Turning Point -Warhammer 40k Fan Fiction

Chapter 4 - Escape

          “Joseph, it’s okay.  Just drop the bag on your shoulder and stay calm.  We’re here to help you,” Johnson spoke.

         Joseph recognized two of the men with him as privates from another squad.  The other two, guessing mainly from their uniforms, were local police.  Joseph let his bag fall over his shoulder and onto the ground behind him.  He lowered his hands to his side and kept his gaze on the Corporal.

         After nothing was said for a few moments, Johnson broke the silence.  “Look, its okay.  The Colonel figures the stress from the last operation, coupled with your friend’s death is enough to push anyone to the limit.  We’re here to escort you back safely, with no charges or problems.”  Johnson stressed the last part by raising his weapon, turning the safety back on, and holstering the pistol back into his belt.

         “And your friends… are they here for my benefit?” Joseph queried, pointing to the nervous guardsmen with the shaking gun pointed at him.

         Johnson put his hand on top of the nervous man’s trembling gun, and slowly pushed it down.

         “It’s okay gentlemen, we’re here to talk.”  Johnson motioned and the men behind him lowered their weapons.  “Joseph, listen… I’m not here to judge you or figure out why you left.  Let’s just head back to base and talk about your concerns.  Emperor knows you’ve been through a lot in the past few days.”

         Joseph’s mind began racing.  He wasn’t sure how much Johnson knew, or what his real intentions were.  He had always liked the man, and was pretty sure even in this moment that he couldn’t kill him, but Joseph knew better than to think everything would be okay if he went back with them.  He had to get out of the hangar, but even moving a foot or two while he was out in the open was suicide.  He tried to relax his body a little bit, and perhaps show them that he was at least thinking of giving himself up.

         “That’s it,” Johnson said encouragingly, “you won’t face any disciplinary action, but we just want you to talk to someone back at HQ, you know, to see what it is you are dealing with inside.”

         Joseph hesitated and then took a step forward.  “You mean someone from the Ordos Hereticus?” he braved the question.

         One of Johnson’s entourage, the nervous man who the Corporal had to steady before, raised his gun again in a threatening pose.  The others followed suit, leaving only Johnson and Joseph disarmed.

         “Wha…What?” Johnson stammered.  “I don’t know what has you so paranoid, but please be reasonable Joseph!”

         The guilty tone of Johnson’s voice gave away his growing desperation.  Joseph once again braced himself for the inevitable confrontation.  Seeing the change in his posture, Johnson once again put his hand on his pistol, but restrained from drawing it up.

         “We can leave here peacefully, and everyone wins,” Johnson began, “no one has accused you of anything Joseph, so you’re not in trouble if you just come to your senses and stop this now!”  Johnson was somehow able to muster a calm and re-assuring tone to underlie his words.

         “So the Ordos has no interest in me?  How long have we fought together Trent?  How many times have I saved your life?”

         Rubbing his brow in frustration, Johnson waited a few moments before replying.  “Four times, but I’m not counting the counterattack on Jhentar Prime.  That one was luck.  Damnit, Joseph.  Look, I really don’t know what the Ordos wants, but given that you’re not in custody or dead, it can’t be all that bad.  From what I’ve heard, I think it’s just your extraordinary combat performance that has brought attention to you.”  The men behind him shuffled uneasily.

         “I appreciate your honesty, Trent, I do.  But with the war that’s going on, and the incredible amount of work that the Inquisition must have in this sector, I don’t think I can take this lightly.  They don’t send a black ship and an inquisitor for an interview.  I just won’t take a chance on rumors.”

         Johnson’s face began to flush red with anger.  “I’ve been ordered to bring you back, with or without your cooperation.”  He turned his head to the side and motioned two of the men behind him. 

         “Joseph Vintros, by the powers granted to me by the Imperial Guard of mankind, I am placing you under arrest.” Johnson raised his voice in a commanding tone.  He quickly lowered it to a whisper, “Don’t make this harder than it has to be Joseph.”

