Seventy-Two Hours

Chapter 1

The Thunderhawk shuddered as it hit heavy turbulence, a midnight speck with the large red "I" of the Inquisition painted upon its armored flanks, flashed across the clear blue skies of the eighth planet of the Galveston system. The Inquisitorial ship, Cloak and Dagger, receded in the distance; its blackened armor already invisible against the star speckled blackness of space. Flocks of flying, lizard-like creatures scattered as the dropship passed through the lower levels of the atmosphere.

Within the troopships armored hull Brother Sergeant Lucian Gaius Maximus, of the Ultramarines, briefed his team on the mission ahead. His dark, aquiline features were hidden beneath his black painted helm. His speech was short and clipped as he spoke to his team across the inter-squad vox channel.

"Alright, everyone, I know that we were briefed before the drop but, I wanted to go over everything again quickly before we land planet side. Any problems with that, Brothers?" He glanced quickly around the Thunderhawk's armored hold, eyes holding the gaze of each warrior in turn.

"By all means, Brother Sergeant." Rumbled Desimus Lerio, of the Imperial Fists and probably the largest of the Emperor's space marines which Lucian had ever seen that wasn't encased in blessed Terminator plate.

Lucian ran his gaze across the hold, gauging the reactions of his men. Besides Brother Desimus, there was Yngvar Warwolf of the Space Wolves, the only member of the Kill Team who didn't wear a helmet. The Space Wolf's unkept fiery hair and beard cascaded over his chest and shoulders. The hide of a Great Wolf was draped across his pauldrons.

By the Space Wolf sat Jubal Narin of the White Scars. Across from them sat Dante Arkio of the Blood Angels and Isaac Ignis of the Dark Angels. Each warrior nodded in turn as Lucian met their gaze, each warrior was encased in black painted armor, left pauldrons of silver emblazoned with a golden "I" of the Inquisition and their right pauldrons painted with the symbols of their chapters before being seconded to the Deathwatch. They braced themselves as the Thunderhawk bucked wildly against the growing turbulence.

"Good," Lucian said. "Now, as you know, this...tiny jungle world on the backside of the Imperium seems to have a small Ork problem." This brought several low rumbles of laughter from his men. "The only reason that the Emperor's holy Inquisition has any interest in this planet is that it contains minerals necessary in the production of propellants for our blessed bolt rounds, otherwise...we would leave it alone for the time being."

"Plan of attack, Brother Sergeant?" Asked Yngvar.

Lucian laughed. "I was just getting to that, Brother Yngvar."

"Figures," Rumbled Isaac, the sneer evident in his voice. "You Wolves have ever been impatient, leaping into the fray with little thought of strategy."

"Bite your tongue, whelp, before I rip it out." Yngvar replied his voice low and menacing, as cold as the ice fields of Fenris.

"That is enough!" Lucian spat before things could get out of hand. "If you must fight your duel, fine, but you will not do it until after this op. Is that understood?" He referred to the traditional honor duel fought between Space Wolves and Dark Angels going back ten thousand years to when their Primarchs, Russ and Lion El' Johnson, had fought for a day and a night. The fight had ended when Russ began laughing, seeing how silly the fight had been and the Lion, still angry, knocked him out. When Russ awoke, the Lion and all of his men were gone.

Since then, every time that the sons of the Lion and the sons of Russ meet, champions of each chapter would face one another in an honor duel. The two warriors sat silently, glaring at one another. Lucian stood up, quite a feat with the amount of turbulence bouncing the Thunderhawk around.

His gaze switched back and forth between the two space marines. His tone grew colder. "I said, is that understood?" Isaac sat silently for a couple of heartbeats before nodding.

"Yes, Brother Sergeant, of course. I apologize." Lucian turned his gaze toward Yngvar, who continued to glare at the Dark Angel.

"Wolf?" Lucian asked.

Yngvar snarled, baring his teeth. "Aye, Brother Sergeant, I understand."

"Good," Lucian said, carrying on as if nothing had happened. "I know that most of you opted to bring an unsuppressed weapon as well as your suppressed. Stealth is our priority so stick to blades and suppressed weapons as long as possible. If we lose the element of surprise then, by all means, unleash the Emperor's holy wrath on the Xenos scum." Nods of approval went around the gathered warriors as he pulled up a holo-map in his gauntlet; areas of interest were highlighted in red. "We will be inserted on the north side of this mountain range," He indicated the first highlighted location. ",To avoid being discovered by any detection devices that the greenskins may have in play."

He pointed out the highlighted path which they would take. "We will take this pass through the mountains, discreetly taking out any ammo caches, fuel depots, etc which we may find on the way. We will set up a sniper team on a small hill which lays between a lake and Brokentusk's, the Orks' warboss, compound. The team takes the shot, we exfil to the pickup point here." The final highlighted point. "While the Orks are playing find a new warboss, the Imperial Guard forces on standby will swoop in and claim all the glory, blissfully unaware that we practically did their work for them. Any questions?"

A series of negatives sounded off through the squad's vox frequency. "Good." Lucian said, smiling behind his helmet. "Then ready your weapons, Brothers. Battle awaits; for the Emperor!"

The rattle of boltrounds sliding home echoed through the hold as each warrior bellowed, "FOR THEEMPEROR!"