Father Spelding.

By Graham Tunnicliffe - g.tunnicliffe@easynet.co.uk

"Spelding, get those other men to that fort. We'll try and buy you some time. Go!"

Captain Schultz shouted the last word for emphasis and jerked his chainsword in the direction of the fort. It was a small structure of steel, amongst other less identifiable materials and looked like a strong wind would demolish it, but Schultz knew that Ork buildings always looked like that, and yet were remarkably serviceable.

"Don't worry about the Orks, Spelding", said Schultz, noting the Preachers sour expression, "I think we have a truce at the moment, at least until those things are dead."

With that, Captain Schultz of the Mordian XXV turned to face the Tyranids.

A few minutes earlier, this had been a routine mission. A small group of Ork survivors had occupied a plateau in the Black Spine Mountains and were using human slaves to work the mine. Captain Schultz had requested permission to take his platoon and neutralise the threat. He had been told that no barrages were available, because of the threat to the slaves, but he had been certain they wouldn't need any. Just at the moment he had felt the tide of battle turn in his favour, the Chimera carrying his reserves had sped onto the battlefield early, heralding the arrival of the Tyranids.

Genestealers were now climbing the cliffs all around them, whilst other Tyranid beasts were advancing along the path that Beta Platoon had travelled along hours earlier. That path was also their only escape route, unless the Blood Axe Commander realised that their best chance for survival was co-operation, and let his men into the fort. Schultz was determined that some of his platoon would survive this assault, so that they could join the main force back at the camp...unless..... He dismissed the grisly thought of broken bodies and destroyed tanks from his head, and turned his attention back to the immediate danger. He would save some of his platoon, even if it meant his own life.

"Adamantine Order" he barked, "to me!"

Schultz' personal bodyguard stepped up to flank him and readied their weapons. These men were from the Adamantine Order, the Military Police of the Mordian XXV and had a well deserved reputation for steely determination. Each face showed a grim resolve - men prepared to sell their lives dearly.

"The Emperor appreciates your bravery, Captain, but he would hate me to miss the fun. You don't mind if I stay, do you?"

Commissar Vesk nodded as he stood next to Schultz, and withdrew a syringe of RAGE from a specially constructed sheath on his belt.

"Not at all, Commissar", replied Schultz, "just leave a few for the rest of us."

Each man smiled at the last comment, knowing it was a blatant show of bravado, and that very soon they would be swatted aside and the main force of the Tyranid Army would be trampling their bodies to dust. Until that time, though, they intended to sting.

"Right", said Vesk, withdrawing the now empty syringe from his neck, "let's see what they've got."

As Vesk finished the sentence, the Vanguard of the Tyranid army rounded the crest of the hill and appeared on the road, less than ten metres from the defenders.

Directly in the centre of the horde was a Carnifex, screaming and slashing at the ground as it ran. To either side of the thing were four Tyranid warriors, armed with a variety of their foul bio-weapons. Racing ahead of this force was a sea of termagants, carpeting the road in front of the Mordians. A few of these termagants and one of the Tyranid warriors broke off to attack the heavy weapons teams entrenched to Schultz' right and each man in that squad resigned himself to his fate and readied weapons, determined to fight to the last for their Captain.

Schultz and his men managed to loose off a shot each, felling termagants in jets of white hot flame and bolter shells. The Carnifex was wounded too, from a well placed Melta-Gun shot and then the Tyranids were upon them - tactics and training were gone and it became a terrifying battle for survival, fought on adrenaline alone. Schultz could hear the screams of his men, as bio weapons tore flesh and shattered bone. he could hear the curses of the Commissar as he charged into a brood of Tyranid warriors, even with the RAGE coursing through his system, Vesk was at best merely their equal.

