Beneath Infinity

The Gone, Rekindled

A soft breeze twisted across the rough grey terrain of the broken Moon, dragging dust and sand and bone across the dead Ocean of Storms. Nothing lived. Nothing was permitted to live. The monstrous Hive were the Lords of these lands; they set the laws.

She drew a sharp breath and then exhaled softly. When her lungs were half vacated, she slowly pulled the trigger, taking care not to snatch it and throw off her aim. The huge rifle kicked violently against her shoulder scattering dust and debris from the dirt in which she was lying into the air, mixing with the speckled starry sky. The spined head of the Hive Knight squatting on the ridge eighty feet below the scope of her Longbow exploded, jettisoning black fluid and powdered armour into the thin lunar atmosphere as the huge metal bullet slammed through its cranium. Its form crumpled and fell apart as the Darkness left it in a black haze, never to rise again. She flipped the safety switch and began scanning the area once again, searching for further targets.

Below her, hidden beneath the rocky outcrop she used to steady her rifle, her fireteam worked diligently but with caution, trying not to damage the precious cargo they had been trusted with. The sniper was peeved that her team had been taken over by an older Guardian for this mission. She was perfectly capable of leading her squad, she thought. It was obvious the Vanguard had considered her too inexperienced for this task - too brash perhaps. She would confront them once she returned to the tower. Smouldering silently, the Hunter continued her watch.

"Careful there, this one's heavy."

"Thanks, Lupa. I've got it, yeah. Thanks."

George took the massive crate from Lupa and lugged it onto the pallet to be strapped up ready for TransMat to the jumpship hovering in an unseen orbit above them. They had been here for a few hours already, extracting the precious helium coils from the inner workings of an old colony base with complete precision and care. They were massively important to the industry back at the City - any that could be recovered were needed.

George finished adjusting the straps of the ties around the crates and stood tall again, pushing his palms into his lower back in order to soothe his aching muscles. The Moon's surface was unbelievably barren; nothing but dust and sparse old colonial ruins. He knew it was a different story a few kilometres West where the Hellmouth sank into the core of the ancient rock, oozing rotten gas and horror from its depths. The Hive had grown strong inside their hole, hence the requirement for a raised sentry. Aerel had been the obvious choice, she was easily the best shot out of the lot of them, and the huge silencer on her rifle was a bonus. George looked up to where she lay, just managing to make out the barrel of said rifle poking out from the stone. Any Hive wouldn't know what hit them.

He lowered his gaze and fixed it on Lupa as she worked away just shy of the doorway of an old colonial engineering office, packing coil after coil into the crates. She was the most experienced Guardian present on the mission, one of Vanguard Rey's personal protégés. She was a tall, slim Warlock who wore a cloak of purple to match her mentor's and a helmet crusted with gold and silver detailing. A TransMat amplifier in the shape of a ringlet sat on her left arm, just above the elbow, glowing orange. This would allow them to transfer their cargo to the jumpship while it was still in orbit, rather than bringing it to ground and risk losing their transport to the Hive. It was good to have her here, he thought, smiling behind his visor.

"Hive patrol, coming your way. Your seven o'clock, George."

Aerel's voice buzzed through his earpiece. He unclipped his auto rifle from his back and shouldered it, activating the solar burner he had installed on the barrel. The Hive didn't fare well against sunlight, nor rifle rounds charged by it. Looking down the sights in the direction Aerel had advised, he crouched and remained in this position for nearly a minute before the head of a Hive Acolyte appeared over a rocky dune, followed by another and another, and then the fierce, jagged carapace of a Knight joined their ranks also. George waited. They hadn't seen him. Auto rifles were more effective the closer your target was to the bullet-spitting end, so he bided his time. When the patrol was nearly just twenty feet away, he fired.