Secret War: Upon Blood Sands

Chapter 7: The Blood Sands

When they'd seen it out the cockpit window, they thought it some sort of mass mirage. That their eyes, or worse, their minds, were playing a trick on them. It was Attelus who said that it couldn't be either (yes, he was aware of the irony) that seeing was believing.

The sand, it was blood.

As far as the eye could see, the sand had transformed into a deep crimson, reflecting the sunlight almost to a blinding degree. The sun hung in an eerily, beautiful, clear blue sky. That was the most unsettling; the contrast of the brilliant blue and the blood-red, it frayed their nerves, made their minds reel at the impossibility. When they'd gazed on the world from orbit, it'd seemed the brown-beige of a regular desert world.

When Attelus had said it was real, he was only saying what everyone knew. It was blood, the blood of billions, no trillions.

When Attelus had seen it, it'd almost driven him over the edge. But he hid his fear, his recognition. He'd forgotten the disturbing vision Faleaseen had shown him three years ago, of a ruined city bathed in sands of blood and a blue sky. It'd rushed all back. It was sheer willpower that prevented him from falling into a panic attack.

All of them knew, no matter how much they didn't want to accept it, that the entire planet was made of blood sands.

No one was willing to leave the ship, least of all Attelus. Despite this, he was the first to step upon the blood sands.

His breathing into his re-breather was almost deafening. When his boot had landed, he'd expected it would be wet; it wasn't; it felt normal. That just made it more disturbing.

Attelus could feel the eyes on his back of the others watching him from the cargo bay.

"How does it feel?" Karmen's voice erupted over the vox, almost making Attelus jump out of his skin.

"Like, sand, normal sand," Attelus said as he stomped his foot, trying to make it look comical. "There's nothing wrong here!"

Karmen didn't reply, and Attelus turned back to them. Everyone, including Darrance, was there and in full gear. Syn skin bodygloves and cameleoline cloaks. Their faces hid behind re-breathers and inbuilt glarevisors. Only Karmen stood out in her form-fitting gold and white power armour.

No one wanted to breathe the air of Sarkeath, but the Adeptus Mechanicus recently invented their re-breathers. Instead of working like normal re-breathers, with the canisters having to be replaced after a few hours, they recycled carbon dioxide into oxygen; they could continuously use them for two weeks before the filters need replacing, more if used sparingly.

The only thing that set them apart was their builds, what weapons they wielded, and their initials painted on their mask's foreheads. Attelus wore his trademark black flak jacket, so he stood out; he had to, as the leader, he needed to be easily identifiable.

That meant easily identifiable to the enemy, of course, but Attelus didn't mind this. He, unlike his allies, was immortal.

"Poor choice of words," said Adelana as she shuffled her foot. "Something is very wrong here."

Attelus frowned. Now that was the understatement of the millennia, he wanted to say, but kept his mouth shut.

It wasn't long before everyone followed Attelus' lead and first stepped on Sarkeath's surface. For a few minutes, they awkwardly wandered around the ship.

It was Halsin who broke the silence.

"Maybe, maybe we'll acclimatise to it," stammered the medicae.

"And that is exactly what I'm afraid of," said Vark.

Attelus frowned; he couldn't help agree with the Storm Trooper.