The Conclave

Demos sat in near darkness a servo skull with a small spot light hovered over his shoulder as he worked in silence his fingers moving over the object in his hands carefully cleaning it with a selection of tools, he stopped and examined the objected his eyes narrowing and he carefully studied the item in his hand a weak smile crossed his lips as he stood checking his crimson robe before moving across the chamber the light of the skull following him he came to a halt before a table speaking as the skull hovered behind him a short distance.

"Illuminate."

The lights came on bathing the chamber in darkness on the table before him lay a suit of power armour the damage wrought to it repaired by the Deathwatch tech adepts, he looked down upon it and reached out a hand pressing the object onto the chest plate, his eyes moved over the suit resting in the heraldry of it fully restored to the Chapter it had once belonged, the surface was black with white markings save for the single silver shoulder pad on the right pauldron the suit was as it would have been on issue to a new marine. He removed his hand from the breastplate leaving the honourific in place, he move round the armour looking at the chapter markings a closed silver fist marking it as belonging to the Iron Hands, the name inscribed under the fist was Rant, he brushed a finger over it removing some rogue specks of dust, he had spent each day of their journey working the armour where the tech adepts had sealed the armour he had reworked the plates to their former glory, the black was polished to a dark sheen the whites brilliant and the silver glowed with a lustre of freshly forged steel. He looked over the armour his eyes lifting from the armour as the chamber doors hissed open.

"Apothecary Janus."

The apothecary stood in silhouette but entered the room his face was stern and creased with age he walked with a pronounced limp despite the bionic that had at some point in his past replaced his left leg. His armour like all apothecaries was bone white the rights arm deathwatch silver and his helm which hung at his waist was obsidian black, in regular service Janus was a son of Dorn a member of the Imperial Fists, he stopped a short distance from Demos out of respect.

"I have prepared our fallen brother."     

Demos nodded and a pair of menials brought in Rant's body upon a grav table the mechanism hummed with a deep throb as they bore him to the table which held his armour, Demos looked down upon the body Janus had done his best the, rends in his flesh had been sewn neatly together and the damage from the life eater had been masked and halted, looking at the damage from the life eater Demos' hand floated to his own side where he still bore the scar from his fight with Rant.

"You have my thanks brother, have the others been made aware?"

"Not yet I thought you would insist on that burden."

He nodded again pulling the sheet up over Rant's face.

"There are those who wish to add their own honours to mine."

Janus nodded and with a dismissive gesture sent the menials on their way before following them out leaving Demos alone with the dead he rested a hand on Rant's shoulder.

"You have the Emperor's peace. Stand proud at his side my brother."

He strode from the chamber uttering as he left.

"Darken."

The lights died leaving Rant in darkness, Demos strode through the strike cruiser it was home to nine task forces each allocated to a section of the ship, the strike cruiser acted as a staging point for each task force, it had been home to task force Demos for close to a month as they awaited their newest members Demos had requested replacements for losses and had selected a number of new marines to replenish their ranks, his walk took him to the private cells of his brothers to one in particular he paused in front of cell bulkhead his eyes drifting to the name stamped into the metal.

Artos

His hand rose to rap upon the door when a voice called out.

"Lord Demos."

He paused and turned to Matthias as he came down the companionway towards him, he held in his hands a dataslate he paused looking at the door to Artos' cell.

"Forgive my interruption my lord, but word has come from the Commander."

He offered Demos the dataslate and Demos read the words on it quickly his eyes moving rapidly as he took in the details.

"All nine, this is something big."

"It seems that way my lord, the other forces are already preparing for the briefing."

He nodded and handed the slate to Matthias.

"You have full access to the mission details within an my full authority to prepare the strike forces equipment as is required in the mission mandate, alert the rest of the force to assemble in the aft hangar in full battle armour for honour guard detail before mission briefing."

"Yes my lord."

He waited until he was alone again then rapped his hand on Artos' cell door, a growl came from beyond and he entered looking around the cell as he stepped through the threshold, the cell was in ruins Artos had withdrawn himself after the mission spending much of it in solitary meditation his anger at Rant's death had spilled out into the room his cot was shattered the walls marred by his fury and blood, only his armour stood untouched a perfect status in amongst the chaos within, Artos himself was hunched over like feral predator of old he looked at Demos as though he wanted nothing more than to pounce on him and tear his throat from his body, one the door shut he straightened his face still a mask of hurt and anger.

"Rant is ready to be returned to Medusa."

"I have yet to give my honours to him."

The voice was a low growl threatening almost Demos ignored the implied and promised violence and continued.

"That is why I am here, don your armour and attend your brother in the arming chamber, together you and I will walk Rant on the beginning of his last journey."

Artos stoo in silence and he touched his shoulder.

"We all carry the burden of his loss, but he died a Hero of the Imperium and stands at the Emperor's side."

The pair looked into each others eyes then Demos broke from the gaze and turned.

"I've ordered the rest of the task force to form an honour guard for Rant as we pass him onto his brothers from the Iron Hands."

He stepped from the cell letting out a slow sigh before heading for his own cell and his own armour.

Artos stood there, staring at the sorry remains of Rant. The apothecary had done well, but nothing could fully disguise the great tears in Rant's flesh.

Perhaps nothing should, thought Artos.

He bent down and brushed Rant's scarred cheek, running his armoured fingers over a series of stitches. He pulled one out, and a thin trickle of blood flowed over Rant's face.

"You, once my brother, have sought to be by the Emperor's side. Long ago, He promised us that we would all be a member of a great brotherhood, not only brothers-in-arms, but brothers in blood also. I take your blood, so that you may live on as part of this. The life is in the blood. Your blood in me, your life in me, you will live on, through me."

Artos bent lower, so his face was by Rant's ear. "You will not have died to no purpose, brother."

He moved his head across Rant's face, then locked his mouth over the small cut. He drank, pulling what little blood had not already flowed out of Rant into his mouth. The rich metallic salt-taste of Rant's blood filled Artos' mouth.

He stepped back, and swallowed. He did not wipe the stains from around his mouth. To do so would be to dishonour Rant's last gift.

Artos swept the remaining blood off Rant's cheek, and used it to sketch a small fist on his own cheek. Later he would get one of the serfs to give him a tattoo.

He bowed to Rant, and looked at him one last time. "Goodbye, Matej Rant, ever faithful brother. You will be remembered."

Artos turned and walked into the corridor leading to his private cell.

He didn't look back. 

Demos stopped short when he reached his own chamber, as stood waiting outside was Brother Hunrik in full battle gear, his helmet hanging from his hip.

"Captain." said Hunrik smartly when Demos came into sight, snapping to attention.

"At ease brother. Is there something the matter?"

Hunrik produced a dataslate which he handed over to the Captain. "I'm sorry to report that I have been transferred out of your detail Captain."

Demos nodded, slightly surprised, he looked down and scanned through the file. It definitely stated that Hunrik was to be transferred immediately, but under the section which would normally describe the reason and the new destination, a 'Strictly Classified' symbol was instead placed. The Captain frowned momentarily, but then sighed at the inevitable secrecy involved when working with the Inquisition such as the Deathwatch constantly did.

"Very well brother. When will you be leaving us then?"

"The frigate Warp Chaser will be collecting me shortly after the repatriation of Brother Rant." answered Hunrik solemnly. "I don't like to leave the squad at such a time, but I'm sure you understand that I don't have any say in the matter."

"Of course Hunrik, of course." Demos placed a hand on Hunriks shoulder, "It has been an honour to meet a hero of the Watch such as you."

"It has been my honour to serve you, Captain."

Demos nodded, removing his hand from Hunriks shoulder before shaking hands with the veteran. "The Iron Hands arrive in an hour. I'll leave it to you to inform the rest of the squad of your imminent departure."

"Of course Captain."

With that Hunrik bowed his head slightly to the Captain, then turned and strode down the corridor, Demos watched him go for a moment, sighing again as he entered his chambers, it was a shame to be loosing someone of Hunriks skill and experience from the squad, hopefully the newcomers would be able to make up for their recent losses.

There was nothing to say, no words that could adequately express the significance of an Astartes death. Laran felt a curious mixture of emotions, regret, anger, joy and indifference. Stripped down of all memory, all thought and consciousness, to the very core of who Tane Laran was he felt nothing for the passing of this mighty hero of the Imperium and yet out of that eternal oblivion of the soul came emotion so pure and strong it could not be named, not described.

Stripped down to a waistcloth Laran did not need an augmitter to let forth a terrible, inchoate howl, a long mournful wail to send Rant to the other place. There was one final act left to do. Strung with beads Laran placed the polished jaw of the Broodlord around Rant's neck. Seeing the Iron Hand die he had known he had to secure the aliens skull for preperation. The spirit of the alien beast would be forever chained to Rant's soul and he would be able to present it as a trophy to the Immortal Emperor when he took his place by His side.

The shuttle was poorly lit, and the human eyes of the Inquisitorial serf could only make out the rough shape of the Space Marine sat across from him.

The warrior had changed out of the long robes he had worn throughout the rest of the journey, and instead stood encased within the distinctive armour of the Astartes. It was possibly the first time the serf had seen the Marine without the face obscuring hood, but the shadows that dominated the surroundings did an equally good job of hiding any facial features. Even that indistinct glimpse was quickly lost as the solider picked up the helmet that sat next to him, and fitted it to his head, obscuring his face completely.

Following on, he loaded his bolter, his hands moving with the practised motions of a bicentennial warrior, each movement a precise echo of the million times it had been done before. He pressed the loaded bolter to his right thigh, where a series of magnetic clamps engaged to hold the weapon in place. It was a design that allowed the apothecary to free his hands for his work, but it had its other uses.

The Marine then turned his attention to the parts of his Narthecium, which unfolded and shifted around as his armour responded to the mental signals carried by the black carapace. Satisfied that it was all in order, he looked up at the serf, the Narthecium folding itself back into its inactive position with a disturbing life of its own.

The human audibly breathed a sigh of relief when with a dull whine, the door of the shuttle opened, drawing the Marine's attention. Light washed in, allowing the serf to see the Marine's armour clearly for the first time.
While the soldier carried the equipment of the apothecary, the Marine's armour was not the pure white normally associated with the rank - it was largely green, with only a white helmet and the right shoulder pad bearing the normal red and white motif of the Apothecary.

