POV Boarding Team
The Temple Marines launched two boarding torpedoes at the Dark Truth, expecting to face significant resistance. The first one successfully reached the ship, deploying the assault team, while the second was still on approach.
***
"Contact with the hull in thirty... twenty-nine..." the machine spirit's voice counted down.
Richard removed the magazine and snapped it back into his bolter.
"Scared, kid?" Ulrich mocked, strapped to his back. "Don't get discouraged, the first boarding is always the most nerve-wracking."
"I'm not a kid," Richard retorted. The Space Marine truly did feel out of place, though he would never admit it. After decades of brutal battles, it was his first time participating in an assault alongside seasoned veterans. "Why are we even boarding this heretic haven instead of just firing on it with ship weapons?"
"Stupid question. You're clearly a newbie," Sergeant Gilbert replied grimly. He held his storm shield tightly against his legs. "The enemy only dies when you personally drive your blade into their heart. We are the Emperor's sword! And today, he will punish the traitors!"
The rest of the squad let out approving shouts. Every veteran shared this belief, preferring close combat over cowardly ranged firefights.
"Ten... nine..."
"Prepare, squad!" the sergeant ordered.
"Three... two... one."
The lights in the capsule went out. The immense force slammed Richard into his seat. Metal screeched. The noise of the prow drill, cutting through meters of adamantium, deafened them. The torpedo shook violently and swayed, while smaller vibrations unpleasantly buzzed in their teeth.
It felt as though a massive weight had fallen on Richard's chest, making it hard to breathe or move. A normal person would have broken every bone by now, but the Space Marine endured the pressure and intense pain.
Soon, the drill broke through the ship's armor and deployed the plug to maintain the atmosphere inside. The capsule's forward momentum slowed, replaced by free fall. The heavy boarding capsule simply crushed the weak decks and bulkheads, sinking lower and lower.
After several long seconds, the capsule bounced as it hit something solid. Locks clicked open. Red lights flared above the assault ramps. Pyrotechnic charges fired, and the restraints holding the Space Marines broke off, flying in every direction.
"Forward! For the Emperor!" Sergeant Gilbert roared, jumping to his feet.
The assault ramps began to open, but the sergeant was already charging out. He shielded himself, ready to absorb the first blow.
The squad followed their commander, leaving the capsule in perfect formation.
Richard took position behind a collapsed beam on one side of the torpedo, and Ulrich took the other side. The rest of the Marines, armed with chain swords and bolters, quickly spread out around the landing site.
They were greeted by emptiness. No one tried to surround the assault troops or suppress the attack, burying them under bodies. No one pinned them down with fire. The wide deck where the boarding capsule had landed was shrouded in darkness and completely lifeless.
Richard activated his light-sensitive filter and surveyed the area.
They were in a spacious high-ceiling room, likely a former storage area. The torpedo's impact had caused the ceiling to collapse, and through the several-meter hole, the upper bulkheads could be seen, sparking with torn cables and communication lines. The floor was covered in numerous debris and large chunks of metal. The fallen torpedo had dragged a pile of metal with it, creating convenient positions for defense in the dark hall.
"This ship is rotten through and through!" Ulrich exclaimed in disgust, stomping his foot. The floor resounded with a deep sound, while the walls echoed ominously. "We're on the lowest deck, beneath adamantium!"
"You're right, brother," Gilbert agreed, checking the interactive map. "We have no business here; we need to move up. According to the ship's plan, we're in the northern part, and the lift is to the east. We're heading there. Squad! Follow me!"
The Space Marines quickly formed up and rushed toward the wide corridor at the end of the hall. They moved with such precision that they seemed like a single organism, with blades and bolters as teeth and spikes. Gilbert led the column, with Ulrich and Richard a few meters behind.
In the Vox, the voice of the commander of the first assault squad, which had landed earlier, came through. The background was filled with the sounds of bolter fire and the roar of chain swords.
"How was the landing, Brother Gilbert?"
"Not great," Sergeant Gilbert muttered in response. "We landed far from our target. Looks like you're not bored over there."
The voice on the other end laughed.
"The heretics hardly put up a fight. Most of them are running in fear. We'll be at the bridge soon and decapitate the traitors. Trust me, it'll be an easy victory."
"Then we'll meet you there," Gilbert grumbled, displeased. He hated being outpaced. "End of transmission."
***
The Temple Marines marched through empty corridors, encountering no enemies. The sergeant's power sword crackled and glowed with blue light, dispersing the surrounding darkness. From the shadows, twisted figures occasionally emerged, but up close, it was clear they were just tangled pipes or technical equipment.
A thick, milky mist filled the passageways, flowing lazily along the floor. Even the visors struggled to see through its veil. The column marched through knee-deep in the milky haze. The mist distorted sounds, and sometimes Richard thought he could hear the small, sharp steps of unknown creatures, blending with the heavy steps of the Marines.
At times, their boots stepped on soft surfaces, pressing them down with their weight. At a tunnel intersection, something carefully brushed against Richard's leg before quickly retreating.
For a moment, Richard was sure he saw a dozen beads of eyes staring at him through a ventilation shaft's grating, glowing briefly before extinguishing. The visor ignored the target, classifying something in the shaft as an inanimate object. Richard barely resisted the urge to fire a bolt into the vent but ultimately trusted the readout.
"Rats," Richard muttered. "There are plenty of them here."
The rest of the squad felt similarly uneasy. From time to time, the Marines would raise their weapons when their targeting sights locked onto unseen targets and lower them when the armor confirmed it was just some trash or a piece of wire.
"This place is getting on my nerves," Richard said.
"You're not the only one, brother," Ulrich clapped him on the shoulder. "It's much better to jump into a fight than wander through these abandoned decks. Don't worry, once we get higher up, we'll make up for it!"
"I have this constant feeling that we're being watched," one of the Marines, bringing up the rear, muttered. "Trust my experience — the heretics are preparing an ambush."
"Bring it on," Ulrich laughed. "I can't wait to face them head-on."
"Stay alert," Sergeant Gilbert's voice crackled in the Vox. "Something's not right here. Stay on your toes!"