Gw Stories Valkyrie

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Gw Stories Valkyrie

Valkyrie An unofficial Warhammer 40,000 Short Story Written by Andy Clark Reading Time: 25 minutes

Cold Open Stories is 100% unofficial and in no way endorsed or supported by Games Workshop. All © Copyright Games Workshop Limited 2021. GW, Games Workshop, BL Publishing, Black Library, Forge World, Citadel, White Dwarf, The Horus Heresy, The Horus Heresy Eye logo, Space Marine, 40K, Warhammer, Warhammer Digital, Warhammer 40,000, the ‘Aquila’ Double-headed Eagle logo, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world. All Rights Reserved. Home
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Sister Aoife looked up at the Interrogator. She had been intent on the bindings that secured her wrists. Not looking for an escape, she knew there was no chance of that, rather she examined the fetters with a detached curiosity. She had never been restrained before and there was a certain morbid fascination to be found in her predicament. 
‘Tell me again,’ repeated the Interrogator. 
‘For what purpose?’ she asked. ‘You have heard my confession twice now and I expect it has been corroborated by other sources. What more do you need from me?’
‘Humour me,’ said the Interrogator. 
‘Very well,’ sighed Aoife, ‘the planet was overrun….’
Aoife strode purposefully across the landing platform, her hospitallers’ robes flattened across her armour by the powerful jet wash from the idling transports. Around her hurried troops, menials, and servitors, all rushing to gather as much material as could be salvaged in their haste to evacuate. The enemy movements had been tracked by the orbiting fleet, a massive swarm of greenskins rushing headlong towards their position with wild abandon. Forward Operating Base Solomon nestled in the deep canyon of the mountain pass. Sheer cliffs of granite soared towards the azure sky on either side; sharp edged rocks and promontories even the foolhardy Orks would be loath to attempt. The advance would pass through the canyon crushing all before it like an avalanche. The base would be lost, the only question at this point was how much could be saved. 
‘Faris!’ Aoife shouted over the noise. 
The Primaris Apothecary turned towards her, handing a dataslate to a Mechanicus logistician. He raised an augmetic arm in greeting and stepped towards Aoife, reaching up to unclasp his helm. 
‘Well met, sister,’ he said with a smile, ‘I didn’t know you were planetside.’
‘I am here to assist with the movement of the wounded. My order has been hard pressed these last weeks,’ she said. 
‘Aye, my brothers also,’ said Faris. ‘Our losses have been regrettable.’
‘There are no wounded marines here though,’ said Aoife, ‘what are you up to?’
Faris waved an arm to encompass the base. 
‘I am here in my capacity as a marine, sister,’ he said. ‘Machines needed tending to, supplies needed fetching and, well, I was superfluous at the primary landing fields. I volunteered.’
‘Do you have much left to do?’ asked Aoife.
‘Not much,’ replied Faris, ‘The last transports are being loaded as we speak and the Mechanicus are due to collapse the pass soon. I will return with the Overlord after spiking the guns we can’t retrieve.’
‘Then I shall see you at the landing fields,’ said Aoife, ‘my Chimera is leaving now. The Emperor protects brother.’
Aoife boarded the idling Chimera and the engine roared into life, she caught a last glimpse of Faris as the ramp closed and made a silent prayer to the Emperor for his protection.
‘Then what happened?’ asked the Interrogator.
‘You are well aware,’ replied Aoife, ‘just pass your judgement and be done with me.’
‘Not yet,’ said the Interrogator, ‘I would hear it from you again. The will of the Emperor will not be rushed.’
‘As you wish,’ said Aoife. ‘There was a problem at the base….’
Aoife lugged the ammo crate from the back of the Chimera onto the pile waiting to be loaded onto a shuttle. Her power armour made it light, but its size made it unwieldy. Still, she was able to move them on her own while it would otherwise need two guardsmen or a servitor. There were no wounded to minister to, they had been on the first shuttles, so Aoife was happy to do her part, no matter how menial. The landing fields were an exercise in controlled chaos. Navy personnel mixed with Mechanicus and Guard as everyone pulled together to complete the evacuation in time. She paused to wipe the sweat from her brow and looked towards the gates as the ingress alarm sounded. Automated weapons spooled up and targeted the growing gap between the huge plasteel plates as they ground open. A train of transports and light tanks entered. Chimeras mostly, with a few Salamanders laden with personnel and materiel. Last through were a pair of Repulsors. Their gravitic fields crushing the already compacted earth beneath them to raise a pall of dust. These, too, were overloaded. Marines jumped down from the roof where they had been perched and moved out of the way as the tanks glided to a halt in parallel. The side hatch of the lead tank opened and the occupants disembarked. Aoife recognised the flight crew from the Overlord and her curiosity peaked. She went to investigate.