However, the opportunity to inspect the bulky figure came to an abrupt halt as the Marine stepped out of the shuttle, leaving the serf still harnessed into his seat. He had seen Marines many a time, but this one didn't fit the pattern - something was different.

~~~~~

Stood within the hangar, Vifer D'Nim watched as the readouts from his medical auspex scrolled past, giving him an array of information transmitted from the armour of Marines in the vicinity. The majority of the numbers flashing past were unremarkable - within expected parameters for Astartes not in a combat situation.

Turning to the keypad on his left arm, he adjusted the readouts, bringing up more in-depth information on those around him. The new data scrolled up on the internal display of his helmet, highlighting various abnormalities as it went.

D'Nim's disgusted sneer went unseen, lost behind his helmet.

He strode into the chamber one last time, his armour had been polished and restored and he'd donned his chosen weapons, his power sword Tempest hung off his left hip, a bolt pistol on his right, over his shoulder he'd hung his own bolter while he carried Rant's in his hand he also held a long case in the other.
Rant still lay next to his armour and Demos strode forward he placed the case down on the floor and stepped up to the table with rant on it.

"It is time brother to arm you for your last journey."

He lay the bolter down beside the armour and looked to Rant, before silently moving the pieces of armour from the table fixing them around Rant's body locking each piece into place until only the helm remained, Demos lifted the helm and inspected it as the chamber door hissed open, Artos strode in full clad in armour his face hidden behind his helm he walked up to his brother and looked down on him taking the helm as Demos collected up the bolter. He watched as Artos slid the helm onto Rant's head locking it in place finally Demos linked Rant's bolter into his hands. Keying the activation panel on the side of the grav table Rant's body was lowered into the unit a screen closing over him as the stasis field activated.

"I have something for you Artos."

Artos looked to him as he moved to the case lifting it onto the vacant table where Rant's armour had lain he opened it sliding the contents out into his hands, he turned offering the weapon to Artos a finely crafted power axe, a long haft of obsidian inlaid with honourifics of countless battles.

"I fashioned this when I was inducted into the Blood Guard of my chapter, it has long sat in my personal
armoury unused since I was awarded Tempest when I became First Captain."

He tapped the sword on his hip.

"It is custom for us in the Blood Templar's to fashion our own weapons when we reach positions of rank, and tradition dictates that our weapons are an extension of ourselves and that we retain their possession, it has become customary though that should we see the potential for greatness in others that we pass on a weapon to inspire that youth to greater deeds, it is with this in mind Artos that I offer you Heart Reaper."

He let Artos take the weapon feeling the balance in his hand before he spoke again.

"Now take up that banner and lead our brother in his last march."

He gestured at a black banner of the Deathwatch which Artos took up in his free hand standing before the grav table he bowed his head and led the way as Demos walked behind carrying a second banner, his own for the Deathwatch long pennants hung from it each one inscribed with a name of those marines that had served under him during his many years of service, Rants was the newest added in brightest red against the black of the others there were only a few more names in red those brothers who had fallen in combat given the greatest honour of being first noticed, he followe as the grav table hovered behind Artos out into the aft hangar where the rest stood waiting Laran started playing Kah'Brosh the tones deep and mournful the rest of the force came to attention each one armed with a sword the brought them up in salute as Artos led Rant to the waiting transport, ten Iron Hands stood ready their weapons slung at their sides as they watched, three other marines stood to one side watching the display with mixed emotions their armour still of their chapters Demos recognised them immediately, he had after all selected them to join the ranks, Vifer D'Nim of the Astral Jackals Jopha of the Wings of Malice and Demetrios Ingaevon of the Blood Ravens. The marines stiffened as the procession finally came to a stop Atros standing before the Iron Hand Captain.

"We will take Brother Rant from here."

Artos nodded passing the banner to the Captain who in turn handed it to his banner bearer before resting a silver hand upon the grav table.

"He died well?"

"The best death any of us could hope for."

"I am glad then."

Demos stepped forward so he stood beside Artos.

"He did the Iron Hands proud and the Deathwatch it was an honour to serve beside him."

The captain nodded barking an order in old Medusan the squad of marines snapped to attention weapons held firm as Rant passed before them, they each peeled off following the coffin leaving only the Captain with the Deathwatch.

"Thank you."

"It was the least we could do."

"It is more than most would."

"I do not consider myself most."

The captain smiled and with a curt nod turned following his charge into the transport Demos stood watching as the ship prepared to launch drawing Tempest, at this signal the rest of the force formed a line splitting so Artos and he stood at it's centre.

"Deathwatch Salute."

He lifted the sword pointing at the transport before bringing his fist over his hearts, the rest of the force offered their own chapters salutes to their fallen brother as the transport departed, stepping from the line he walked to Hunrik and embraced him in a bear hug before releasing the Lone Knight and taking his arm in a warriors grip.

"Go with the grace of the Emperor Hunrik, show his enemies that even though you are the last of your chapter they still have something to fear."

Hunrik nodded his thanks and took the farewells from each of his brothers as Demos turned to the new comers.

"I am Captain Demos welcome to the Deathwatch, these are your brothers but introductions will have to wait as will you taking the black, we're late for a briefing."

He slid Tempest into it's sheath and led them off into the ship, the arrived in the stratagem a large command auditorium where the other nine task forces waited their captains sitting on the lowest levels while their brothers sat on tiered seating behind, Demos took his position looking round at the other Captains present G'Huk the Salamander Captain nodded in his direction as did Captain Dregos of the Space Wolves, Captain Pontus of the Novamarines looking in scorn at their tardiness while Captain Kurtz of the Sons of Calsipher scowled in Demos direction, the other four he did not know but he could see that they were from the Death Spectres, Crimson Fists, Red Scorpions and White Scars. A figure in black robes stood in the centre of the chamber and Demos knew this to be Raga the equerry of the Deathwatch Commander, a pair of Inquisitors stood to one side as did the Commanders second in command Gaius, he heralded from the Sons of Orar and with it came a pride and scorn for those who did not follow Codex tactics it was known that Gaius hated Dregos with almost as much passion as Pontus hated Demos.

The Commander himself strode into the chamber like a shadow Tisias formed his shape from the darkness his armour was black as midnight the long flowing black cloak only adding to the effect as he swept in taking the centre of the chamber, his skin was white like marble his eyes and hair dark orbs of obsidian as he looked around the chamber his face stern. The Raven guard looked at Demos the two briefly sharing a private moment before he spoke his voice low and threatening.

"The Dagare system has fallen to Ork forces under the leadership of Warboss Gutskab Headcrusha the Imperial Guard and local PDF despite their valiant attempts were no match for the vast forces Gutskab has mustered to his cause, currently eleven worlds have fallen and four more hang in the balance."

The hololith displayed the system before them it showed worlds fallen to the Orks in red and worlds contested in green, a mass of red objects floated between the worlds.

"It has fallen to the Astartes to tackle this threat already four chapters prepare to mount a crusade to wipe this threat from the Universe, their commander has requested the Deathwatch's aid and expertise in eliminating specialist targets to open up the whole campaign for the rest of our brothers to cleanse with fire and bolter.
I have agreed to this call to arms and with the backing of the Inquisition we have been sanctioned to take part in this crusade, as such our specific role will be hit and run surgical strikes behind enemy lines, each task force will be deployed to one world from there you will take out numerous key targets to disarray the enemy forces, the key to these missions is hit and run, strike and remain unseen the chaos we will sow into the enemy ranks will distract them from the coming storm of chainsword and bolter.

As such you will all be equipped with assault gear, closed combat and specialist weapons will be made available to you as will melta and demo charges, we're fighting a guerrilla war, one which my chapter excels at. I have tasked each of the captains with details of their targets but expect these to be updated when we better understand the nature of the enemy forces, yes Pontus?"

Pontus had raised his hand and stood to address the Commander.

"Are you saying we're going in blind?"

"Not entirely, Imperial forces were able to supply some information and key targets before they were wiped out but a cordon of Ork ships has made further investigation all but impossible, that is our first task, we're charged with punching a hole in the ork fleet that will allow our battle barges and strike cruisers enough time to rend the enemy ships apart."

"And how do you propose that?"

The Commander's face tightened as Pontus spoke again.

"We've identified six command ships and a rok, three of battle ship size three of cruiser size the task forces will be spilt amongst these ships to disable them once their propulsion and communication is isolated the fleet will be slow to react to our own fleet."

Demos spoke this time.

"And the Rok?"

"I will lead my own task force onto the rok there we will try and cause enough of a distraction that they Ork wont be able to react with much conviction the battle barges in our fleet are tasked with ending it's existence while the strike cruisers and Imperial ships deal with the oak fleet."

Demos nodded happy with the answer, Tisias was a formidable warrior Demos knew that much he had spent his first tours with the watch under his command before assuming a command of his own.

"Your mission specifics will be issued to you after the first strike while you're enroute to your assigned world, the Emperor Protects."

Tisias had always kept his briefing short trusting to the experience of those present to fill in the blanks he left each of the marines present repeated his last statement then he dismissed the gathered marines. Demos stood as Raga presented him with a dataslate looking over it he hissed in annoyance speaking to Raga in a hushed tone.

"You know of the distain Pontus holds for me Raga. His attitude will not help the mission so why have you assigned us to the same ship?"

"An oversight I can assure you Brother Captain, maybe you two can rekindle your special relationship."

Raga smiled with a sarcastic sneer as he spoke, the equerry had never liked Demos. 

"Damn you, you little worm."

Raga moved away quickly continuing to pass out dataslates Pontus' outburst was loud.

"You assign him to work along side my task force, his rabble are degenerates spawned from tainted gene stock."

It had not escaped Demos' attention that all of Pontus' marines were either of Ultramarine or Imperial Fist decadency

"Watch your tongue Pontus!"

Tisias roar was clear and filled with fury.

"I chose the assignments and my word is final, you will just have to swallow your pride and deal with it."

The two of them locked eyes and Pontus' mood darkened, Demos spoke loud enough for only his own to hear him

"With me."

He strode from the chamber heading for their armoury.

"A caustic display, Captain. Your opposite number evidently seems to place personal pride over actual achievement."

Demos paused, looking at the hulking Blood Raven. His helmet was off, and his craggy features were turned towards the departing Pontus, his countenance displaying his immediate disapproval; in spite of his apparent age, however, the Raven's service studs denoted only three decades of active service among the Astartes.