         Joseph stood still as the two men neared.  Grabbing wrist restraints, the guardsman on his right holstered his weapon and began to go for Joseph’s arm.  Before the man could even look down to clamp his wrist, Joseph swung around behind him and put his arm around the guardsman’s neck.  Pulling the hold-out pistol from his belt, he pointed it at the man’s head and slowly started backing away.

         “I’m sorry, Trent.  I’m leaving now,” Joseph said plainly, watching as the men in front of him aimed their weapons high.  “Now put your weapons down, and no one dies!”

         “I can’t allow that, Joseph.  Let him go and I promise you’ll be treated fairly.”

         Seeing the impasse on Johnson’s face, Joseph knew he had scarce little time.  The jumpy guardsmen behind him were already searching for a shot.  He started backing up, making his way towards a stack of supply crates that were behind him and to the right.  Spying only with his peripheral vision, Joseph stopped when they were a small distance away and directly to his right.  The Corporal and his men carefully followed, still keeping a good amount of space between them.

         “We’ll have every exit from here blocked in a matter of minutes.  There’s no hope of escape.”

         Joseph ignored his words.  Nothing seemed impossible anymore; no matter how many times he was told what he had done in the past seemed unfeasible.  Risking a quick glance behind him, Joseph unintentionally gave away his plan of action to the armed men in front of him.  A guardsman behind the Corporal opened fire.  A las-bolt slammed into the chest of the man that Joseph was holding.  In one smooth motion, Joseph let go of the wounded man and threw himself blindly to the right to try and find the only cover nearby.  Joseph heard the shots all around him, half expecting to feel the searing pain of a las-shot somewhere on his back.  Instead, he heard the sounds of crates and debris scattering on the ground near where he was standing only moments before.  Somehow, the crates had blocked several shots and allowed Joseph enough time to get clear.  Joseph heard the Corporal over increasing gun-fire.

         “Cease fire!” Johnson yelled. 

         The guardsmen, already on edge and anxious facing off against a regimental hero continued to fire recklessly.  They began to move forward to get Joseph back into their field of view.  Johnson tried grabbing one of the men in a last ditch attempt to salvage the situation.

         Instantly jumping to his feet, Joseph surveyed his escape options.  Several large spaceships were docked only twenty or so feet away, giving him cover if he dashed for them now.  Before he could make a move, a guardsman came around the large stack of crates and began firing.  Reacting in a flash, Joseph raised his pistol and shot the man directly in the heart.  Spinning wildly, the soldier landed in a heap next to the body Joseph had used as a human shield, both contributing to the spreading crimson pool of blood on the floor.

         Before another could pop around the corner and likely kill him, Joseph fired twice blindly in their direction and dashed madly for the closest ship.  Its bulky hull and large landing gear would provide excellent cover for him.  Several shots followed his path, but none came close enough as he threw himself under the worn grey ship, rolling hard to the other side.  Ten tons of metal now separated the soldiers and Johnson from Joseph.

         “Storm!  Storm!  We can still fix this.  They fired without my orders!  Give yourself up now, or there will be nothing I can do to help you!” Johnson yelled from the other side of the ship, anxiety laden in his voice.

         “No chance, Trent!  I’ve already killed one of your men, there’s no turning back now!” he replied, cold and calculating.

         “With your service record and my testimony that you were acting in self defense, we can get through this!”

         “Even if we worked it out, I would still be handed over to the Ordos afterwards!  Sorry Trent, this is how it has to be!”  Joseph yelled back, spying a glance around the landing gear of the ship covering him.

         Las-bolts screamed near his location as several more guardsmen joined the fight from Johnson’s direction.  They began to spread out across the area in a move to flank Joseph.  Recognizing the tactic, Joseph broke cover and fired at the nearest men.

