Can't Fight You

Chapter 2

The smell of burning metal is what eventually woke Guardsman Voltz up. His head was spinning as he stood up and his helmet fell off his head. It had cracked in two on impact. Standing up he tried to keep his feet as his head, which felt like it was full of solidified steel, wanted to plummet back to the ground. He kept his feet and reached for his Lasgun leaning against the wall of the Valkyrie. Using it as a crutch he grabbed a large canvas bag that would have been used for the Lord General's big hunting rifle.

No longer of any use to him, Voltz decided as he emptied the complicated gun parts out onto the floor and began to fill the bag with whatever food, water, and Laspacks he could find.

How ironic was it that he was trained to charge headfirst into the bolter fire of chaos marines or the damning DAKKA DAKKA of the Orks yet he was not equipped to survive long terms in a trench or out in the cold winds that cut through him at this very moment.

He looked around for anything that could help keep him warm, eventually laying eyes on the long cloak of the commissioner and his hat. If he was spotted wearing that on board he would have been shot on sight, but now it was do or die. He unclasped the cloak from the commissioner and draped it around him, next putting the hat that just barely covered the top exposed parts of his ears.

He looked at the two Stormtroopers who had died on impact. One of them looked like he hadn't felt anything as his brains were splattered all over the ship. The other one looked peaceful as his face had gone untouched, he could have been sleeping if not for the giant spike that ripped through the middle of his armor. He would let them rest as he hefted the bag onto his shoulders and stepped out of the Valkyrie into the cold windy day of the planet.

A low groan came from the bushes; Voltz raised his gun and aimed at where the noise had originated. Shrugging the pack off his shoulders he crept forward towards the brush. His boot steps were heavy as he attempted to be stealthy but failed due to his ill matched equipment.

"Mon-Keigh," something hissed out from the bushes. Voltz cocked his head as he tried to place who or what would say that.

The brush was cleared with a singing stroke of a witchblade. Voltz leapt back and brought his Lasgun up. He attempted to line his shot up and not shoot wildly like so many, hint, nameless rookies had done in the past two years of his service.

The Eldar dodged all of the Lasgun beams by jumping up and twirling. She brought the blade down, trying to slice Voltz in half. Voltz barely managed to bring his bayonet up and semi block the blade. He could almost hear the metal straining underneath the force of the Eldar witchblade.

He looked up and took a glance at his first real life Eldar. She was a Farseer, the armor hinted at such. She was beautiful; if she were human the recruitment offices would have stuck her on the Holoboards that advertised young men to join the Emperor's fight. Brown hair that looked as soft as silk and as warm as roasted chestnuts. Three red lines began at the skin right underneath the bottom part of her eye and jutted out to her jawbone showed her Eldar heritage. Her eyes were liquid pools of amber that crinkled and rippled with anger.

Voltz's Lasgun shift back as the Eldar threatened to overpower him. Even on the offensive the Eldar looked graceful. However she had let her guard down the tiniest bit, his barrel could graze the edge of her jaw bone if he pulled his trigger.

Grunting he tried to push back and managed to do so. Pulling the trigger a beam of light shot out from his barrel and singed the edge of the Eldar's jawbone. The Eldar recoiled in pain, her hand shooting up to cup her burn.

Voltz saw an opportunity and took it. Pulling the butt of his rifle up he brought it forward and smacked the Eldar in the side of the head. The Eldar backed up dazed and confused, Voltz swung his Lasgun like a thunder hammer and watched as the Eldar dropped quicker than the Catachan birth rate when the weapon connected with the Eldar's temple.

Slumping over against a tree Voltz slowly walked over, being careful that she wasn't playing possum. Placing his bayonet underneath her chin, so if she tried anything he could just slide it forward, he slowly began to raise her head up so he kept his trigger finger ready.

Her eyes were closed and unmoving she was out cold. Voltz eased his grip on his Lasgun and went back to his pack where he had shoved a few coils of rope into one of the pouches. Pulling the rope out he walked over to the Eldar and slowly began to bind her arms behind her back and her ankles together. Once she was tied up he put the knapsack back on his back and slung the Eldar onto his shoulder. The combined weight made him nearly buckle but he managed to keep his feet.

Looking around Voltz had no idea where to go. He was surrounded by miles of forest, one path led to the mountains, one path led to an ocean, and another path led deeper into the forest.