"You would be Brother Ingaevon?" queried the senior Marine.

Ingaevon nodded, his features softening.

"You already wear the black, brother."

"Does that bother you, Captain?" asked the Blood Raven softly. "My former kill-team was dissolved after the events on Tsuikelyon."

"You will have to forgive me. The details of your reassignment must have slipped my mind," Demos admitted. "Inquisitor Schwertwald's message was particularly vague. He declined to appraise me of your ... situation."

"She," Ingaevon corrected. "But you are correct, Lady Schwertwald tends to keep things as vague as possible. She isn't one for active field work."

"Tell me about Tsuikelyon," Demos offered, motioning for Ingaevon to follow him. "I heard rumours of Tauist secession."

"Tauist is right," Ingaevon confirmed, "though that wasn't the only complication. Governer Katayama wasn't our only enemy in that campaign."

"What do you mean?"

Ingaevon smiled sadly. "The stuff of nightmares themselves. A threat once thought to be just a folk tale. I lost two brothers on that operation, Emperor rest their souls."

"Chaos?"

"Not as we would know it," sighed Ingaevon. "There are some threats I would rather never stop to consider. At least with Orks, you know who your enemy is."

"I saw the reports of the Kronus campaign," nodded Demos. "You already have experience against the greenskins. It's a good sign."

"Kronus was not my finest hour," Ingaevon admitted. "But I would rather relive Kronus a hundred times than relive Tsuikelyon even once. But I suppose this is not the best time to discuss such matters."

"Indeed."

There was a pause as Ingaevon briefly remembered the events that had led to Kill-Team Mahisha's dissolution, before moving on swiftly.

"I saw the funeral procession earlier," Ingaevon remarked. "I saw the Iron Hands. I knew a Hand once. Viljem Teverel. We couldn't recover enough of his body for a funeral. At least you could do the same for your brother."

Demos tensed before realising that Ingaevon's tone was still soft and respectful.

"His name was Matej Rant and he was among the bravest Space Marines I have ever served with," Demos answered at last, embellishing the facts for Ingaevon's benefit. "He held off a genestealer swarm for long enough to let us evacuate. When he died, he died standing, and with the Emperor's name on his lips even as the genestealers overwhelmed him. I could not ask for a finer death against the Tyranid scourge."

"Emperor rest his soul," Ingaevon noted solemnly.

Demos smiled he liked the Blood Raven, though he'd always found a comradeship with the Blood Ravens, he turned looking back at the task force as he strode into their armoury, taking his position in his bay he stripped himself of his weapons and turned to them all.

"Listen carefully, Pontus is a hard follower of Codex Tactica he will deploy to the letter and move with stoic purpose, it leaves him predictable and in my presence even more so,"

Their target ship illuminated before him.

"Starmashas Krooza,"

He visably flinched at the crudeness of the words and continued.

"Telemetry indicates the origins of the ship to that of a Retribution Class battle cruiser, as you can see the ship have been corrupted almost beyond recognition."

The Krooza was long but fat like some bloated fish it spread out across space like a living thing of steal fins spread out forming vast launch bays and massive weapons batteries could be discerned from the surface of the ship.

"Our key targets are the forward communications array located here."

As would be expected with a Retribution the forward array was illuminated in green.

"The master weapons control."

Again a section of the ship illuminated.

"The enginarium."

Another section of the ship went green.

"And finally the bridge."

The last section of the ship turned green.

"Pontus will want the honour of the kill, he'll head straight for the engines with hope of setting charges on the plasma core to detonate from distance and he won't think twice of leaving us behind."

He let those last words sink in.

"We know our objectives, I'm not going to issue orders the nature of this tour does not require it, instead we will be a fluid unit if you have a suggestion speak up, if you have an order issue it, I trust in your experience and battle knowledge to ensure that our objectives are met with maximum force."

He looked round at the marines gathered.

"We'll be deploying via boarding torpedo and with that in mind I want us moving fast and light, combat and assault weapons only, I want us in amongst the enemy before they know we're even there, let Pontus draw the attention to himself with drilled advances I want us moving like surgeons cutting a cancer from a host. Consider your weapons carefully the companionways of a Retribution are designed for human not marine the orks will have cleavers which are not suited to narrow confines."

He sat in his bay and looked to Matthias.

"Powerfist, plasma pistol and bolt pistol please Matthias."

"As you wish Lord."

Laran considered Demos' words and then began to speak. Fully armoured and with his helm in place his words were laced with a sonic wash that made every sylable curl into the air, guttaral and echoed.

"The bridge will be the most difficult location to assault, the ork Kaptin will be surrounded by his most poweful henchmen. If as you say Captain, this Pontus will leave us to burn along with the orks I suggest we ignore the bridge altogether, capturing it will gain us nothing if Pontus destroys the reactor and obliterates the ship."

"What do you suggest then brother?" Demos turned bodily to face Laran his body language challenging but thoughtful.

"We capture the weapons control systems. I would suggest we keep our presence on the vessel hidden for as long as possible, not unnecessary kills and those orks we do kill should be eliminated silently. Let this Pontus attract all the attention; if he is so hungry for glory, let him have it, he'll have to carve it out half the orks onboard once they learn of his presence.

"Once we capture the weapon controls we target the nearest ork vessel and open fire with whatever we can. Pontus might cripple the engines on Starmasha but if we can take the weapons and cripple another vessel as well, then we'll be able to really rub his face in it!"

He thought for a long moment then spoke.

"Agreed, we will capture the weapons controls and open fire on as many ships as we can, we'll either cripple them or draw their fire to us as they retaliate to Starmasha's sudden attack."

He looked around.

"Any more suggestions?"

Ingaevon grinned at the Prophet of Hatred's suggestion.

"Cut off the head, Captain, and the body will die. Their resolve will wane rapidly if we take out their leaders, and without a leader, they will be as busy fighting each other as fighting us."

Following Demos' lead, Ingaevon reached for a power fist, nowhere near as fine as the captain's, but serving a function nonetheless. Its armoured surface was devoid of ornament and as Ingaevon removed his left vambrace, he slid his hand into the oversized gauntlet. It locked into his armour with a hiss and Ingaevon flexed his fingers, balling his left hand into a fist and then relaxing again.

"Orks are a hardy and tenacious enemy."

He selected a plasma pistol from the rack, again plain and unornamented. Testing it for weight, Ingaevon's practised eyes noticed that the dial on the ammo gauge read only half-full, and he scooped up a handful of extra cells, depositing them into a pouch on his belt.

"But they are not intelligent. They prefer the direct approach and rarely consider such matters as strategy."

A flamer to clear tunnels should the enemy discover and rush them.

"And in taking out their Kaptin, we'll pit them against themselves and hide in plain sight of the warring factions."

A pair of demolition charges to take out strategic points, deny the enemy tunnels, eliminate bulkheads and barricades.

"Some will stay loyal to the Headcrusha. Others, to the Kaptin commanding the ship."

"Are you sure it will work?" inquired one of the other Deathwatch, a Destroyer by his markings.

"It worked on Kronus," Ingaevon answered, shrugging as he stowed his new flamer away alongside his bolter. "When the Waaagh is big enough, the nature of the Ork tends towards a common stereotype. They are strong with their leader and easily fractured without him, because he is the one holding them together."

"Suppose we can't assault the bridge?" asked the Prophet.

"Then we'll have to hope that taking the enemy fire control and provoking a counter-assault from another ship will lure the Kaptin out of hiding," Ingaevon grunted, shifting uncomfortably under the sudden increase in weight.

"One further question for you, Blood Raven," asked the Destroyer.

"Hm?"

Artos pointed to the barely stable pile of equipment accumulating upon Ingaevon's back.

"Are you sure you don't have too many weapons?"

Brother Jopha of the Wings of Malice felt most uneasy. Over the past hour since he had arrived on board he had witnessed the repatriation of a fallen brother from the Iron Hands, the departure of a mysterious Deathwatch brother with no chapter insignia, the simmering hostility of Commander Tisias' main briefing and now a very unceremonious squad briefing and armoury session. The Wings of Malice may not be of natural appearance or codex-perfect in their organisation, but they were a highly reverent chapter, every detail was treated as important and ceremony played a huge part in their traditions.

And now he was stood looking down at his new Deathwatch shoulder pad. There was no pomp or ceremony, it was just sat there waiting for him in his alcove with a delicately written piece of parchment attached to it saying it was for him. The marine couldn't help but feel a slight disappointment. His chapter celebrated every promotion, helping entrench the sense of unity within the marines. The Wings had an everyone or no-one method of thinking, either all worked together, or none would last.

The shock of the accusations of Captain Pontus still reverberated round his head. Mutual respect was one of the most important tenants of the Wings of Malice, and to be disparaged in such a manner by another marine was a new experience for Jopha.

Lost in his thoughts, he simply allowed his enhanced mental functions to take note of all the missions details and the back-and-forth discussions between the other squad members. Now was not the time for his usual buoyant personality, now was the time for the business of the Deathwatch.

He chose a bolter, bolt pistol and chainsword from the racks, collected an appropriate mix of grenades and rounds, including two clips of stalker silenced shells. Returning to his alcove he regarded the new shoulderpad for a moment before turning and asking the Captain,

"Captain Demos, will there be time for my armour to be made proper for Deathwatch service before we engage?"

Before the Captain could respond to the Wings of Malice marine Laran unceremoniously dumped a heavy cloth on the table which rattled as objects within were displaced.

"And what is this brother?"

"The Blood Raven wants the Kaptin to come out of hiding; this will achieve it." Laran flung the top fold over and revealed a banner of sorts. Tied with chains and beads and what looked like ligament were dozens of crude metal disks, some old, some more recent considering the relative amount of ware, each daubed with vivid colours and ork glyphs.

"Orks like to display trophies, one-upman-ship obviously but they also act as an indication of social rank. Beakie 'elmets make the best trophies naturally." There were several grunts of dissaproval, both at the thought and of Laran's use of derogatory ork terms. "However, should an enemy choose to make such a display, by showing off the amount of ork back plates he has accumulated, well, it drives orks wild.

"If we can access the ships communications and project a vidfeed to the bridge, then showing the Kaptin this, with a suitable taunt to help it along, will ensure he hunts us down; he will not be able to refuse such a blatant challenge or insult to orkish honour. And if he does, well, that will help us too; the nobs will not stand for such a show of cowardice."

"You are a Space Marine, and yet you will lower yourself by following the Ork way? That you would even consider the idea is detestable. The concept that you already have is abhorrent."

Several heads turned D'Nim's way. It was the first thing most of the team had heard him say.

"That any of you will even hear this tainted nonsense makes my skin crawl.", he continued.

It was Demos who answered him:
