The ancient monitor crackled and spluttered a pale green glow. A gloved hand scraped decades of dust from it in an attempt to see the readout clearly. There it was, unmistakable, a pin point dot of light flashing in the centre of the screen. Something was out there, something moving.
The grim faced veteran knew he had to alert the others, it could be nothing, just a stray mute-hound or another larger beast. He couldn’t take that risk.
It was the early hours of the morning, not that it mattered, in this place day and night were barely distinguishable. The harsh warp storms that tore the sky apart would throw up clouds of dirt and dust blotting the pale orange sun even at its zenith. He knew many of the others would be awake, they needed little or no sleep, and few would want to face the dreams this world brought.
He made his way through the dug out, the twisted corridors of corrugated iron, scavenged from long abandoned shipwrecks. He came to a wide opening where a few of his brothers sat huddled in groups talking in hushed tones. “I need to see the captain, is he awake?” He asked, knowing the answer, despite the early hour he was sure the captain wouldn’t be sleeping.
“Always”, replied a trooper, “but go easy, he’s in a foul one”
He entered the captains chamber. The Captain Tyberian was seated at his desk, his worn and damaged face telling some of the story of the many battles he had seen. “What is it DeVarr?” He questioned.
“Sorry to trouble you sir, there is something on the sensor, probably nothing but I thought you better know. Could be a stray or just a muto, but for some reason I have a bad feeling about it”
“Hurm, I need to stretch my legs anyway, come on, lets take a look” The captain knew DeVarr of old, they had fought side by side in more battles then he could count. He had learned to trust the old soldier’s instincts, if DeVarr felt something was wrong, it probably was.
He tucking his battered helmet under his arm he strode down the corridors to the watch station. The sky overhead whirled and cracked with static, another storm was brewing and the atmosphere was covered with an oppressive orange glow.
The moment they saw the monitor the Captain and DeVarr knew that this was no muto or stray dog.
The single green pin dot had become a mass of pulsing dots moving slowly across the monitor in their direction. The alarm was sounded and an army of troopers readied themselves on the battle line.
Tyberian clutched his chainsword and plasma gun, preparing himself for whatever unspeakable foe was about to emerge from the half darkness. He looked down the line as his men readied themselves.
Slowly a crooked grin cracked across his battered face… these are his men, his battle brothers, stranded together on this forsaken world, bound by blood.
Unspeakable foes, overwhelming odds… just another day in the lost legion.
Captain Tyberian, Lost Legion commander: