V'running Man Part 1

“It's up to you now lad, you're the only one left...”

Ramius' words echoed in Jarrett's mind as he dropped to the ground. The dense undergrowth enveloped him in protective darkness as the Kommandos appeared over the ridgeline, beginning their descent into the valley. The weak, dappled light that penetrated the canopy hundreds of metres above revealed fleeting glimpses of his pursers as they darted from tree to tree, like wraiths in the perpetual twilight of the forest.

The mission had seemed so simple 48 hours ago. Jarrett and his fellow scouts were to penetrate the Ork lines, locate the missing auto-savant and retrieve the data storage module embedded deep into the soft tissues of its brain. That same module, hardwired into the central nervous system of the unfortunate Calculus Logi, which held the disposition charts for all the Imperial Forces planetside here on V'run. That very same module that currently lay in a securely fastened pouch at Jarrett's waist.

The thick guttural sound of the Ork language snapped Jarrett out of his momentary reverie. He glanced up to see a large, heavily scarred Ork standing an arm's length away, his back to the young marine. The whisper of metal on leather as Jarrett drew his combat knife seemed painfully loud, but the Ork seemed oblivious, intent on excavating a nostril. Digging the toes of his boots into the loose soil, Jarrett tensed, raising the knife in front of him, blade below the fist in the proscribed manner for close quarters combat. His twin hearts pounding, the blood singing in his head, he surged out of the undergrowth towards the greenskin. The knife swung in a short arc across the back of the Kommando's knees, and as Jarrett's momentum carried him past the Ork, he thrust the knife backwards, feeling the blade slice through flesh and bone. Landing heavily on his shoulder, Jarrett rolled to avoid the falling body, and drew his pistol in a fluid, practiced motion as he regained his feet.

It had started easily enough; the five scouts had ghosted past the sentries with ease, right into the heart of the Ork encampment. The raucous uproar of the camp and the rank odours of cooking fires and unwashed bodies assaulted their senses as they crept from shadow to shadow. Ramius' auspex had located the only human bio-sign – a solitary blue blip close ahead amidst of a sea of green icons.

The dead Kommando had been discovered quicker than Jarrett had hoped, and he could hear the raised voices of the pursuing Orks growing nearer. A further obstacle lay ahead of him; the Aisepos River, oily foam coating the black rocks that provided the only path across its dark waters. He jumped to the first stone, almost losing his footing on the oil-slicked surface. The clamour from the forest grew louder, distant sounds of gunfire accompanying the guttural cries. Jarrett knew they were only firing off rounds in high spirits but the sounds still sent a chill down his spine. Gritting his teeth he jumped again, desperate to cross the Aisepos before his pursuers closed in.

The autosavant lay pinioned on a metal trestle, rusty shackles bulky against his wizened limbs. The sour stench of death filled the air, the pale lacerated flesh of the Calculus stark against the dark blood that spattered the crude saws and forceps that lay atop the primitive operating table. Cane, Oren and Raines swiftly moved to the windows of the adobe, taking up defensive positions. Jarrett and Ramius moved to the table and looked down at the emaciated body, dark sockets and data ports studding the sallow skin. Ramius placed two fingers under the jaw, paused for a moment, and shook his head. Jarrett drew his knife, held it to the auto-savant's brow and began sawing through the bone. As Jarrett made the first incision into the forebrain, the savant's eyes flew open and a high-pitched warbling scream tore from his throat. Jarrett jerked away, his primary heart pounding. He was alive; the savant was still alive! Oren signalled frantically as the shrill squealing echoed through the camp.

Jarrett glanced over his shoulder as the first of the Kommandos emerged from the tree line and raised its weapon. Time seemed to slow, his senses magnified as the Ork fired. Jarrett leapt for the far bank, twisting mid-air to snap off a shot, then landed rolling and fired again as he rose to a crouch. The Ork collapsed as the mass-reactive bolt exploded in its shoulder. Four more Kommandos burst from the forest and started firing wildly in Jarrett's direction. He turned, scrambling for cover as slugs from the Orks weapons buzzed around him like insects. He snapped another two shots off, winging one of the Kommandos as they started to cross the river. The lead Kommando leapt to the second stone, lost his footing and plunged in to dark churning waters of the Aisepos. Jarrett sighted on the next Ork, squeezed the trigger. Click. Swearing, Jarrett ejected the spent mag, and muttered the prayer of reloading as he slammed his last clip into the bolt pistol.