"You have a better idea, Brother Apothecary?"
"It would take little for an idea to be better than that one... Captain."

He swung around to point at the hologram, gesturing to indicate the craft's length.

"A Retribution class battleship measures nearly eighty weiths from bow to stern. The craft can carry enough Orks aboard to make an entire company falter, and we scarce count as a squad. While the corridors will partially nullify their numbers, we cannot do anything to draw the greenskins to our position. We will have trouble enough without appealing to their war hungry natures."

D'Nim pointed at the bridge on the hologram.

"We must use subtlety and precision. I trust that concept is not beyond any of you degenerate rabble."

"Be careful what you say, Jackal. Captain Demos has earned the respect due to him," said Artos, his voice low and hoarse. "As for this 'tainted nonsense' you speak of, we are the Deathwatch. We face a multitude of foes, each as dangerous and cunning as the last. We must tread paths others would fear to tread."

He began sorting through the combat knives, picking out the largest ones with monomolecular blades. He strapped two across his chest and another four to his belt. Heart Reaper remained in his hand.

"Just because your Chapter would not use these tactics, it does not mean we will not. We will use every advantage we have. If you cannot accept that, try to get yourself reassigned to Pontus' squad."

Artos took a brace of bolt pistols, attaching them to mag-clamps on his leg armour. He slipped two melta charges into a pouch on his belt. For the first time, he turned to face D'Nim.
 
"As for subtlety and precision, my own Chapter specializes in such tactics. I agree that a certain degree of stealth must be maintained to carry out this mission. However, no matter how hard we try, we will eventually be discovered. At least Brother Laran's idea will allow that to happen on our own terms, and allow us to dictate the battle in the corridors."

Artos turned away again. "I suggest you get some good equipment before we take it all. You'll need it." 

"I suggest you check your Betcher's Gland brother D'nim, it must be malfunctioning to give you such an acid tongue!" Laran gave a hearty chuckle, finally a fellow Astartes that acted like a Prophet, he was starting to tire of the obsequious back-slapping and this D'nim was like a breath of fresh air. Laran moved around the armoury, selecting a few melta bombs and frag grenades. Standing nearer to D'nim now he put his arm around the marine's shoulders, making him visibly cringe. "Ahh D'nim, I can see you and I becoming close, close friends." To emphasise the point Laran, left gauntlet gripping D'nim's left pauldron tight, pulled him in close with a comradely shake and then patted his right arm. "Close friends.'

He went off again laughing, looking for weapons that would complement his own. His chain-hammer would be at a disadvantage in the close confines of the ship but a powerfist seemed too ponderous; fighting an ork in hand-to-hand was always a mistake, if it had to be done then it was best to be quick and decisive but then the nature of his role as a Deathwatch meant he needed to be versatile. A lightning claw then? Fast, lethal, only useful for killing though in Laran's opinion. Ahh yes, a chainfist, faster than a power glove but not quite as fast as the lightning claw to be true but perfect for cleaving through armour and anything else that might get in their way. Attaching the weapon he turned to D'nim activating the chain blade and sticking it up, like an oversized index finger, the animal features carved on his helmet mirroring his feral grin beneath.

Demos sat in silence his eyes moving slowly around the room the tension of the place had risen dramatically.

"That is enough, all of you."

His voice wasn't stern or booming it had been spoke as though he were simply speaking at any one of them in passing conversation, yet each of them turned their heads towards him for the voice oozed threat and broached no challenge towards it.

"We still have two brothers yet to take the black, The rest of you will Brother Jopha to the Chaplaincy while Brother D'nim and I have words."

Again the tension passed through the chamber the marines finished preparing Jopha included before they all moved off the black marines of the death watch leading the green armoured Jopha, when the two of them were alone Demos spoke again as Matthias moved around him finalising his armour, D'nim stood his ground looking at his new captain face hidden behind his helm.

"Take a seat, and remove your helm I would speak to your face."

"I would prefer not to."

Demos' eyes turned towards him a fleck of red shone in them.

"You mistook my words as a request brother."

D'nim slowly sat and as if prolonging the task slowly removed his helm placing it to one side, Matthias paid them little attention as he finished with Demos' armour moving off to one side of his cubicle he returned with a small chest.

"You do not want to be here, this much I know."

"Then do not try and bond with me now, captain."

Demos smiled showing his fangs as Matthias drew a sanguinary vial from the chest and slotted one end into a node on the right wrist of Demos' armour it filled with blood slowly.

"You are here on penance for for tongue the Inquisitor wishes for you to learn a lesson when dealing with them, they seek to teach you humility yet I can see that this is a lesson you will not learn easy, you are full of pride, pride of your so called purity but I tell you this now Pontus would not even consider you fit to clean his armour, the fact you are here on penance lumps you in with the rest of us degenerate scum."

D'nim visibly smarted at this statement but formed his retort quickly.

"So you're telling me your stuck with me then?"

Demos laughed the sound booming and so sudden that Matthias almost dropped the second vial as he moved to fill it.

"Not at all, I have never had a marine forced upon me and no Inquisitor would be fool enough to try it I choose my task forces and I broach no interference in my selection, when given the lists of new candidates I chose you first."

"Why?"

"Because you are a talented officer according to your record and a skilled apothecary, I lost a brother in our last mission if it is avoidable I would not wish to loose another."

"You doubt that I will perform my duties?"

"Not for an instant if I had you'd be dead already, no D'nim I trust you will do the best you are able  in your duties it is that tongue of yours which will cause you more trouble, humility is a task you must learn and the Deathwatch is the place to learn it, mixed in with brothers not of your own and thrown into dangers you would normally expect a company worth to tackle is not a place for pride and discrimination, I trust you know of the loathing the Sons of Russ have for the Dark Angles?"

D'nim nodded silently.

"If I told you that Dregos has no less that four Dark Angles successors under his command and his second is a Dark Angle you can clearly understand the depth of my next words, the Deathwatch is a brotherhood of war not of blood we are bound by danger and by danger we live and die."

He stood as Matthias filled a third vial fixing it to his armour.

"Now we have an induction to perform follow me."

He noted the rapid movement to replace his helm and inwardly sighed striding from the room he led D'nim through the ship the a darkened chamber the rest stood waiting, Jopha  was stood separate looking a little nervous, the chamber bore a statue of the Emperor looming under an Imperial Aquilla his stern features looked down onto a tiled emblem of the deathwatch.

"Both of you will kneel  before the Emperor."

Jopha dropped to his knees as D'nim moved beside him kneeling more slowly the rest of the Deathwatch move round them each one taking up an object hidden in the darkness of the room, Demos stood forward to stand between them and the emperor.

"You have come to take the black of the watch, before the Emperor our father you will make your pledges so that you will be bound by your oaths of moment by his witness."

He nodded and the marines moved hidden from the pairs peripheral vision.

"You have given up your Chapters to complete your tours of service to the watch as such you will be stripped of your chapters colours save for your chapter pauldron to show from where you have come, and from where you will return upon completion of your tour."

He took up a long blade that rested before the Emperor's feet.

"Do you Jopha of the Wings of Malice swear to serve the watch, to take upon the bonds of brotherhood therein, will you give your life to the watch if they require it as you would give your life to your chapter?"

Jopha nodded his head once.

"I do."

"Do you Vifer D'Nim of the Astral Jackals swear to serve the watch, to take upon the bonds of brotherhood therein, will you give your life to the watch if they require it as you would give your life to your chapter?"

There was a long pause before D'nim lowered his head.

"I do."

"Then stand and receive the black."

Both of them stood as the other marines moved in they were armed with paint took and carefully they coated the pair of them in black paint Demos spoke as the rest worked.

"The Deathwatch is a brotherhood of warriors, not bound by the blood of chapter but by their loyalty to the Emperor and the hatred for the Xenos filth that threatens his Domain, though we may not be of the same blood we are of the same mind and soul and in that we are brothers united."

He lifted the weapon above his head.

"We are the heralds of death and where we tred the xenos shudder for they know we come for them and the last thoughts that fill their minds as we lay waste to their false dominions is fear of the Imperium and fear of the Deathwatch."

He lowered the weapon.

"Welcome your new brothers."

The task force gathered exchanging welcoming those who had not given their names introduced themselves to the two newcomers. Demos returned the sword and swung quickly as he became aware of an alert to action siren.

"To the embankment bays, Artos, Laran and the new bloods ride with me."

He slid his own helm into place his voice amplified through the vox caster within.

"To war my brothers let us show these orks who rules this universe."

He paused offering a quick salute to the Emperor.

"Watch over use my lord."

Then strode towards the embankment bays, they were busy as the task forces assembled Demos led them across the bay and with quick sharp gestures indicated their assault torpedoes before breaking from the group the captains stood gathered round the Commander each one on their knees before Tisias clad in his terminator armour a pair of lightning claws retracted into the safe position Demos knelt in a gap coming beside G'huk and Pontus.

"Late again Demos."

"Be silent Pontus, I'll not have you besmirching Demos' name again."

G'huk's voice was a wildd hiss his blood was up Demos could tell despite the Salamanders face been hidden behind his helm, Pontus inclined his head towards Demos and spoke.

"Try not to make a mess of this mission like you did your last."

"I'll see you on the bridge Pontus."

"We'll see."

The Commander passed over them fixing their oaths of moment and then dismissed them to their torpedoes Demos climbed in looking at Artos who's taken the flight seat.

"Not this time lad, move over I'll guide us in I want you on the breaching charges."

With a quick rearrangement they were set the hull of the torpedo closing behind them like a flower, checking his vox uplink he spoke with the rest of his force.

"We're assaulting from the Port side aim for the supplementary flight decks and try to keep tight."

He checked the systems then spoke again.

"Launch in t-minus three minutes."

"So, Jopha," said Artos. "What brings you to the watch?"

"Duty, honour and tradition does, Brother Artos." answered Jopha amicably, "The laws of my chapter decree that no marine my be given his wings until having proved themselves outside the chapter over a period of at least five years. If I am to receive my wings and be recognised as a veteran brother by my peers, then I must follow those laws."

"But why did you choose the Deathwatch? From what you say there is no obligation in your laws that makes you come to our ranks." enquired Artos conversationally.

"That is correct." smiled Jopha, acknowledging Artos' close attention to his wording, "However it has become an unwritten tradition that most are expected to spend those five years serving with the Deathwatch, although there are a handful of other acceptable opportunities to fulfil the requirement while remaining within our home sector – such serving as a hunter in the unending war against the Vartov infestation on the planet Barkosa."

