The Doom of Ulpia - Mission #3 Story

Codicier Mourdom descended the ruin - once an Administratum building - rapidly. The Scouts will continue their surveillance. For now, he had to make plans.



'Brother Mason, how are you holding up?'

'I have conducted field repairs on my servo-arm. Estimated efficiency up to 56%.'

Mourdom nodded, although the voice of the Techmarine seemed strained. There was no time for Apothecary Kristov to administer proper care, and the metabolism enhancers must be wearing off by this time. Nevertheless, Mason did not complain, and Mourdom did not think to offend him by further asking about his condition. He was a son of Dorn. He would hold up. They all were. They all had to.

'The... jamming tower is in another ruined basilica. The Traitors enjoy this sacrilege, I would think.'

Mason flexed his good servo-arm.

'Then we shall show them the error of their ways.'

'That we will, Brother-Techmarine.'

Mourdom switched to the general vox channel used by his small task force.

'Sergeant Crowley, report.'

'All Scout squads in position, Codicier. The Traitors are actively patrolling the premises. I presume they are on high alert-'

The vox clicked and buzzed, as solid shells impacted in the distance, followed by the soft whizz of lascannon fire.

'-due to the battle going on.'

'I would assume so, Sergeant. What are the chances of infiltration?'

'Very low, Codicier. Our best bet is to move in hard and fast. Do what you have to do with Brother Mason. And then we retreat before reinforcements show up.'

'Understood, Sergeant. We are on our way. The Emperor protects.'

'The Emperor protects, Codicier. Crowley, out.'

Mourdom signaled to the Devastators, and they headed out. The heavily armed marines could not move noiselessly. Neither could Mason, for that matter. His injured servo-arm gave off a soft whirr with each step. It did not matter, though. The Scouts would do the infiltration, then strike from the shadows, covered by the missile launchers. They would have to compensate their lack of stealth with a hard punch. It was not a perfect plan, but Mourdom and Mason were not expert strategists. Neither were they fools, however; a century or so of constant warfare left them capable officers. Mourdom lamented the absence of Lexandro for a moment. The Captain would surely cook up some insane tactic that would save the day-

Another blast, off in the distance. Another. Then another. A horn blared, and a building collapsed.

Mourdom stopped and looked back. Let the Emperor protect Brother-Captain Lexandro. He had his own job to do.

The Codicier turned back to the task at hand. He was renowned for his single-minded approach - even before that fateful day when his tribe raided that city, and he was singled out by a Space Marine Chaplain for recruitment. Mourdom squashed the memory. His task was here and now.

'Brothers, the jamming tower is over the next hill. Fan out, pattern Omikron. Maintain vox discipline. On my signal, cleanse the traitors. The Emperor protects.'