Schultz slashed down with his chainsword, biting deep into the back of a termagant. He wrenched the sword free of the dying beast and looked up into the mask of his death. The Carnifex was charging him. In the moment before the impact, he seemed to see and digest everything on the battlefield. On either side, his bodyguard were dead, save for one who was facing two Tyranid warriors. Commissar Vesk had been hit by his opponents bonesword, but his displacer field had shifted him away from that immediate danger and into the centre of the second termagant wave. The creatures crawled all over him, desperate to drag him down, but still Vesk screamed his defiance and slashed with his sword whilst the power fist shattered skulls.

Schultz felt utterly alone. He prayed that his field would serve him well and levelled his chainsword at the Carnifex.

"For the Emperor and the Glory of the XXVth"

Father Spelding watched the unfolding battle with mounting horror, then remembered his task and turned to the squad of infantry he was assigned to. They had reached the cover of a cluster of mine buildings and now glanced around, half expecting some Tyranid beast to leap out of the shadows. Father Spelding spoke to his men:

"Your Captain wants us to reach that fort", he said pointing in the general direction of the structure, "if we get there, we may just have a chance of surviving. I know there are Orks in there and they are filthy aliens, but we each have a bigger problem right now, and that means we have to stop killing each other for a little while. Right now, Captain Schultz is buying us time with his own blood, so I don't want to let him down. Do you?"

"No Sir!" came the response from the squad.

"Good. Now we need to see how bright their Commander is."

All of the men looked towards the fort. Just in front of it, the Leman Russ had scattered a dozen 'stealers and in doing so allowed a mob of Stormboyz to fall back, free from the 'stealers unwelcome attentions. It now rumbled to a halt in front of the forts' main gate, as a Chimera hurtled past behind it to open up with heavy bolter and multi-laser on another brood of 'stealers who had reached the plateau. As the Chimera drove, the rear door opened and a squad of Ogryns disembarked, hitting the ground and moving towards the fort at speed. A second Chimera reversed over the rough terrain around the mine, covering an Ork mobs retreat to the fort.

As Father Spelding and his men watched, the gate to the fort started to slowly lift.

"Praise be to the Emperor!" shouted Spelding. He then looked at the men. "We have a lot of ground to cover, so let's move. Sergeant, you...."

His words were cut short by a warning yelled by private Reiner:

"Father, look out!"

Spelding instinctively spun around and saw the Carnifex racing towards his squad. He knew it would tear them apart if it got the chance. He quickly scanned the terrain behind the Carnifex, looking for the Captains body and saw him, alive just beyond the hedges that marked the pathway. His displacer field had obviously saved him, and for the moment at least, he was safe. Private Reiner fixed his bayonet to his lasgun and stood in front of Father Spelding, but the Preacher shook his head.

"No", he said, "you make sure you get to that fort. This unholy terror is mine."

The Preacher drew his laspistol, started his chainsword and strode forward, reciting the litanies of faith and calling on the Emperor for aid.

The combat was quickly joined. Father Spelding was shocked by the sheer ferocity and primal force of the assault and he staggered back, reeling under the power of the thing. He ducked and parried the claws desparately as he sought a weakness. At one point, the Carnifex let out a beastial roar and Father Spelding fired two quick shots into its' mouth. Yet even this did not slow the Carnifex - if anything it seemed to attack with renewed strength, seemingly enraged that this insignificant speck dared to stand against it. A flurry of claw slashes had Father Spelding defending again, and as he started to mount a counter attack, a claw struck. Not at him, but at his chainsword. The weapon shattered like glass, and the chain blade snapped back viciously across the Preachers' hand, opening a deep wound over his knuckles. He instinctively drew his hand back, dropping what remained of the sword and also, for a second, dropping his guard. the Carnifex struck in that second. In slow motion he stared up at the Carnifex and saw two claws scything down towards him. He stared into the eyes of the beast and held its gaze, betraying no emotion, as the claws struck home.

Father Spelding stared at the parallel slashes in his robe. No blood flowed from them. The thing had missed him - a miracle! Father Spelding shrieked for joy and then, gripping his holy icon in his bloodied hand, he shouted:

"The Emperor himself is my shield, beast! What chance have you to hurt me?"

Then, Father Spelding flung himself at the Carnifex with passion, convinced that he would now slay it.