"Well that's honour and tradition covered, but what about duty?" noted Laran.

Jopha turned to look at Laran, answering quite seriously, "Duty is the most important. It is my duty to be the best prepared I can to assist my chapter in its future struggles; it is my duty to learn by experiencing conflict against all manner of alien creatures; it is my duty to know how best to kill them; and it is my duty to serve the Emperor in whatever way my chapter sees fit."

The torpedoes launched snapping them back into their harnesses Demos' fingers guided the torpedo as the launch retro's roared accelerating them to optimum speed. The guidance overlay was a pre determined assault line which even the most skilled assault pilots found difficult to maintain. He allowed the torpedo to drift sending the new details to the other torpedoes of his assault he wanted to keep them close as he relaxed into the flight he spoke.

"Fine words Brother Jopha, a noble cause to benefit your chapter is a commendable one, it's what drew me to the watch for my first tour, The freedom I am allowed within my chapter has allowed me to continue to learn and adapt my skills of war."

He turned his attention back to the guidance overlay and engaged the assault thrusters pushing the torpedo forward as the secondary burners ignited driving the torpedo onwards. He counted down the distance noting as the overlay flickered, they were coming under heavy fire the barrage of defensive fire was cutting into the first wave of torpedo's. designed to clear their path, the detonations interfered with the guidance systems but Demos steadied the torpedo as it continued on it's way.

"Impact in twenty seconds Artos prime the breaching charges and ready the cone."

Artos moved his fingers playing over the terminal before him, a shudder of power signalled the nose cone igniting the energised tip designed to punch into the hull of the enemy ship making entry easier. The countdown peeled away and he fought to keep the torpedo on course, the proximity alerts sounded he shouted over the noise as the final stage burners kicked in giving the torpedo enough force to punch into the hull.

"Brace for Impact."

The impact tore them all forward the restraints straining as the torpedo tore into the hull of the ship with the sound of tearing metal grinding against the hull the noise was deafening as the torpedo drove deeper as it same to a halt they rocked back into the harnesses.

"Artos fire the charges."

A series of explosions sounded the directional charges were designed to clear the immediate area of survivors once the charges ha fired Demos released his harness first standing he drew his bolt pistol and looked back over the rest.

"Laran up front, the rest fan our secure the entry point, Artos blow the clamps."

Artos nodded and slapped a final rune and four more explosions sounded and the nose cone vanished before them Laran strode forward Kah'Brosh held firmly he stepped into the enemy ship followed by Demos and the rest.

"Demos to task force, activate location beacons and rendezvous with team Alpha." 

He stepped forward to stand beside Laran his eyes falling on a flailing ork it's legs torn from it's body yet still it lived and still it wanted to fight, it reached for it's slugga that had fallen from it's hip.

"Silence it."

With a quick nod Laran stepped forward strumming Kah'Brosh with a low drone the Ork convulsed it's head bursting.

"Secure the area we..."

He paused tilting his head to hear better, he picked up drilled bolter fire his enhanced senses telling him that there was a fire fight on the decks above and some distance away, well drilled and advancing into the ship.

"Pontus, he's already doing our work for us, Ingaevon find out where we are on the ship."

He said as he gestured to an imperial terminal as he turned to Artos and Jopha.

"Scout ahead, keep to the shadows and if your have to eliminate the Orks as quietly as you can."

"Stay behind me, brother," Artos whispered. "This is what I was born for."

He flitted up the dark corridor, his massive armoured form somehow managing to conceal itself in the shadows. With the sound of the ship's engine in the background, Artos' movements made no noise.

He moved forward like a ghost, Jopha staying a few meters behind him. Seeing an ork up at an intersection ahead, Artos clipped Heart Reaper onto his belt and drew two of his combat knives.

He edged forward, perfectly prepared to make his silent kill.

"Acknowledged, Commander," Ingaevon answered. He raced over to the terminal and pressed the rune of activation, cursing as nothing happened after five, ten, fifteen seconds.

"What's keeping you, brother?" Laran asked, turning his head at Ingaevon's frustrated oath. Peering round the back of the terminal, Ingaevon saw the cause of the problem immediately and reached down.

"Orks are thick, Brother Laran," Ingaevon sighed. "They're absolutely bone dead stupid. Take a look at the side of this terminal."

Laran stepped over the dead Ork, his sonic blaster still held steady, and followed the Blood Raven's pointing finger until his gaze finally came to rest on a large dent in the side of the terminal.

"It looks like one of them kicked it," Laran remarked, with all the demeanour of a nobleman learning that his chronometer had stopped ticking. "But surely that's just superficial."

"Not possible. Have you ever been kicked by an Ork?"

Not waiting for a reply, Ingaevon grabbed the side of the terminal and pulled, subvocalising a prayer for the machine-spirit's forgiveness as he ripped the dented panel from the side of the machine. Setting the panel down, Ingaevon took a closer look.

"I thought as much," Ingaevon muttered, activating the luminator beam on his helmet. "The side panel must have taken the worst of it, but the main image processor's come loose."

"Can you repair it?" asked Laran.

"I'm not a Techmarine," admitted Ingaevon, "so I don't know if there's been any other damage to the terminal, but I imagine this will make it work again."

Reaching into the innards of the terminal and pushing gently on the side of what he hoped was the image processor, Ingaevon heard the terminal come back to life with a series of low clicks and pulses. He stood up and moved around to take a better look at the screen on the lectern.

"The battleship Providence," Ingaevon read out, each letter displayed in an intricate, flowing script. "Retribution class. One of Battlefleet Ultima's vessels. Throne on Earth, the Ork warlord's a crafty one to capture a vessel like this..."

"But where are we?" Demos prompted.

"Ah," Ingaevon grinned. "We're right here."

A large image of the Providence expanded on the screen at Ingaevon's command, rendering the entire battleship in three-dimensional wireframe that revolved slowly about a vertical axis. Large blobs of red covered the ship, one of which was overlaid with a tiny golden dot. Ingaevon focused the display on that dot, replacing the whole ship with an image of a specific section.

"We're on the port side, near the keel," Ingaevon reported. "That dot represents the terminal and our present position. The red patches must represent hull damage, or compromised sectors."

Not much further up from the kill-team's present location was another red blob, smaller this time, and located two decks above them.

"Kill-Team Pontus must be up there."

"So which is the closest target?"

"We've made our entry close to one of the port guns. We should be relatively close to weapons control, which is here," Ingaevon observed, zooming the display back out and pointing at the Providence's midsection, but further back towards the ship's bridge than where the terminal was. "I suspect we'll run into Kill-Team Pontus on the way up if your suspicions are correct, Commander."

"Assuming the Orks don't run into them first," noted Demos.

"Ok, upload the schematics into your suit and transit them to the rest of the force."

He flexed his powerfist and looked around the gun fire was becoming more intense.

"Sounds like Pontus is making some headway."

The ship suddenly rocked each of the marines keeping their footing but looking to the hull as return fire echoed through the ship. He didn't pause as he turned heading after Artos and Jopha.

"We need to silence those guns, Artos report."

No reply.

"Artos?"

"He's a little occupied Captain."

He quickened his pace he came up behind Jopha causing the marine to turn to look at him the rest of team Alpha had formed up behind him, He peered past Jopha looking at Artos an Ork corpse at his feet, the head had almost been removed and dark blood coated the walls Artos stood over it panting over the kill his blood a slick with the blood as the walls, he stepped forward putting himself between the force and Artos.

"Artos?"

"Dammed thing turned at the last moment, I had to improvise."

He nodded half turning.

"Ingaevon, which way?"

He pulled off his helm as Ingaevon checked the schematic hooking on his belt he tilted his head from side to side cracking the neck, sniffing the air he spat.

"Gah Ork stench, the sooner we are done with this better."

"Left."

They headed left Demos leading his bolt pistol in his hand, he'd opted to load it with stalker rounds the silenced rounds would prove more useful in this environment, he was proven right as three Orks exited  an intersection he fired dropping two before he was too close to make use of the gun, he punched forward with his powerfist closing it round the Ork's head, applying pressure the head exploded with a wet pop as the power field activated. He looked down at the bodies they had been fully armed ready for a fight, he looked in the direction they were travelling.

"This way."

"But captain the schematic says we should carry on the way were heading."

"The gun fire is coming from that direction."

D'min and Laran brought their weapons up aiming down the companionway before lowering them again as Pelesus and Corvin leading the rest of their task force joined them.

"This way."

Demos headed towards the gun fire.

D'Nim looked around, his armour's autosenses taking the corridor in.

   "Things are amiss. These corridors have few of the contemptible signs of the Ork."

It was Artos who answered him:
   "Elaborate, Jackal."
   "Did you not see the exterior of the ship? Compared to that, these corridors are in an implausible state of repair. The terminal the Raven was using - largely intact. The walls - dented and rusted, but free of the attentions of their Meks. Little here has been cannibalised."

The revelation seemed to take Laran slightly aback, an unpleasant anomaly in his long years of fighting with the Orks. He nodded.
   "The acid Apothecary speaks some sense. This interior does not have the appearance of a craft that has been in Ork hands for this length of time."
   "The scant numbers of them we have seen make it self-evident they avoid this sector of the ship.", growled D'Nim.

Jopha looked about, corroborating D'Nim's statement with the enviroment before turning back to the Apothecary:
   " What reason would they have..."
   "How in the name of Dorn should I know?" D'Nim interrupted, not waiting for the other Marine to finish his question, " But if Orks fear it, then we do not desire occasion to find out."

Laran tilted his head like a dog, listening to the muffled gunfire, he put one hand on the metal of the ship as if trying to feel for something.

   "Brother?" D'Nim was looking back down the corridor towards him.

   "Now that you've mentioned the lack of ork defacement I've noticed something else that is, peculiar."

Demos' voice crackled over the squad vox.

   "You've stopped moving Brothers; report."

   "Tell me Captain, what can you hear?" Demos made a frustrated sigh.

   "We don't have time for riddles Laran; explain yourself."

   "Please Captain, just tell me what you hear." There was a pause and then Demos answered.

   "I hear gunfire; what of it?"

   "Exactly Captain, only gunfire. I am of the Mahtaron, we use music in battle, an inherited tradition from the Janissaries and a learned combat form, shown to us by Legio Destructor, whose Princeps like to compete with the orks for the amount of noise they can make. Orks are impressed and cowed by sheer volume and yet all there is to hear, is gunfire. Where are the orks battle cries, the clash of their weapons? Why is this ship so silent and why is it so untouched?"

There was no reply and Laran moved off, D'Nim ahead of him as they made their way back into formation with the squad. He didn't know what strange presence was aboard this vessel, Brother Ingaevon had mentioned how crafty the ork Kaptin must have been to capture the Providence and even the name made him suspicious. He fingered a charm hanging from a cord about his neck and cast wary glances about himself as he rejoined the squad.

