Brief 5:
The Imperial Fist
The Phalanx
3 437 999 M41
Selias rolled his shoulders, trying to alleviate the ache. Carrying his Autobolt Rifle never created this much stress, but every moment hunched at his bench made the gravity aboard The Phalanx bear heavier on his back.
Alone in his private room, stationed aboard the massive battle fortress, walls of cold dark metal wrapped around the spartan decor. A standard issue bed, which was little more than a cot, sat behind a standing workbench geared for the Imperial Fist tradition of Scrimshaw.
Generations of Imperial Fists have honed their mental discipline and attention to detail by carving the finger bones of their fallen brothers. They adopted this practice to help rage-filled warriors cope with the stress of battle and to honor their friends who would no longer join the great struggle for survival in the feral galaxy.
SNAP
“Fuck…”
The femur of… Somebody, snapped as the engraving knife picked at the hard outer compact bone. Selias was never a deft hand, which is why he became a heavy gunner, relying on ordinance over accuracy to do his job. This tendency led to Scrimshaw being especially difficult for him. As the others in his kill team were practicing on smaller, more delicate bones such as ribs, Selias worked on femurs, the body's largest bone.
A growing pile of splinters and jagged bone shrapnel sat discarded in the corner of the room. With a soft chuck, another mangled project increased the pile's size. Under the desk, an unassuming box held his next project. Selias reached into the opening and retrieved a pearlescent femur.
Keep it simple. He thought as he took the engraving knife and began again.
Each carve was a gentle brush stroke as the knife slid through the material with ease. All he had to do was stay steady and keep it simple. As he worked, the rough outline of a bullet began to appear in the shadows across the bone's surface. It was crude, something you could find hung on the refrigerator of a proud parent back on Terra, but for Selias, it was progress.
SNAP
“MOTHER FUCKER!”
One moment of lost concentration and the pile grew by another bone. As though it was a measurement for the pressure of the room, as the height on the pile grew, so did the weight on Selias’s shoulders.
Again, he reached into the box. And again, he retrieves a femur.
Simple. Keep it simple. Like a circle. Simple, like a circle. He thought as he began again.
As it had the hundred times before, the engraving knife glided across the surface, carving away a layer with each stroke. Selias’ circle began to take shape as each cut deepened the engraving. Stopping to admire his work, he found that his circle was not a circle but somewhere between the shape of an oval and an almond. With a few horizontal strokes, he began to round shape...
SNAP
“FUCKER! STUPID PIECE OF SHIT! FUCKING FUCKER FUCK! SON OF AN ORK WHORE WITH DOUBLE NURGLE GONORIA!”
The shards thumped against the wall before falling onto the pile. Selias took deep 'calming' breaths as the weight built and the room grew hotter. His face filled with blood as he reached for another bone.
Just a line. A simple line.
The engraving knife shook in his large hand as it approached the bone. He continued his 'calming' breaths, even though each time the air left his nostrils, he sounded like a raging bull.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The knife met bone, and as it had before, it glided with ease. For a brief moment, the ease of the motion washed over him, soothing the beast and slowing his heart. Again, he cut at the line, and again, his heart rate slowed. A third cut uncovered an unseen knot, a long-ago break in the bone that had healed, making the bone stronger but also creating a fault that could trick a novice Scrimshawer.
On the fourth stroke, the engraving knife caught the knot, resting the knife’s momentum. A more experienced Scrimshawer would have known to continue with the cut, as stopping could cause the fault to fracture and the bone to splinter. Selias Ragecrusher, a fresh recruit from the Eyes of Dorn, the Imperial Fists’ 10th Scouting Company, was not an experienced Scrimshawer. When he stopped, the fault in the bone fractured, causing the entire bone to…
SNAP
“RRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” His scream reverberated as the mental chains binding Ragecrusher snapped.
Tools and splinters went flying as the Space Marine’s fist bore down on the workbench. A metallic ripping sound followed the scream as the workbench took flight and then landed with a crash in the corner above the bone pile.
A klaxon sounded as the door to Ragecrusher’s room opened, and men poured in.
The first man blocked a wild haymaker, which made Ragecrusher stumble from overextension and opened up an opportunity for the second man to tackle the rage-blind space marine. A brawl ensued, ending with a raging Space Marine pinned to the floor by three men.
The sour face of Sargeant Solaro Hestantar appeared in Ragecrusher’s vision.
“It's over now, Rage.” Said the Sargeant of Selias’ Killteam, “You take a couple more of them calm breaths, and we’ll let you up. You hear now?”
Ragecrusher grunted as he realized that the entire Killteam was here. Lukas had taken his haymaker while Madex and Venta tackled him.
“What was that, now? You clear?” Continued Sargeant Hestantar.
“Yes, sir.” Selias said with another ‘calming’ breath.
“Good!” Sargeant Hestantar said, “Let him up now. I need you boys suited and booted. We have a mission.”
——
“Sargeant, why do we have a mission at the bottom of the Phalanx?” Asked Lukan as five sets of Space Marine boots stomped across the metal floor.
“Don’t know. It came from on high.” Replied the Sargeant.
Deep in the belly of the Phalanx, the Killteam Task Force Dagger walked through tight corridors filled with pipes and bulkheads. They didn’t anticipate a fight inside the sensitive areas of the Imperial Fist's flagship, but their orders dictated full combat readiness.
“Run this by me one more time, Sarg.” Said Lukan, “We have orders to find some room in the basement of the Phalanx that only the 7th Company knows where to find. And we are supposed to just, what? Go there?”
“Yup, that’s the orders now. Find room -572 and await for further orders.” Said Sargeant Hestantar.
“And you didn’t question the orders at all,” Lukan asked with a healthy dose of skepticism.
“Nope.” Sargeant Hestantar replied, “Now you see, Firefoot, unlike you sods, I actually follow orders. So when command tells me to stare at a wall and water the paint dry, I'm gonna watch that paint dry. Then I'm gonna report that my mission is complete. Which is why I am now the Sargeant, and you Firefoot are under my command.”
The troop continued to walk single-file through the corridor until Venta said, "Found it!" as a door on the side of the hallway slid open to a small room.
“Inside, now.” said the Sargeant as the Killteam squeezed into the cluttered room.
Inside there was a table with a couple of chairs, a coffee dispenser, a pair of stained cups, and mechanical shit everywhere. The tinkerers on the 7th Company must have used this room to work on projects during the downtime between maintaining the flagship.
“Now what?” Asked Selias.
“We wait.” Replied Sargeant Hestantar.
Five Space Marines armed with heavy bolters and power armor stood around the table, waiting for something to happen.
CLICK
Five heads turned at the noise coming from the door. Lukan approached the door, but it didn’t budge.
“Fucking great!” Lukan cried, “We are locked in.”
“It must be part of the mission.” Sargeant Hestantar replied.
“What mission! We are stuffed in this tiny room because some prick in the 7th doesn't like you, Sarg. Someone is fucking with us!”
The hiss of air blowing in from a vent in the corner of the room began to kick up dust that had laid on the outdated and unused equipment scattered around the room.
“Hey, I think something's wrong,” Madex said, breaking into Sargeant and Lukan’s bickering.
A haze filled the room as more dust lifted into the air.
“HELMAT’S ON!” Sargeant Hestantar called, but it was too late as five Space Marine bodies crashed into one another as they tumbled.