive waterfall nearly three kilometers away.

The remaining Ants were grateful when Sim Jo’or revealed the findings of his water tests. The water was pure and clean of taint. They could drink it and cleanse their wounds.

Dehydration had set in and many of the Ants had started cramping up and suffering headaches. They all had lost weight from water loss.

It was not strange that they could become affected so quickly. This was a Chaos held world; here all the rules of survival were different. Everything changed.

Captain Drea commissioned Lieutenant Sill and Coday Chopple to guard duty and the others to get a little sleep or rest the best they could…he knew they all would have a better chance of staying alive if they were rested and ready for the next leg of their mission.

Setzer Kreol tried to contact command again, and again only received static from the vox set. He was hoping that since they were out from under the jungle’s canopy he would be able to get a signal. It was disappointing and frustrating that he could not.

Once more Captain Drea had to make a decision, stay here and die, killed by whatever came upon them or find the cave entrance and take their chances in the darkness.

They all had thought they knew the risks before they left the ship, but they were wrong. This was a death world in more ways than could be easily counted.

‘The mission of the 35th and the 39th Infantry is to eradicate all threats topside while infiltration teams move down into the depths of Bandon and destroy the generators that run this entire planet.’ Captain Demetrious said quietly.

‘There are three rivers that run into the depths and cool the generator equipment…this is one of those rivers. If we stay here there is a chance we will be picked up, or killed by whatever comes along, but if we find the river entrance and are able to reach the generators, there is a chance we could contribute to the mission.’ He watched them as he spoke, trying to gauge the moral of each of them.

‘I am the Captain and you are my charge. I take great value in you all and mourn the losses we have had…as such I could order you to stay or go, but it is not only my life that hangs in the balance… I make it your choice.’

The thirteen warriors were silent for a moment, then finally after what felt like an eternity, Josiph Kemeral spoke, ‘I say we did not come here to play it safe and dream of making a difference, but to find and kill the enemy in whatever way we can.

If we stay here the chances of killing the enemy is slim to none. Let’s go into the depths of this planet and frag its core.’ They all agreed and the wheel was set in motion. They would go.


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## arturslv (May 12, 2010)

I am simply amazed by the amount of awesome in this one! So detalised descriptions! All respect to you, man.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Chapter 10*

Chapter 10

Nearly two thousand sons of Therra had died as their transports were knocked from the air, blown apart or set alight by the enemy’s aircraft. Nearly two thousand men died not even having set foot upon the ground. They did not have the chance to fight for themselves.

They were taken from this life, they would be missed.

Now, fourteen thousand soldiers of Therra flooded the twenty-seven kilometers that made up the forge city of Bandon.

They were hunters of the most terrible kind. Because of the chameleon armor they wore, they were almost invisible to most enemies and through countless accounts of trial and error they had learned their craft.

The once proud industrial buildings, warehouses, and forges, towers, smokestacks, derricks and temples had been toppled to the ground as if a giant had pushed them down and lit them on fire.

Sixty generations of construct now were crumbling masses of destruction that had succumbed to the barrages of iron spheres that fell like over sized hail from the heavens; even so it was evident that the population had given themselves over to the spirits of chaos, death and depredation.

The foul symbols of corruption and distain along with the bones of the damned still clung to the fallen walls, beams and doorframes by twisted razor wire and nails that were imbedded in their hands and feet.

Still smoldering, white ash and smoke ascended into the atmosphere forming a cloud-like canopy that blotted out the morning sun.

Skeletal steel building frames stood bent and twisted from the concussions and heat the bombardments had wrought.

From between the broken walls where the brickwork had crumbled and the inner walls were exposed, the skulls of children and infants stared with hallow eye sockets and gaping mouths at the horrors that now passed them by.

The wind blew through their hallow eyes and mouths creating the sound of flutes or wind chimes, death’s music to assuage the daemons of the night.

Strangely, amid the tortured scene, some things, frail in the face of the most basic of force, stood whole, completely intact. In a hab to the right a window remained unbroken while the rest of the place was nothing more then splinters and useless debris.

In the face of a demolished building, reflecting the flames and the silhouettes of the soldiers as they passed by stood a giant window frame that bore depictions of the Emperors fall by the hand of Horus with the glass still in one piece.

It seemed that each of the pieces of the stained glass was made from oils derived of human blood and excrement.

Giant electrical towers still stood, defiant against the blasts that had decimated so much of the area around them. From their bracings hung the long dead corpses of the cities rulers, their bones knit together by wires so they would not fall to the ground.

Pieces of dry harry flesh still clung stubbornly to their heads and hands occasionally tossed by the wind like an old man’s toupee. The scars of Chaos had been worked into their bones and decorated their cadaverous faces before their deaths. The pain must have been without comparison.

Ancient prayer towers that were once part of architecturally prestigious temples but had become the gathering places of daemon worshipers and cultists that profaned the name of the Emperor, now swayed menacingly back and forth like drunken men or angry beasts waiting to have vengeance on those that shamed their glory.

The stench of death, blood and decay, along with the smells of smoke, chemicals, burning oil and flesh saturated the whole of the forge city. it was as if the very smell itself were trying to claw its way into the very souls of the Ants of Therra, possess them, control them and in the end… kill them.

Bodies, both fresh and long dead lay mingled together in putrid, worm riddled piles that lined the streets and filled the gutters; their corpses, twisted and tortured were staring in memories of torment, mouths open as if weeping for the fall of their planet to Chaos.

Many of the corpses bore the signs and symbols of Chaos upon their foreheads or etched into their chests, hands and arms. The eight point star, the pentagram, the symbolic faces of untold horrors replaced the skin that had been pealed from their skulls. Some still bore the skin of others worn around their necks like ties. These were the depraved that had died before the landing of the Ants of Therra.

Even to the battle hardened, this place seemed to reach out with its corruption and fill the mind with panic and the heart with despair.

It was shocking to know that this place was once filled with the beauty and the pride of its hard working and faithful citizens. It was terrifying to think of what humanity could become when they backslid from their Emperor and gave themselves over to the evil one.

Songs of praise and scripture along with the prayers of saints had once echoed down the avenues in anticipation of the Feasts of Thankfulness to the Emperor along with the parades of the faithful servants of the author of their faith.

Bandon had once been a place of creation and industry, a jewel spoken of with reverence and respect.

Massive constructs were forged and transported into low orbit and placed together like giant jig-saw puzzles. They would form battleships, carriers, fuel tankers and supply vessels for the Emperors armies.

When the armies of Chaos came, evil damnation filled this place. Bandon along with the rest of Rexis were forced to produce weapons, ships and supplies for the enemies of life. The population was forced into slave labor, tortured and tormented and forced to recite the rejection of their god.

They prayed for deliverance but the Emperor of mankind rejected them and failed to save them from the hands of their enemies. Doubt and disbelief coupled with the brutalities of the great enemy devoured the little faith they had left.

General Joseph Machais knew that this all could happen to their home world if they did not succeed with this mission. Resolutely he guided his men through the corruption of Chaos, watchful of even the faintest of shadows.

From the thoroughfares he could see the massive docks and lifts along with the hydraulics and hoses and hoists and cranes that once supplied nourishment to the Emperors forces.

Fuel had been richly produced on this planet and what had once been a docking for the Emperors chosen was now a place for replenishing the lovers of the warp.

Where there were once complex structures of piping and machinery now laid twisted wreckage.

Rusted steel girders and pipes rested precariously from buildings and structures that had refused to fall in the bombardments. The soldiers of Therra moved around and under them, careful not to shift their weight as they hunted down the worshipers of death.

Chemical pits to the east with underground feeds that had supplied the integration process all spacecraft needed to survive the warp, flooded the streets when the barriers holding the liquid burst by the concussions caused by the bombardments.

Vast quantities of liquid carbon dioxide had poured out and pressure from their supply hoses forced the freezing liquid high into the air; where it landed frost and dry ice formed. A deep fog hovered heavily upon the surface streets of Bandon as the dry ice melted.

The fog was cold and tainted with anhydrous ammonia that had escaped from surface storage containers. The chemical taint burnt the lungs and suffocated those without respirators to protect them.

Large generators pumped steam through massive hoses that led down into the earth to melt the oil residue from the sides of emptied wells and reservoirs.

Because of the bombardments, many of the hoses had moved from their bracings and some had ruptured; they bled steam hot enough to melt steel and flesh.

The sound produced from the escaping steam was like the screams of panicked children in the night.

Massive oil tankers with stairs zig zagging up and around their circular sides, sat in deep dug out areas where walls of concrete surrounded them in case of spills. Hundreds of them dotted the landscape.

They were stained dark brown from the years of rust and the age old blood that once ran from the bodies that had been crucified and hung from barbed razor wire. Many more bodies had been stitched crudely to the sides of the tankers where they lived a tortured existence and begged for death even as alien birds ate their rotting flesh from their bones.

From a distance the bodies looked as if they were still moving, but up close, General Machais could see the tiny worms infesting their corpses, pulsating like maggots in the ruptured belly of a long dead animal.

From several of the tankers, hoses ran from secured valves to supply trucks that had been in the process of being filled when the bombardments had begun. Now both supply truck and tankers burned, flames roaring endlessly in the morning light, black smoke billowing into the sky forming a false cloud cover that blotted out a portion of the sun’s rays.

Landing zones meant for tanker vessels to replenish their oil reserves and take on supplies for the ships gathered in orbit were now ablaze from the flaming debris that littered them.

Through all of this, General Machais watched the progress of the insertion team he had put together and knew that that the intelligence he had received had been wrong. This place was corrupted beyond imagination and the forces of the enemy had only just showed themselves.

