Three years ago, Terran Standard, I led an assault on the giant Space Hulk, the Sinner of Ocordian. This ancient craft, being composed of a number of large ships, dwarfing our heaviest Cruiser and presenting and odd and displeasing picture to the eye as twisted spires and towers of various designs mingled together in a totally random fashion, had its original records lost in that time known as the Horus Heresy, of which I can say nothing.

To avoid alerting any possible inhabitants of the floating wreck, we teleported a small Reconnaissance Squad on board, near the surface of the disfigured hull, rather than use our powerful and penetrating scanners which found it all too easy to awaken sensitive passive sensors. These then would go on to start a chain reaction that would trigger old defence systems throughout the Hulk, thereafter hampering our progress all the way through the boarding action. Within minutes, the Recon Squad had reported that they were under heavy combat from an unknown enemy. Little information was gained from the encounter, but the last word they sent us before they fell filled us with what came close to fear.

"Genestealers!"

Was it possible for loyal Marines to feel fear, for were we not invested with the divine power of the Emperor? Did he himself not guide us? And yet every member of the Company felt something we had never sensed before as we prepared to board the Hulk by way of Assault Torpedoes, long sleek boats, each carrying a full squad of our finest. Launched from our Cruisers, they accelerated quickly towards the Hulk, energising Ram Shields seconds before impact, enabling them to punch through the hull’s thick skin, allowing us rapid deployment of our troops within the ship.

Having established a safe perimeter for our actions within the Hulk, it was time for me to don the heavy Terminator armour of my ancestors, to personally lead my men on a daring raid deep within enemy controlled territory.

Whereas Genestealers are typically considered immortal, far out-living anything else yet encountered in our galaxy, their accursed hybrids, a foul mixture of human and ‘stealer, had many human traits, including a greatly shortened life-span. When the ancient space Hulks took to the Warp, sailing randomly on cosmic currents and eddies, traversing both distances and, more importantly, time, for unspecified millennia, the hybrids on board each ship had to be placed in specially manufactured Cryogenic Tanks, in order to be preserved over the vastness of time.

Loyal Ultramarine Scouts had sighted such a Cryogenic system and their Psychic Indicators seemed to show a heightened presence - likely to be the Magus of the cult himself. One of the last generations of hybrids, the Magus appeared deceptively human from a casual glance, but always there was the cold hypnotic stare, the cruel sharp teeth, glinting from an unholy smile. This creature, through use of a psychic link that bound the whole brood together, co-ordinated and commanded the ‘stealers’ activities. His mind harnessed mighty psychic talents that forced our own great Librarians to pale into insignificance. The Magus was second only to the Patriarch of the brood, an old and venerable, but no less deadly, ‘stealer. If allowed to awaken, the Magus could stop our assault in its tracks, disrupting communications and tearing Brother-Marines apart with the pure unleashed power of the Warp.

Speed was of the essence, but teleporting into the Cryogenic Chambers was considered too dangerous - those vital few seconds of dis-orientation had claimed too many loyal Brothers in the past as voracious ‘stealers waited for them in ambush. Gathering my own Command Squad and the remnants of Squad Ferstan left after the initial boarding attempts, we proceeded to march through the labyrinthine corridors of the Hulk. For the main part of the journey, the ‘stealers seemed to be just watching us, baiting us even, keeping out of our way, allowing us only a few vain pot-shots at distant, fleeting shadows.

Squad Ferstan kept on a parrell set of corridors to us, approximately ten yards to our right. Both squads were nearly four hundred yards from the target chamber when the attack started.

In my own Command Squad, Brother Lexan, bearing an Assault Cannon, was walking point and it was his suit that first detected life-form readings, somewhere down a junction to our left and also a small number gathering slowly near the Cryogenic Chamber. Lexan continued towards the target, whilst Brother Toared behind him travelled a little way up the left flank to block the ‘stealer advance and guard our exit. I increased my pace to catch up with Lexan in front, noting with disgust the heretical slogans and challenges hastily dabbed in a variety of colours on the smooth metallic walls. Power cables floated aimlessly in the zero gravity environment like the vicious Maccragean Lash-Worms that I knew from my infancy on the Chapter Homeworld. Held to the corridor floor by way of magnetic soles on our armoured feet, we pushed past the evil tendrils to meet Squad Ferstan at the designated rendezvous point, in the first chamber of the Cryogenic Complex - the target was not too far away now.

Gun-fire behind us, followed by the Chapter’s Battle Litanies as Toared sang the death of our enemies - a fine warrior, we could depend on him. The Sensorium alerted me to the fact that enemy hordes were building up heavily ahead and an advance force was making its way cautiously towards our position. Between us and them was a bottleneck a little beyond a four-way junction. We had to reach it before they did, or we would be fighting ‘stealers all the way, not an altogether attractive proposition.