"I could stand to find out, but that is not our mission, time if of the essence here the crusade's first steps are in our hands."

He led them moving down the companionway, it was as D'Nim said the deeper into the ship they went the more signs of Ork presence occurred first a glyth depicting some form of ownership then a crudely refashioned bulkhead and a murder point, the deeper they penetrated the more Orks they could hear and encountered, the first Demos called a halt waving the team down onto their knees they waited and watched as a long stream of Ork's led by one of the bigger Nobz clad in crude powered armour stomped by they were excited at the prospect of combat Demos wondered if Pontus was drawing too much attention to himself.

He answer had come as they'd stood moving off again they entered a large open deck dipping down a dozen levels into the bowels of the ship spanning the space left were walkways and service lines, it took Demos a moment to realise that this would have been a workshop once for the ship to effect repairs of it's massive gun batteries, had the lights been working properly he had no doubt that he'd be able to see the workings below, looking up he guessed that the arched roof could be opened to the void to allow the weapons to be lifted in and out without the need to dismantle them fully. The gun fire echoed in this space and his eyes were drawn down to a walk way where the gun battle was happening.

Surrounded on all sides Pontus' team were blazing away as the Ork's tried to overwhelm them, he scanned the scene and guessed there to be close to a hundred on each side of the walkway with Pontus and his men at it's centre. He noted a pair of marines armed with heavy bolters blazing away while the rest of the team formed up round them Pontus in it's centre shouting orders.

"The dammed fool seeks to get himself killed."

Artos hissed gripping his weapons tighter. Demos frowned at the disrespect but he could not reprimand the young marine for his out burst, he thought the same.

"He is providing the perfect distraction Captain we could complete our mission with little interference from the Orks." 

Laran said watching the battle below, one of Pontus marines his pauldron bright yellow twisted from his feet as a heavy slugga strafed the line.

"We should leave him to his fate."

"What are you suggesting Destroyers?"

Hissed D'Nim at Arros' suggestion.

"His purity got him in to that I suggest we leave him to it."

"You really are."

"Enough!"

Demos growled the words his voice low hungry his eyes flecked with red.

"Despite his arrogance Pontus is still our brother, and I simply watch our brother be cut down. Artos, Peleus, Martell and Jopha see if you can make your way across to that walkway, get a firing position and give aid to our brothers on the far side. The rest of you with me we lay fire on this side."

He moved keeping low like a animal stalking prey he moved across the walkway they stood on, coming to the edge he drove his powerfist into the chamber wall ripping a great tear in it before lifting himself from the floor and scaling across to the next walkway, each time leaving a hand hole for the rest to follow from there he crouched again looking at the target his frown deepening the firing solution here was not good the angle bad the the risk of hitting Pontus and his men too great from the opposite side he could see the others moving into position his vantage point told him that they would have good angles, D'Nim moved beside him as did Ingaevon he spoke as he saw what Demos had seen.

"The aim is bad, what do you suggest."

Demos stood as the rest finished their climb.

"Obvious tactics."

He broke into a run along the walkway, looking down he judged the distance and launched himself into the air over the rail, a hundred meters to fall was nothing to a marine a twenty meter jump little challenge the skill was the aiming of the jump and the execution of the landing, as he fell through the air he let out a roar of challenge selecting the Ork he would land upon, a big brute with a massive chain axe who was hooting and calling for skulls to be smashed and bones crushed.

He crashed onto the Ork crushing it with his weight the axe swung out cutting through another two before his fist smashed a third from the walkway his bolter spoke and such a close range killed with every shot as he cleared a space for the rest of the team to land.

"Hah, now these are orders, Commander," Ingaevon grinned, unslinging his flamer and activating his power fist. As he prepared to jump, he inclined his head in D'Nim's direction.

"You may not like what you're about to hear," he warned the Astral Jackal. "External address, full amplification."

Not bothering to wait for D'Nim to respond, Ingaevon vaulted the rail and pushed himself clear before it could give way completely, his power fist drawn back to pulverise whatever he landed on as, below him, Demos carved a bloody crater in the Orkish mob.

As Ingaevon leapt, he drew in a deep breath and held it; as soon as the Providence's artificial gravity took over, Ingaevon released it in a single, massive noise, a noise every Ork on the gantry recognised instantly. Some of the slower-witted ones looked up in confusion, and were swiftly cut down by Demos and Pontus as Ingaevon fell, screaming with one voice to drown out the hundreds of voices below him.

"WAAAAGH!"

Ingaevon landed heavily on the other side of Demos, his power-armoured boots stomping flat the unfortunate Ork that broke his fall as he slammed his power fist into the stomach of another, catapulting it backwards into its fellows and clearing a space in front of Ingaevon that was rapidly filling with yet more malodorous green bodies.

The flames got there first, and a controlled burst of fire from the flamer in Ingaevon's right hand put one Ork down instantly and set several others alight, the Orks' superior numbers working against them in the tight confines of the walkway. Some of the blazing Orks ignored the pain through sheer resolve, but most tried to flee and found themselves almost rampaging through their fellows, ensuring that nothing short of utter havoc ensued as the fire began to spread through the ungainly press of Orkish bodies. Some were pitched over the railings, pushed too far by their panicking fellows or knocked off by flying green limbs.

"Behind you, Ingaevon!" Demos warned, and the Blood Raven turned just in time to dodge a screaming chain-axe blade, the huge Ork wielding it glaring at Ingaevon with his fiercest livid stare. With a tremendous Waaaagh!, the Ork bull-rushed Ingaevon, a half-dozen of its fellows rallying behind it as they rushed to engage the challenger in their midst.

"Neutralising," Ingaevon answered immediately, reverting to internal comms. Dodging the larger Ork's clumsy assault, Ingaevon countered with a solid punch to its shoulder, pulverising the joint and crushing a good portion of its upper arm. It staggered and fell on its uninjured side, roaring more in anger than pain, and attempted to get back up.

It didn't even have time to notice the flamer muzzle in its open maw before Ingaevon pulled the trigger and cremated the alien's head on the spot.

Something heavy collided with Ingaevon and he dropped his flamer as he went down, face-down with two Orks piling in on top of him. He managed to force himself onto one knee, reaching for the chainsword on his left hip, but two Orks became five and Ingaevon faltered, weighed down by sheer numbers, and collapsed once more, his ears filled with the jeers and hoots of the Orks on top of him, apparently squabbling over their kill even as they reached for their weapons.

"I suppose assistance is out of the question?" Ingaevon voxed, pinned to the floor by the sheer weight of the Orks on top of him.

   "Deactivate your auto-senses Brother, now!" Ingaevon did not hesitate and did as he was instructed. All around was silence and darkness, locked inside his suit with no way to know what was happening Ingaevon felt the pressure of the ork dog-pile lessen and then vanish. Laran aimed Kah'Brosh low and attacked the orks with a sonic barrage inaudible to even an Astartes' augmented hearing but which sent the orks tumbling away like leaves in a gale. The sonic assault was like a thousand fists beating the orks back there faces and bodies bruised and swollen, changing the frequency to an eye-watering shriek the air curled like a water funnel, forming into a knotted dagger of pure sound which cut the orks apart like a knife.

   "All clear Brother." Laran continued his steady advance, the wall of sound constant until shoota rounds smacked into his shoulder. As the sonic wave stopped the ork mob piled back in again and Laran let his killing instrument drop on its shoulder strap. He raised his chainfist, activating the blade which cut the first ork into ribbons and then began to swing the oversized hand around, clearing a space enough to reach back and unsling his chain-hammer. He hadn't thought he would have need of the cumbersome weapon but here in this scrum it was invaluable and well worth the effort of carrying it all this way.

The chain weapons imbedded in each hammer face ripped through ork flak and shredded chests with ease, the bludgeoning weight cracking ribs, spines and legs and braking thick ork skulls. Fumbling for a frag grenade Laran tossed it into the crowd and whooping with his augmitter followed the Blood Ravens example, crying Waaagh! and throwing himself into the thick press of green bodies.

Demos turned and strafed the area with his bolt pistol killing half a dozen of the orks before being forced back into his own battle a choppa clipped his shoulder turning him which he made into an attack ramming the bolt pistol into the Orks face before pulling the trigger the rounds pulverised it's skull and the skulls of the three behind as he kept firing his fist lashing out atomising another lower jaw it tumbled away as he threw the headless corpse at the next line, of Orks moving in.

He killed the first with the powerfist the second tearing the pistol from his grip only to have it's chest crushed by a blow from the fist, he span tearing the head clean from the next and took another clip from a cleaver and shattered the weapon before burying his fingers into the Orks eyes blinding it, a few seconds respite gave him chance to turn and drag Ingaevon to his feet pulling the dead orks from him as he came up.

"No Mercy, No Respite. Kill them All!"

The pair twisted away from one another powerfists cleaving Orks down, He drew his bone dagger the blade slashing through the face plate of an Ork as if the metal were paper it roared in pain as he opened another's throat with the blade before smashing it aside with his fist.

He revelled in the slaughter he Laran and Ingaevon were reaping, the Orks were to compacted to bring their might to bear properly and the marines would make them pay dearly for that, he launched himself into the combat with what could only be described as brutal glee letting out a bellowing roar as he smashed another Ork to death, his voice drowning out the Orks around him.  

Up above, D'Nim was methodically firing into the mass of Orks from his firing kneel, taking the shots that didn't endanger his battle brothers. But even with single shots, the straight magazine had quickly expended its smaller capacity.

There was some degree of return fire on his position, but he calmly broke into a run as he reloaded.  Releasing the weapon's bolt casually, he vaulted the handrail, leaping down to the lower walkway.

His sword was in his hand before he had even landed, and he used it to strike out at the Ork immediately in front of him. The momentum behind the sword's monomolecular edge clove the beast in two from skull to groin.

Quickly recovering, he drove an elbow into the temple of another greenskin, and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch, although whether it was the Ork's skull or its neck was of little concern to him.

He had the attention of the Orks by now, who turned their attention to this new opportunity for glory. Raising his bolter in one hand, D'Nim quickly emptied the new magazine in a sequence of well drilled shots to the heads and chests of the aliens.

As the weapon locked back on an empty magazine, the Apothecary latched the bolter to the magnetic holster on his thigh.

  "If you can spare the time from your busy schedule Captain, Brother Pontus' injured marine would benefit from getting my attentions sooner rather than later."

Demos responded by roaring and leaping forwards to smash his power fist into the face of yet another Ork within the seemingly innumerable horde. It was followed by a crushing backhand that knocked another off the walkway they were on. Whatever sounds it made as the ship's artificial gravity drew it towards its final destination ten decks down went unheard, drowned out by the roar of battle.