Thinking it over for a moment Voltz considered his options before setting forth on the mountain path. There had to be a cave that he could set up camp in.

The path he started out on was simple trotted down earth. Which was odd considering the planet was supposed to be abandoned and trotted down dirt paths accrued with the passing of time after many people had walked over one path of land thousands of times. Ignoring this abnormality he headed up the path, praying to the Immortal God Emperor that the path wasn't an alien predator that would swallow him up at any moment.

Despite carrying a body of a person that was nearly as tall as his six foot three frame the Eldar was surprisingly light. Other than the awkwardness of carrying her he could do it with relative ease.

Coming up the path he saw a small cave entrance, thanking the divine beings that watched over him he set his equipment and the Eldar up against the side of the path. He unslung his Lasgun from his back as he rummaged through his bag for the clip on flashlight he sometimes saw commissioners wore when the guard fought in the dark. Finding the item he attached it to the brim of the commissioners hat and turned it on.

Approaching the cave he kept his Lasgun up, in case any animals dwelled in its depths. Listening for a moment he could hear nothing so he entered the cave.

The cave was shallow and dry extending back sixty feet. It was narrower in the beginning that eventually came to a large circular part that was the main center of the cave. Voltz nodded and went back out to grab the Eldar and his supplies.

Voltz walked out to see that the Eldar was gone; he about dropped his Lasgun before he realized that there were no ropes. She couldn't have gone far if she hadn't been untied. He wouldn't have cared if it weren't for the fact that his knapsack had also been taken along with the elf.

Looking around he noticed there was tracks approaching and leaving from the camp. Walking over Voltz took note of the tracks; he would need his knapsack if he was to survive on this Emperorforsaken planet.

Alivalia woke up with a start. She had been sitting along waiting for the filthy human to take her to camp and then fall asleep where she would escape and slit his throat while he slept. The filthy Mon-Keigh had forced her to submit to the ropes, for what purpose she had no knowledge.

Her head turned to see who had taken her captive. She could hear the sound of a fire cackling, someone in distance was chanting. Alivalia was confused, there was supposed to be no one but her and the Mon-Keigh, where there other inhabitants on this planet? Could they be used to help her escape back to her Craftworld? Looking down at herself she was still bound, but her leg bindings had been cut off. She could get up and escape!

Alivalia rolled over and pushed herself into a kneeling stance, she would have to be silent as she wasn't quite sure if the inhabitants were friendly or hostile.

Alivalia had been thrown into some sort of hut, if one could call it that. There were no windows for her to peek out and see who her captors were.

The door opened and a very thin human came in. Its skin was deathly pale, covered only by a thin loincloth. There was no hair on top of its head but an assortment of tribal tattoos that ran all the way down its spine. In one clawed hand it held a primitive knife tightly while the other hand closed the door behind it.

Alivalia hid behind some boxes if she could sneak past it she would be one further step closer to getting out. Although she could try to knock him out and steal his knife, then she could cut her binds and have a weapon. But she would either have to kill it or knock it out. Neither of which was convenient considering her situation.

The human turned its back to her and sat down on a crate facing the door. There was only one option now; she would have to kill it. She would have to sneak up behind it, maybe she could strangle it by using her rope bindings to cut off its windpipe.

She slowly crept up behind the human until she was right where she could quickly throw her hands over its neck. Quickly bringing the rope over she brought her hands back while using her foot to push him forward into the rope.

The human dropped its knife and brought its clammy hands up to hers so that it could peel them off of her. Alivalia pressed further and the human flailed harder until its movements started to go limp and eventually it stopped.

Alivalia dropped the human to the floor with a thud. She walked over and grabbed the knife and put it into her mouth to slowly cut the rope. After a few moments of sawing her binds fell off and landed on the floor.

Alivalia slowly walked over to the door and opened it. Looking out in the hallway it was quiet, too quiet. She crept forward, making absolutely no noise in fear that she would bring the entire camp of humans down on her head.

She made her way outside and was shocked by what she saw. The camp had been obliterated, bodies lying everywhere with cauterized wounds. She stood there in momentary wonder as to what could have done this.

The feeling of a barrel to the back of her head caused her to tighten her grip on the knife.

"Drop it."