Final Stand

N'bele looked at his fellow marines, knowing they would be dead within hours.

He watched A'diay tap his clip against the aquila on his chest plastron, the superstitious old marine dedicating the explosive bolts to the emperor, before slamming the magazine into his bolter. Crouching beside the seasoned warrior, young Olembe squeezed the grip of his weapon, over and over, his first engagement since leaving the scout company destined to be his last...

The first warning had come from Brother M'kosi, a garbled report fragmented by static

"...bio-signs on the scanners, no sighting yet..."

The marines in the base had clustered around the comms console as the static was disrupted by the staccato sound of gunfire.

"...TYRANIDS..."

N'bele felt his hands begin to shake, and clenched his fists hard to stop the tremors. He glanced over at Ri'asa, standing with the remains of his squad. The young assault sergeant had been desperate to mount a rescue and only the calm authority of Brother-Codicer Dracos had prevented Ri'asa from launching recklessly into the night. M'kosi and the other sentries had been Ri'asa's men, and each vox channel that had fallen silent had hit him like a hammer blow...

Lutalo had been next, then Kome, each marine fighting alone, buying time for his brothers, delaying the inevitable by a few precious minutes.

"At least let me call Toure and Du'mai back to base." Ri'asa was almost pleading now.

"No, Brother," Dracos replied "We must have time. Their sacrifice will not be in vain, they will be remembered as heroes"

The static was ruptured again by gunfire and the sound of alien screams that sent a chill down the spine. On the main screen, the icon representing Du'mai flickered briefly, then faded to crimson...

Sergeant Mekele was conferring with Dracos, the tattered piece of salamander hide fastened to his shoulder pauldron flapping in the rising winds. The veteran nodded and moved away as Dracos activated his vox unit and began chanting. As N'bele added his voice to the mantra, the moment of uncertainty passed to be replaced by steely determination and an urge to avenge his fallen brothers that he saw reflected on the faces of those around him...

All eyes were locked on the main screen, on the icon representing the last of the sentries, Brother Toure.

The vox channel hissed and crackled with static, then Toure's voice echoed round the control room

"...enemy in sight... here they come..."