From across the street, Chief medic Zilar and his team were escorted through a maze of elevated fuel pipes and rusted sheds. It was not that they couldn’t defend themselves; it was that they as medics were invaluable to the success of the mission.

Machais noticed Sergeant Omais Quavel take point. With a hand raised Quavel motioned and five men quickly moved, weapons raised, to covering points along the avenue. General Machais watched their discipline as they covered the shadows and their flanks.

Sergeant Quavel motioned again and five more men moved past the first two and took up guard positions about fifty meters beyond them.

It was eerie that only a half an hour ago these very streets of manafactoriums and habs mingled together where filled with the spawn of Chaos.



The armies of Chaos had come from the underworld of Bandon like water from a clogged drain. A hundred thousand strong, their ability to kill had been halted only because they could not see the Ants of Therra.

But even though the enemy could not see the Ants, they had not given up. Like a thick fog, they seemed to melt away into the very surroundings of Bandon. There was a much more shrewd kind of evil directing their insanity.


‘Makoma, what do you see?’ Machais asked over the helmet vox.

Samon Makoma was the Captain of scouts. He had moved ahead about two hundred meters and had climbed one of the structures that had not fallen so as to get a better vantage point. ‘Only death, sir.’ he said. His voice was crisp and to the point as usual.

Machais had learned to trust him from many of the missions they had been on together. ‘Major, what is your status?’ Machais voxed trying to get an understanding of what they were dealing with.

Major Ri Shun’s return vox was slightly broken up but still understandable, ‘After we engaged the enemy they just began to fade away. We fallowed them to an entrance to the sub-levels, should we fallow and engage?’

‘No, not at this time, we will be there in a few minutes if we are not interrupted.’ Machais said as he quickly crossed the street to add cover if it was needed.

Sergeant Quavel led the way continuing from the north in overlapping field patterns. He directed his men in such a way that kept the medical team under a constant state of protection and also allowed for maximum forward movement. After about twenty minutes they met up with Major Ri Shun and his unit.

They were all spread out and primed like cats after birds. ‘Report.’ Machais said.

Shun answered, ‘Nothing new, sir. There were some stragglers that received our greeting, but direct contact has been stopped since their retreat. There’s the entrance.’ He motioned with some distaste.

There were several bodies that had been nailed to the walls of the entryway. They had been disemboweled and torn to pieces, dried blood was everywhere.

‘Do you remember what we talked about on the ship, when I told you my feelings about this mission?’ General Machais quietly asked Major Ri Shun. ‘What do think?’ Machais stood facing the entrance, his eyes not wavering from the sight.

Shun was quiet for a moment and then answered through gritted teeth. ‘I think you were right, sir.’


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Adrian, please make future posts (at least the majority thereof) in the forum's default font and colour. I have edited them accordingly. If you have questions on this, please shoot me a PM.

On an aside, I'll give this a gander in the next day or so and give appropriate feedback.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Hello*

I guess this story sucks. It must. I would delete the whole thing if I could. Over a year of work, not even worth the time for anyone to even comment. I have another 60,000 words to add to this, but screw it; its not worth anything anyway.


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

Adrian said:


> I guess this story sucks. It must. I would delete the whole thing if I could. Over a year of work, not even worth the time for anyone to even comment. I have another 60,000 words to add to this, but screw it; its not worth anything anyway.


I recognise that feeling; I certainly start to doubt the quality of my work without reassurance. However, I have noticed that many people do not comment on stories they like so the lack of comments is not an indication that people do not like it; this story has over 1200 views so people are reading it.

As arturslv says there are some excellent ideas in this work, so I do not think you should delete it.

The use of mostly single sentence paragraphs made it a little hard to read in places, so it might help if you condensed it into larger paragraphs, especially in the parts not describing actual combat.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Thanks*



Dave T Hobbit said:


> I recognise that feeling; I certainly start to doubt the quality of my work without reassurance. However, I have noticed that many people do not comment on stories they like so the lack of comments is not an indication that people do not like it; this story has over 1200 views so people are reading it.
> 
> As arturslv says there are some excellent ideas in this work, so I do not think you should delete it.
> 
> The use of mostly single sentence paragraphs made it a little hard to read in places, so it might help if you condensed it into larger paragraphs, especially in the parts not describing actual combat.


Thanks for the feedback. I start to feel like what's the use? I am glad you read my work and comment. It means a lot to me for sure.


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## gothik (May 29, 2010)

i cant get on much atm as i am involced in a thousand and one things...Boc has my votes for the online hoes when he puts them up but read this and i am on my knees hoping u carry this on. I used to get downhearted when i thought no one liked what i wrote but the views are telling me people are reading it.. in box me your e-mail have something i want to run by you but keep up the good work Adrian....


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Here's what I have so far. More is to come.*

Chapter 11

Machais voxed all the command leaders and directed them to hold the battle field and to guard themselves from the evils around them. 

‘Throkk, you’re up!’ Shun said with a motion. Timar Throkk smiled behind his helmeted faceplate and readied his flamethrower as he approached the entrance. Jason Meelon, Zac and Damoll added cover from three different angles as Dilon Raglor pulled the door free. 

When the door opened there was a gust of putrid, death that poured out from inside; a new world of death was opened to the world of the living. Throkk stormed forward into the darkness, his night vision instantly kicking in, turning the place a florescent green. Flames lashed out like a whip as he pulled the trigger of the flamethrower that he so proudly carried. 

Everyone knew how much he loved fire and how well he could use it. The space inside lit up for the briefest of seconds revealing the area in the light of the burning promethium and in the blink of an eye it was dark again.

Throkk gasped out a breath at what he had seen. The briefest of moments was all it took for him to realize what kind of world this was. Everything on the outside was like a beautiful sky compared to this. The flames coughed out again, this time longer and more sustained. 

It washed over the crawling, mutilated hordes and crucified bodies who screamed and writhed on the walls like souls burning in eternal flames. The flames washed over the skinless dog-like creatures that were running among them; mouths open revealing knifelike teeth. The liquid fire poured over the teeming masses of mutated flesh and howling death, bathing them all in coursing flames. The smell of burning flesh along with the black smoke of burning bodies filled the hall.

Meelon and Damoll charged in firing their las-guns on full auto, bursting the heads of the tainted and adding support to Throkk while he moved in disciplined steps meant to provide more burning destruction with as little use of promethium as possible. 

It was almost total sensory overload and would have been to most men. Sergeant Omais Quavel rushed in with his cyber-knife glowing. He waded into the fray of the pulsing masses and kicked the first one he came in contact with in the face, snapping its head back and pushing the filth back into the seething masses. 

With his left hand he grabbed another by the arm and twisted, snapping its arm like a twig. The Chaos soldier barely noticed and tried to hit Quavel with an axe that it carried in its other deformed hand. 

Quavel turned to the right and sliced with the blade, cutting the arm off in a flash, cauterizing the stump in an instant then stabbed through the torso and lifted up. The glowing blade moved like a hot knife through melted butter and cut the man clean in to. 

Throkk continued to send flames down the hall, creating silhouettes of tortured figures flailing in its light. As the Ants of Therra flooded into the underworld they were met by the forces of Chaos head on. There wasn’t room to dodge the guns, blades, clubs, hands and teeth of the enemy.

Burning, eyeless bodies flailed in their torment and stumbled over each other as they, in their failing last breaths struggled to kill at least one more living thing. 

The walls of the hall were only wide enough for two people to pass shoulder to shoulder normally, but with the crucified bodies lining the walls of the entrance and the walls beyond, it was all one could do to slide between them. 

Throkk squeezed between two of the crucified bodies nailed against the wall as he made his way down the hall. Their blood coated his chest armor and promethium packs along his back.

Sergeant Quavel led the way past him, reciting prayers and thrashing wildly with his blade of light. They fought on, killing the enemy as they advanced deeper into the darkness. 

The hall opened into what was once a series of meeting rooms. The ceiling was nearly three meters tall, light fixtures hung uselessly, dangling from conduit. The paint was flaked by the heat and humidity that rose from the lower levels. 

The enemy had withdrawn further into the depths for now leaving the Ants of Therra free to wonder why. The enemy moved as if they were being controlled by another, greater force.

They fought and retreated quickly leaving their wounded to die. The questions kept coming; why had they retreated? 

Chief medic Zilar and his team of medics were attending to many of the wounds that had been inflicted on the men. Mostly cuts and small gashes from the blades that had gotten through their lightchameleon-armor, but at least two had injuries to their heads where they had been struck by some heavy tool used by the enemy. 

There were no wounds caused by the guns the enemy used, mostly small arms fire that had been deflected off their armor into the floors and walls. The Chaos dead lined the floor and lay against the walls at the feet of the many crucified. 

General Joseph Machais stepped over some of the bodies and onto the sticky, blood covered floor, his steps sounding like the smacking of a large beast after consuming its prey.

He walked up to Major Ri Shun who had motioned for him to fallow. ‘I found a security office over to the right, looks for the most part untouched.’ Shun said. Machais fallowed Shun into the office. 

The office was dark and there was spatters of blood and filth along with the smell of refuse, but was otherwise in seemingly good condition. 

Machais called for Corporal Daton Gremen to make his way over to them. Gremen was keeping watch at the south entrance to a hall that went to who knows where, when he received Machais order. He was more then eager to put that hall as far from him as possible.

He made his way through the soldiers and the dead and entered the security office. ‘Sir,’ Gremen said as he stepped through the entrance way. 

‘What are the chances of getting power back to this station, I need to see any information that may be stored in the main computer banks.’ Machais asked Gremen

‘Well,’ Daton Gremen said. He said ‘Well’ in a way that sounded like, “There’s no way in a million years, but that he would give it a look see just to make the General happy.”

