Chapter 8 – “To Hell and Back”
Pt. 1
Pt. 1
“Your last test is down that tunnel.”
Ian looked down at the hole that was once a sewer access point. “Where’s Boanerges?”
“He will meet you at the other end, and before you ask any more questions, he will address them.”
Without another word Katan turned to leave. Over his shoulder he said, “You did good. If you survive this one you will have earned some respect among the team.”
Ian stared at the Van Saar ganger’s back as he disappeared into the shadows. Calling out into the darkness he yelled, “How am I supposed to recognize him? I’ve never even met the man.”
“You will know him when you see him. He is… unforgettable,” the shadows answered back. Then Ian was left to ponder what lay ahead.
“Nothing to it, but to do it,” he thought to himself. With that he lowered himself into the old sewer drain and turned on his torch.
Ian looked down at the hole that was once a sewer access point. “Where’s Boanerges?”
“He will meet you at the other end, and before you ask any more questions, he will address them.”
Without another word Katan turned to leave. Over his shoulder he said, “You did good. If you survive this one you will have earned some respect among the team.”
Ian stared at the Van Saar ganger’s back as he disappeared into the shadows. Calling out into the darkness he yelled, “How am I supposed to recognize him? I’ve never even met the man.”
“You will know him when you see him. He is… unforgettable,” the shadows answered back. Then Ian was left to ponder what lay ahead.
“Nothing to it, but to do it,” he thought to himself. With that he lowered himself into the old sewer drain and turned on his torch.
-=-=-=0=-=-=-
The old sewer line was cramped for the most part but gradually expanded as other feeder lines joined it. Soon Ian was able to stand full upright and straddle, or avoid all together, the trickle of fluorescent sludge as it meandered on its way. There was no light beyond what his little torch could illuminate and despite his best efforts his footsteps echoed.
For over an hour and a half Ian negotiated the tunnel, passing the occasional carcass or warding off a small predator. Finally he reached the end. In the past bars once blocked the opening but now most of them had been cut off for salvage.
Stopping ten meters short of the end Ian listened and try to determine if there was anything laying in wait. The last thing he needed was to get jumped by some predator.
“You might as well come on out ‘little rat’. Your footsteps announced your approach long ago.”
Ian’s shoulder slumped slightly despite his attempts to conceal his disappointment. At least he knew it was not something waiting to eat him for dinner.
A piece of metal still protruded from the ferocrete and he used it to swing clear of the sludge pool that the sewer dumped into. When he landed his left foot landed wrong. To avoid rolling his ankle Ian dropped and was dumped unceremoniously at the feet of a very tall and imposing man.
The first thing Ian noticed where his boots. They were not standard Van Saar issue, solid black; quick-snap buckles along the front, and a solid metal toe. He had seen them once before… where was that? On the Enforcers! His jumpsuit was the same blue, grey, and black pixel pattern as the others on the team he had met. The utility harness was also of Enforcer issue, solid black that held several pouches and a holster that was secured with a strap around his right thigh. The holster contained a pristine Bolt Pistol. Cradled in the man’s arms was the first piece of Van Saar issue equipment he had seen on the man. An air cooled heavy machine gun with bi-pod support with a magazine feed system that was superior to the belt fed models that the other houses seem to favor. Hanging from a pair of straps was a mask that no longer concealed his face. The visage that met Ian’s eyes caused fear to creep into his heart. The left side of the man’s face was gnarled and the skin, if it could be called that, was transparent revealing bone and muscle. Even the eyelid over the left eye revealed what was beneath. Instinctively Ian dropped his eyes to look away.
“Are you just going to lie there, or are you going to get this test over with?” The Van Saar said apparently not taking notice of Ian’s discomfort.
“Right,” Ian said as he stood up. “You must be Boanerges.” Ian stretched forced himself to reach out his hand, but the man ignored it.
“This test is a simple one really. All you have to do is travel to a small trading post known as ‘Hell’s Gate’, and return with evidence of your visit.”
“Ok, so where is this place?”
As if on cue the Van Saar ganger swung open a small service door and said, “Right this way”. Boanerges grunted as a sudden gust of wind grabbed at the door and threatened to pull it out of his grasp. Debris kicked up from the wind smacked against the two men and Ian ducked his head to protect himself.
“What is it?” Ian asked.
“It is the ash wastes... I will await your return here.”
