This story is part of
a larger network of stories on the B&C.
The
First part of Ferrum's story in the Antioc Campaign
can be found here.
THE CRUSADE FOR
ANTIOC CAMPAIGN
The Fall of Ferrum
The
Gaias space station had fallen silent after the last
battle.
Sergeant Ferrum had stood over the last remaining
enemy and promptly planted a heel between the man’s
eyes. He hadn’t even noticed as the fragile
skull caved in under his heavy boot.
That
was close to an hour ago and now he and squad Nexum
where stuck here baby-sitting Forb while the squat
little human worked feverishly to purge the Gaias
computer-system of defences and virii so he could
gain control and bring the might of the Gaias defensive
network to bear against the forces of the enemy.
Ferrum had seen to it that the little man’s
wounds had been cleaned and bound by his squads medic.
Forb had protested of course, but Ferrum had insisted
and eventually the squat had grumblingly agreed.
Ferrum
looked at him now as he worked the consoles of Gaias.
Typically of a Squat he was grumbling and thinking
out loud as he worked, but not so typically of a Squat,
he was reciting many of the Mechanicus litanies while
doing so.
Ferrum
had mixed feelings about the little man, he was a
Squat and that may have lead many a Marine to unjust
anger, but it didn’t bother Ferrum who came
from a Chapter that had a good business-like relationship
with the Squats before they where wiped out as a major
player on the Galactic Arena. – It was still
a mystery to Ferrum how the Tyranids had penetrated
that far into the Imperium without being detected...
No, he suspected deeper treachery had been behind
the near extinction of the Squats; probably the ones
that had the most to fear from the short race’s
straight forward view of machines. – The Adeptus
Mechanicus.
That
is what gave Ferrum mixed feelings about the Squat.
His Chapter of origin didn’t have much love
for the tech-priests who treated machines like...
like divine entities. – Ferrum knew it was rubbish
of course. – A time waster.
His Chapter never used such superstitious rites around
Machines and they had no problems. They took good
care of them, used them properly, but there was nothing
divine there. – The only thing close to divinity
was Humanity itself and the Emperor at its head.
That
world view had made his Chapter fit in well with the
Squats, but it was also why the Adeptus Mechanicus
had tried to have his Chapter destroyed as Heretics
in the past. – If it hadn't been for the intervention
of the Inquisition...
Ferrum’s
thoughts where abruptly interrupted by a blaring alarm
and the whole room was suddenly bathed in red light.
Ferrum strode towards Forb so he could have a closer
look at the screens before leaning in over the Squat.
“What is going on?”.
Forb didn’t even turn or stop his hectic work
on the consoles.
“It appears that a major Fleet Battle has commenced.”
he said, his voice thick and accented.
“The
enemy has moved in on our support group and launched
a surprise attack upon them”.
The Squat’s fingers danced across the consoles
of the control station.
“Also, it appears we are about to have guests...”
This time Forb did turn around, concern written on
his face.
“How,
where and how much time?” was Ferrum’s
instant reply.
Forb leaned back to his consoles again.
“Two Shark Assault Boats; launched at us from
a passing enemy ship less than three minutes ago”,
Forbs fingers kept dancing across the consol again
and a hololithic emitter came to life, showing the
two enemy crafts’ position in relation to the
Gaias.
“I would estimate around a hundred enemies inbound
and if me calculations are correct they will hit us
in less than ten minutes”.
“Where?”
Ferrum was insistent.
Forb looked up at the bold Marine again, then grumbled
something and leaned over to the hololithic projection
where he stuck his hand out as if to touch the monochromatic
3d image.
“Here”, he said. “Less than fifty
meters from this control station”.
Forb looked up at Ferrum again with worry clearly
showing in his face.
“We wont be able to stop them and that many
enemies is to much for even your team to hold of long
enough for meself to gain proper control over Gaias”.
Ferrum
was getting slightly irritated. “Well then shoot
them down!”
Now Forb was getting irritated to. “I cant!”
he said raising his voice and getting slightly flustered.
– “The enemy shot up most of me Servitors
remember!?”.
Only two of the local defensive stations are operative.
They are manually handled and they are on the wrong
side of the Gaias! – It will take at least another
two hours before the local defences are online and
even longer to gain full control of the defensive
network. – If only you and your squad had done
your job properly my Servitors would still be whole
now and...”.
Ferum
interrupted the angry little man by snapping to attention
while giving him a fierce scowl, his jaw clenched
tight as he crushed the chairs neck-rest where he
had rested his hand. Ferrum didn’t even notice
his destructive spasm, and Forb was sure the Marine
was about to strike him down as the large man swiftly
put his helmet on and pulled his Chainsword out while
the helmet atmo-seals hissed into locked position.
But
the expected lethal blow never came. Instead Ferrum
turned on his heel and headed for the door, every
bit an effective tool of war.
“Silex, on me! The rest of you stay here and
defend this station”. His voice was distorted
by the vox caster in his mask, giving his voice a
slightly machine-like quality.
Silex quickly ran up to his sergeant, but just as
the two Marines where about to reach the door, Forb
addressed them.
“You
cant hope to halt the enemy. There is just one manual
defensive turret in their path.
You will be blown to bits by their defences as you
activate it. They will see your attack coming long
before you can mount an effective assault.
Ferrum
halted his forward momentum and turned in one swift
move, standing completely still with his bolter at
the ready; the blue lenses of his helmet staring coldly
at Forb.