From the chamber in which we were now standing alongside Squad Ferstan, there were two direct routes to the bottleneck. In order to stop the ‘stealers flanking us and catching us in the side or, worse, from behind, I ordered the raiding force be split into two, Codicier Braham from my Command Squad taking one half, and I the other. Once more, Lexan walked point, whilst Sergeant Ferstan stayed in the chamber, to reinforce Toared’s position.

The corridor from the chamber sloped slightly downwards and as we rounded the first bend that took us in the direction of the bottleneck, we saw the junction and the ‘stealer foe. Somehow, they had been quick enough to beat us to it, and were racing towards us, hungry to claim their first victims. A quick message came through from Codicier Braham.

"ETA at the junction, thirty-five seconds. Increasing pace, no resistance encountered."

Blue-shining carapaces glinted in the glare of our lights as they clashed noisily together. I could imagine Lexan’s grim smile as he thumbed his Assault Cannon into action. Hundreds of shells flew into and through the many bodies in a matter of seconds. The ‘stealers fell in their dozens and retreated to the junction in preparation of the next wave.

We followed Lexan forward, crushing ‘stealer skulls and bodies underfoot. They lay on the floor here, indicating the gravitic plates located beneath the floor were working in this part of the Hulk, though it made little difference to us. The Sensorium showed a ‘stealer build up just beyond the junction - then bright flame flashed fiercely across our path, incinerating the aliens and blackening the walls with an unclean soot.

"Present in thirty seconds, Captain," a hint of sarcasm from Brother Stardae, the Flamer Marine of Squad Ferstan. I allowed it to pass in the combat zone.

Few ‘stealers remained and Stardae moved aside to let Codicier Braham through, his rapid fire Storm Bolter chattering into the remaining creatures, tiny explosions knocking their carapaces out of joint as they hit the floor.

"Brother Lexan, your Assault Cannon," requested Braham.

As Lexan complied, Braham channelled his suit’s view into mine. A bulkhead stood solid, not too far beyond the junction. Lexan, as he past the cross-roads, closed Blast-Doors to his left and right, thus denying the ‘stealers the ability to flank us from here. Holding his Cannon horizontal, it spun into life, draining the last shell out of its ammunition pack, ripping the bulkhead apart in a flurry of metal shards. The broken remains of the metal plate surged forward as many ‘stealers pushed through, claws outstretched for Lexan. He tried desperately to reload in time, but fumbled uselessly with the pack, for they were too close. The lead ‘stealer drew back one of its claws and punched forward, smashing the Marine’s helmet as if it were made of glass, caving in his skull.

Blue electrical sparks flowed over Braham’s Psychic Hood and we all felt the sudden build up of his unique power. Stretching a hand towards the ‘stealers that were little more than a metre away, the sparks shot down his arm, turning into a thick blue lightning bolt that leapt from ‘stealer to ‘stealer, leaving blackened heaps lying on the floor. Beyond the remains of the bulkhead, we could make out another chamber. Inside, it seemed like a horde of ‘stealers began to surge onward as our Sensoriums began to overload from the sheer amount of bodies ahead. Again I felt a psychic build up in the air, and I was only half aware of a green ball of fire flying from Braham’s hood through the bulkhead - but we all saw the explosion as lethal multi-coloured, unworldly flames, more potent than our latest Flamers, consumed all within the chamber in seconds. A burning Hybrid, melting flesh disfiguring its face further, ran forward from the carnage, firing an antique Bolter haphazardly. Shells ricoched harmlessly off Braham’s armour, until he raised his own Storm Bolter and immediately ended the wretch’s life.

"Am under heavy fire, Brother Toared down, ‘stealers within fifteen yards, can see a Hybrid with some sort of heavy weapon moving into position. Ammunition running low, request permission to fall back."

Sergeant Ferstan’s report. The ‘stealers were attempting to break our rear-guard. If that happened, we would be cut off, allowing them to take us on at their leisure.

"Hold your position, Sergeant," I knew that this was not what he wanted to hear, "I’m joining you. Braham, you have the lead."

I turned around to join Ferstan in defence of the first chamber, whilst Braham took the rest of the force forward, Brother Cageum walking point, favouring the Lightning Claws that allowed us to take the ‘stealers on in close combat with fairer odds. Reports came through at regular intervals and Braham seemed to be meeting little resistance now.

"Hybrid Flamer eliminated, target thirty yards away. Sensorium indicating heavy build up of alien forces outside the Cryogenic Chamber. Our fire burns through the ice of this evil."

I approached the first chamber the way Braham had left it and though I could not see Ferstan, his challenges on the com-link were broadcasted to us all. Dead and dying ‘stealers filled the room but, ever so slightly, they were edging towards the Sergeant, who was firing sparingly in order to preserve his remaining ammunition. Though he bore a Power Sword on his left arm, an award for bravery in actions past, it was still no match for the deadliness of a ‘stealer in close combat.