For over an hour and a half Ian negotiated the tunnel, passing the occasional carcass or warding off a small predator. Finally he reached the end. In the past bars once blocked the opening but now most of them had been cut off for salvage.
Stopping ten meters short of the end Ian listened and try to determine if there was anything laying in wait. The last thing he needed was to get jumped by some predator.
“You might as well come on out ‘little rat’. Your footsteps announced your approach long ago.”
Ian’s shoulder slumped slightly despite his attempts to conceal his disappointment. At least he knew it was not something waiting to eat him for dinner.
A piece of metal still protruded from the ferocrete and he used it to swing clear of the sludge pool that the sewer dumped into. When he landed his left foot landed wrong. To avoid rolling his ankle Ian dropped and was dumped unceremoniously at the feet of a very tall and imposing man.
The first thing Ian noticed where his boots. They were not standard Van Saar issue, solid black; quick-snap buckles along the front, and a solid metal toe. He had seen them once before… where was that? On the Enforcers! His jumpsuit was the same blue, grey, and black pixel pattern as the others on the team he had met. The utility harness was also of Enforcer issue, solid black that held several pouches and a holster that was secured with a strap around his right thigh. The holster contained a pristine Bolt Pistol. Cradled in the man’s arms was the first piece of Van Saar issue equipment he had seen on the man. An air cooled heavy machine gun with bi-pod support with a magazine feed system that was superior to the belt fed models that the other houses seem to favor. Hanging from a pair of straps was a mask that no longer concealed his face. The visage that met Ian’s eyes caused fear to creep into his heart. The left side of the man’s face was gnarled and the skin, if it could be called that, was transparent revealing bone and muscle. Even the eyelid over the left eye revealed what was beneath. Instinctively Ian dropped his eyes to look away.
“Are you just going to lie there, or are you going to get this test over with?” The Van Saar said apparently not taking notice of Ian’s discomfort.
“Right,” Ian said as he stood up. “You must be Boanerges.” Ian stretched forced himself to reach out his hand, but the man ignored it.
“This test is a simple one really. All you have to do is travel to a small trading post known as ‘Hell’s Gate’, and return with evidence of your visit.”
“Ok, so where is this place?”
As if on cue the Van Saar ganger swung open a small service door and said, “Right this way”. Boanerges grunted as a sudden gust of wind grabbed at the door and threatened to pull it out of his grasp. Debris kicked up from the wind smacked against the two men and Ian ducked his head to protect himself.
“What is it?” Ian asked.
“It is the ash wastes... I will await your return here.”
-=-=-=0=-=-=-
“It’s just not natural,” Ian thought to himself. “If man had been meant to live outside the hive he would not need a respirator and goggles to survive.”
The only things to be seen for as far as he was able were dune upon dune of industrial wastes. The constant shifting and affects of toxic rains reduced the resins and polymers to a sand-like consistency. Lifting his eyes the only constant reference point he had was the hive itself. The wind kicked up dust clouds constantly obscuring his vision, cloud cover above swirled caused light levels to change often, and even the ash beneath his feet felt unstable.
“Who could live in this Emperor forsaken place?” Ian thought to himself. The only additional guidance Boanerges gave him before he shut the door, his only way back into the world he knew, was that he had to follow the outer shell of the hive for two kilometers and he would find “Hell’s Gate”. In the hive such a journey could take a person the better part of a day if the paths were difficult; and out here it was impossible to tell how far he had gone or how far there was left.
Dunes shifted seemingly at will. Sludge rivers would appear out of nowhere, meander aimlessly along, and then disappear below the wastes once more. And yet Ian always kept the hive in sight. As if he knew that if he failed to do so this test would prove to be too much.
One stream pushed Ian over five hundred meters from the safety of the hive wall, but just as it dropped below the ash wastes his goal was revealed. At the bottom of a hidden gorge lay a small settlement. On the outskirts lay a small encampment with several small vehicles among the tents. Glancing back Ian looked at the hive once more and then headed down the hill.
The gates were closed up tight as the sun, long not seen through the toxic cloud layer above, had set several hours ago. The camp too was quiet. Ian had detected only two sentries patrolling among the tents. There was no visible access to the Shanty settlement but the tents were another matter entirely. With the exception of the guards there was nothing to stop him from just grabbing something and getting back.
Ian just let his head slip above the last dune between him and the encampment and waited. Although the guards did not have a set pattern to their progress they did eventually both begin to head away from his vantage point.