“No” he
said, his voice machine-like. – “They
wont see this
coming!”.
+ + + + +
Four
minutes later, Ferrum was running head first at a
steel bulkhead.
Silex, his demolitions expert had meticulously rigged
the outer wall with a directional charge, and now,
as Ferrum was running full force straight towards
the expected explosion, he was hoping his faith in
the skills of his team was not misplaced.
Ferrum
could hear the clanging of his heavily armoured boots
on the metallic crating of the floor. His breathing
was heavy and expectant as he ran with all his might
towards the bulkhead in front of him; then the entire
room shook and for a split second, the area straight
ahead of Ferrum turned into a seething fireball rushing
towards him like a Hell-born daemon.
As
it was about to engulf the sprinting Marine in a hail
of lethal shrapnel, the fireball retracted and collapsed
in on itself, Ferrum following the disappearing flames
closely as the outer bulkhead collapsed and sucked
everything not tied down into the cold vacuum of space.
Ferrum
managed to pump on with a few more powerful steps
before throwing himself forward and forcibly being
sucked out of the Space Station’s insides, rushing
with immense speed towards the approaching Assault
Boats.
Ferrum leveled his back pack thrusters and adjusted
his course slightly, then stabilized his vector, boosted
his thrusters to maximum and let them rip, flying
with immense speed, straight as an arrow towards the
closest Shark.
A
little over a minute later, Ferrum was already close
enough to the Sharks that he could glimpse the boarding
craft pilots with his helmet’s magni-optics.
He had been forced to adjust his approach vector slightly
a couple of times and had thus lost a little speed,
but the two ships where approaching fast and in another
minute he would be close enough to latch onto one.
He was pretty certain the pilots hadn’t seen
his small black-armoured form against the dark backdrop
of the universe, and the shrapnel from the explosion
onboard the Gaias would have provided enough sensory
noise to give him cover from their onboard instrumentation.
Before
he had come to far out and lost contact with the short
range vox-link, Ferrum had heard the frustration of
Forb at the horrible damage done to the ancient Star
Cathedral, but in truth the damage wasn’t all
that bad and the small hallway that had been torn
open was part of a compartmentalised section that
had already been sealed off.
A couple of days would see the chamber sealed up again
and another week’s worth of work would make
it as good as new. – The Sharks would do far
worse if they reached the station...
But
now, Ferrum was about to reach the Sharks instead.
He was coming up on the closest one, but he was coming
in to high. At this angle he would overshoot the ship
by a mere few meters.
Ferrum checked the pressure of his thruster tanks.
– Enough for a quick boost and some adjustment
thrusts.
He slowly rotated his body so he was approaching the
Shark in an up-side-down position, then he leveled
his thrusters downwards and speed full thrust towards
the closest ship’s cockpit window.
The
Shark Assault Boat was looming huge in front of him
now as he was speeding head first towards it. He could
see the panicked faces of the pilots as they finally
spotted him, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, bolter
leading the way.
The ancient weapon silently spat forth death and three
tiny explosions blossomed against the ship’s
front, collapsing the windows and instantly bathing
the cockpit in freezing vacuum – Seconds later,
Ferrum came crashing through the front window, feet
first to land inside the pilotless boat. His mag-boots
instantly grabbed hold of the ship’s metallic
floor and Ferrum swung around, ready for a battle,
but the pilots where already dead and frozen in their
chairs.
Quickly
surveying his surroundings, Sergeant Ferrum assessed
that the cockpit was much like that of a Thunderhawk’s.
His suits onboard database was already showing him
the more advanced of the vessels controls as he searched
the control consoles buttons and levers.
Glancing
up at a monitor he could see the rear of the ship’s
compartment with around fifty traitor guard strapped
in. The men looked worried but not overly alarmed.
– That,
could be remedied!
Quickly
flipping over four switches, Ferrum turned the ship’s
auto-pilot off, then entered new coordinates, eased
down on the thrusters a bit to let the other ship
catch up with them before abruptly throwing the ship
into the flight path of the other Shark.
A
red light immediately blinked to life on the pilot’s
consol, trying in vain to warn the dead pilots of
the imminent impact.
For good measure Ferrum stepped back and then put
his foot cleanly through the control panel to kill
of any Machine-Spirit controlled evasive manoeuvres.
On
the passenger compartment monitor, Ferrum could see
the ship’s cargo panicking now, it was clear
to them that something was wrong, very wrong! –
Then the monitor sputtered and died. – So would
the passengers!
Ferrum
practically ran to the back of the cockpit and quickly
surveyed the sealed metal door before forcibly punching
a hole through it and continuing to rip the thick
steel door of it’s hinges; exposing the crew
compartment to the terrible effects hard vacuum could
have on an unprotected human body.
While
his mag-boots secured his position, horribly mutilated
and dying men came flying at him, carried on the currents
of air that pushed everything in the passenger compartment
towards the cockpit, as the ship's hull decompressed.
Then with a terrible explosion, the floor lurched,
the world spun and the ship’s main hull broke
in two as the side wall was ripped open by the other
shark that had futily tried to evade the inevitable
crash.
Wild
currents of air where now ripping all over the place
with enough force to throw Ferrum of balance. One
of his mag-boots lost it’s grip, then the rush
of air was gone, emptied into space in an instant,
and the world became a crazy mess of intertwined metal
and blurred motion as the hull of the two sharks ripped
through eachother.