         “Son of a bitch!  Damnit Storm, I was trying to help you!  Now there’s little I can do!”  Johnson screamed in frustration as he watched Joseph shoot another of his security detail.

         As Joseph dove into the cover of another ship, he hurriedly changed the clip of his small pistol.  He had hit the guardsman nearest to Johnson as he had dashed away from their flanking maneuver.  Although he had struck the man high in the chest, Joseph doubted that he had killed him, due to the fact that his hold-out pistol was really only for close range engagements and had little stopping power.  In response, a monstrous hail of las-fire peppered the area around him.  The metal of the ship’s landing gear began to melt as several shots struck its iron footing.  Joseph could hear several more footsteps joined the Corporal’s position as backup joined against him.

         Swiftly eyeing the number of assailants, Joseph counted four men besides Johnson.  Quickly drawing from behind cover, Joseph shot a man to his right in the shoulder.  Dropping his weapon instantly, the man grabbed his bleeding wound and collapsed to the ground.  Three left.

         As their fire became increasingly concentrated, Joseph knew it would be difficult if not impossible to prevent from killing them.  He had been able to pick his shots up until now, but if he was to live, he would have to fire in haste.  Hating the idea that more lives would have to end before he could be free, Joseph concentrated his will on the singular task of escaping alive.

         Snapping two quick blind shots, he assessed the cover around him.  Even though he knew the metal landing gear would not melt entirely, he also was smart enough to realize that they would eventually surround him with their numbers and catch him in a cross-fire.

         Daring another attempt to even the odds, Joseph aimed and shot another man who was trying to run behind the body of a nearby ship.  Caught in the upper back, the man collapsed immediately and fell face first on the ground.  A screaming flash of light caught Joseph near his right eye, absorbing into the metal of the landing gear just inches from his face.  A spark singed his right eyebrow and Joseph cursed aloud as he ducked back behind the gear.

         “Nice shot, Trent,” Joseph yelled, “but your sight’s off a bit.  Try a little more to the left!”

         Joseph waited as his taunt remained unanswered.  In the background, he could hear Johnson barking orders to the two remaining guardsmen.

         Pressing his small advantage, Joseph burst from cover and fired as he ran at the two guardsmen who were trying to position themselves closer to Joseph.  Taking the first shot from the hip, it hit the guardsman on his right in the throat, causing the man to gasp loudly as blood spurted several feet in front of him.  The second shot was much more merciful as Joseph was able to aim it from shoulder height and hit the second man square between the eyes.  The two men fell to the ground where they stood, with small gasps still emanating from the poor bastard Joseph shot in the neck.

         As Joseph had just finished the second shot, Corporal Trent Johnson saw his opportunity and fired at the man running towards him.  Diving at the last second, the bolt of light barely missed Joseph’s head as he finished the lunge into a roll.  Coming up a foot away from Johnson, Joseph grabbed the rifle in one swift move and threw it to the side, well away from the two men.

         “It’s over.  I’m leaving.  You’ll do your duty and report what happened here,” Joseph said, holding his pistol up to the Corporal’s head.  “I’m sorry, Trent, but this is how it has to be.”

         “This isn’t over.  They’ll follow you.  They’ll hunt you down and make an example out of you.”  Trent’s words sounded oddly sympathetic to Joseph.

         “That’s a chance I’m going to have to take,” explained Joseph, slightly lowering his pistol.  Keeping an eye trained on Johnson, he walked about ten feet away to where his bag had been thrown down earlier.  Hoisting it over his shoulder, he made ready to leave the hangar.

         From the corner of his eye, Joseph noticed movement far off behind Corporal Johnson.  A second later, shouting began as the men saw Joseph next to the Corporal.  Glimpsing the opportunity, Trent rushed Joseph and was able to get a hand on the pistol.  Struggling briskly, the two men wrestled until the pistol was free and fell to the ground.  Before Johnson could reach down to grab it, Joseph kicked him in the midsection, sending the man sprawling backwards and hard to the floor.