Gremen looked around, there were monitors lining the walls. Ancient computer screens from a backward time. They were white with small green screens. 

While Gremen poked and prodded with the computers and the hookups and checked the circuit boards, General Machais and Major Ri Shun watched in growing tenseness. ‘Huh, Hmmmm,’ Gremen would say to himself. ‘Yes, well… okay.’ he muttered. 

He chewed his lip and shook his head back and forth slowly. His helmeted facemask did not reveal the nervousness he felt, nor did it reveal the frustration. 

After about five long minutes Corporal Daton Gremen stood up with a slightly surprised ‘Hmm.’ and a shrug of his shoulders. ‘I think if the generators are in descent shape, if the Emperor blesses, and if the station relays are not blown… I think we could have power here within five minutes of finding the generators. But remember there are a lot of “if’s” present.’ he said.

‘Well done. We will send some of the others with you to help you find the generators.’ Machais said. 

Shun called Bryan Griffen, Charsail Greylox, Antoni Cheelo, Gimell Marro and Joseiah Freeshin to go and do exactly as Corporal Gremen said. 

Gremen stood up on a chair and popped a ceiling tile, stuck his head up and used the highest setting of his night vision to look for the supply conduit. Small rat-like creatures scurried through the insulation and small roach-like bugs fell from the rusted pipes that at one time supplied water to the lower levels. 

Gremen let out a long sigh, and then said the one thing that summed up the situation, ‘Frack!’

Chapter 12



The power supply conduits traveled through a small square that had been cut through the concrete support wall, out the other side and into the hall that Corporal Daton Gremen had just come from. 

Corporal Gremen, followed by his small squad, fallowed the supply conduit down the long, oddly quiet hall. They would stop just long enough to pop a head up above the ceiling tiles to make sure they were still on track. 

They had passed several dark, cavernous rooms where sweltering heat like an oven testified of the steel that until just a few hours ago had been melted down and poured into molds to form some part of a weapon or vessel. 

Bodies, hot from the dry heat, lay everywhere like they had all died at once; where the other foundry workers were, no one even wanted to speculate. 

As the team stalked quietly down the hall, sickening smells, like meet gone bad surrounded them like smog. 

Their respirators filtered out anything harmful, but the smells of any given environment could not be filtered since smell is one of the five senses and therefore needed to make a right judgment call. 

Greylox motioned and whispered, ‘Movement.’ Gremen didn’t see the movement but stopped anyway, his heart was pounding at a strong steady rhythm. He wasn’t a coward, he just hated taking to many chances. 

Here he felt exposed and open to the enemy. He felt like he was surrounded and cut off from the rest of the main unit. They had passed several rooms that had not been properly secured and the thought of the enemy cutting him and his small unit off from help was almost too much. 

In the end he knew his training would not be wasted and he would fight like any other man. He didn’t want to die in this place, but at the moment he couldn’t think of another place he wanted to die ether. 

Cheelo moved forward, his senses straining in the glow of the night vision to make out what it was that Greylox had seen. ‘Has anyone other than me wondered why we haven’t seen any Chaos filth in the last half hour?’ he said softly. 

In response to Cheelo’s question, Griffen fired one shot so close to Cheelo’s head he could feel the heat from the laser inside his helmet. Cheelo jumped and fell backwards as blood and brain erupted across the hall. 

A figure slammed against the wall not more than a meter from where Cheelo had been standing. It slid down the wall leaving a lightly glowing trail of blood trailing behind it. It twitched as its nerves failed.

The creature had blended in so well with its environment Cheelo hadn’t seen it. Cheelo cursed as he regained his footing, ‘What the frack was that?’ He gasped. 

‘In this heat the normal thermal sensors can’t differentiate a life form from a machine.’ Corporal Gremen said. ‘Switch from thermal settings to ultraviolet. These things are colder than the area and use there camouflage like we do; only theirs is natural.’ 

Joseiah Freeshin patched into the frequency General Machais had given him and handed the mic over to the Corporal. 

‘Corporal Gremen to the General. Can you read me, over?’ He said into the vox mic. He released his finger from the mic switch in order to open channels. ‘This is SCREEEEais, Chkk, click fssssss!’ The reception was almost nonexistent.

Gremen hated being this far from the unit as it was, but this deep into enemy territory with creatures stalking them and without vox reception was worse than anything he could think of at the moment. 

In frustration they pressed on, now watchful of even the shadows. Time was of the essence and their mission was imperative to the success of the Ants of Therra. 

The whole time Gremen’s unit had been trailing the power conduit, the hall and the many rooms they had past had remained eerily quiet. The farther they ventured into the darkness the stronger the stench of death became. 

The heat had become almost unbearable. Gremen wanted desperately to send a runner back to the main unit, but he knew whoever he sent would never make it. 

The ultraviolet sensors in their helmets would frequently register movement along the walls, but nothing tried to engage them. It was as if these creatures were picking there moment to strike. 

Gimell Marro seemed to sense Gremen’s feelings. ‘Shun and Machais will have to find out what we know for themselves- Emperor help them.’ He said. 

The others nodded but did not say anything. Gremen took one final look above the ceiling tiles to track the power conduit. He groaned within himself as his eyes fallowed it to the end of the hall and into the room where it snaked onward onto the darkness. He stepped down and motioned to the end of the hall where it dead ended. 

Antoni Cheelo took point and hugged the wall as he crept to a covering angle. Bryan Griffin moved forward and to the left of Cheelo. He raised his sniper rifle to eye level and engaged the x-ray to look through the wall; there was no movement that he could see. With a quick hand gesture he motioned for the next man to take up position. 

Greylox ran quickly and quietly while crouching down to the other side of the entrance. Their surroundings were still sickly, nerve wrenchingly quiet. Marro came up beside Cheelo and added support to the entrance. Gremen and Joseiah Freeshin stepped out into the opening, las-guns raised. 

They gasped and pulled themselves back out and into the hall. Their fear was palpable and they shook with the urge to vomit. ‘You O.K?’ asked Marro, clearly concerned with his unit leader. Marro took a step closer to get a better look into the opening. He nearly fell to his knees as his muscles involuntarily stiffened from shock. 

These were men bred to battle, but none of them had ever seen anything like this. 

Freeshin grabbed hold of Marro by the shoulder and pulled him back. He had seen into the opening about the same time as Gremen and was the first to shake himself from the shock. ‘Hey. We’ve got to get it together; I don’t want to die down here!’ He said. 

Griffin was still trying to shake off the fear that had overwhelmed him. He was a soldier first and they had a mission to complete. 

Freeshin pulled a spherical object from his small pack, and a remote from the same pocket. He flipped a switch on the remote and a small light cut the darkness like lightning in the night. 

A small box appeared in the bottom right hand corner of his helmet’s face-plate. He flipped another switch on the remote and a feed was directed into the face-plates of the others that were with him. 

He set the orb on the floor and rolled it into the room. He flipped another switch on the remote and a small camera relayed a feed of the inside of the room. Worms and maggots moved along the floor like a living carpet pulsating through the decomposing flesh of thousands of corpses.

The lamp-light from the remote spherical camera pierced the darkness of the room like a burning blade through the heart of evil. Pitch blackness surrounded everything the light uncovered. It was like looking into a tunnel with everything black except the pinpoint of sky-light on the other end. 

As the orb continued through the maze of corpses, maggots and gore, the light uncovered an opening in the far wall, a door frame. 

Freeshin clicked a button on the remote, the orb stopped and slowly paned the entirety of the smaller room. There were wires and fuel cans. There were braces that held a wheel with a belt wrapped around the outside of it that led to a smaller wheel. 

Freeshin sent a relay of everything he saw to the others in the unit. Gremen, feeling shaky from what he had seen, nodded and said, ‘That has to be the generator. Freeshin, did you see any movement or any evidence that we are walking into a trap?’ 

Freeshin didn’t answer for a moment. He was taking his time looking into every detail of the main room, trying to find the best route to take to get to the generators. There was more in there than death; there were machines with massive cranes attached. 

Some held huge bowls of still red, melted iron and steel. Some held a liquid-like substance that glowed slightly, giving off a strange light. There was a fine web-like residue that coated everything in the room as well, even the dead. 

When he spoke he did not sound confident, ‘I didn’t see any movement, but I definitely have bad feelings about going in there.’ Joseiah Freeshin said. 

With a quick prayer, Gremen gave the command to enter and make way to the generators. 

Corporal Daton Gremen was the first to enter the vast mechanical room. The heat was stifling and the smell of corruption and death was overwhelming. The faces of the dead seemed to watch and welcome him into their final resting place. 

Gimell Marro fallowed, his las-gun raised. He was fully aware that something was watching them. It could just be the dead, but he was sure there was more here than met the eyes. 

Joseiah Freeshin crouched at the entrance covering the unit as they progressed further in. he was watching through the scope of his sniper rifle, night and ultraviolet vision active. 

Thousands of corpses stared back at him, eyes glassy and vibrant with undying dread.


----------



## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*here's more*

Chapter 13

General Machais looked at the timer that glowed lightly in the lower left corner of his faceplate. It had been an hour since Corporal Daton Gremen’s team had gone in search of the main generators for this level of the refinery.

In this environment an hour might as well have been an eternity. He had had Lamaunt Urlar try the vox every five minutes but there was still no response. 

After thirty minutes, Machais sent Captain Michial Meeks, one of Sergeant Quavel’s men, to add support to Gremen’s unit. 

Meeks had fought in the planetary conflicts of Ursulla Major back in the early days of the war. He was older than most of the men, and had suffered more than any of them. Most of his body was augmentations of the highest grade modern science had developed. 