Something
hit Ferrum in the back and he fell prone, crushed
down by an immense weight as he was dragged along
the floor at neck breaking speed.
A second later the pressure on his body disappeared
and he was now in a prone position, looking out of
the remaining hull on one of the Sharks’ small,
rear cargo compartments.
The
piece of hull that had dragged him along floated lazily
away into space.
– All was calm.
He
quickly surveyed his situation. – The Power
Suit was intact, his weapons where still with him
and the compartment he was in was floating free, away
from the remains of the Sharks and the majesty of
the Gaias, that he could see in the distance. –
Not enough thrust left in his suit to get him back
safely.
With a thought Ferrum activated his emergency beacon
and sent out a distress call on the Imperial emergency
channel.
From
here, Ferrum estimated that a part of a Shark’s
midsection would hit the old Space Fort but Ferrum
doubted that the already weakened structure of the
Shark would do much damage and if there where any
surviving invaders onboard he had no doubt that Forb
and his own Legio team would have little trouble sending
the invading traitors to whatever god they may please.
– Besides he was sure the rest of the Imperial
Forces on Gaias must be well on their way to the right
side of the Fort by now.
The
compartment Ferrum was in was rotating ever so slowly
as it spun-free through space and Sergeant Ferrum
stood up to get a better look of the vast, star-specked
battlefield that was space. It was then it hit him...
The stars where dimming as the compartment rotated.
– The universe was getting brighter.
Ferrum
could feel his hearts rush faster and a good dose
of adrenaline drop into his system as the cargo compartment
rotated fully around and he realized just how much
danger he was in.
Antioc!
The
planet loomed before him like some giant, legendary
monster; ready to swallow him whole, and he was falling
straight into it’s maw; pulled in by it’s
massive gravitational pull.
Ferrum
opened all Imperial hailing channels and transmitted
his lonely plea for salvation, but in his hearts he
knew that none would come.
+ + + + +
It
was hopeless of course!
Ferrum
figured a freefall towards Antioc would bring him
up to around 6000 kilometers per hour and at those
speeds he would be subject to just over 5500 centigrades.
– He
would make a spectacular meteor.
But
Ferrum wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t!
– He had to remind himself that he was an Astartes.
– While he yet remained alive, there was hope!
Astartes he thought. Hah! More like “A-Star”.
– “A falling star”.
Sergeant
Ferrum stood holding on to the ruined hull of the
Shark he had landed on. Leaning out over the hull’s
side much like a sailor may lean over the side of
his ship, he could just glimpse the Gaias star fort
in the dark. He could also see lance strikes sear
between ships in combat out there. – He was
certain he had glimpsed at least two friendly ships
being destroyed already.
He
had been falling towards Antioc for around twenty
minutes now and in that time he had been privy to
a spectacular space battle every time his piece of
hull had rotated around towards the universe. But
his little floating island in space had almost stopped
rotating now and Antioc was starting to get awfully
bright.
– And big!
Earlier,
Ferrum had sat down to try and listen-in to transmissions
from the far away battle, but all he ever received
was static; even though he was sure at least two of
the ships where moving closer to his position. –
So he had decided to try and put himself into a meditative
state while waiting to be... “fired”...,
but his mind had been insistent on constantly analysing
his situation in an attempt to try and find some way
out of it.
Finally he had given up on the meditating and decided
to continue looking at the Space Battle instead. This
had forced him to lean over the side of the wrecked
hull.
It
was then it had dawned on him.
The length of this part of hull was far to long to
be one of the rear cargo compartments. – He
had been wrong in his assessment! – This was
not the rear at all; it was the far front!
The
front of a Shark was like a huge syringe designed
to cut its way through the outer skin of a ship in
order to deliver it’s “poison” into
the ship itself, but more importantly it was almost
pure Titanium. If he could somehow slow his makeshift
float down, he may just survive atmospheric entry.
– That would still leave him with the problem
of surviving the rest of the fall though.
Maybe
he could make some sort of makeshift glider or parachute.
From what?? Ferrum looked around. The area he was
on was part of the buffer area where the main part
of the ship met up with the sharp Titanium prow of
the front.
The
cockpit would have been just above him if it hadn’t
been torn away in the crash, and the entire rear section
was gone. – Except the part he was standing
on which extended with rather thin walls for something
like four, maybe five meters into a congregation of
twisted metal and wires. There was nothing here that
could help him.
Ferrum
looked up at the walls at the side of his little platform.
They where thin enough that with some work he would
be able to cut them with his chainsword... Maybe he
could make some sort of glider out of those?
No.
The idea was ludicrous. Even if he managed to cut
and bend the pieces together they would never survive
the heat of atmospheric entry, and even if they did
he doubted he would have any chance at controlling
a makeshift glider at the insane speeds he would be
hitting the atmosphere at. – It was hopeless!
No!
It was NEVER hopeless! – He was a Marine! –
His training wouldn't allow him to just sit down and
die. For an instant Ferrum contemplated screaming
out to some Godly entity for help, but he didn't.
– There where no Gods, only Humanity and the
Emperor!
Ferrum
remembered the face of his mentor back at the university
of Angels when he was still a young boy trying to
follow the teachings of his Chapter of origin; "the
Guardian Angels". The voice of his mentor came
back to him now. – Teneo had been his name,
Chaplain Teneo.
The
white haired old chaplain had thought Ferrum’s
class about the physics behind the possibility of
Thunderhawk and Drop Pod atmospheric entry.
