BROTHERS AT ARMSby Mike Schwitzgebel+ + + 1823998/M41 + + + Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease, Lucien thought as he scanned for lifesigns. Choked with piles of shattered masonry, the darkened alley bore testament to heavy fighting that had torn through this sector and moved on. Scattered contents from the buildings on either side smouldered feebly in the incessant drizzle. No sign of life, alien or otherwise. He backed out of the alley and turned to survey his surroundings. Primative structures, most showing some signs of damage, lined both sides of a narrow, cobblestone street. Here and there sprawled the gutted remains of a domestic vehicle, but few bodies. This area of the town was mostly made up of commercial buildings, but even so, the few casualties in evidence were Dark Eldar and marines slain in 2nd Company's initial push. Menchhoffen, until recently a thriving settlement on the peaceful agricultural world of Corelli VI, could not have been less prepared for the attack, and the small number of human casualties suggested the raiders had been taking prisoners. Better that they had died than to have fallen into the hands
of Dark Eldar. Lucien's commlink popped twice (something which had long puzzled him, since
it was patched directly into his I/O ports and made no actual "sound") and then
came the voice of Sgt. Culebra: *Dreadnought Four... what is your status?* Along
with Lucien and several squads of scouts, Culebra's 2nd He opened an output port to his commlink and activated his transmitter. *No sign of hostiles here, Sergeant. Sector Kilo-16 is clear.* *Acknowledged. Proceed to Kilo-15.* --- Lucien froze in his tracks and upped the gain of his auditory sensors. Nothing... then, as he was about to move on, there it was again: a faint cry, coming from the building across the street. He moved cautiously in the direction of the structure's shattered front wall, and through it made out what appeared to be some sort of large, wheeled agricultural implement. Stepping over a pile of rubble onto the packed clay floor of the building, Lucien again stopped to listen. The sounds were definitely louder here and coming from somewhere deeper within. Light entered through the remains of dusty windows set high in the walls, but much of the interior was hidden in deep shadow. Despite the gloom, Lucien was able to make out an assortment of machinery in various stages of disassembly, steel shipping modules, and debris from collapsed portions of the walls and ceiling, and he moved cautiously to avoid these obstacles. Somewhere in the darkness, an air compressor chattered noisily to itself. As he approached the left rear corner of the building, Lucien heard voices coming from behind what appeared to be a some sort of large harvesting machine. Male voices, speaking in the lilting, exotic tongue of the Dark Eldar. *Dreadnought Four here,* Lucien transmitted on the commlink. A momentary pause, and then Sgt. Culebra's voice. *What have you got, Four?* *I mark hostiles in Sector Kilo-15. Some kind of repair facility. Three, maybe more. It sounds like they have one of the locals. I'm checking it out.* *Acknowledged, Four. Smiley, take Dupuis and back him up.* *Suh.* came Smiley's reply. Smiley, mused Lucien. Now there's irony. Jack Smiley was possibly the most ruthless psychopath he'd known in all his centuries. The Misfits wouldn't waste time joining Lucien if there was a chance for a fight, but the aliens' captive might not have even that much time to spare. Checking that his weapon interlocks were disengaged, Lucien stepped around the harvester and activated his shoulder-mounted searchlight. The warrior on lookout had not been wearing a helmet and stood blinded as the dreadnought stepped forward and caught hold of him, locking the stubby fingers of his power fist around the base of the raider's spine with a satisfying crunch. Crouched over something in the corner was a hideously deformed haemonculus. Three more warriors who had been standing with their backs to the lookout now fled the glare, making their escape along the wall to Lucien's right. The Eldar were quick, but the ancient space marine had anticipated their reaction and had already begun pivoting in that direction. The aliens, stumbling over machine parts scattered along the wall, were slowed just enough for Lucien to track with his heavy flamer. The paralysed warrior dangling from Lucien's power fist felt no pain as his legs were incinerated by the flamer's jet, but his brother warriors spoke for him, screaming as they were coated by the sticky fuel and hungrily devoured by the flames that fed on it. Lucien faced forward again to find the haemonculus grinning at him. "Back away, machine," she hissed, gesturing with the barbed hook she held in one hand, "or I shall kill the human." A young woman lay slumped against the wall in a large, dark puddle, wearing on her face a rictus of pain and fear, but little else. Flaps of shredded skin hung where they had been flayed from her chest and arms. She stared wide-eyed into the glare of the searchlight, and Lucien realised that she had no eyelids. "No," Lucien rumbled, "you shall not." Servos whining, he brought his multi-melta to bear. Realisation dawned and the haemonculus' grin faded. A momentary hiss, followed by the crackling whoosh! of the young woman's nearly-instantaneous vaporisation, and then Lucien turned his attention to her tormenter. He raised his power fist, still clutching the gurgling warrior, and felt the sense memory of a chill as the twisted alien's grin returned and broadened in anticipation. "Yessss--" Bolter fire chugged from behind Lucien, and a pink mist bloomed in the searchlight's beam where the creature's head had been. Pumping gouts of ichor from its neck, the body took a faltering step forward, gesturing absently with the hooked instrument before stumbling to its knees and slumping, lifeless, to the floor. "Plannin' on makin' a day of it, was you?" Smiley. Lucien turned and faced his brother marine. Dupuis was standing behind the other terminator, shifting uncomfortably. "You're an animal, you know that? You enjoy... this... just a bit too much. Brother." Smiley brushed the indictment from the air, gesturing casually with his storm bolter. "Long as it's inna service of da Imperium, I'm *sanc*-ti-fied... 'Old One'. 'Oly as da Emperor's birfday, *I* am." Time hung for an uncomfortable moment between the trooper and the ancient Ancestor. "C'mon Boo-Boo. We've got work ta do." He turned and strode past Brother Dupuis, who seemed to have something to say but only followed. Flames, starving for fuel but not finding any within their reach, flickered and died. The air compressor continued its chatter. Lucien let the Dark Eldar warrior drop, twitching, from his grasp and made his way outside to the street. He activated the commlink. *Sector Kilo-15 is... clear.*
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