The Last Sentinel Part 2

Blood was everywhere. On his hands, in his eyes, coating his uniform. If he hadn’t seen the explosive
round hit auspex inspector Vyrona in the torso, Davian would have assumed that he had been
injured. His eyes stung as he tried to blink away the gore but the pain was soon forgotten as his
vision cleared. In the control room entrance stood an ork. Its mass filled the doorway so that it
appeared like a monstrous red devil from a nightmare. Try as he might, Davian could not look away.
His body wouldn’t move, paralysed by fear. The mass of scrap in the ork’s fist was still smoking as it
lowered the weapon and stepped forward. The dull clang on metal boots on plasteel flooring was
like a death toll ringing in Davian’s ears. There were still six of them in flight control and they were all
staring at the beast as it stalked further in. Its head lolled from side to side, looking each man and
woman in the eyes with a hunger that made Davian blanch. He saw the ork’s chest swell as it took in
air, its lips parting from its yellowed teeth in preparation for what Davian was sure would be some
terrifying roar.

The sound was so loud it rang around the room. Everyone broke from their stupor and started to
take cover behind terminals and chairs. Davian could only hear a monotone whine that made him
wince. But no noise had come from the ork. A hole had appeared in the creature’s neck and jaw,
leaving it quietly gurgling in its own blood. Its steps became a stumble as it lost its strength and fell
to its knees. With rage still in its eyes, it reached for Davian with twitching fingers. They latched onto
his boot and he cried out. He fell to the ground as it squeezed but the hand went limp when a
second bolt blew out the back of its skull. Bone fragments sprayed like pellets from a shotgun
towards Davian, though the shot was muffled by the ringing in his ears. The room echoed for a few
moments before falling to silence. From the darkness of the entrance, a deep voice called out.

“Who is in command here?” Another giant stepped out of the shadows and into the red light. It was
significantly taller than the ork, though this was no greenskin. It was the largest man Davian had ever
seen, and he had seen hulking mutant brutes from the hive mines on his home world. Unlike those
abominations, this man was a living statue. Even with worn robes and chipped flak armour, he had
an aura that brought tears to Davian’s eyes. He clutched at the aquila charm that hung around his
neck. His voice broke as he uttered a prayer.

“Emperor deliver us.” The man looked down to see who had spoken. There was no warmth in those
eyes. It was as if they did not even see Davian.

“The Emperor is not here. I am.” His gaze shifted to others in the room and Davian let out a ragged
breath. The man repeated himself. “Who is in command here?”

Davian cleared his voice. It still shook from the adrenaline coursing through him. “I am, my lord.” He
didn’t know why he called the giant ‘my lord’ but it just seemed appropriate. “Chief vox operator
Davian Barr.” In truth, he had been of middling rank in the flight control hierarchy but seeing as the
three more senior staff on his shift were lying in pieces, it would appear he was in charge.

The man did not seem amused or unimpressed by Davian’s low rank but he felt his cheeks flush
regardless. “I am relieving you of command, Chief vox operator Barr.” Davian tried not to show his
relief. “This is station is under siege and, as a battle brother of the Adeptus Astartes Imperial Fists
chapter, I have military seniority. Are there any objections to this?” Silence responded. “Good. Arms
yourselves, if able, and follow me. We will make our way into the defence systems and try to restore
the batteries.” He turned and walked away into the dark of the outer hallway. Behind him, three
men and a woman were peering into the control room. One Davian recognised immediately.

“Kal!” Davian scrambled to his feet and rushed over to his friend. The others in the room were
picking up items they could use as improvised weapons and moving to follow the space marine. Kal
noticed Davian and grinned, though his face dropped slightly when he saw the gore.

“Throne, Davian, you look awful.” Davian was still shaking as he looked down at Kal’s uniform.

“You don’t look much better.” The pair stood quietly for a moment, the horror of the situation
sinking in.

Kal sniffed and smiled.

“We had best get moving. Don’t want to be left behind.” With a nod, Davian wiped his hands on his
trousers and jogged out of the room with Kal.

* * * * *

The whir of water filtration pumps and sprinkler systems muted the sporadic gunfire and explosions
from deeper in the station. The squad of station militia crouched behind plant vats and nutrient
tanks, each with a chrome combat shotgun gripped tight to their chests. The low velocity firearms
looked pristine as if they had never been used. Most, in fact, had not been. The sergeant wiped
sweat from his brow with his forearm before lifting his eyeline above the cover. From across the
circular room, he saw a miner sprint in from the PYR6 habitat corridor.

“Help! Please, help me!” A stomping sound rang through the hydroponics chamber and the sergeant
dropped down, his eyes bulging.

“What is it? Shouldn’t we help?” One of his men whispered. The sergeant only shook his head
violently, a finger pressed against his lips.

“Emperor protect me!” The miner whimpered. The stomping ended as a strangled scream that was
cut short by a stomach-churning crunch. Every man in the squad sunk lower to the ground, too
afraid to risk a look over their makeshift barricade. They all knew the miner’s fate and had no desire
to join him. The heavy steps continued, resonating through the plasteel tanks. The sergeant’s heart
was beating so hard in his chest he swore he could hear it. The clanging stopped again and seconds
passed.
“Sir?” The sergeant’s head span around to face the young boy to his right. He locked eyes with the
pale face a second before a dark green fist enveloped the boy’s helmeted head. A muffled shriek
came from between fingers almost as thick as a man’s arm. Limbs flailed pathetically, the boy’s right
hand still clutching the grip of the shotgun. A spray of pellets burst from the barrel and into the
woman who crouched on the doomed militiaman, watching in horror as the behemoth lifted its
victim into the air above the barricades. She screamed as the leg of her uniform turned red from the
numerous puncture wounds. She pointed up at the enormous ork and fired. The boy and the fist
holding him above the ground were struck by the full force of the shot. Others started to open fire
on the ork, not caring if their comrade was hit in the crossfire. He was dead already.

“Bring it down!” The sergeant roared, his voice cracking as he racked the shotgun and aimed. A
bellow from the beast was his response and he dropped the gun as his eardrums ruptured. The
sergeant fell to the floor, pressing his palms to his ears. The ork stepped over the defences, cleaving
men and women in half with a brutish saw-toothed blade. Even hunched, this ork was monstrous in
size. The sergeant watched, helpless, as his squad was cut down. Finally, with a bestial smile, the ork
loomed over him. Blood running from his ears and tears in his eyes, the sergeant’s world went black
as the blade fell.