In the process he gone into detail about optimal speed,
angle of attack, radiation, shielding, heat pulse
and much more.
It
all came back to Ferrum now. – The Chaplain
had even told them about the Legendary story of a
Terminator that fell to a planet’s surface from
orbit, and survived.
The
Terminator had survived the heat of entry due to the
thick ceramic plating of his exo-armour. Ferrum looked
down at his own armour. It had the same type of ceramic
carbide plating. – Not as thick, but it was
the same.
He
wondered how the Terminator had survived the kinetic
shock of hitting the ground. – He must have
hit with force enough to count as a small Lance Strike.
Teneo had never gone into detail on that part of the
story. – Maybe it was just a story. –
Yes, a motivational story; that is all it had been.
Ferrum fleetingly wondered if the old Chaplain was
still alive.
Then
he snapped back to reality. Alive! That was what he
had to remain, and standing about daydreaming wasn’t
going to help.
Ferrum swung about looking at Antioc again. It was
steadily approaching, and faster now.
Judging
by the size of the planet, Ferrum estimated he was
already far into the planet’s Themosphere, maybe
a hundred or so kilometers out, probably a little
more than that.
He
figured he had another hour or so before he hit the
planet’s upper Mososphere where he would start
hitting the first air particles and radiation would
increase drastically.
Ferrum
was glad he had undergone chemotherapy to activate
his Mucronoid glands before the mission on the Gaias.
The Mucronoid secrete would help protect him from
vacuum, heat and radiation and thus it was standard
to activate the Mucronoids before space battles. –
The secrete left an awful stink if you stayed in your
suit for a few days, but it rarely came to that.
Hopefully
the thick gooey substance would help him get through
Antioc’s atmosphere without being subject to
a lethal dose of radiation, but there was still that
issue of heat.
He
would have to get to work if he was going to make
this piece of trash into a protective, drop-pod like
contraption. – He felt like an Ork.
+ + + + +
Around
forty minutes later Ferrum had achieved much.
He had ripped away most of the debris and wreckage
in the rear of the compartment he was standing on,
and as expected he had found a door leading into the
syringe-like prow’s boarding corridor.
The
door was damaged and had been sealed shut by metallic
debris, but Ferrum had employed his immense, power-armour-enhanced
strength to pry it open.
Inside he had found that the corridor was intact and
divided in two. One chamber for the inner ship and
one meant to function as a atmospheric decompression
chamber.
He had also found four oxygen tanks rigged up for
the plasma cutters at the front of the prow, and a
fire extinguisher quite close to them as well.
Back
outside, his trusty old chainsword; Acer Mucronis
had chewed it’s way through the thinner parts
of the wreckage’s hull and Ferrum had used all
his force bending the large plates that remained,
into six petal like plates that extended out in a
circle around the large hull. The plates would serve
as wings or more correctly as air brakes, slowing
his descent through the atmosphere.
Slowing
down the craft in the higher atmospheric layers was
the very key to a successful atmospheric entry so
he would use the petal like wings to increase air
drag and allow for more atmospheric gas-particles
to hit the craft at higher altitudes. Sort of like
a petal winged shuttlecock.
Using
cable he had also rigged three of the oxygen bottles
to the front of his megalomaniac craft and was just
about done using the last oxygen bottle as a thruster
to swing the makeshift pod around enough that the
thing was now falling with it’s Titan prow first
and its makeshift airbrakes at the rear; when he spotted
something small up ahead, some way of to the right
and moving rapidly into his flight path.
Standing
up on top of the increasingly unstable craft, Ferrum
adjusted his auto-senses, increasing the magnification
to see that it was a satellite.
The little thing was going to crash with him! –
Could it be a part of the planet’s defensive
system? – Ferrum doubted it considering its
size.
Moving
quickly, he opened the valves on the forward pointing
oxygen tanks, hoping the little thrust they gave would
be enough to slow his speed down a bit.
Then using the rest of the thrust in the last of the
four oxygen bottles, he re-angled the hulk he was
on, so it would hit Antioc’s atmosphere at close
to a forty-five degree angle. – He hoped it
would be enough to slow the craft down on it’s
way through the atmosphere, but it would get hot;
unforgivably hot.
Ferrum
checked his approach vector again and saw that the
satellite would probably miss him. – He had
done it! One small victory for a lonely Marine fighting
an entire planet.
He
was the best, he was the greatest, he was... an idiot!
Satellites like that where extremely valuable to the
Adeptus Mechanicus. It was sure to have a three level
re-entry system. It would have a stabiliser and a
parachute. – He had to get that satellite!
Trying
to quickly calculate the Satellites trajectory he
figured he could make it if he jumped, but that would
mean leaving his protective shuttle behind.
Running to the front he grabbed one of the lose rigging
cable of his thruster rig and tore it lose, then being
practically out of time he took a running start and
in a leap of faith, he jumped, reaching for the passing
satellite.
He
jumped... – And he missed!
The satellite flew past his body, and he just managed
to touch it with his index and middle finger; then
it was past his reach, and solidly connected to his
boot.
Ferrum couldn’t believe it. Somehow not even
thinking about it, he had managed to activate and
move one of his mag-boots into the path of the satellite.
It was stuck for now. – Someone planetside was
sure to be pissed.
Looking
back down towards his craft, Ferrum could see the
air-breaks had started vibrating and the temperature
readout of his suits external sensors was increasing.