‘Ave Imperator Brothers,’ she called to the group of marines unloading the tanks. 
‘How can we help you sister?’ asked a marine, turning to face her.
‘Should you not have arrived in your gunship?’ asked Aoife. ‘Surely it has a much greater capacity?’
‘Unfortunately not sister,’ replied the marine, ‘the machine spirit of The Siren’s Lament would not be appeased and we were forced to leave without it. Unless it can be retrieved it will be a great loss for the chapter.’
‘I notice Apothecary Faris is not among your number,’ said Aoife.
‘That is correct. The demolition charges failed and the canyon remains traversable Our noble brother remained with a contingent of servitors to cover our withdrawal. The greenskins were almost upon us,’ said the marine.
‘So you left him alone?’ said Aoife, incredulous.
‘Our orders were to secure as much manpower and material as possible for the evacuation. Faris understood this and ordered us to withdraw while he remained to stall the xenos as much as he could. We would not be here if he had not,’ said the marine. ‘His sacrifice shall be remembered.’
Aoife turned and walked slowly away. She found herself at the base of the perimeter wall and climbed the ladder to the firestep at the top. The sun was beginning to set over the mountains to the west, their foothills already wreathed in shadow, and she stared out over the plains in the direction of Solomon base. 
‘You bloody fool Faris,’ she said softly. ‘May the Emperor receive you at his side.’
She made to return to camp when a flash of distant light caught her eye. She looked back towards the mountains, almost certain it had been a trick of the light. There. Another flash, brighter this time. A few seconds later the unmistakable noise of weapons fire reached her ears. Faint, but enough. Aoife turned and leapt the twenty feet down from the firestep to the camp below. By the time she rolled to her feet, she was already running. Power armour and augmetic limbs worked in harmony so that by the time she passed the first group of navy bondsmen she was already a blur. Ignoring everything in her way, Aoife sprinted to the command centre. 
Faris moved swiftly across the open ground of the pass. The massive granite cliffs rose vertiginously on either side of him. Here the pass narrowed to a mere forty meters across. Barely wide enough for a brace of Baneblades to pass without scraping their fairings on the rough stone. He measured three paces then stopped again, kneeling in the dust to dig a shallow hole. He deposited another shredder mine, armed it, then covered it over with dust once again. Three more mines then he was done, there was not enough time to return to the base for more; the sounds of Ork buggies and bikes was drawing close. The roar of their badly maintained machines echoed off the walls of the canyon and made it seem like they were on top of him already. He made light work of the last mines and ran back to the open gates of the base. Blink clicking an icon on his display he closed the portal behind him and assigned a servitor to weld them shut. He wouldn’t be leaving through them anyway. 
He climbed up to the firestep and crouched behind a merlon. He subvocalised a command to the servitors manning the Firestrike turrets to his left and right, ordering them to hold fire until he gave the command. They would never be as effective as a marine gunner but given how target-rich he expected the killing field to be it probably wouldn’t matter. Easing out from behind the crenelation he sighted along his bolt rifle at the ridgeline where the first xenos should appear. He’d done his best with the remaining weapons in the camp. A line of plasma then two lines of shredder mines should give the Orks pause. Or at the very least slow them down a little as they picked their way past the inevitable wreckage. 
The roar from the canyon grew louder. The disparate voices began to coalesce into a single vocalised exclamation of intent. A rage soaked howl that promised death; a wordless cry of destruction that had echoed across countless worlds and heralded their doom. 
‘WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!’
Faris checked the stack of magazines and grenades was within easy reach and settled his aim. 
Aoife skidded to a halt outside the command station. The tent’s sides were open to the elements, but a unit of Tempestus Scions was barring the approach. 
‘Let me past,’ she demanded. ‘I have urgent intelligence for the command group.’
‘Back off nursemaid,’ said the lead Scion, ‘command is not to be disturbed.’
‘You will let me through,’ said Aoife, stepping forward.
The Scions closed the gap between them blocking her way. Aoife turned her gaze to take them both in.