He had survived the Chaos death camps where he had been found crucified upside down, his eyes missing, his legs and arms crushed and most of his ribs had been extracted and used as the nails that held him in place. 

He had lost most of his family back then. He spent over three years in recovery and therapy relearning how to walk and use his arms. He even had to learn how to use his new eyes. 

Under his armor he still bore the scars of his torture, having refused to have them removed. None of what he had seen on this planet had surprised him, he knew full well what to expect on a Chaos held world. 

Captain Meeks walked boldly through the hall; past two of the heat filled rooms and paused only a short time to make note of the creature that had been killed earlier. Those with him were somewhat more cautious of their surroundings, aware of the stench and the death that filled this place. ‘Now we know why the Chaos fraggers haven’t come at us.’ Meeks said matter of factly. 

The others took careful notice of the creature and how it seemed to blend in with its environment even after death. The light green glow of their night vision showed the blood that was all around as dark shadows, all the blood, that is except the creatures blood that glowed lightly in the darkness.

Demetrie Swei let out a long sigh before disappearing into an air duct that was above them. 

Stan Marcone tumbled forward in a spray of dark blood, his head landing on top of him after he hit the floor. 

Wiel Limon fired into what appeared to be an empty hall on full auto. The lasers from his las-rifle illuminated the darkness in glowing bursts of red. At first no one understood what it was he was firing at. It was like he had just gone mad. 

Then lightly glowing green blood exploded through the hall, drenching the walls, ceiling and floor along with the first ranks of creatures that were near the dead twisted bodies of their pack. 

Limon yelled, ‘Look in ultraviolet!’ and continued firing into the oncoming horde. The others quickly switched to ultraviolet just in time to see hundreds of these creatures bearing down on them from all angles. 

In the hall there was no room for strategy; the only hope they had was to kill everything that moved in a hostile way.

Captain Meeks unlatched his chain axe and slashed in a wide ark that cut through the ceiling, right hand wall and floor. Sparks flew like fire bolts as the chain axe came back with an upward stroke cutting a beast in two, spraying glowing green alien blood in every direction. 

He slashed back down and sideways with the agility of a robot assassin; his augmented arms and upper torso handling the heavy weapon like it was a cyber-knife. 

Tinos Ragnar threw a plasma charge down the hall. It hit the ceiling and bounced off the left wall coming to rest on the floor about twenty meters away. The dampeners in the soldiers face shields darkened as the charge evaporated everything within a fifteen meter area. 

There in a twisted tangle were at least twenty bodies, some still scratching the floor in an effort to reach their prey. Some of the mortally wounded ones screamed like beaten children, their voices high pitched and shrill.

The creatures would not be detoured, but kept on rushing over the fallen. Somehow some ran along the walls and ceiling like geckos. With long claws and pearl white pointed teeth that curved inward, they slashed, ran and closed in for the kill.

In the center of the mêlée, Broshen Kiliko pulled out of his pack two large tubes. He quickly screwed them together and added a snap trigger. He pulled from the pack two power cells and placed one into the slot at the rear of the heavy weapon and the other where he could reach it quickly. 

In the hall the noise of las-gun fire and the screeching, screaming creatures was enough to make the ears bleed but over the din Broshen Kiliko stood up and yelled, ‘Get down!’ 

The response was instant. As everyone ducked, the sheer mass of the oncoming horde was exposed. Kiliko hefted the weapon onto his shoulder and clicked the snap trigger. The weapon wined then fired a blast that lit up the hall like a super nova. 

With fluid movements he quickly turned on his heel and extracted the used power cell. Dropping it and replacing the slot with the next power cell in its place, he fired once more. 

He smiled inside his helmet and casually began disassembling the plasma cannon. The ceiling, walls and floor had become a super heated cylinder that glowed red with melted ironworks and body parts that protruded in every imaginable direction, having been trapped in the solidifying area. 

Everyone slowly stood up, guns still at the ready. They looked in shock at the after effect of Kiliko’s action. 

They lowered their weapons then turned slowly and just stared at Kiliko. ‘You’re fragging crazy to fire that thing in this closed in area!’ Izak Zimmal said almost laughing.

Chapter 14

‘Anything?’ Corporal Daton Gremen asked as he stepped cautiously past a desiccated corpse.

‘Not that I can see, Sir.’ Joseiah Freeshin responded quietly, slowly panning from right to left intent on the surroundings before him. 

Charsail Greylox moved cautiously past one of the piles of corpses. He was aware that something was watching him as he moved through the darkness even as he looked around slowly in every spectrum that his helmet had available. 

Beneath the corpses something stirred. It was not obvious, but the movement was there. Charsail Graylox started to step back and away from the corpses. As he moved his foot snagged the webs that lay around him. The webbing clung to his boot. He tried to get it off but the webbing was strong and stuck to his hand.

The vibrations of his steps and the dragging of the web singled him out as prey. 

In the blink of an eye ten bodies lifted and a barbed stinger lashed out and stabbed Greylox through the back. His chest burst in a spray of black blood as the tip of the stinger exploded through his chameleon-armor. 

He didn’t have time to scream before he was pulled off his feet and yanked into the pile of the dead. In the blink of an eye Greylox was gone. 

Freeshin yelled in his vox, ‘Everyone, stop now! Don’t move!’ The others knew something had happened but not what exactly. On the verge of panic they did what they were told. ‘Gremen, the webbing, don’t any of you step in the webbing!’

Bryan Griffen had stepped wrong and was losing his balance; he would fall if he did not shift his weight. The webs were stuck to his boot.

Freeshin saw what was happening, ‘I said don’t move!’ he yelled, but it was too late. 

Griffen took half a step back in order to balance himself. With the movement of his foot, the strings of the web were pulled. The pile of corpses near Bryan Griffen seemed to well up as one multi-headed, multi-limbed body. 

Griffen fired his las-gun wildly in the direction of the movement! It happened so quickly he didn’t see what it was he was firing at. The las-shots slammed into the maggot filled bodies of the dead, spraying their decomposing flesh and ichor everywhere. 

Eight legs flashed out as the warp spider jumped. With its two front legs it snatched Griffen from his feet and pulled him under the pile of morbidity. With its fangs it injected its venom.

In that moment Bryan Griffen’s nightmare truly began. His body began to paralyze, but his mind did not. He could see as with eyes that were not his own. He saw things from a thousand angles from two thousand eyes.

His soul had become linked with those who had become the flesh-shell of the spiders from the warp. He wanted to scream and in his mind he did; his voice blending with the soul screams of thousands of others. 

The warp spider lashed out with its long, barbed stinger as Antoni Cheelo tried to make a help Griffen. The stinger pierced Cheelo between the ribs. He convulsed in shock and instinctively began firing his las-gun illuminating the area. Most of the shots went wild, but some connected with the exposed underbelly of the creature.

Joseiah Freeshin fired his sniper-rifle from the entrance of the room. Each shot was a heavy round that exploded through the exoskeleton of the warp spider causing it to retract its barbed stinger and retreat into its shield of corpses. 

Antoni Cheelo convulsed as he vomited into his helmet. His body cramped and buckled onto the floor. He died quickly but painfully from the poison’s potency.

Freeshin fired again into the pile of the dead. The bodies ruptured from the impacts of the heavy rounds. 

Daton Gremen had made up his mind. He knew that if he moved he would die, but he also knew that the lives of his friends depended upon him completing the mission.

The generators had to be turned on or the mission would be severally hampered. With that in mind he began to run to the small room where inside the generators set cold from lack of use. 

To his surprise he made it into the generator room. Small spiders crawled along the floor and ceiling and ran down the wall. They crawled all over his chameleon-armor as well. They moved with purpose as they sought for an opening in which to enter into. 

There were three levers, all in the down positions and a button that glowed red. He punched the button and quickly lifted the levers. The button turned green and the generators knocked twice. Then a thrump, thrump, thrump began. 

The inside of the room lit up with a dim, wan light that bathed the room in an eerie sickly glow. 

The mission was complete. Electricity had been reestablished with the first two levels and with the flow of power the computers were even now coming back on line.

Daton Gremen watched as the small clear spiders circled his arms and hands. He could see them running along his visor. Their venom ran down his faceplate and smoked as the acidic nature of it melted tiny pinpricks through the top layers of the thick glass.

His adrenaline was up and so was his fear. He knew he was trapped in the small room. Those things were out there waiting for him. But to stay here was certain death as well. With that in mind he controlled his fear and moved through the opening of the room. Readying his weapon he looked towards the entrance and began to run for his life.

The machines had begun to run from the electricity the backup generators produced. The warp spiders had begun to move in an extremely agitated, yet methodical way as soon as the vibrations from the machinery had begun. 

Gimell Marro and Joseiah Freeshin were still firing high powered explosive rounds into the piles of the decomposing, rotted corpses that the warp-spiders fashioned as their homes and shields but the amount of dying flesh between them and the spiders absorbed most of the deadly shots.

As one of the spiders from the warp advanced, it flung the body of one of the former smelter workers at the two men. Marro was struck by a living corpse and knocked against the wall. 

As he tried to get up, one the creatures lunged forward with terrifying speed. Marro pulled a frag grenade even as the fangs of the giant spider plunged into his chest. He felt pain as his soul was being knitted to the other souls trapped in the creature’s webs. 

Moments seemed to stretch into eternity before the grenade detonated and sent the creature back to the hells it came from.

Dalton Gremen ran. 

Gremen could hear the shuffling and dragging of the bodies behind him. Fear incased his heart and the control of his fear unraveled in a flash. Panic stricken he was as a deer before a bear. He was prey and he knew he would die. He could feel it closing on him. He could smell the reek of spoiled meat. 