Hand by hand he started climbing back the steel wire
he had held on to when jumping, and eventually he
was rewarded by setting a solid foot back onboard.
He
was starting to have a hard time standing up now and
if it hadn’t been for his mag-boots he would
surly have been thrown clear. – Ferrum silently
thanked the Emperor for his foresight when creating
the Astartes and their gear.
The
craft shook wildly and it’s makeshift wings
practically sang with vibration now, even though few
air-molecules where hitting home yet.
Crawling to the back of the craft, Ferrum reached
the rear and still clutching the little satellite,
he climbed down onto the platform he had originally
landed on.
Things where a bit calmer here and Ferrum could see
the external temperature readout drop a bit. –
Wouldn’t be long now though.
Ferrum
took one last look into space and saw a ship in the
distance. He thought he recognized the prow. –
Could it be the White laurel?
He didn’t have any more time to think about
it. The temperature was rising drastically and his
vision was cut off by an increasing orange glow. –
He had hit the Mososphere in full and was forced to
retreat to the inside of the Titan prow.
Ferrum
forcibly closed the outer blast door and reinforced
it with ready steel bars and other debris. –
He steadied himself against the craft’s inner
wall and gently patted it.
I
dub thee “the Falling Star” he thought
to himself and smiled. – His very own ship.
Then
his world shook, the temperature outside went catastrophically
of the charts, three explosions rocked the ship in
succession and everything went black.
Ferrum
could see his life rushing before his eyes, then nothing.
+ + + + +
Was he dead?
– No, he was sealed in and falling.
The oxygen tanks at the front of the ship must have
exploded, throwing the Falling Star into a deeper
angle and throwing Ferrum into the nearest wall.
He was being shook all over the place and the headlight
in his helmet had been crushed as he smashed his head
against a Titanium wall.
Ferrum shook his head. He was still holding the satellite
in one hand; with the other he had somehow grabbed
on to a piece of shrapnel and thus managed to secure
his position.
Ferrum
couldn’t see anything except his helmet readouts,
which showed he had banged his head pretty bad; that
he was out of thrust, out of light and out of luck.
The temperature readout was increasing drastically.
Ferrum
was just about to turn on his IR emitter and switch
to night-vision when somebody turned the lights on.
It was a dull orange glow that allowed him to see,
and Ferrum suddenly realised it was coming from the
hull itself. – The walls where glowing-hot and
melting!
That meant the temperature of the craft itself was
over 1700 centigrade, probably much higher.
If
his estimations where correct he would be in the worst
of the heatpulse now with temperatures reaching well
over 5000 Celsius outside.
He checked his suit's external sensors again.
He
couldn’t feel it inside his suit yet of course,
but the temperature inside his baking-oven of a ship
was reaching close to 1000 degrees.
His bionic arm would start melting at around 1500,
while the reinforced carbon ceramic plating of his
power armour wouldn’t melt until they reached
close to 3300 degrees. – They where already
glowing and the temperature readout of his boots,
touching the floor, where showing 1500 degrees at
the soles.
– The
Armour could survive heat like this, but could he?
The coolant system of his power armour was allready
working overtime and he was now sweating heavily.
The Mucronoid secrete covering his body helped cool
him, but Ferrum wasn’t even aware of that. –
Stepping quickly from foot to foot he couldn’t
believe this heat pulse wasn’t over yet.
Then
he heard; no, felt an explosion going of, and he keeled
over.
His power armour’s display flashed several red
icons indicating something had hit him at the hip
and caused considerable damage to the ceramite armour
there.
His bolts! How could he have been so stupid?! –
He should have thought of this and gotten rid of them
in space.
He
pressed the quick release button of his belt and saw
the magazine holders fall to the floor. Quickly grabbing
the mag in his bolter out and throwing it away from
him he saw that the ceramic plates of his armour had
started smoking, then his chest started hurting like
all hell.
His
bionic arm was glowing, and it was transferring the
heat through his chest-bionics into his soft organic
parts, otherwise protected within the power armour.
He was frying on the inside. – It hurt! Oh by
the Emperor it hurt!
He felt as if though he was on fire and indeed he
was, burning from the inside out.
Clenching his teeth he tried to take a step away from
the bolts on the floor, but it was to late.
Several
of the bolts detonated against the floor, further
damaging his armour and kicking the legs out from
under him. – The helmet display indicated his
armour was breeched.
Ferrum
fell to the floor. – A fall within a fall.
Everything was moving in slow motion and he felt as
if though his legs had been broken at the ankles.
His head hurt and his body burned.
He felt as if though he was being dipped into a pool
of boiling lava and every agony was stretched out
into eternity. – Purgatory! – Could the
Chaos “Gods” save him now?
Then
he hit the deck just behind where he had been standing,
and fell straight through.
As
through a haze, Ferrum could see the Falling Star
like a glowing pool of magma.
The
hulk of an emergency raft had shrunk considerably
and now he was falling away from it as it was breaking
apart. – He had fallen straight through the
molten metal floor.
Not
only that, but he was no longer super-heated.
The
glow of his bionic arm was gone. His armour no longer
smoked and the painkillers and adrenaline injected
into his system where quickly taking effect.
Combat drugs they called it, and Ferrum was grateful
that Power Armour was equipped with them.
For
a moment he lay there with his eyes closed, feeling
blissfully like he was on a soft bed.
But
this was no soft bed he was on and as the drugs started
clearing his mind he was once more reminded of the
predicament he found himself in.
Judging
by the air density readouts from his armour he estimated
that he was already close to the bottom of the Mososphere.
He would be hitting thicker air currents soon and
he had better be ready for that. – How would
he slow his fall?
Then
he remembered the satellite. Somehow he was still
holding on to it.
Bringing it in above his body to shield it slightly
from the rush of thin air, he soon realised how he
had managed to hold on to it. – It was melted
to the front of his armour’s hand guard.
Cracking
the thing’s thin rear shell open he expected
to see a stabiliser, but found no such contraption.
Ferrum blinked in disbelief, then in near desperation
he tore the top cover of and rummaged through the
poor little machine’s insides. – No parachute.
That
was it then, he was a goner!
+ + + + +
He
was just about to try and turn around on the air currents
to get a look at the ground and estimate his remaining
time when the vox link in his helmet screeched to
life with static and a cut off s.o.s. call. Then he
glimpsed a lightning like glimmer in the darker skies
above, as if a star had just gone nova.
It
lasted for but a second, then something hit him in
the back. – Hard!
It was so hard in fact that Ferrum collapsed like
a rag doll; or at least that was what it felt like.
– He had the wind knocked out of him and then
he went into a wild spin.
The sensors in his suit showed he was being subject
to over 3G and that he was spinning wildly out of
control at close to 120 revolutions per minute.
Ferrum
was fighting the terrible pressure, and desperately
trying to halt his crazy spin.
A
normal human would have had his limbs and neck broken
long ago and if not then he would surly have lost
consciousness by now, but although he felt like he
was being chocked and crushed, he was hardly getting
dizzy at all thanks to his Lyman’s ear.
He
could hear air rushing through his power armour now;
the rush of icy cold air finding its way through the
many cracks and holes of his armoured legs.
Ferrum reached out with his arms, and with considerable
effort he was finally able to stabilize his fall again.
He
carefully positioned his body across the airflow to
lengthen his impact time against the atmosphere. –
The temperature on the outside of his Armour started
rising again, but it was nothing compared to what
he had seen upon atmospheric entry.
Forty-two
seconds later he was in full control again. The pressure
on his body had decreased to just over one G, and
his speed had lessened as well. – He was still
falling far to fast to survive an encounter with the
ground though. – That was one meeting he was
not looking forward to. – Maybe it would have
been better if he had fainted.
It
was quite clear that what he had hit earlier was the
upper layers of the Stratosphere and he figured he
was at just over forty kilometers up now.
That would give him another forty minutes to ponder
about his doom. – Ferrum suddenly wished he
was religious.
A
few minutes later he was studying the landscape below,
wondering if he should attempt to hit a specific spot.
He had gained pretty good control over his manoeuvrability
by flowing on the air currents, extracting or retracting
his limbs and changing his angle of decent.
To
his surprise he had actually begun to enjoy the view
when he suddenly realised that he could at the very
least go out like a Marine and try to hit some enemy
held fortification.
At just over a thousand meters per minute, a direct
hit from someone of his weight would have
to be destructive. – Ferrum smiled at the thought.
They shall know no fear, indeed!
Then
his vox crackled to life again. It was mostly just
static and he realised he could hardly hear anything
due to the overwhelming sound of rushing air, but
he thought he detected a strange voice over the net,
then it was gone again.
Ferrum
shut down the external hearing receptors of his auto-senses,
but could still hear some air rushing through his
suit. – He was again reminded that his power
armour had been breached at the legs and actually
pondered getting the ceramic sealant-paste out of
his toolkit to repair some of the damage, when a voice
came again.
“Mayday!
Mayday!
This is the I.N.S. White Laurel. We have taken heavy
fire and sabotage from enemy forces. We are going
down! I say again we are going down! Our coordi...”
The transmission died out again.
Some
way of below him, Ferrum suddenly noticed three small
dots moving at great speed towards his position. Whatever
they where, they where moving above the cloud layer
down there and they where moving fast!
Ferrum increased the auto-sense optics to their maximum
and was rewarded with the sight of three defiled Lightning
Strike Fighters moving towards his position at great
speed. – Could they have detected him?
Not
very likely, he thought, but not entirely unconceivable
either.
Ferrum watched the three planes approach for a little
longer.
No, it was more probable that they had been deviated
from some other mission to shoot down any rescue pods
launched from the White Laurel.
Well, two could play at that game.
Ferrum
had once heard a veteran guardsman compare a Space
Marine to a tank. – He had never thought he
would compare himself to a fighter plane, but now
he did.
He
levelled his body down and to the side so he would
intercept the planes, then he pulled his bolter out
and got ready. – He would only get one chance
at this and if he was really lucky he would be able
to actually land on one of those things, take it over
and land safely.
Ferrum
smiled. – Here goes nothing he thought.
+ + + + +
He
was approaching the planes fast from the rear now.
The plan was to manoeuvre in to land on the first,
then shoot one down, take over the one he was on and
shoot down the third. – It wasn’t going
to be easy.
"No, actually"; he thought, "it was
going to be impossible".
He
was coming in far to fast and at to sharp an angle.
– He was going to hit!
The plane furthest to the rear was becoming bigger
at unbelievable speed.
Ferrum could see the pilot spot him through the cockpit
and he could clearly tell that the man was surprised
despite the fact that he was wearing an oxygen mask.
The man reached out towards the cockpit with a hand,
almost as if he was saluting the onrushing Space Marine,
or bracing himself for impact maybe.