Slipping over the dune Ian wasted no time. The thing to him was a tent that had a big motorbike parked in front. It was not ostentatious, but it was slightly larger than the others. No guards were posted out front so Ian slipped cautiously into the tent and out of the direct line of sight of the patrols.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Having spent a lifetime inside the hive his eyes adjusted to the very dim light quickly. There was a small back area cordoned off from the front area. From there he heard a slight snore. The main room was fairly plain. Some cooking pots, a small box filled with who knew what, a table and even a chair. Adjacent to the table was a small display, upon which stood a long heavy barreled rifle with a small optical scope. Just below that was a knife what had a blade extending not just above the handle, but below it as well.
He needed something to prove that he had been to ‘Hell’s Gate’ – either one of these little trophies should do. Without hesitation Ian hefted up the rifle. It felt good in his hands and he couldn’t help himself. Tucking the butt stock into his shoulder he nestled his cheek against the weapon and peered through the scope, very comfortable. Dropping the weapon into the cradle of his arms he looked back over the table for any ammunition, nothing. Oh well, this will do.
Before Ian slipped out he listened to make sure that he had not disturbed the owner. After he heard the snoring continue he allowed himself to breath once more. A quick check of the area in front of the tent verified that the guards had not returned and he slipped back out into the open.
Now all he had to do was get back across the first dune and he would be home free. Slinging his new prize across his shoulders he took off for the dune. There would be no way to know where the guards had gone without running into one of them, and that would not do.
Fifteen long seconds Ian ran full out. As he crested the dune he kicked his feet out from under himself and slid to a stop. Turning back around he inched his way back up and lifted his head once more over the top of the dune. Ian’s heart skipped a beat. His trail was obvious. He might as well have dropped his torch as a calling card. There was no time to lose. He had to make for the hive and hope he could get a good enough head start to out run those bikes.
The only things to be seen for as far as he was able were dune upon dune of industrial wastes. The constant shifting and affects of toxic rains reduced the resins and polymers to a sand-like consistency. Lifting his eyes the only constant reference point he had was the hive itself. The wind kicked up dust clouds constantly obscuring his vision, cloud cover above swirled caused light levels to change often, and even the ash beneath his feet felt unstable.
“Who could live in this Emperor forsaken place?” Ian thought to himself. The only additional guidance Boanerges gave him before he shut the door, his only way back into the world he knew, was that he had to follow the outer shell of the hive for two kilometers and he would find “Hell’s Gate”. In the hive such a journey could take a person the better part of a day if the paths were difficult; and out here it was impossible to tell how far he had gone or how far there was left.
Dunes shifted seemingly at will. Sludge rivers would appear out of nowhere, meander aimlessly along, and then disappear below the wastes once more. And yet Ian always kept the hive in sight. As if he knew that if he failed to do so this test would prove to be too much.
One stream pushed Ian over five hundred meters from the safety of the hive wall, but just as it dropped below the ash wastes his goal was revealed. At the bottom of a hidden gorge lay a small settlement. On the outskirts lay a small encampment with several small vehicles among the tents. Glancing back Ian looked at the hive once more and then headed down the hill.
The gates were closed up tight as the sun, long not seen through the toxic cloud layer above, had set several hours ago. The camp too was quiet. Ian had detected only two sentries patrolling among the tents. There was no visible access to the Shanty settlement but the tents were another matter entirely. With the exception of the guards there was nothing to stop him from just grabbing something and getting back.
Ian just let his head slip above the last dune between him and the encampment and waited. Although the guards did not have a set pattern to their progress they did eventually both begin to head away from his vantage point.
Slipping over the dune Ian wasted no time. The thing to him was a tent that had a big motorbike parked in front. It was not ostentatious, but it was slightly larger than the others. No guards were posted out front so Ian slipped cautiously into the tent and out of the direct line of sight of the patrols.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Having spent a lifetime inside the hive his eyes adjusted to the very dim light quickly. There was a small back area cordoned off from the front area. From there he heard a slight snore. The main room was fairly plain. Some cooking pots, a small box filled with who knew what, a table and even a chair. Adjacent to the table was a small display, upon which stood a long heavy barreled rifle with a small optical scope. Just below that was a knife what had a blade extending not just above the handle, but below it as well.