The smell was like curdled milk coupled with gangrene boiled over a decomposing skunk.

As he ran he ducked a smelting pot that glowed red with liquid steel. The heat was almost too much to bear. Even in passing and protected by the chameleon-armor he wore.

He felt the fetid impurity of the creature even as its shadow fell upon him.

The fear he felt now was worse than any he had felt before as stumbled and fell forward into a molding platform. His adrenaline was pumping so hard he could barely see and his heart was beating so hard it felt like it could explode. 

He could hear Joseiah Freeshin shouting and discharging his weapon, but the sounds around him became distant even as the creature drove its fangs deep into his guts.

Time seemed to slow down as the warp spider’s venom began its work. Daton Gremen’s eyes were opened to the world around him in a new way. He saw it through the eyes of a thousand souls, all screaming for release. 

In the distance, as if from another lifetime and as though through a dream, the sounds of shouting, gunfire and the brutal roar of a chain-ax registered in his mind. 

Gremen felt his body being drug into the warmth of eternity even as the spider was torn apart by the whirring blades of the screaming chain-ax that Captain Michial Meeks expertly wielded. 

Chapter 15

Scout Sergeant Weland Jajo slowly panned from right to left looking through the strong field scope that set above the barrel of his trusted sniper rifle. 

The silver sunlight had broken through the bitter predawn hours like a gray blade through the chest of a great enemy; spilling swirling eddies of blackened purple that rolled through the heavens like a violent blood sea. 

The dark blood purple twisted upon the winds of the universe until it was replaced by the deep reds of eternity. The reds shook off their restraints like a fugitive set free and escaped into the folds of the pinks and violets of a world gone mad.

Slowly the colors faded into the dull gray and silvers know to an alien sun.

Between the cleavage of the great sheer cliffs a mighty river flowed. The suns bright rays chased the shadows down these cliffs seeking retribution for the horrors that they hid.

Jajo swallowed slowly as he watched the ballet of nature’s artwork dancing with the strokes of a brilliant operatic grace. It was the most beautiful sight he had seen in years and it was easy to become lost in its tranquility. 

But at the forefront of his mind he knew this was a Chaos held world that was corrupt, vile and twisted. Nothing was as it seemed for even the trees seemed to live only to corrupt and kill. 

The world of Rexis had not always been this way. Once it was beautiful and reflected the glory of the Emperor. That was before the onslaught of chaos, before the taint. 

Jajo had taken his helmet off and was breathing in the morning aromas that permeated the river valley below the main jungle floor. His features were harsh in the morning light and the small scar that ran the length of his lower lip seemed to cast a brutal shadow along the lower part of his face. 

Already the jungle humidity was almost stifling. Jajo had long dark black hair that glistened sweat that he let run down between his deadpan black eyes. He was looking through his sniper scope; magnification automatically changing from near to far acting as an eye would, focusing perfectly with each movement and tremor of his hand. 

Captain Drea quietly walked up beside him, his chameleon armor, freshly cleaned from the river below mimicked the surroundings seamlessly. Jajo couldn’t see him with his helmet off but he knew he was there none the less.

‘I can hear you a kilometer away, even if I can’t see you.’ Jajo said without taking his eye from the scope. 

‘Even as a child I could never approach without you knowing. How do you do it? Why do you always know where I am?’ Drea asked.

‘You stink.’ Jajo replied as if it were so. Drea chuckled despite the situation. ‘What can you see?’ he asked, now getting to the business at hand. 

‘At the end of the valley, between two massive boulders there’s a water fall with a cave entrance. I think we may have found the way in that we were looking for.’ Jajo said while nodding towards the falls.

‘What are you not telling me?’ Drea could tell by Jajo’s set jaw, there was a problem. 

‘Yea, I think there could be a small problem,’ Jajo said while he detached the scope from his rifle and passed it to Captain Drea. ‘Look up to your right at the dancing shadows on the ledges.’ 

Drea took the scope and put it to his face plate. The scope blurred for a moment then came into focus as it adjusted to his vision calibrations. It magnified to the previous setting. Trees and moss covering black stone blurred slightly, then refocused as he moved the scope to where Jajo had instructed. He let out a small whistle. ‘A small problem?’ He said sarcastically without looking away. 

Coming from the jungles and moving down a trail set in the cliffs a line of men that must have numbered in the thousands flowed behind the waterfall and moved directly into the mouth of the cave.

This was not what Captain Drea had expected to see. From his studies and from the three scouts they had killed earlier he expected half naked blood covered brutes wearing body parts as jewelry. No. What he saw below was far worse. 

These were well armored, well camouflaged, well organized men. He could tell by the way they moved through the foliage that these men were disciplined and battle tested. None moved forward without being covered by the others with them. They moved in silence and like shadows along the cliff trails. 

Scout Sergeant Weland Jajo, Captain Demetrious Drea, and the others watched for seven long hours as the forces of Chaos moved down the cliff face and into the darkness of the cave. 

Finally as the last of the men disappeared into the cave entrance, six men in light armor took up firing positions at well angled positions along the cliffs. They were definitely not going to be taken easily by a normal enemy. 

After five minutes Captain Drea motioned to the others to gather up and move towards the falls but Jajo stopped them. ‘Wait, what are those?’ he said with the calmness Drea had come to understand really meant, ‘WHAT THE FRACK!!!’ 

Drea put the scope to his face shield once more and looked on in horror. 

Twenty human tanks or what used to be human at some point moved into a clearing near the cave entrance. They had taken one of the men from the ranks of Chaos and were pulling him to pieces. The man’s screams could be heard as if he was right beside Drea’s men. 

Blood exploded from the man as his arms were ripped from his shoulders and his legs were pulled from his hips. 

The Chaos Marines chanted in an unknown tongue as they tore the man apart. They painted the rocks and ground with intricate symbols that smoked in the noonday sunlight. The raging river convulsed and bubbled as the man’s body parts were flung into the current. 

Upon the beach the limbless man was revived from his unconscious state and battered upon the shore until his bones were all broken and torn from his flesh.

The giants were covered in thick armor that was matt black. The armor did not reflect the sun, but seemed to pull in the brightness and strangle it with their corruption. 

From what Drea could see from the scope, they wore the horns of rams bore cloven hooves as from animals. They wielded chain swords that were as long as a man was tall along with multi-barreled bolter-cannons from which swung the skulls of men.

They were covered in the flesh of their enemies and bore a standard that held on its rippling cloth a world held in the grip of bestial jaws.

One of the giants stopped and seemed to look directly into the soul of Captain Drea. He felt a chill like nothing he had ever felt before. ‘They are the champions of death! They are Chaos space Marines.’ 

Chapter 16

Within the confined space of sub-level one, ninety of the Ants of Therra were gathered. The wait for the power to be turned on had lasted for over three hours now. The time spent with nothing to do pressed upon the imagination bringing all sorts of terrible scenarios to the forefront of the mind.

The men were well trained; the best Therra had to offer. They were well disciplined and mentally strong, but the taint of Chaos along with the blood soaked floors and walls that bore the crucified and dead, the corpses of the faithful, weighed heavily upon them.

Without the influx of fresh air the sub-level had become stagnant with humidity and the rank smell of rotting meat. 

Upon each of the cadavers the unblinking eye had been etched deep into the foreheads and bones of the skulls and strange markings that hurt the eyes and caused the minds to become blank and devoid of clarity wormed their way along the torsos of their putrescent flesh. 

Each of the men turned their gaze away from the tainted flesh that lined the walls and prayed to their God for protection against the evils that sought to corrupt their souls.

The lack of action was put wisely to use by Chief Medical Officer Malici Zilar and his team of apothecaries. 

Though the injuries had been few, each one had been taken seriously lest infection spread and more imposing distractions become persistent.

Mason Corr, one of the medics, had found a few chairs for those that had been lightly wounded to sit in and gather their strength for the next advance. Many of them did not want to sit, but when the Chief Medic gave an order about health and safety it was like getting an order from the General himself.

As Zilar tended one of the men, he noticed movement along the wall behind the patient. The others nearby began to notice the movement as well. 

A single beetle about the size of a child’s fist had dropped from the ceiling vent and had flown across the room to land upon the bloodied wall. 

Its shell was obsidian black and covered with small thorn-like points. The buzz of its wings suddenly stopped and the insect began to scrape against the cold dry blood beneath it.

Zilar stooped down and picked it up in his gauntleted hand. The creature stirred and clicked its mandibles with ear-piercing effect. The dampeners in the headgear of those nearby engaged and cut out the terrible noise the creature made.

Tunston Jurgish, one of those that had been lightly wounded, leaned forward and started to touch the beetle, but withdrew his hand quickly as the bug spat upon his gloved finger. The acid bit into the chameleon armor and caused it to smoke. ‘You sure their alright, there not gonna try to eat us or something, are they?’ he asked while wiping the acid off on the floor. 

Zilar didn’t answer; he just turned the beetle over in his hand and mumbled something to himself. To the eyes, the beetle was just a beetle, black with a hard exoskeleton, six legs, and four wings and, well this was different. It had a large head with four eyes and a wide mouth part with a long tongue-like thing lashing back and forth. Zilar touched the tongue then quickly pulled his hand back as the creature spat at it. 

‘You want me to burn um?’ Timar Throkk asked, holding his flamethrower eagerly. 

‘No, I don’t think this isn’t a threat us.’ Zilar noted Throkk hunch his shoulders as if he had just been mortally wounded. He knew how much Throkk loved the flame. ‘I have a strong feeling you will need all the fuel you have for later, on worse things then this beetle.’ He said, trying to comfort Throkk. 

