Chapter 41: Infection
Bloody Worm Transport Ship
A squad of Ultramarines was fighting their way out. As they rounded a corner in the corridor, one of them, his armour shattered and covered in blood, slumped against the wall and slid to the floor.
His comrade grabbed his hand and shouted into the vox, "Apothecary! We need an apothecary! Man down!"
But the vox was still filled with static.
"No…" The fallen Ultramarine weakly grabbed his comrade's arm. "It's too late, sir. The teleportation's been disrupted. Go… leave me."
The squad leader holstered his melta gun and tried to lift his fallen brother.
"No…" The injured warrior pushed him away. "Don't waste time on me. Go, regroup with Captain Flavorus. I… I still have this." He pulled a krak grenade from his belt and clutched it in his hand.
The squad leader gave him a long, hard look, then nodded grimly. "Understood." He stood and led the squad away.
Once they were gone, the injured Ultramarine tore off his helmet, revealing a bloodied face. His breathing was shallow, his eyes half-closed.
He switched the grenade to his left hand and hid it behind his back. With his right, he drew a bolt pistol and aimed it at the corridor entrance.
But the enemy didn't come.
Instead, a red-bearded man in a lab coat crawled out of a nearby pipe.
The injured Ultramarine immediately aimed his pistol at him.
"Whoa, whoa! Easy, sir, don't shoot!" The man raised his hands, clutching a gray metal canister.
"Who are you?" the Ultramarine demanded, his voice cold.
"I'm a civilian, sir. I was captured by these monsters. I'm here to help you."
Bielinski hunched over, one hand raised, as he cautiously approached the injured warrior.
"Help me?" The Ultramarine frowned, gesturing at the canister with his pistol. "What's that?"
"Oh, this? It's… it's medicine. Special medicine. I'm here to save you," Bielinski stammered.
The Ultramarine found the whole situation absurd. A civilian on a traitor ship, claiming to have medicine to save him?
"Back off. I don't need your help," the Ultramarine said coldly.
Though suspicious, he didn't shoot the civilian outright.
Bielinski, realizing his poor acting wasn't fooling anyone, gritted his teeth and stepped forward. "Sir, please, you have to let me—"
'Bang!' The bolt pistol fired.
Bielinski's upper body was blown apart.
"Aaaah!" The dying man screamed.
As he fell, the metal canister slipped from his hands and landed near the Ultramarine. A drop of black, viscous liquid splashed onto the warrior's cracked, bloodied chest plate.
The Ultramarine ignored the dying man and stared at the black liquid. Then, to his horror, the liquid seemed to come alive, sliding into his wound.
'No!'
But it was too late. The Ultramarine's eyes rolled back, and his body convulsed before he collapsed, unconscious. The krak grenade slipped from his hand and rolled away, unprimed.
From the pipe, a hunched, cloaked figure emerged. She knelt beside Bielinski's corpse and gently closed his wide, lifeless eyes.
"Rest now, Bielinski," she whispered, her voice a strange, hissing rasp.
Then she turned to the unconscious Ultramarine, running her hands over his body. "Come out, my children," she cooed.
The warrior's chest began to bulge unnaturally, rising and falling as if breathing.
The hunched woman smiled, stroking the bulge. "What a bountiful hunting ground this is, my children. Everyone here… is your food. Everyone."
*****
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