Gortez aimed down his sights, and pulled the trigger. Across the hab-block, the chest of a renegade squad leader exploded, showering his underlings with blood, gore and bits of bone. The cultists broke, turned tail and ran.
Down below, Karn caved in a trooper's head with the butt of his sniper rifle. He kicked back the body, pulled out his bolt pistol and shot another one through the chest. At such a close range, the mass-reactive bolt round did not activate, and simply went through the body. It hit the cultist behind and exploded, blowing away a chunk of his flesh.
Karn tapped his vox.
'Got any more? We're thinning them over here.'
Gortez did not reply. He sighted down again, this time aiming at a purple skinned monster battling Grigor. The battered scout beat back his enemy with his heavy bolter, and Gortez pulled the trigger again. The monstrous snout broke apart, and the monster fell.
That was the last straw. The cultists broke into a run, despite the shouting of a leader. Gortez put a round in his head, for good measure.
As the enemy fell back, the scouts all broke cover and tore into them with controlled bursts. Many went down, but none turned back.
The vox chimed.
'This is Rankar. Our causeway is clear. The thunderhawk took care of the third approach. What is your status?'
Gortez tapped his own voxbead.
'All clear. Multiple wounded. Need extraction. The Emperor protects.'
---
Argus awakened to the ungentle administration of a recovery enhancing drug cocktail. While their deployment lacked a proper Apothecary, the Lux Imperatoris was equipped with basic life support and recovery gear, and any of the senior battle brothers knew how to administer them. The drugs sent the already formidable Space Marine physiology into overdrive, knitting bones, mending flesh. They were as brutal as they were effective, but Argus pondered not his already forming scars. His duty was to his squad first, and he took a few tentative steps around the room. He was the first to awaken, and the dataslate on the table asserted that his squadmates were recovering as well. His second concern was his own wargear, which was stowed away neatly in a chest next to his bed. It had been cleaned, but not thoroughly. Argus took note to take care of it later. Time for his third objective. He reached for his voxbead.
'Veteran Sergeant?'
---
The scouts stood at rigid attention at another mission briefing. In the back of his mind, Argus went over the events of the past few weeks.
After their incursions into the rebel operations, the renegades had no more surprises to play and simply disclosed the extent of their treachery. While a few regions had already been engulfed in conflict at the arrival of the Imperial Fist task force, now the rebellion went global overnight. What were they waiting for? It mattered not. It was simply war. And the Imperial Fists excelled at war.
Nevertheless, they were hard pressed. Treachery ran rampant even among the planetary high command. The governor himself had not turned, but Danicus may have preferred that he had. Then a bolt round to the head would have taken care of that problem. As it was, the veteran sergeant maneuvered expertly among the nobility. He located the remaining competent members of the military - few and far between - and removed - through some mean or another - those who were more hindrance than benefit. With such reduced numbers at all levels, the PDF operated deficiently, and it was up to the Fists to plug the gaps. And that they did, with extreme prejudice.
The Lux Imperatoris flew around the clock, only stopping to refuel and rearm. Its crew must be engaging their Catalepsean Node for some time now, thought Argus. It did not show on their efficiency, however. Whether supporting PDF armored columns or battling alone for air supremacy, the Thunderhawk reaped a bloody tally among the renegades.
This deprived the scouts of much of their support, and they had to time their missions such that the craft could deploy them without long detours. Naturally, this was no great impediment. The tactical acumen of Danicus, and the ever increasing skill of the scouts themselves was put to the test, and passed with flying colors. One after another, renegade commanders were eliminated; communication centers sabotaged; supply lines cut; heretic temples put to the torch.
---
But not everything went smoothly. Such was the nature of war. Argus suppressed the thought, and concentrated on the nervous PDF officer standing before them. The man was part of a small remnant of a force in full retreat, which the scouts had linked up with by accident. The officer was babbling on about some critical intelligence their transport was carrying. Autogun fire erupted behind them, and Argus made his decision. They would hold, and protect the transport. Man and Astartes, standing together against the tide.
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