‘Alright, but I still think I should torch um.’ he said and turned to walk over to where he had been sitting. 


Another beetle buzzed along the shadowed room, accompanied by two or three more. As time passed more of the insects joined them until like a mass of bodies they flooded the area. 

Driven by the carrion and the smell of dead flesh the creatures covered the corpses and begat to feed. Within minutes the beetles were pouring out of the air-ducts like a black waterfall. They were falling off of one another and slamming hard on the bloody floor. There were hundreds of thousands of them crawling and scurrying and flying around the room, eager to join the feast that was before them. 

The Major stepped out of the monitoring station to see what the commotion was about. The floor was almost ankle high as the river of beetles swirled and swarmed over everything and everyone. 

All of the men were being distracted by the carrion feeders and had become extremely vulnerable. Some of the men were laughing as the creatures crawled over them while others were frantically batting them away, nervous that they could chew through their thin armor and consume them.

‘Stay sharp!’ he hissed at them. ‘I will shoot you myself for your lack of discipline!’ Instantly the men remembered there were worse things than being overrun by beetles. 

After twenty minutes the beetle sea began to subside. Only the bones remained of the crucified bodies upon the walls. Every drop of blood and every shred of flesh had been consumed by them. No one had ever seen anything like this before. ‘Blood beetles.’ Zilar said to himself. 

The lights flickered and came on illuminating the room in an eerie bone white glow. Each of the men clicked off their night vision and allowed themselves a moment of consideration.

In the light they could see better the skeletons that lined the walls. Their open mouths and darkened eye sockets bore witness to the atrocities they had been a part of.

The men bowed their heads and allowed their prayers to be heard. ‘May the Emperor’s light guide those who died for their faith. Amen. 

General Joseph Machais, Major Ri Shun and Sergeant Omais Quavel, along with the other captains and scout leaders of the unit were in the limited office space trying to find the best rout to take to reach the main generators situated at sub-level ninety-seven. 

As the men studied the maps available to them from the computer’s memory they found that the only maps on record only descended down sixty-seven floors. The cameras that still worked, only gave their view of the dark underworld as far below as sub-level forty-eight. 

The pictures they showed could not be described by the unguarded mind and soul. Many of the halls and rooms were filled with the writhing bodies of men, women and children being eaten alive by the forces of Chaos and creatures of unimaginable terrors from the deepest regions and the darkest pits of the warp.

The last working camera shed its light in the hall of the seventieth level down, revealing a great beast with seven heads and twelve legs, its back bore the wings of something much like a fly, its tail whipped out like a scorpions. 

A long thick chain snaked from the darkness, and then separated into seven leads that were grafted into the warp spawn’s thick necks. 

One of the creature’s heads looked to be almost human as it mouthed something from its wide, thick blackened lips as if it were chanting or screaming. In the cameras light thousands of eyes glistened as they reflected it’s energy. 

There was a deep pool of what looked like blood that the creature bathed in. The General turned his eyes away from the monitor, shaken by what he had seen; fearful of what lay ahead.

The mood in the offices ebbed oppression and discouragement. Machais did not know what the creature was, but he and the others knew that in order to accomplish their mission they would have to confront that thing. 

‘This planet is more than we were led to believe it was.’ Machais began. ‘We have, it appears, been led into a much more grievous thing than Chaos building ships, weapons and armor.’ He stopped and allowed himself to look back into the monitor that showed the halls below.

‘This place has not just been overcome by Chaos, but is now; I believe a conduit for the creatures of the warp. Everything in me said this was a trap, and everything in me says to flee while we still can. But this is exactly what Chaos wants Therra to become! We can’t run to fight another day because if we don’t kill this planet this is what our home will become!’

Everyone knew how to read the maps but Sergeant Omais Quavel was one of the few who were truly able to understand what it was that the architects had intended to accomplish when they built this place. 

Some of the others considered the stair wells, while others suggested the direct approach; head on into the jaws of death and victoriously emerge out the other side.

Sergeant Quavel remained silent for a long time as he watched and listened to the plans presented and also studied the maps. Finally he said, ‘There. With your permission, General, we go through there.’ 

He had stepped forward and pointed at a small vent entrance that opened up in the next hall and descended into the lower depths. Everyone stopped and looked at where he was indicating. 

‘Where does it lead?’ Machais asked. Quavel drew a line with his finger as he ran it down the map to an opening that exited into a small room far below. ‘The vent ends there. We exit into this small room and enter the hall that we see below. If we live through the confrontation with that thing,’ he paused for effect, ‘We cross and go to the end of the hall, into the end chamber, there. At this point we find the drainage pipe and crawl through it until we reach our objective.’ 

The General shook his head, ‘Can you not find another way down, Sergeant?’ 

‘Yes sir. There are lots of ways down, but we will be fighting for days in order to stave off the enemy. Based on these maps, General, this is also the most direct rout to our objective.’ 

Machais nodded, ‘Well then, down we go.’ He said determinedly. 

Chapter 17

Therra’s Pride set invisible to the naked eye and to any land based censors that may still be active from the planet below. Therra’s technology, developed over generations had been put to good use, their mimic capabilities even having been applied to large war capable vessels. 

The cloak around the mammoth ship hid them well by bending the darkness of space and cosmic light. 

Above the blighted planet, Therra’s Pride sat vigil waiting for the word to be sent for its son’s retrieval. Of course while they waited, they watched. 

The censors and cameras of the great battle-carrier could not see what was happening underground or in the surrounding jungles, but they could see the smoke and destruction the Wasps and the bombers, along with Therra’s Pride’s own guns had caused. 

The smoke from the destruction played havoc with the eyes of Therra’s Pride and obscured direct view of the land based activities. 


Admiral Kregan watched from his throne on the bridge. There were over one thousand cameras that gave eyes to both the inside and outside of the ship and just as many view screens that could be accessed with just a thought. 

For the moment the bridge lights were dim, as were the lights throughout the ship. It was sleep cycle and most of the twenty-four thousand Ants of Therra that were waiting in reserve were trying to stay rested and fresh in the event they were needed. 

While they slept, maintenance workers and servitors concerned themselves with the needed repairs of the Wasps and bombers that had returned from battle, while others refueled and rearmed them. 

All this the Admiral took in with but a glance. Ministering servitors dressed in silk black robes clung to the walls of the bridge, backs facing the bridge and the Admiral. They quietly sang ancient songs or chanted poems or scriptures of the past in an eerie tone that seemed to darken the feel on the bridge rather than minister the Emperors blessings. 

Braziers spilling incense along with low ceremonial flames stood at the corners of the bridge, held secure within bone white pedestals engraved with histories of Therra’s saints who had come and gone on before. 

Admiral Kregan stood and stepped down from his command throne, the medical servitor fallowing close behind, its form draped in a white robe that hid it’s mostly machine body. 

The implants protruding from Kregan’s skull glowed lightly in the dimness and hummed slightly as he felt the ships spirits for weaknesses, there were none. 

His body hurt from the many hours of sitting and watching. He knew he was getting older, but never would admit it to the medical unit. The servitors did not make for wanted company, he reflected, they were to close to the dead walking again, with their hallow eyes and augmetics that deformed their bodies. 

They never spoke unless they were spoken to or in the event of emergency or other useful information, and then only in that hallow, cold, droning sing song voice that used to send shivers down his spine when he was a child, before his own spine was removed and replaced with bio-feeds and synthetic fluids.

He remembered watching his own father waste away in his own command throne years ago, before the advances that he himself now wore. 

Admiral Kregan had become part of Therra’s Pride eighty-five years ago. He still remembered when the implants in his body and the bio-feeds in his brain had come on line with the massive battle-carrier. He remembered what it felt like to begin to feel the very pulse of its powerful engines with their many vibrations and their warp capability. 

He had begun to sense, as if they were and had always been a part of him, the many functions of the battle-carrier, life support, the lights, the powerful weapons with their different capabilities and ammunitions. He remembered the first time he cycled through the cameras, their many images appearing in the giant view screen before him. It was as if he had a thousand eyes, each peering into a different world. 

The excitement he had back then was almost overwhelming. What a mixture of excitement and fear he had when, with the help of the astropath he directed the battle-carrier into the warp and traveled from one galaxy to the next in a matter of days rather than weeks, months or years. 

Now the excitement he had carried back then was still with him, but he also carried years of experience to help him and give him wisdom in all situations. The universe was without end, of this he was sure. And in the universe there were galaxies and planets that were beautiful and glorious, as if the Emperor himself had planned their positions. They were alive and tranquil and full of a pure creation that blessed everyone and everything. 

Kregan also knew there were also places where darkness swallowed the light and wrapped itself around all that was good and pure and squeezed the life from it until it suffocated and died a long and agonizing death. 

This was the Rexis system, once alive and productive in its beauty, now a place of many torments where one could die a thousand deaths before his soul was ripped from his body and the light in his eyes was extinguished forever. That thought alone brought worry to his mind. Only the Emperor himself could understand what horrors the Ants were seeing now at this very moment while he walked his bridge, safe from enemy guns.

Kregan stretched his legs, still watching the giant view screen and waiting for the next faze of the mission. His mind was on a great many things some of which he lingered on more than others. 

He allowed those memories to give him strength in times of hardship. He allowed them to give him solace in times of grief. He hoped he would not have to fall upon those memories too much in the future.

‘There is a disturbance, Admiral.’ said one of the servitors, its eerie voice breaking the Admirals meditation. ‘Where?’ he asked. ‘The disturbance is all around us, Admiral.’ all the servitors said in chorus. 

