The First Mission, part 2

This Story Takes Place In The Warhammer 40k Universe

A deep chuckle sounded behind Caffus. He turned and saw Lug watching him, amusement dancing behind his dark eyes. “Feeling a bit uneasy, Caff?” Lug was, in a very literal sense, an enormous contradiction. He stood at least four inches taller than the others, and his muscled frame was so wide he had to turn sideways to fit through the average door. He carried the biggest machine gun Caffus had ever seen with ease. Yet he seemed to be the most jovial of Caffus’ new companions.

“Just feeling a little… exposed.” The others chuckled, even Ishta. The diminutive woman hadn’t made a sound since Caffus had met her; she hadn’t spoken a single word in the five months since he’d met her, not so much as a cough. Far more disturbing, Caffus hadn’t heard a single footfall or rustle of clothing. Tonight, she wore a tightly fitting, matte black body glove and he had a hard time keeping track of her in the rapidly darkening evening. For the first time, Ishta seemed like a true human.

“I remember my first time offworld,” said the usually stoic Ravion. “I come from a desert planet and the plant-life of Fedrid gave me a rash so bad, I sprained my wrist trying to scratch under my armor.”

A quiet hiss from Caffus left made him jump, and pure reflex brought his autopistol out of its holster in a flash of cold steel. He quickly turned it away, however, when he saw that it was pointed to Ishta. The small woman had a curved short sword in each hand, both sharp as sin, and Caffus had no idea she’d even been carrying them. She gestured up the rise toward their destination.