He needed something to prove that he had been to ‘Hell’s Gate’ – either one of these little trophies should do. Without hesitation Ian hefted up the rifle. It felt good in his hands and he couldn’t help himself. Tucking the butt stock into his shoulder he nestled his cheek against the weapon and peered through the scope, very comfortable. Dropping the weapon into the cradle of his arms he looked back over the table for any ammunition, nothing. Oh well, this will do.
Before Ian slipped out he listened to make sure that he had not disturbed the owner. After he heard the snoring continue he allowed himself to breath once more. A quick check of the area in front of the tent verified that the guards had not returned and he slipped back out into the open.
Now all he had to do was get back across the first dune and he would be home free. Slinging his new prize across his shoulders he took off for the dune. There would be no way to know where the guards had gone without running into one of them, and that would not do.
Fifteen long seconds Ian ran full out. As he crested the dune he kicked his feet out from under himself and slid to a stop. Turning back around he inched his way back up and lifted his head once more over the top of the dune. Ian’s heart skipped a beat. His trail was obvious. He might as well have dropped his torch as a calling card. There was no time to lose. He had to make for the hive and hope he could get a good enough head start to out run those bikes.
Chapter 8 – “To Hell and Back”
Pt. 2
Pt. 2
Ian’s breathing was labored as he struggled to fill his lungs with usable oxygen. His respirator was struggling to keep up with the demand, but glancing down at his body suit’s reaction to the surrounding atmosphere there was no other choice, the mask had to remain in place.
How had he lost his orientation? Oh he knew exactly where the hive was, but the angle of his return path was off. Even with the shifting dunes Ian knew he had not passed this way before. The plateau he now found himself on was rocky and peppered with sink holes and mounds. Almost as if on queue to his next question a geyser erupted only twenty meters to Ian’s left spewing some kind of liquid fifty meters into the air. The air currents carried the bulk of it behind him but a fine mist rained down all around him. Even through the filters he could smell the distinct odor of acid eating away at whatever it touched. “Just another example of how Necromunda tries to kill you”, Ian thought to himself. Looking around the geyser field stretched out for several hundred meters in all directions. As Ian looked back the way he had come a pair of motorbikes vaulted over the edge of the dunes and raced across the field right at him. Without further hesitation he renewed his flight.
Thirty meters from the edge of the geyser field Ian could now hear the throaty roar of the engines that hounded him and he realized he was never going to make it of the field before they ran him down. Stopping dead in his tracks Ian drew a las pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. The bikes were at fifty meters and closing fast.
One rider dropped some sort of rifle across the handlebars of his bike and began letting loose – despite being well out of the effective range. The other readied a nasty looking double headed axe from across his back and dropped it into a low ready position in his right hand. Both laid into their accelerators and picked up speed. Ian dropped onto one knee and took aim at the lead bike.
Fwooosssssshh! A geyser opened up beneath the shooter’s rear wheel causing the bike and rider to cartwheel over ten meters into the air. His companion reacted quickly and smoothly steering around the carnage that was his partner, but it was exactly what he should not have done.
The geyser field also hid several fissures that had been caked over by thin layers of ash. The extra stress of the maneuvers on the terrain caused it give way and Necromunda swallowed up the bike and its rider. As his fear began to subside Ian realized he was in danger of hyperventilating. “Get moving Ian, get back to the hive,” was all he could say to himself.
How had he lost his orientation? Oh he knew exactly where the hive was, but the angle of his return path was off. Even with the shifting dunes Ian knew he had not passed this way before. The plateau he now found himself on was rocky and peppered with sink holes and mounds. Almost as if on queue to his next question a geyser erupted only twenty meters to Ian’s left spewing some kind of liquid fifty meters into the air. The air currents carried the bulk of it behind him but a fine mist rained down all around him. Even through the filters he could smell the distinct odor of acid eating away at whatever it touched. “Just another example of how Necromunda tries to kill you”, Ian thought to himself. Looking around the geyser field stretched out for several hundred meters in all directions. As Ian looked back the way he had come a pair of motorbikes vaulted over the edge of the dunes and raced across the field right at him. Without further hesitation he renewed his flight.
Thirty meters from the edge of the geyser field Ian could now hear the throaty roar of the engines that hounded him and he realized he was never going to make it of the field before they ran him down. Stopping dead in his tracks Ian drew a las pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. The bikes were at fifty meters and closing fast.