Kregan pulled his eyes away from the planet’s surface and directed them to look into the darkness of space that surrounded the mighty battle-carrier. All around the Therra’s Pride there appeared to be pools of black and purple swirling about like splotches of blood mixed with wine. 

Warp gates were opening all about, expelling the filth of a universe, vomiting Chaos ships and war-craft by the hundreds. Most were small, but at least twenty could be counted a threat, even to the Therra’s Pride.

They filled the atmosphere around Rexis like predators waiting for a trap to close. Scrap code began to flood the vox-systems seeking to take over the communications arrays and give away their ship’s position. 

Only the Dark Machinicius could wield the sword of scrap code. Only they had the ability to find what could not be found by another’s eyes. With a thought the Admiral terminated the com-signal and shut down the links of communication throughout the Therra’s Pride. 

He watched in horror as the Chaos warships cruisers, transports and supply vessels flooded the Rexis system. Helpless to do anything but watch he tracked their course. 

They plotted a course directly to the resupply cities and refitting docks all about the surface of Rexis. They plotted a course directly toward Bandon.

Admiral Kregan watched as smaller ships broke off from formation and began to move into the direction of the Therra’s Pride. He felt a sudden since of trepidation, had they been discovered already? No; discovery would mean death, the enemy would already be firing upon them if their position had been discovered. But they were searching. 


He knew Therra’s Pride could destroy seven, eight, maybe even ten of the Chaos battle ships, but twenty battle cruisers along with their escorts as well as the smaller vessels…? He knew there wasn’t a chance even if the Emperor himself was piloting the ship. It was only a matter of time before they were discovered and then they would be forced to fight and all those upon the planet’s surface would be condemned to death.


He watched as thousands of pods fell away from the closest ships to Bandon. They were, no doubt, shuttles full of the depraved minions of Chaos. He watched as they burned through the atmosphere and pounded violently into the jungles and clearings that surrounded his brothers. He knew there was nothing he could do to stop it nor was there any hope of warning his brothers. 

Therra had been led into a trap and from the looks of it, the net had been cast almost perfectly. Sixteen thousand of his brothers had been snared. 

With the stealth born from experience, Admiral Kregan directed the Therra’s Pride to withdraw from Rexis space. By the time sleep cycle would end, Therra’s Pride would be far from Rexis, far from Bandon and a lifetime away from saving their brothers. 

Kregan felt worse than ever before, he was sick and the whole ship felt it. He felt like his hearts had just been pulled from him. He felt ashamed and confused like a child that had been beat for doing what he knew was right. He had abandoned his family and given them over to the sons of the warp! 

‘No!’ he thought. ‘Not me,’ he said aloud, drawing the attention of the servitors. He kept the rest of his thought to himself and as soon as he knew the Therra’s Pride was safe, immediately began searching the recordings of the cameras and the vox memories from the ships communications spirits. 

There was a traitor in the mist. There had to be. Someone had leaked the information pertinent to the mission. He would be found! He would pay for the deception. He would pay for the death of his brothers.

******

Except for the sounds of the surrounding jungle and the burning of Bandon, with its ever decreasing explosions and implosions, all had been silent for nearly four hours. There was still the occasional toppling building or the gut wrenching metal on metal sound as ironworks and towers with their foundations destroyed, fell into the streets.

Corporal Timos Zill had monitored communications and maintained contact with Therra’s Pride since their landing but now all he could hear was the static of a signal gone dead. This, more than anything else around him, caused his insides to twist and his nerves to be frayed. 

He had tried for the last hour to regain contact with the ship, but was met with only the frustration of static. ‘Zill to Sergeant Myres, do you read, sir?’ he called into the vox. Sergeant Myres answered instantly, ‘Any word yet?’ he asked. His voice was hard and cold, but still the Corporal could feel the worry in his tone and brusqueness. He could tell that the Sergeant along with everyone else hated it here. The taint of Chaos was stifling and painful just to be around. ‘None yet, sir.’ he answered. He heard a quiet curse, before the Sergeant answered again, ‘Keep trying. Out.’ 

Just like that the vox signal went dead and Zill was left trying to regain contact with Therra’s Pride. 

Sergeant Mikinzy Myres understood that the silence from Therra’s Pride could only mean one of two things. One, the massive battle-carrier had been set upon and destroyed, which was unlikely given the capabilities of the Therra’s Pride or somehow the enemy was hampering their communications. Neither prospect had a good outcome. 

General Machais had talked to the leadership about the possibility of a trap and for everyone to keep their eyes open, but specified that it was only a feeling and there was no proof. Now sergeant Myres had begun to have the same feelings. He tried to contact the General, but for some reason, maybe they were too far down, he was unable to do so using the vox-systems.

He called over two men and wrote a message down for them to deliver. He said, ‘Deliver this message as fast as you can. You must not be stopped. The General must get this message as soon as possible. Do you understand?’ he asked. They both affirmed they understood, and then ran.

The massage read, ‘We have lost contact with Therra’s Pride. There are shadows in the high atmosphere and they descend at speed. It appears the web is sprung and the spiders are coming. What are your instructions, Sir?’ 

When General Machais had received the message and read it, he had to take a moment to register what the implications of the massage were. The muscles in his jaw tightened and twitched for a moment and his augmetic arm and hand flexed in the unconscious movements that come with stress. 

He took a long breath and forced himself to relax as much as was possible in this horrid place and waited for about two minutes while he considered what to advise his Sergeant to do. Quickly he wrote a message on the paper the runners had given him, folded it and gave it back to the runners. ‘Return this message to Sergeant Myres. Be as discrete as possible. Are my orders clear?’ he asked. ‘Yes, Sir.’ they affirmed, than left quickly back the way they had come. 

Major Ri Shun was with the General when the message had been received. He had read it also and had remained silent until after the runners had gone. He stared into the blackness of the ventilation shaft they were about to descend into and said, ‘Better to die with honor than to die asleep in the safety of my own bed.’ 

Machais answered in return, ‘I have no intention of dieing in this place.’ He then gave the command, ‘We’ve got to move now! Caution it seems is against us. Throkk, you have point, I’ve sent for reinforcements and extra promethium, burn everything that isn’t us!’ Timar Throkk smiled and hefted his heavy flamer, tied himself onto the firmly secured line and crawled headfirst into the tight fitting shaft. 

Chapter 18

Within the ruined structures of the south side of Bandon, Scout Captian Klerser Dweir along with his unit of twenty-five men were moving cautiously through the smoldering, smoky streets and alleys of Bandon’s water treatment facilities. 

He truly hated it here in every since of the word. This place was evil and corrupting in every way. Everywhere he looked there was death, not just death from war and the bombing raids or death associated to pestilence or disease, but death like he could never have imagined. 

It was as if the minds at work here presented death in the most crude and imaginative ways and then set the corpses into sick poses like abstract artwork. There were thousands of corpses stitched to the woodwork or secured to the old red brick walls. 

Many of the corpses had been flayed and left to die. Maggots and worms writhed in their old dry muscles. Flies by the millions buzzed and swarmed nearly as thick as clouds. Many of the bodies had been burned or torn apart during the bombing and were nothing more than ashes. The sight along with the smell made them sick mentally, physically and spiritually. 

So far the unit had not run into any resistance or signs of life in this area. The facilities had been abandoned quickly, so it seemed. 

His team moved through the alleys and streets in an overlapping pattern, three at a time. High walls that held small windows overlooking the alleyway stood to either side. 

In their chameleon armor the unit moved quickly and efficiently. Distrillas Sol, one of the scouts that had been sent ahead, motioned an all stop as they approached a loading dock at the end of the long alley.

He and two others had climbed up the battered metal stairs in order to gain control of the dock. Dressal Car had noticed motion inside the doorway and alerted the others. Scout Captian Klerser Dweir stepped into the doorway cautiously. 

There, in the shadows was the movement again, a fluttering of wings stirring the dust from the floor, shelves and the air around its position. Such light as there was ebbed through the low hanging smoke-clouds and stabbed its way through small holes and cracks in the thin building’s steel roof, further exposing the dust in the air. 

As they entered the old warehouse the three scouts spread out, one along the east wall, one along the west and the other moved quietly between them. The rest of the unit held their positions outside the building. The shadows coiled within themselves as the wraiths moved amongst them. The fluttering of featherless wings sounded like old parchment upon the stones of a sanding mill. 

The floor was covered in fresh ash and old dust, almost an inch deep. The smell of old death and suffering permeated the air. Iron shelving units holding old molds of machine parts and tools used for the building of those machines stood in row upon row for as far as the eye could see until finally fading into the darkness beyond. 

Distrillas moved silently past two of these shelving units keen to the sounds in the building; the fluttering of the creature ahead, the creaking of the rafters and walls from the wind outside and the thunderous snap of the bone he stepped on that had been buried in the dust. 

At once the fluttering of the creature stopped. All three scouts stopped as well. Distrillas knew his position had been compromised and as silently and quickly as he could, made an effort to move east along a small isle that ran past a small generator and another shelving unit. 

Klerser noticed Distrillas and gave an emphatic motion to stop moving but it was too late, the creatures they were hunting had begun to hunt them. 

As the creature swooped down, it opened its massive jaws and bit powerfully through the chameleon armor, taking Distrillas head and neck down to between his shoulder blades. The crunch and snap of its jaws echoed loudly throughout the buildings interior. Klerser was in a momentary shock, stunned by what he had seen. The creature had been totally silent and had found Distrillas so quickly it was obvious their armor was not hiding them from the creatures observant eyes. 

Dressal Car fired a shot from his powerful sniper rifle from across the wide warehouse room. The heavy round slammed into the head of the flying creature, reducing it to pulp. It fell, floundering in the dust for about half a minute, its wings stirring up a dust cloud that took several minutes to clear. 