Nearing the room, I raised the Power Glove on my left arm, firing a Plasma Grenade from the launcher mounted on the back of it. The shell flew into the room and created a super-heated explosion that lasted but a fraction of a second. One minute, ‘stealers were crabbing across the room, using the broken forms of their past comrades as cover, a bright flash, and then even the bodies had been vaporised, leaving the room devoid of life-forms. Running up to the chamber, hurriedly trying to raise Ferstan on the com-link to see if he had been caught in the blast, I saw ‘stealers once more begin to surge across the room. A Storm Bolter chattered and a couple of ‘stealers fell. Good, Ferstan was still alive, but for how much longer?

Drawing my own Power Sword from its jewelled scabbard, I took the ‘stealers in the flank by surprise, splitting a body in two before they were even aware of my presence. Then I invoked the might of my Storm Bolter and the ‘stealers retreated out of the room, leaving the dying behind.

I watched the ‘stealers regroup at the junction beyond and once more I prepared my Grenade Launcher. As one, the aliens parted, revealing a solitary Hybrid baring a large Missile Launcher, the shell leaving its tube in the same instant as my grenade left its own. Two explosions rocked me, one causing the Hybrid to vanish in a flash, as if by sorcery, the other much closer, concentrated on Sergeant Ferstan. It was an Anti-Tank shell, designed to channel the force of the explosion inwards rather than out, for maximum destructive power on a single target. If the Hybrid had been packing a different shell type, Melta-Missiles, for example, I may not be here now, relating this tale.

A cry of agony deafened me on the com-link as Ferstan staggered painfully out of the smoke and debris slowly filling the chamber. The shell had apparently caught in his left shoulder, for his armoured limb lay some way behind him, and he leant on me for support. We both knew he was dying, for there were no Medics here, and it was a dreadful wound.

"Brother-Captain, our ancestors await me. Re-load my gun."

I understood. Complying with his wishes, I clipped my own spare ammunition packs into the underside of his gun. Straightening himself, not without a great deal of pain, the one-armed warrior marched towards the ‘stealers threatening to cut us off, hurling insults and challenges amidst a deadly hail of Bolter shells. Then he too was gone, leaving me alone to wait for the others.

"Brother Cageum down," came the report. He would not have left without a fight, I knew.

"‘Stealer caught him from behind. Stardae was cut off from behind us, he detonated his Flamer, taking many of the foe to battle our ancestors. Many of the enemy is dead, they are trying to regroup behind me. Target ahead, stand by."

The moment of truth was at hand. Had we been quick enough in our strike, or had the cunning Magus already left his confining tank?

"Failure Brother-Captain, failure. The tanks are empty, we are undone."

My heart heavy, I gave Braham’s last order.

"Get out of there. We’ve lost the battle, but not the war."

"No can do, Captain," came Braham’s calm reply, "‘Stealer build up too intense. I go to join my loyal Brothers, to stand alongside our Primarch."

"I’m coming to get you out . . ."

"No. The Chapter needs you. You still have duties to perform. Farewell, Eurol."

I tried time and again to raise Braham on the com-link, but he must have switched his own off. By now, I knew, the Emperor’s enemies would be dying.

The ‘stealers ahead were holding back; they knew I had to pass them to return to my Chapter and they lay in wait. But a strange life-form reading had appeared on my Sensorium, a little further back down the corridor I had used before. Not a ‘stealer, not a Hybrid, but it was certainly coming for me. Turning around, I faced my worst nightmare.

For a Terminator suit stood before me, the wearer’s face leering at me, noting my surprise, but not taking advantage of it. The armour bore the sign of the Iron warriors, one of the Traitor Legions that had left the Emperor’s light millennia ago, and also that eight-pointed star that Traitors so often wore with a perverse pride, showing allegiance to that unknown power named Chaos. This was no friend, but my very worst enemy - he too bore a Power Sword and Grenade Launcher that together made the mark of a Captain’s rank. Raising the Sword in challenge, he took a step towards me. The ‘stealers, I noticed, had left us alone, were watching the oncoming conflict. Raising my own Sword, I answered the challenge.

A lunge aimed at the joints between my shoulder pads was knocked harmlessly aside and, before he could recover, I rushed forward, hurling the full weight of my suit against his. Staggering back, he fell heavily against the wall, but pulled the trigger of his Storm Bolter. At point-blank range, the exploding shells filled both of our suits with shrapnel, but I backed off as a minor power unit failed in my armour. It was of no consequence at this time, but I would find intricate movements with my Power Glove impossible.

Rage boiled within me as I watched the creature, for he was no longer a man, raise his Power Sword in challenge once more. The Traitor dared consider himself my equal and yet it was he who had deviated from the Emperor’s divine light - how could I suffer the wretch to live?

Once more I ran towards the foul figure, this time ignoring his Sword as it bit deep into my right arm. Instead, I drove my own weapon hard into his black heart, my strength and faith aiding my Sword to pierce his thick armour in a shower of glowing sparks. In an instant I saw despair and loss mix with pain on his face, but there was no repentance - an evil force had already claimed this once loyal Brother’s soul, even as he had lived.