One rider dropped some sort of rifle across the handlebars of his bike and began letting loose – despite being well out of the effective range. The other readied a nasty looking double headed axe from across his back and dropped it into a low ready position in his right hand. Both laid into their accelerators and picked up speed. Ian dropped onto one knee and took aim at the lead bike.
Fwooosssssshh! A geyser opened up beneath the shooter’s rear wheel causing the bike and rider to cartwheel over ten meters into the air. His companion reacted quickly and smoothly steering around the carnage that was his partner, but it was exactly what he should not have done.
The geyser field also hid several fissures that had been caked over by thin layers of ash. The extra stress of the maneuvers on the terrain caused it give way and Necromunda swallowed up the bike and its rider. As his fear began to subside Ian realized he was in danger of hyperventilating. “Get moving Ian, get back to the hive,” was all he could say to himself.
-=-=-=O=-=-=-
“There it is! Move it!” Ian screamed to himself. Only a hundred meters left to go, but he could feel the presence of his pursuers hot on his heels. Glancing back he could see maybe a dozen men, mostly on foot but one or two buggies also in the mix. But Ian was barely walking. His lungs were screaming for more air, and his muscles were threatening to refuse his commands from lack of oxygen. But so close to safety spurned his will on and once more he was up and running.
“Come on!” Ian yelled at himself, only fifty meters to go. The roar of the engines could now be heard.
At Twenty meters to go the hatch to his freedom sprang open. Immediately rounds from an auto cannon began to impact against the wall surrounding the door.
Ten… five, “almost there!” Suddenly Ian was hammered by a blow across his back. The impact of some incredible force drove him forward onto his knees. White spots filled his eyesight, and he could no longer draw a breath no matter how hard he tried. Even before the white filled his vision it turned to black and he saw nothing more.
“Come on!” Ian yelled at himself, only fifty meters to go. The roar of the engines could now be heard.
At Twenty meters to go the hatch to his freedom sprang open. Immediately rounds from an auto cannon began to impact against the wall surrounding the door.
Ten… five, “almost there!” Suddenly Ian was hammered by a blow across his back. The impact of some incredible force drove him forward onto his knees. White spots filled his eyesight, and he could no longer draw a breath no matter how hard he tried. Even before the white filled his vision it turned to black and he saw nothing more.
-=-=-=O=-=-=-
The next thing Ian realized was that he was being dragged, and none too gently. Something was snagged, and there was a lot of yelling. What ever it was also released him and he dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Who was yelling, and why couldn’t he hear through the ringing in his ears?
Looking around he saw several familiar faces but his mind could not recall their names. One man with a reddish black goatee and a heavy stubber was yelling and motioning for him to move back. The man hollered something else and let loose a long burst from his machine gun. Another man handed him something and shoved him to move on.
Ian just stared at the weapon that was thrust upon him. It was bent at an odd angle, and the firing chamber had obviously been breached. Finally a man with a full beard grabbed the man with the machine gun by the collar, pointed at Ian, and then pointed somewhere beyond Ian’s point of view. The heavy looked as if he was about to argue, but then nodded. With a determined look on his face the heavy scooped up Ian by his arms and practically dragged him away form the door.
At last Ian’s ears began to clear and he shrugged to get the man to stop carrying him along. Looking back Ian could see that there was no a ten meter hole in the wall they had just come from and several men clad in hooded cloaks and respirators were coming through the breach.
“Come on lad. Dyrke has made it very clear that you are to get out of the area. Katan and Rogers are staying behind with him to cover our retreat.”
Looking around he saw several familiar faces but his mind could not recall their names. One man with a reddish black goatee and a heavy stubber was yelling and motioning for him to move back. The man hollered something else and let loose a long burst from his machine gun. Another man handed him something and shoved him to move on.
Ian just stared at the weapon that was thrust upon him. It was bent at an odd angle, and the firing chamber had obviously been breached. Finally a man with a full beard grabbed the man with the machine gun by the collar, pointed at Ian, and then pointed somewhere beyond Ian’s point of view. The heavy looked as if he was about to argue, but then nodded. With a determined look on his face the heavy scooped up Ian by his arms and practically dragged him away form the door.
At last Ian’s ears began to clear and he shrugged to get the man to stop carrying him along. Looking back Ian could see that there was no a ten meter hole in the wall they had just come from and several men clad in hooded cloaks and respirators were coming through the breach.
“Come on lad. Dyrke has made it very clear that you are to get out of the area. Katan and Rogers are staying behind with him to cover our retreat.”
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