Klerser snapped out of his shock and brought his weapon to bear. He scanned through the rafters above, numb to the moment. Another creature was fling silently down; its jaws open to satisfy its thirst for blood. Klerser pulled the trigger of his las-gun, blowing a massive hole through the creature’s chest and through its heart. He fired three more times into the creature as it fell. 

Klerser walked boldly towards it as it flailed and slashed on the floor. ‘I’m not going to die like that you miserable fragger.’ he said and then fired again blowing the creature’s head off. He stopped and looked around. The unit had moved in quickly when Dressal had called for backup and had closed in around Klerser as his last shot was fired. ‘I’m not going out like that.’ Klerser said. Than walked away. 

The water treatment facilities must have gone on for kilometers and descended into a thousand different tunnels and halls and waterways. Captian Klerser Dweir’s unit had been joined by two other unites in their effort to secure Bandon’s waterways. 

After leaving the warehouse district Captain Klerser and received news of the inability to gain contact with the Therra’s Pride. His orders were to find defendable positions within Bandon’s water ways: a place for them the remainder of the 35th and the 39th infantries to hold out until communications were reestablished. 

General Machais had given instructions and orders to the runners in the massage that had been given to Sergeant Myres. They all knew they were in too deep to get out now; trapped on this insane planet, surrounded by the Emperors enemies, being hunted by creatures of the warp and without hope of reinforcements or extraction upon completion of the mission.

But they also knew they were one of the greatest fighting forces that had ever been in existence. They had enough firepower and ammunition to last them for days and water wasn’t hard to find. Food rations could become a problem if the oncoming battle was to become long lasting. 

It had already been presumed the Tharra’s Pride had left orbit for the enemy shuttles could be seen falling through the stratosphere. 

While the three units consisting of one hundred and fifty men explored the labyrinth of the treatment facilities, nearly thirteen thousand Ants of Therra dug in and positioned themselves to defend attack and kill the enemy that was already slamming down in their massive shuttles throughout the nearby jungle. 

If any of the Ants of Therra survived this it would quickly become one of the greatest stories ever told of Therra’s history.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Chapter 19*

Chapter 19 

“Save me, O God, for the floodwaters are up to my neck. Deeper and deeper I sink into the mire; I can’t find a foothold to stand on. I am in deep water and the floods overwhelm me. I am exhausted from crying for help; my throat is parched and dry. My eyes are swollen with weeping, waiting for my God to help me. Those who hate me without cause are more numerous than the hairs on my head.” A Psalm of King David in the days when kings ruled. 

***

Of those who had been sent to restart the generators, only Freeshin and Gremen had returned. They had been saved from certain death by Captain Meeks and those who were with him. Machais and the others could smell the scent of death, blood and filth upon them. 

Freeshin carried his rifle tensely and moved with a ruggedness that came from seeing too much and moved stiffly behind several of Captain Meeks men as they carried a stretcher attended by the two medics that had accompanied Meeks. On the stretcher, covered in blood and gore from the warp spider and the piles of the dead, lay Tech-Sergeant Gremen. He was clearly in a bad way and had been doped to ease the pain that consumed him.

Ban Seelin, one of the medics, spoke to the Chief Medic about the state Gremen was in. ‘He won’t live through the hour do to the blood loss and the toxins of the warp creature.’ he said, trying not to raise his voice. Malici Zilar nodded his head and said a quick prayer for the dead and dieing. 

Machais took Gremen by the hand and blessed him for finishing his mission. Gremen’s ashen face was twisted in pain and the understanding of his fate, but he smiled as he received his General’s blessing, then slipped into a deep sleep from which he would never return. 

Joseiah Freeshin, Captain Mekelle Meeks and the others that were sent to aid them were allowed a few moments to rest as the others slipped into the ventilator shaft that led into the foul darkness below. 

Throkk led the way down the steeply declining vent shaft, fallowed by the rest of the insertion team that amounted to about ninety skilled warriors. Each man had tied himself to the thick line and descended together as one. They kept as silent as they could and only communicated by hand signs, but to everyone the sounds of their descent seemed like the thunder of the ocean. 

At every level there were lead offs where the branches of ventilation shafts coupled with the main trunk that was now being used by the insertion team as they made their way below. Everyone’s night vision had been activated automatically as the darkness closed in around them, giving the impression that everything was tinted in a lightly glowing green light. 

The turquoise-blue pilot flame flickered slightly in front of Throkk as he crawled downward through the dust. The farther down they went the heat and humidity began to increase causing the dust to melt into a sticky clay that clung to the soldier’s armor, then finally the clay became a sludgy slippery mess filled with black fungus and small dark red mushrooms that plumed a strange toxic pollen that would frequently fill and clog the respirators of the first few leading men. 

The filters would have to be cleaned every few meters. This process took up valuable time, but Throkk had already tried flaming them from a safe distance. This caused the mushrooms to burst and their pollen to become an acidic waxy past that began to melt through the vent shaft walls. 

Each level had its own distinct smells and horrific sounds. Some levels were totally quiet while others were filled with screams and shouts of men possessed cursing all that was pure. There would be the sounds of men vomiting, others barking and still the sounds of moaning that could only be described as the suffering of those who were still loyal to the throne of Terra.

Spiders crawled through the vent shaft the men descended. They were nearly clear except for the eye of the damned upon their backs. They crawled over the men looking for weaknesses in their armor, trying to bite and kill their chosen prey.

Freeshen knew these spiders and nearly froze from the fear of them, but he mastered himself and carried on despite the terror they invoked. Thick webs began to melt away as Throkk momentarily ignited his flamer and screams could be heard from the dying spiderlings as the flames came into contact with them. 

Slowly the threat of the arachnids faded away as the men progressed deeper into the foundations of Bandon.

Somewhere between the forty-seventh level and the fiftieth death came for them.

As the men descended, something slithered sickly against the outside of the vent. It scratched unnervingly against the thin metal of the shaft as it wound itself around the duct work. The sound of plaster popping and cracking as the creature wormed its way around the metal-works could be heard like gunshots and hammer blows upon an anvil as the creature anxiously sought an entrance into the confines that held its prey. 

The sounds of crimping ductwork and bursting, falling plaster could be heard as well as felt through the vibrations quaking as the ventilation shaft shook from the creatures octopus-like probing as it made its way ever higher through the walls, until at last a weakness had been discovered. 

The force of the violent twisting constriction crushed the ductwork just above the perceived weakness, leaving a gap large enough for the creature to insert it‘s iron-like appendages. The smell the creature produced as it attacked was of ammonia and oil that cut through the men’s ventilators. Eyes began to tear up and burn as the beast descended through the shaft with the sound of a thousand screaming voices. Each of the appendages was lined with razor sharp claws that punctured large holes through the metal as it descended upon the terrified men below. It was like an octopus pulling a cork from the top of a bottle as it made its way inside. 

With its pigmentless tentacles it reached for those at the top of the column. The men’s night vision cast the creature in a sickly green glow as it seemed to fall down upon their heads. The men nearest the warp beast quickly began firing their weapons into its churning body but with no effect. Because of the lack of maneuverability and the fact that each man was tied on vertically one above the other, there was nothing the main mass of soldiers could do but listen to the frantic bursts of weapons being fired and the screams of Brok, Mizor and Rugall as the creature wrapped it’s powerful tentacles around their bodies with unimaginable strength, pulling them from the line like grapes from the vine and withdrawing back into the darkness where it came from. 

Their screams could be heard for several minutes as they were deboned alive and eaten at the creatures’ leisure. 

When the creature returned it came like a flood of poison and malice. Its tentacles grasped the next three men with unstoppable force, crushing their bones even as it pulled them from the line. Freeshin had been the fourth man from the top when the unholy beast assailed them. He had pulled his las-gun to fire but could not get a clear shot. As the creature pulled at the men, one of them, in an effort to survive had kicked frantically, striking Freeshin’s head violently, the blow knocked him unconscious for a short time. Captain Meeks detached himself from the line and climbed up the column until he was above Freeshin. He then reattached himself to the line and took up the best defendable position that he could. 

A talon stretched down like corrupted lightning and struck at him but with the sound of hate and the chain-axe in his hand he cut the appendage in two. Clear blood drenched both he and Freeshen bathing them in toxic liquid that smoked upon their Chameleon armor. The creature screamed like an abused baby and retracted its severed tentacle along with the others it had taken before. 

Captain Mekelle Meeks had no fear inside of him, only hate for the beast and the warp where it came from. All fear, love and desire had been stripped from him at the loss of his family so many years ago. Now his only purpose, his only prayer was to kill as many of the Emperor’s enemies as possible. 

Freeshin awoke with a start and screamed as if he was in a nightmare he could not escape. Meeks put a hand onto Freeshin’s shoulder and comforted him as much as possible. After a few moments Freeshen calmed himself and regained his composure. As vulnerable as they all felt, no one judged Freeshen for the outburst. They all were feeling the stress of the situation. They had no choice but to move on and hope in the mercies and protection of the Emperor of man. As they approached the sixtieth level down they began to hear the sound of drums and loud chanting from thousands of different voices. The drums reverberated corrosively through the entire ventilation system, echoing to the entire underground network of Bandon. Answering drums and concussions returned in force from other halls and floors where the worshipers of death stirred for their destruction of the men of Therra. 

The insertion team was now only a walls width from where many of the Chaos armies had retreated to. They listened as the cruelest of voices were raised in worship of their daemon god and the drums intensified to a deafening thunder. It was obvious to Machais that time was becoming their worst enemy, because as each minute passed, Chaos, with the beasts of the warp were closer to a victory that could mean an end to the remaining Ants of Therra.


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