Then Ferrum rolled himself into a tight knit ball
and hit home.
The
resulting crash was tremendous and he went straight
through the plane just behind the cockpit.
The thin metal sheets of the craft buckled under the
sudden impact and the plane literarily folded in on
itself, like a book.
Ferrum came out on the other side, not very surprised
that he had come through the thin metal plates of
the plane in one piece, but his wrist hurt like hell,
so did his shins, and part of him was on fire again.
He
tried to ignore the pain and block it out as he concentrated
on going out into a stretched out air breaking position
again.
Levelling his bolter at one of the other, disappearing
planes he pulled the trigger and found to his dismay
that nothing happened.
In
all the excitement he had forgotten that he had rid
himself of his bolts while still onboard his makeshift
atmospheric entry vehicle. – Ferrum growled
in anger and pain.
The
fire that had started on his armour was out again
and he threw the bolter around to his back, rather
surprised that the chain attached to it hadn’t
broken or melted yet.
Ferrum
reached down towards his utility belt to try and get
his ceramic paste out.
He wanted to plug those holes down at his ankles.
– The fire a moment ago, had found it’s
way through them and burned his legs again. –
His Power Armour was pumping even more stims into
his system.
Ferrum
stopped what he was doing when he spotted more dots
coming at him again.
Two of them where the fighter planes coming back;
the rest where way up high above him.
One of the fighter planes coming at him fired chaffs
and flairs. – They must believe he was some
sort of missile or drone.
With
some difficulty Ferrum started manoeuvring towards
them.
The planes circling and following him; trying to figure
out what he was no doubt.
One of the planes came about and shot towards him
up close to try and get a look. – Big Mistake!
Ferrum
may not have any ammunition to shoot with, but he
still had his bayonet and a throwing arm that would
shame even an Ogryn. – He could throw ten times
longer and harder than any normal human.
Pulling
out his bayonet he waited until the plane came flying
by, dangerously close.
Ferrum let go with all his strength, throwing so hard
he was sent into another wild spin for a second.
The Bayonet flew true, spinning over and over in the
air until it hit the metallic side of the plane and
lodged there. – It had hit, but not with enough
force to count.
The
pilot looked over towards the thing that had hit him
and was surprised to see a bayonet lodged to his plane
and shaking out of control in the air currents of
his speeding craft.
The large knife was lodged just to the right side
of his aircraft’s nose, but not deep, and in
a minute the vibrations would shake it lose he thought.
The
pilot was right and less than thirty seconds after
it hit, the bayonet fell lose and was consequently
dragged into one of the plane’s powerful jet
turbines.
The wing of the plane exploded in a hail of fire and
then it started its long descent towards the ground
below.
In
the meanwhile, Ferrum had been concentrating on the
last plane and had used the pistol still strapped
to his hip as another dangerous projectile.
Just as the third plane had come in for an attack
run, Ferrum had thrown the pistol with all his might
at the plane and winged it at the side of the cockpit,
crushing the windows of that side and possibly destroying
vital instrumentation.
The
plane had managed to fire a volley back at him though
and had even hit him with a large calibre projectile,
practically destroying his right shoulder guard and
dislocating his shoulder in the process. – Ferrum
gritted his teeth, but was already so full of combat
drugs that he just felt a slight sting as he forced
his shoulder back into place.
Then
the plane threw itself into a dive and was even now
heading down and away from the battle hardened veteran.
– The pilot had probably lost visuals and would
have to land as soon as possible if he wanted to live.
Ferrum also wanted to live and here again was another
desperate solution to his predicament.
The
other objects that had appeared above him earlier
where transmitting an Imperial emergency code. They
where rescue-pods fired from the White Laurel, and
having Sped towards his position, they where now,
almost matching velocities with Ferrum.
One
of them shot past him approximately thirty meters
away.
Ferrum knew the function of these automated pods all
to well, and he knew it would be firing it’s
retro thrusters any moment now.
He
figured he had fallen from around 34 000 to 18 000
meters during his battle with the planes, a theory
that was largely supported by his armour’s air-pressure
instruments. – The pod would start its break-down
at 15 000 meters.
Ferrum guided himself in above the pod, and then levelled
himself down to gain speed and catch up to it.
He
leaned in. Just a little closer. – Just a little
closer. – There!
He caught hold of one of the pod’s stabilizer
wings and pulled himself flush to it’s side,
then he activated his mag-boots and squeezed with
both arms until the pod’s metal started giving
in. – He hung on for dear life!
The
pod shook violently as it tried to fight the sudden
imbalance in its systems.
They passed 15 000 meters, then 14 000 meters and
still the retros hadn’t fired.
13 000 meters, 12. Ferrum was getting worried that
he had made a big mistake that would kill both him
and whoever was onboard this blasted thing.
The
11 000 meter mark passed. 10 000, 9, 8; then as suddenly
as lightning, the retros started firing and the pod
started spinning.
Ferrum almost lost his grip, but his bionic arm was
lodged deep into the metal of the pod’s thick
stabiliser wing and his mag-boots where set on full
strength.
He pulled himself flush to the hull again as the descent-speed
slowly but surely dissipated along with the pod’s
altitude.
They where at 1000 meters now. 700, 500.
Ferrum could practically feel the ground beneath his
feet but they where still moving to fast.
They
where coming in over an industrial complex with tall
factory buildings and pipes. – At this speed
they would still crash. Ferrum thought he might possibly
just survive such a crash, but he wasn’t so
sure about whoever was in the pod.
