The events of the past hour, even though it felt more like days, on the now overrun and corrupted vessel had left a shadow over my confidence in the mission to this planet. Whilst, it must be said, this wouldn’t be the last time I faced the horrors of the corrupted ones, it was the closest anyone had gotten to killing me and it was a daunting thought. Even today, 2 years on as I write this, the memory still haunts me. The images are still ingrained in my retinas as though I was still there in that corridor.
The sound of the alarm was muffled by the metal piping and the wall between us and the main corridor. The harsh red glow and the presence of that figure, I still see it sometimes. In my nightmares, but what happened when I stepped through that door was nothing short of Hell incarnate.
It was evident that the corridor had not long seen combat, each wall bearing the fresh scars of gruesome engagements. Bodies, both troopers and not were strewn about haphazardly across the metallic floor, a disconcerting display a bleak testament to the battle that unfolded within the passageway. Small fires illuminated some parts of the hallway, and smoke billowed from doorways
The emergency lights cast a dim but eerie glow across the scene before me, a few of which were heavily damaged, sending out dim flickers of light, whilst others were completely inoperable. Somewhat thankfully the lighting did little to illuminate the pervasive darkness ahead of us, casting long and ominous shadows across the lifeless forms scattered on the floor.
The walls, which were once only rusted and streaked, were now marred with the scorches of stray blaster shots and splatters of ichor. The fresh signs of the dents and pockmarks, which were almost always accompanied by a body or more, told the tale of the recent firefight. Across from the door I had come from was a small pile of bodies scattered around what looked like another commissar, his thick leather overcoat making him easy to pick out amongst the Orange of the trooper uniforms
His face was cut and bruised, and a brutal gash from his ear to his jaw told of the brutality of the combat, in his hand, he held his melee weapon. A double-edged las-sword which was coated in blood, whether his own or his assailants I couldn't be sure. My bowels clenched as I could see that as being me, the walls around where he had stood his ground were scarred more than the rest of the area. A blackened outline around him told of the inaccuracy, or the inability, of the worshippers to hit him. At least 6 bodies were scattered close to him, deep clean slashes telling where the sword had struck home, A decapitated body lay a mere meter from him. It was unfortunate that he had fallen, but he gave it as good as he could I suppose.
Stolen novel; please report.
The rest of the corridor was a telling story, each soldier fighting the worshippers for every inch of ground. Fighting tooth and nail with their backs against the walls. I glanced to my left trying to get my bearings but seeing more bodies and blood splattered across the pathway, desperately trying to get my bearings. A voice behind me jolted me from my thoughts
“Commissar, can you open the door?”
In my stunned state, I had completely forgotten about my companions. Turning to face the door I assessed the blockage, Three bodies were lying against the door, and a provost was lying facefirst into the door. A clear attempt to escape from the carnage all around him, but piled up against him were 3 of the worshippers, not giving him a chance. “I’ll get it open, You’ll have to wait a moment, there are a few bodies against the door." Bending down to move the closest body I noted some tattoos on his skin around his neck. The sight of them caused my eyes to burn slightly, the tainted signs of the malevolent ones on their skin affecting me. I gripped his arm and tried to drag him away, but his body refused to budge. After about 5 minutes I was able to clear the rest of the body, sweat was beginning to build up and cause me great discomfort. I swung the door open and saw Dominchiev standing there with his rifle at the ready, his green eyes wide with surprise at the scene behind me.
“By the gods..” he gasped, taking in the scene. “What the hell happened here?”.
“I couldn’t tell you, but it was a hell of a fight” Rahman responded.
Weapons and ammo cartridges, both discarded and dropped in the heat of battle, were scattered amongst the bodies. Bending down I picked one up, throwing it over to Rahmam. Plenty of ammo to be had around here at least, I thought to myself bitterly. The presence of so many empty ammo clips around as well was a tribute to the brutality of the combat.
The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood mixed with the sulphur-rich smell of the corrupt. Blaster rifles, pistols and some form of Xeno’s weapon were strewn around as well, A large tube with some form of pointed tip was unceremoniously dumped next to a body, I picked it up and examined it, trying to figure out how to fire it. It could certainly come in handy if we end up in the unlucky dead Commissar’s Situation
I gagged slightly as the acrid scent of charred flesh struck me, the strength of the smell becoming so overpowering that I dropped the weapon and covered my nose with my Commissarial Bandana. Ahead of us, I could hear the faint sound of voices, they sounded as though they were speaking a foreign language I had never heard before. I threw a glance to the right side corridor and In the distance, illuminated by a light above their heads, I saw a small group of Worshippers brandishing captured weapons heading our way. I glanced at the others and saw that they had also spotted the threat, they hadn’t seemed to have noticed us yet at least.
Without thinking, I dropped to my stomach amidst a pile of bodies and attempted to blend in with them, I heard the others do the same. Angling my head slightly, I strained to keep an eye on our incoming patrol and muffled a gasp.