A Scion moved to shove her back with the stock of their hellgun. Aoife sidestepped, gripped the haft of the weapon and pulled, throwing the Scion off balance and into their companion. Aoife stepped past them as they tried to rise and moved quickly towards the conference.
She could see the command group surrounding a table. Lit by the pale green of a hololith. Colonel Harkness of the Umbiric Light Dragoons was in a heated discussion with a Navy lieutenant, while a small group of Mechanicus adepts had cornered the enormous form of Captain Menaleus of the Void Tridents. Lord Inquisitor Canverra was examining the hololith and indicating points of interest to members of his entourage. Menaleus noticed her, dismissed the adepts with a frustrated wave, and motioned for the now upright Scions to stand down. He strode towards her and met her determined gaze with his own. 
‘I assume there is a good reason for this interruption, sister?’ he said. ‘The Scions do not take kindly to being manhandled. Especially not from a nursemaid such as yourself.’
Aoife bristled inwardly at the slight but remained calm and gathered her thoughts.
Menaleus stood patiently waiting for her to speak. His sea green gravis armour purred with power, deep gouges in the plate showed clean ceramite where Ork weaponry had penetrated his defences. Like all those who had contested this world he was battered but unbroken.
‘Base Solomon is under attack, my Lord Captain.’ She said, maintaining eye contact despite the difference in stature.
‘I am aware of this, sister,’ said Menaleus. ‘I ordered the withdrawal.’
‘Are you also aware that Brother Apothecary Faris stands against the greenskins alone?’ said Aoife.
‘I have been apprised of this also,’ said Menaleus. ‘It is regrettable. Faris is a fine warrior, his loss will be keenly felt.’
‘He’s not lost yet,’ said Aoife. ‘We must rescue him!’
‘No sister we must not,’ said Menaleus. ‘Base Solomon guards the only viable pass into this caldera, Faris buys us the time we need to complete our withdrawal. This planet is lost, our orders are to recover as much as we can and return to orbit whereupon Exterminatus protocols will be initiated. I will not waste men and equipment on a mission doomed to failure.’
‘I am sorry sister, I know that you have history with Faris. Take comfort in the knowledge that his sacrifice is not in vain,’ he said.
‘Where is your fabled courage?’ said Aoife under her breath.
‘I will ignore the insult just once sister,’ growled Menaleus. ‘Do not impugn my honour again. Brother Faris is a space marine and, like the rest of us, he does not know fear. We are built for courage. Now I have much to attend to as, I suspect, do you.’
Menaleus turned back to the adepts dismissing Aoife without a word. She made her way out of the tent, ignoring the glares of the Scions as they dusted themselves off, and walked slowly back through the camp.
The first Ork buggy crested the rise, its driver firing a crude weapon wildly as his passengers brandished a selection of massive firearms and clubs. Their evident joy at finally sighting the enemy was short-lived as a plasma mine detonated beneath the front axle, sending the ramshackle vehicle pinwheeling through the air. The occupants were scattered like chaff, hitting the ground heavily. One struggled to rise and had the misfortune of staggering onto a shredder mine that disintegrated him utterly. The respite was brief as more buggies and trikes cleared the ridge. Many were taken by mines, the plasma cooking off fuel and ammunition. Wreckage and bodies began to pile up, slowing the advance. Such was the sheer volume that many got through unscathed only to run into the wall of frag from the antipersonnel mines. The dust began to saturate with blood and viscera, turning the ground into a quagmire. 
The first Ork to make it through the minefields unscathed raised an enormous cleaver above his head and roared his defiance. He was still roaring as his head exploded, the bolt from Faris’s rifle taking him through the left eye. As the body collapsed to the floor it was immediately trampled underfoot. More and more Orks were in view now. The minefield was spent and they captured ground quickly. Faris blink clicked a command and the forward defences engaged. The servitors manning the Firestrike turrets selected targets efficiently. Basic battle protocols prioritised the enemy based on size and proximity. Heavy bolters and flamers mounted on the sides of the gate were indiscriminate, bursts of oversized bolts exploding in xenos bodies, gouts of flame engulfing any creature that strayed to close. 