         Las fire began streaking in their direction.  As Joseph reached down to grab his pistol, a lucky shot struck his hold out weapon and sent pieces of it sprawling in different directions.  Only feet away, Joseph saw the rifle Johnson had been firing lying on the ground.  Darting quickly to the weapon, Joseph rolled onto the floor and neatly scooped it into his hands as he came up onto one knee.  Firing several warning shots at the charging men, he was able to falter their advance and send them searching for hard cover.

         With the brief respite, Joseph grabbed his gear and took off running once again towards the east exit of the facilities.  Dodging his way through crates and various ship parts, he saw the exit doors free and clear of any obstacles.  Sprinting towards them, he was tackled sideways as a blur struck him from his left side.  Rolling on the cold floor with pain shooting through his right side, he saw Johnson beside him on the ground with an utter look of determination on his face.

         “I can’t let you leave!” he spat, blood from his nose streaming down his face from the violent collision.

         “I’m sorry Trent, but this isn’t up to you.”  Joseph grabbed the rifle lying beside him, pointed it at Johnson as he slowly climbed to his feet.  White flashes of pain originating from his side almost blinded his vision as he rose. 

         “You’re just going to have to shoot me Joseph!” 

         Johnson sprung from the floor and tried to once again tackle Joseph.  Having full view of his assailant, Joseph was able to dodge Johnson’s charge and move to the side.  Not missing entirely, Johnson grabbed a hold of Joseph’s arm and tried to prevent his momentum from carrying him to the floor.  Bracing himself, Joseph stayed on his feet as the Corporal fell to his knees beside Joseph, still clinging onto his arm.

         Before either of the two men could act, a bolt of light from behind Johnson struck him in the back of the head.  Joseph felt the flash of heat go past his arm as the man kneeling in front of him went limp and collapsed to the ground.  The horrid smell of burnt human flesh rose into Joseph’s nose as droplets of boiling blood began to cool on his sleeve.  Caught in total surprise, Joseph ignored three other las-bolts that just barely missed hitting him as well.

         The trooper in the background raised his rifle again to fire, but this time he wasn’t un-opposed.  Joseph raised his arm and pulled the trigger three times.  The first two shots hit the man in each of his shoulders, causing his body to flail back and forth as his rifle was flung into the air.  The final shot disappeared high in his forehead, driving him backwards and hard onto the ground.

         Another guardsman ran into view and looked down briefly at the dead soldier.  Glancing upwards, he saw the frightful mask of hatred on Joseph’s face and instinctively dove towards a pile of metal crates.  His body in mid-air, Joseph was able to track and fire several shots into his side.  The guardsman continued on his path to the ground, sliding lifelessly across the floor and leaving a trail of blood from his wounds.

         Multiple cries of alarm rose in the air, snapping Joseph from his dream like state.  Realizing that many more men were coming his way, he grabbed his bag on the ground and turned towards the exit, busting through the doors.  Remembering the shot that had hit Johnson, he almost faltered at the top of the steps leading to the ground outside.  The hissing sound of las-bolts and the ping of hard rounds ricocheted against the doorway, dissuading him from going back to check on his former Corporal and friend.

         “I’m sorry, Trent.  It wasn’t supposed to end like this…” he said in a whisper, regret in his voice.

         Rushing down the stairs, he ran into the nearby street which was already bustling with activity.  Sirens and alarms drew closer through the late day air, but Joseph saw no sign of units on this side of the star port.

         Signaling a Taxi, he jumped into the first one that stopped.  Signaling for the driver to leave, Joseph threw his bag onto the seat beside him.  The vehicle turned onto the main intersection and began its path away from the star port.  Looking through the back window of the cab, he watched from a good distance away as multiple security forces and guard vehicles surrounded the hangar of port 24. 

         Breathing a long sigh of relief, Joseph sat back down and sank into the dirty cushioning of the somewhat dilapidated cab.  From here, things were really going to get interesting.