His bolter empty, D'Nim swapped his sword between hands, the chain-blade on his narthecium unfolding and extending from its storage position as he did so. Its teeth whirred into life as the apothecary chopped downwards with his hand, cutting through the neck of an Ork with a mechanical screaming and the spray of blood and assorted body tissues.

Surging forwards again, the Apothecary let loose a battle cry:
  "For Dorn!"

Artos growled with frustration. The battle below was too close for him to pick off targets without risking hitting his brothers. He reattached his twin bolt pistols to the mag-clamps on his legs, then drew Heart Reaper. He weighed it carefully in his right hand. The weapon was perfectly balanced, and felt light in Artos' augmented right hand. Inwardly, Artos blessed Demos for his gift.

Artos jumped over the railing down to the fight below. He landed on an ork and heard its body break under his armoured bulk. He swung Heart Reaper and the power axe claimed the heads of three more xenos. Their blood sizzled against the weapon's power field.

Artos swung low, cutting an ork's legs off, then decapitated the foul creature with his return swing. He realised the foundation of Laran and Ingaevon's enthusiasm; here was a worthy foe, pure, with no extra agendas. He felt a mounting excitement as he battled his way through the green mass, his blood lust finding a controlled satiation.

Artos felt light, as if he was floating through the clamouring battle. His soul was temporarily free of its dreadful burdens as he fought on, a whirlwind of death and destruction.

Peleus, Martell and Jopha stayed in position above the gantry, taking on the role of snipers with their boltguns. Prime targets were the Nobz and any specialists.

Jopha grunted in satisfaction as he pulled off a difficult shot, managing to behead a running ork carrying a flamer. A second shot followed it, erupting the fuel tank, its ignited contents spraying out over the surrounding orks. He had made the conscious decision to swap out his clip of stalker rounds for one of standard bolts, there was no point in wasting such useful ammunition in the current cacophony occurring.

From his position on-high Jopha assessed the entire situation, taking in every detail; where ork reinforcements were arriving from; the structure and stability of the various gantries and walkways above and below them; the ebb and flow of the ork movements as they assaulted the two closing pockets of Deathwatch; cross-referencing all this observation with the mission parameters, the recently acquired ships specs, the weapons and equipment of his fellow marines, all of it.

He witnessed an Ultramarine in Pontus' squad by the name of Tarlov have his skull blown to pieces by a close-range ork shot. Jopha's aim snapped round, he fired a single bolt at a range of sixty meters and obliterated the skull of the ork. Like-for-like.

The Wings of Malice were trained to obsession that no strategy was perfect, that only through constant adaptation could any engagement be perceived a success. As such they were taught and practised to such an extreme level that even a brother of the foot was among the very best in-field tacticians of the Adeptus Astartes. Jopha made his decision.

On his in-helmet HUD he pulled up an overlay of names for Pontus' squad members. Identifying one of the Heavy Bolter armed marines he spoke over the standard Deathwatch frequency,

"Brother Halk, the large yellow pipe directly above door of the aft approach."

"Understood." came a terse reply as the marine swapped aim from the hordes of Orks in front of him and fired up into the underside of the pipe.

Klaxons wailed as super-heated steam from a plasma coolant system shrieked out of the burst pipe down onto the mass of Orks below, burning them to death as a constant stream blocked off the aft approach onto the walkway.

Peleus snapped shot after shot in to the Orks. As he reloaded he was swung round by a slug hitting his shoulder plate. He looked up to see a small mob of Orks advancing towards his brothers along the walkway.

Peleus sprang up and sprinted towards the approachin greenskins whilst shouting a warning to his brothers. He charged his claw and then slammed into the lead ork. He killed the greenskin with a swift uppercut, he swung round slashing the 2nd across the chest then shotting it twice in the head. Leapping over the falling body the killled the 3rd ork with a power armoured elbow to the throat. Peleus killed the final ork  by smashing his claw up to the fist into its face.
Peleus then knelt down and continued to cover his brothers fighting down below.

In the swirling Melee Demos took in the release of the steam vent and turned his eyes scanning his surroundings beyond the walkway his eyes came upon a pipe caution signs telling him that the contents were highly combustible, drawing his plasma pistol he fired the superheated round ruining the pipe and igniting the fuel line. the flames blasted out throwing the closest orks from the walkway and forcing the rest to their knee's.

He didn't hesitate in scooping up a heavy weapon it looked like it had once been a heavy bolter but the Orks had corrupted it, he faltered for a second before turning the weapon on the Ork's the heavy shells pulverising anything before him, he looked at the field of the dead as he turned to look at Pontus and the others dealing with the last of the Orks between them, he dropped the weapon before stamping on it to shatter it into components.

"Secure the walkways, D'Nim lend your aid to Pontus's team."

"You do not need to tell me my trade Captain." 

D'Nim strode towards the injured ready to tend to the three wounded and two dead, Pontus strode past him coming right up to Demos he looked at the remains of the broken gun under his feet.

"You soiled your purity by using that."

Demos stepped passed him retrieving his bolt pistol he attached it to his hip and turned to look at Pontus.

"It is customary to give thanks when one rescues you."

"Rescue! I did not need you aid."

Artos strode forward his axe snaking out and sending the head of a squirming Ork sailing into the abyss.

"You'd be dead if we'd left you to this."

Pontus rounded on him.

"You should teach your attack dogs the proper chain of command. He does not address a senior officer unless invited to do so."

"You should take your own advice before giving it Pontus."

He bit his tongue and strode away from the pair of them up to D'Nim who was busy applying a sealant to a chest wound on one of his men, the Marine was of the Light Bearers, by the name of Gallan he cursed as the sealant took to his skin.

"Get on your feet Gallan, we have a mission to complete."

D'Nim spoke.

"It's unwise to move until the sealant has set...."

Pontus interrupted him.

"Do not presume to speak to me Apothecary, lest you corrupt me with your rebellious tongue."

He dragged Gallan to his feet looking at his team who stood ready, Artos strode forward as did Laran an Martel.

"How dare you Captain Pontus, if it were not for us you'd be dead if it were not for D'Nim your injured would be unable to continue to fight for the Emperor, all beacuse you are..."

"Artos! That is enough we as Captain Pontus has made clear we have a mission to complete, we'll take the communications array and the weapons controls, Pontus I leave the enginarium and the bridge to you. Try not to draw too much attention to yourself again."

He watched as the rest of his team joined them leaping down onto the walkway before speaking again.

"Ingaevon, give Pontus and his team the ship layouts, we're heading to to that walkway."

He leapt off an landed heavily into a roll before moving off as the rest followed Several Ork stragglers were appearing on higher levels and firing wild shots after them but the two teams quickly made their way from of their fire and into the bowels of the ship. Once out of sight of Pontus Demos slammed his power armoured fist into one of the companionway walls tearing through it as though he'd used his powerfist, drawing his fist from the wall he growled low at the team.

"No matter what Pontus says, do not rise to it, he is petty and prideful, I'll deal with him in my own way when this is done."

He led them off heading for the outer hull of the ship where the Ork's feared the tread if it was a fact they stayed from those sections they would prove useful to moving through the ship unhindered.

D'Nim was busying himself with the keypad connected to the Narthecium on his left arm. After a few moments of this Invaegon decided to question it:

   "What, pray tell, are you doing, Jackal?"
  "My job", came the curt and irritated reply.

The brief exchange attracted the attention of Captain Demos, who was leading the group. Turning to look, he took in the scene, seeing D'Nim rapidly typing away. He stepped in towards the apothecary.
  "Answer Invaegon's question. Properly."

There was a brief pause, with the sound of the keypad coming to a halt while D'Nim looked up, taking a solid stance.
   "Instructing the medical systems of the wounded's armour. Using the drug dispensers to stabilise their injuries while they remain in transmission range."
   "Wouldn't mind arranging a 'special mix' for Pontus would you?", chuckled Laran, an act which earned him a faceless glare from D'Nim's helmet.

Demos nodded:
   "Very well. Finish up quickly. We have other work to do."

The team moved through the ship Demos following the route Invaegon had loaded into his helm he paused only at intersections where he hovered for a moment before stepping into the open space so far they'd only encountered grots scurrying through the ship, they'd been dispatched with little effort as they made their progress.

Their confrontation with Pontus had his blood up, he longed for nothing more than to tear his throat out, feast upon his blood and commend him to the Emperor, had he been the savage of his human life that would have been his course of action, engage him in a duel and tear his apart, even the chapter retained some of the old traditions disputes were settled with swords and while deaths were rare they were not unheard of.

He stopped suddenly his fist gripping air, the force stopped weapons ready, a noise came to them, a dragging chain, a heavy chain being dragged, two fingers snapped up and cut left another gesture to the right  before he snapped his hand forward, the task force split into three, Pelsus and Corvin leading the teams left and right while he took went forward, he noted who broke off in the groups as he stalked forward like a predator hunting in a low crouch his fist poised ready to stride, moving forward in a swift quiet hunt he lowered himself onto one knee peering round the final corner into an open hangar bay, his eyes fell upon a monstrous sea of re flesh and white teeth he let out a quiet hiss as he discerned individual shapes in the red mass.

"Squigs."

Laran moved beside him.

"Looks like a breeding pit."

Demos' eyes moved from the mass as a swarm of grots moved into the hangar they pushed a trolley loaded  with some form of meat, the stench coming from it was enough that his Helm closed off his external senses, he watched as the grots threw the chunks of meat into the mass of flesh, the Squigs screeched and tore at the pieces of meat and each other the grots backed away until an Ork goader moved into the hangar roaring orders at the grots, the noise caused the squigs to lurch towards the Ork swarming over the grots and tearing them apart, the Ork himself thrust a probe forward an electrified field sparking out and forcing the Squigs back, away from him, he lurched forward grabbing one of the squigs with deft skill before tossing one of the last pieces of meat at the squigs before him, turning the Ork strode from the hangar laughing the squig squirming in his hands. Demos sighed.

"This way is blocked too us."

"Agreed."

Artos hissed as the pair of them talked and they followed his gaze unseen until now a dozen "megasquigs" the size of landraiders ambled across the hangar their maws scooping up the lesser squigs in droves, longs chains hung from them dragging across the hangar deck, in their wake large squigs the size of a marine followed something crashed in the distance and the marine sized squigs bounded off down corridor.

"Stay quiet."

Demos stood and looked at those with him.

"Everyone, as little noise as possible, regroup."

He looked at Artos and Laran.

"Find we a way round."

   "Squiggoths."

   "What did you say Brother?"