Faris chose targets as they presented themselves. The press was now so thick and close that bolt rounds were passing through two or three greenskins before the mass-reactives detonated. Bodies were thrown forwards, as well as back. Some impacted on the walls of the base before sliding insensate to the ground to be crushed underfoot. The flamers spluttered and died, fuel reserves spent. The heavy bolters followed soon after, massive hopper magazines emptied completely and to devastating effect. Grenades began to arc over the wall, most falling to the courtyard and detonating harmlessly. Some skittered across the firestep and Faris was forced to gather and throw them back more than once. The turrets fell, bracketed and destroyed by Ork heavy weapons teams. The mounds of dead and injured at the base of the walls grew, greenskins clambered over their fellows to reach the battlements. Grapples and scaling hooks held fast and the xenos began to climb. Faris tossed the last bandoliers of grenades into the throng, activated a final defence protocol and fell back into the base. 
Sister Superior Annabelle was supervising her sisters as they stowed their gear for transport. Her cool grey eyes took in the practised movements of her squad as they swiftly gathered their equipment and broke down the camp. Warriors all, the sisters of the Seraphim were exemplars in both devotion to the Emperor and prowess on the battlefield. Annabelle felt a swell of pride but crushed it with iron will as it appeared. Pridefulness was a sin in the eyes of the church and Annabelle would countenance no sin. She heard someone approach and was surprised to be confronted by a hospitaller of the Order of Serenity.
‘Ave Imperator Sister,’ said Aoife.
‘Ave Imperator,’ replied Annabelle. ‘What brings you to us, sister? We are not in need of your ministrations.’
‘I have another matter I wish to discuss with you Sister Superior if I may?’ said Aoife.
‘Very well,’ said Annabelle, ‘speak your piece.’
‘It is of a delicate nature,’ said Aoife, ‘some privacy may be preferable.’
‘Nonsense sister, we have no secrets here. Say what you must,’ said Annabelle.
‘Very well sister. I have need of some wargear. A jump-pack and a sword,’ said Aoife.
One of the battle-sisters overheard and laughed. 
‘What would a nursemaid need with such things?’ she scoffed. ‘You would hurt yourself.’
‘That is not so,’ said Aoife, turning her head and lifting her hair to reveal her tattoo.
‘The Aquilla Resplendent,’ said Annabelle. ‘You were once one of us then.’
‘Until my injuries prevented my return,’ said Aoife. 
‘Why now sister?’ asked Annabelle. ‘Surely you have no need for such things? Your vocation is mercy.’
‘That is true, sister,’ said Aoife, ‘but this is the greatest mercy of all.’
The plasma mines and spare grenades Faris had strung along the firestep had slowed the Ork advance for only moments. There were so many that the loss of a few dozen at the top of the wall had barely been noticed by the throng. The gates were starting to buckle under sustained assault from some heavy vehicle and Faris was certain they would not last much longer. He checked his ammo counter. Sixteen rounds remained in his bolt rifle. He had one final magazine after that and then he was down to his sidearm, Carnifex, and bad language. He ducked back behind his makeshift barricade as another barrage of small arms fire came his way. Orks couldn’t hit a cursed thing normally but if there were enough of them the law of averages came into play. He popped up briefly to put a bolt each into the two closest greenskins then ducked back to prime a grenade. Not many of those left either. Faris looked across the open expanse of the base to the Overlord. The massive gunship sat squat and sullen in the centre of the landing pad. A fortress in its own right, it had refused to fly no matter what rites and imprecations he had tried. Faris considered his options. It was a dead end. Once aboard he would have no options for egress. However, if he could get the weapons systems active there was a good chance he could thin the xenos numbers considerably. One hundred and fifty metres of open ground separated Faris from the gunship. He palmed his last grenades and prepared to run.
Aoife flexed her shoulders, settling the weight of the jump-pack more comfortably. It had been a considerable length of time since she had last flown. Her last fateful mission as a Sister Superior in fact. The mission that had taken her legs, her right arm, her squad, and her vocation. She spun the borrowed sword, the augmetics responded as well as ever. Clumsy at first, they had been adjusted and improved during her time on Laevis IV. Work that had allowed her to become a warrior once more had been performed by the very man she was now looking to rescue. She clamped the sword to her thigh and made her way out of the tent.
She strode purposefully to the tertiary landing pads. Armoured and helmed, she was every bit a Seraphim of the Adepta Sororitas. As such, she was shown deference by the hurrying troops and menials. She soon saw what she was looking for and adjusted her path until she was standing at the primary hatch of an idling Valkyrie. The crew were loading ammo crates into
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