Then at 60 meters the pod's emergency thruster engaged
and the speed of the pod was reduced drastically in
one harsh jolt.
Ferrum
fell free.
He had been inattentive for just a moment and wasn’t
able to hold on.
He fell! Thrown clear towards one of the many, tall
factory buildings and hit the side of a factory pipe
at a terrible speed.
Instinctively Ferrum reached out with his bionic arm
to brace himself but he still hit the rusty old pipe
hard enough to leave a considerable dent.
And then he was falling again, but somehow his mag-boots
had landed a grip on the pipe, holding him close to
it as he fell.
Ferrum
threw his body around and punched his bionic arm into
the pipe’s metal shell, trying to acquire a
grip, but all he managed to do was to come screeching
down the side of the pipe, sparks flying. –
At least the pressure helped break his speed even
more.
Until he was just over half way down the pipe that
is, as suddenly the pipe turned from being made of
metal into being made of concrete.
Ferrum’s
mag-boots lost their grip completely and at twenty
meters he fell away from the pipe, falling another
six meters in freefall before hitting the wood and
tin roof of a factory building.
He
fell straight through the thin roof, then continued
through the wooden planking floor below; hit a supporting
beam on the way down, went through another wooden
floor, and having fallen through a high hall, he landed
heavily in a deep pool of spill-oil.
Ferrum
sank like a rock for about five meters, then he hit
rock bottom and lay completely exhausted.
He was burned, broken, crushed and feeling horrible.
He was certain his rib-plate had cracked and that
his ankle was fractured; that his left side and both
feet where burned; that his wrist felt funny, so did
his neck; That his armour was cracked, opened, crushed
and dented in a dusin places; and he was certain he
was leaking oil.
Great! He thought dryly. – I knew I should have
repaired those holes while falling.
Switching
between visions he finally got back on his feet and
found a vision mode he could glimpse his surroundings
in. – He would need to get out of this oil and
quickly.
Glancing
around to make sure he hadn’t dropped his weapons,
Ferrum limped over to a concrete sidewall and started
climbing. Punching and kicking hand and foot holds
into the wall to bring himself upwards and out of
the thick, black muck.
Once
his head surfaced he looked about to make sure no
enemies where lurking nearby, then he dragged himself
from the thick oil and let himself roll away from
the pool before resting on his back again, looking
at the thick oil pooling out of his armour.
He
had survived a fall from orbit! – He was starting
to understand now, why his fellow Legioneers liked
to call him “a Chosen by Fate”.
Ferrum
looked about and figured he was in some sort of construction
or repair facility for huge industrial machines.
Rolling over on his stomach, he got to his feet again
and limped over to a huge mechanical gate, to take
a look outside.
There in the open yard lay a small number of crashed
escape pods with what seemed to be an Inquisitor and
his retinue, in cover.
Making
sure there where no enemies around, Ferrum shook and
scraped the worst of the oily mess off of his armoured
shape as well as he could. – Still wasn’t
much left to identify him as a marine of the Legio,
but he would have to risk it.
“Inquisitor!”
he yelled through his vox. His voice sounding metallic
and hollow.
He could see the Inquisitor tense up and glance his
way.
“My name is Ferrum, I am a Sergeant with the
Legio. Don’t shoot”.
– Ferrum sounded weary; He felt utterly ruined.
Then he stepped out from the building and he could
see the Inquisitor getting ready to shoot him, but
then the man seemed to relax, despite Ferrum’s
horrid appearance.
“Oh,
the Emperor sends his Angel to protect me in all this.
Thank the Lord!”
The Inquisitor smiled wryly as if he had a secret
joke he would not share.
“Tell me Sergeant Ferrum, can you hail your
allies still?”
“I do not believe so”, Ferrum said but
scanned for Imperial channels in the area anyway.
He was pleasantly surprised to find one active, and
not needing an Inquisitor to tell him what to do,
he called in an evac for one Marine and an Imperial
VIP.
Less
than half an hour later they where both sitting in
a Thunderhawk heading for orbit and the Imperial Navy
Space Ship: “the Hand of Fate”.
The Inquisitor who had identified himself as an Inquisitor
Lord by the name of Rogan was thanking their rescuers
and attributing his own escape and rescue to Divine
intervention by the Emperor himself, who had sent
his Guardian Angel to protect him on the ground, so
he could continue his good work.
"You
know, they will call you a fallen after this. –
You better hope you don't run into any Dark Angels".
The Inquisitor smiled his secret little smile again.
Ferrum had no idea what Rogan was talking about. He
just nodded his head wearily.
Little
did he know that the joke truly was on him and that
an enemy had just slipped passed the Imperial Crusade’s
cracks.
Ferrum
had been through an eventful day.
Today he had been an infantrist, a Space ship, a Fighter
Plane, a Bomb and a oily Sub Marine. All that remained
was for him to act like a tank. – Ferrum sighed.
He
figured many would tell legendary tales about the
Fall of Ferrum, but most would disbelieve it as mere
fiction. – Ferrum cared not, for all he wanted
right now was to get home to the Legio’s Battle
Barge where he could get re-supplied, repaired and
stitched up.
– He had
a War to Win!
Related Pages:
Allies
Durus Quatinus Ferrum's
Character Entry
The
Legio Record on Ferrum
Local Copy
of Legio Records
Stories of Ferrum's other exploits
with the Legio B&C