   "The larger beasts, they are known as squiggoths. They aren't too bright, they might not even notice us at all but if the smaller ones are roused it will certainly draw their attention." Laran looked around, he didn't like to chance simply skulking round the edge of the walls, they needed a distraction.

  "Up there, that crane. If we can activate the crane and send it away from us, to the other end of the cargo bay the noise will attract the squigs and the squiggoths. The conrol panel is over there."

They all looked towards a raised walkway, only three steps above the deck but situated along side an open elevator, the wide base of which was listing to one side, damaged beyond use and, providing a useful sink had been colonised by a vast array of orkoid mushrooms. The Prophets of Hatred specialised in stealth and insertion, some of the best were masters of infiltration but Laran's purpose was to create noise, to be seen, his abilities were not those of other members of his Chapter.

   "One of us is going to have to go over there and activate the controls without being seen."

"Let me," said Artos. "I should be able to make it without being noticed. However, it may take a while."

Demos considered this. Artos had already proven he was able to make a silent kill earlier, and the briefing he had received on his Chapter and on Artos himself suggested that he was well-suited to the task. He nodded.

"Very well, Artos. Be as swift as you can, but do not risk detection."

Without waiting to answer, Artos moved forwards into the shadows. Moving only when he was certain that the squigs and their handlers were looking away, he swiftly reached the disused elevator. Stepping carefully, he placed a foot in amongst the alien fungi then froze.

A gretchin, one of the smaller orkoid life-forms was standing in the miniature mushroom field, its back to him. The creature carried a small rake and wore a floppy hat, in an obvious imitation of agri-world laborers. It was almost comical, Artos decided.

He reached down to crush its skull, and it turned around. Using its rake, the gretchin prodded at a feeble looking mushroom, muttering in its alien tongue.

Why hasn't it sounded the alarm?, Artos thought. Then he realized it. The brim of the gretchin's hat prevented it from seeing anything higher than Artos' lower leg. He sighed with relief then reached down.


Lurka the grot peered disinterestedly into the shadowy back of the mushroom garden. Something wasn't quite right, he thought. Was that a foot?

He swept up the brim of his floppy hat and was greeted by the sight of a huge, power-armoured gauntlet descending rapidly towards his head. He shut his eyes tight and prayed he would be lucky, like his Uncle Makari.

Everything went black.


Artos clambered up the elevator shaft as silently as possible, thrusting his knives into the shaft wall to make handholds. He slid out onto the platform holding the crane's controls, plunging one of his knives into the skull of the lone ork designated to be the crane's controller.   

Regarding the dented, rusted, control panel, Artos wondered if it would even work. Praying to the God-Emperor that it would, he took hold of a lever and pushed it forward.

Nothing

For a long moment there was nothing and Artos despaired then the crane lurched to life the drive gears screaming drawing the attention of the squigs they followed the machine as Artos sent it moving to the opposite side of the hangar, the herd of foul xenos creatures moved with it creating a large open space filled with their filth, Demos moved striding into the room his foot falls silent like the hunter he was, followed by the rest they made their way to the lift shaft the other two teams joining with them as they scaled the shaft, Demos waited keeping watch as the all scale up Artos came over to him and the pair of them climbed leaving the floor.

Half an hour later and they were in position to attack the fire control station, Demos crouched watching the corridor from a behind service grate as Orks moved backwards and forwards, they were looking for the intruders Pontus was making his presence known and the Orks were taking no risks now covering their key positions. A dozen nobz in mega armour prowled past in the wake of a warboss that dwarfed them, it's armour making it half the size of a dreadnought a crackling powerclaw and a collection of other weapons hanging from it's massive armoured form. It passed within feet of Demos' crouched form, he flexed his powerfist as it stopped sniffing the air and letting out a long growl of frustration.

"Diz Ummies are round ere sumwhar I can smelz der hides!"

One of the Nobz turned to regard it's warboss grumbling.

"So why da Kaptan sent uz down to watch da gunz den?"

The Warboss reached out with it's massive hand clamping it over the Nobz head and lifting it clear of the ground to come level with it's own vicious maw.

"Cause da ummies will want da gunz, dats why eze sent us down ere, to be ready for dem to krush em and grind em bones, dats why eze sent Grimm-Claw and iz boyz down ere!"

He tossed the mega armoured ork aside as though he weighed nothing sending him crashing into the wall close to Demos' position. Grimm-Claw didn't wait for the Ork to get up and strode off towards the gun controls, Demos waited for a long while to see if the Nob rose when it did not he forced the grill and climbed into the wide corridor, moving to the Nob he snapped the creatures neck to be sure, The team moved out behind him.

"We should have attacked."

"It was not the time, a good hunter knows when to attack and when to wait."

"It felt wrong sitting, watching."

"If we'd have attacked it would have been one or two of us while the rest climbed out of the shaft, the odds were against us."

"But now we have mega armoured orks and a warboss to battle before we can claim the controls."

"We have the advantage, we know their numbers they do not know ours, we'll attack in a two pronged strike combat specialists will storm the control deck while those ranged specialists with fire from the gun decks."

Moving out of the open grate, D'Nim shifted into a kneel, covering two of the room's possible entrances with his bolter.
   "I shall go to the gun deck to cover from range. My blade is keen, but against that armour, the honour of the close kill should go to those with powered weapons."

Jopha had been carefully studying the room, taking in the various different pipework, gantries and other elements that criss-crossed the area.

   "If I am not mistaken, these beasts have disregarded safety protocol. See, up there..."

He pointed at a panel someway above, visible only with mechanical augmentation or the eyesight of an Astartes.
   "The lights indicate the backup power cells for this sector of the ship are charged. In a ship of this age and world of origin, the cells are probably of the Type 14c Tri-Arian liquid metal core type."

   "And that means what exactly?" D'Nim growled, irritated at being interrupted.

   "They accumulate hydrogen gas while charged. Because of the explosive hazard if left, normal protocol is to only charge them immediately before entering a combat situation. But I suspect  the Orks have little concern for that."

He gestured in another direction, straight across the open floor at what looked to be several columns of squashed spheres all arranged vertically.
   "That should be the battery stack there. If you wish Captain, destroying it would make for a convenient distraction for our attack."

"D'Nim the shot is yours, Jopha guide his shot."

Demos watched as D'Nim lined up his shot.

"Get ready...Now"

D'Nim fired one well placed shot which detonated the battery stack the flames and force of the explosion ripping into the gunnery deck flames licked across the deck cooking dozens of orks in the first wave, striding through the flames came the Deathwatch Demos at their head fired his pistol indiscriminately into the green mass before him when his bolt pistol clicked empty he switched too his plasma pistol putting a super heated plasma bolt into the face of a large nob as it rushed at him, as the weapon recharged he swung into combat powerfist smashing aside Orks as he strode into the deck followed by his brothers.

In a moments lapse he saw Artos axe blade carving apart orks followed by Peleus, Martell and Jopha the others he could not see but he could hear the slaughter they were causing as he turned again into combat he parried a power claw catching the arm with a small amount of pressure he crushed the arm tearing it from the ork he smashed the weapon into the Orks face and pressed on.

"Secure the gunnery controls."

"Confirmed."

It was D'Nim he paused putting another plasma bolt into an Ork who exploded in a bright ball giving him chance to look round D'Nim was blasting his way through combat using his bolter at extreme close range as if they were combat weapons, his angle of approach would bring him to the gunnery controls first.

"Form up on Brother D'Nim, make sure he makes it to the target."

There was a series of confirmations and the line of battle shifted with D'Nim as it's centre pushing ever deeper into the deck

Demos nodded silently to himself as the gunnery controls were secured, marines covered their position with bolters as the others moved into the room.

"Ingaevon, Martel cover the entrance with the others your weapons are more suited."

"Aye Captain."

Came the replies from both of them and they moved off within moments the roar and sonic cries of their weapons adding weight to the rapid retorts of bolter fire.

"Set the firing solutions."

Artos half turned.

"Already under way Captain, we're locking weapons on the next largest cruisers."

He nodded and turned looking across the control deck, the orks presence had tainted the deck beyond salvage he grimaced as he keyed his vox.

"Pontus what is your status?"

He frowned as no response came.

"Pontus! Respond!"

Again a long pause just as he was about to try again the vox crackled to life.

"What do you want Demos? your rabble in trouble?"

"Not now Pontus, what is your status?"

"We've secured the enginarium, charges are set for twenty five minutes."

"We've secured the gunnery deck, weapons primed and ready, shorten your timers to fifteen minutes and begin extraction."

"Negative the bridge is my goal."

"Dammed your pride Pontus, we can have the orks rid us of this ship for us, this is not our mission, now order your marines to reset their timers and withdraw."

Pontus snarled down the vox but yielded.

"As you command Captain."

He looked to his marines

"Begin firing."

The guns on the gunnery deck opened fire the rumbling retorts shaking the deck Demos watched in awe as the massive cannons rocked back on their fixings rolling back into reload positions, he marvelled at the technology behind the weapons and watched as the orks filling the gunnery deck paused before nobz and larger boys started bellowing for them to reload the guns the deathwatch marines forgotten as a new aspect of battle blossomed.

"That greenskins forget us in the face of a new battle."

He almost laughed as he turned to the others.

"Set the firing solutions and lock the terminal."

The guns fired again and he turned looking over the deck as the greenskins set about their task of loading he noted the rudimentary skill with with the orks worked and gave them credit where it was due, the knew their business as they set to reloading the guns.

A series of secondary impacts rocked the ship and he smiled looking to the terminal.

"Are we taking fire?"

"Confirmed, the other greenskins are shooting back."

"Then we extract now, the greenskins will do the rest for us, untill Pontus' charges tear the heart from this ship."

Their extraction was easy the orks were distracted with fighting themselves, within ten minutes they were adrift in space their extraction procedures, having boarded escape pods they fled the ship as other smaller vessels bullied into action joined the space battle.

Demos looked at the others and nodded in satisfaction he looked to the view port as the five minute count ended.

The largest of the ork ships tore in half as the charges set by Pontus exploded ripping it's engine core apart a moment later it vanished in a plasma detonation which took several of the other ships with it. The escape pod rumbled as the shockwave over came it.

"Captain we have company."

He turned looking at Martel who was at the pods sensorium.

"Who?"

"Angles of Death captain, our battle barges have arrived."

Demos turned his attention to the view port again as half a dozen battle barges of different chapters came from the warp their weapons lighting space as they engaged with the rest of the Ork fleet.

"Brothers we have victory in the skies, now our task on the ground is to begin, Martel signal the deathwatch Battle barge for collection."

"Aye Captain."