‘No, no, no, not good!’ ‘How the hell did you lose it? It was your turn to guard it!’ The guardsmens’ bickering, having started at a whisper, rose to compete with the snapping twigs and rustling of leaves disturbed by their search. A splash and accompanying muffled swearing to the left indicated that Jackson had found a puddle, presumably a deep one ‘Commissar’s going to execute us on site for this … Here kitty, kitty, kitty…’ To the rear Smith was producing a desperate squeaking sound from nervous lips, intended to endear him to lost felines. The bickering lapsed into desperate silence as the hunt continued. Minutes passed, seeming like hours to guardsmen in the close darkness of wood. Then, Jackson: ‘Look, we’re just going to have to make something up.’ From the front: ‘You want to make excuses to the commissar? Really?’ Jackson: ‘He’ll kill us anyway if we don’t find his damn cat, can’t make it any worse.’ Smith stopped squeaking, ‘Lets say it went too close to the Ogryn compound, easy.’ ‘Nah, Doc sedated them all this morning after the stampede for extra breakfast.’ Silence, again. Then, ‘We could say that the ‘nids ate it?’ Groans from the right indicated a familiarity from some of the squad members with Jackson’s favourite excuse, but it was new to some. ‘Nids? Out here? We’re on garrison duty on an inner-sector agri-world, not defending the Phobos sector’ “Nids ate it always works! No one wants to think about them, they can sneak their way in anywhere and they eat anything, they’d even eat guard rations! What could be more convincing.’ More bickering followed, then, more silence. Wet, warm, twitching: Smith felt something on the back of his neck. A chocked squeal escaped him as he turned, too fast, tripping over his own leg. But, even as he fell sprawling backwards he raised his gun, military training kicking into play, ready to fire. Heart pounding he looked up into the laughing face of Bates, who was wiping a wet finger off on his trousers. Shouting, swearing, dismay. Back to searching. ‘Nids ate it’ muttered Smith under his breath ‘No one would believe that.’ He paused from his search, catching his breath. They’d been out here almost an hour. ‘Nids ate it! You’d have to be a complete idiot.’ As he said this Smith became gripped by the silence around him. The ‘debate’ following Bates’ ‘joke’ had subsided a while ago, but even when the voices were quiet there had been the rustling of undergrowth. Now … silence. Breath misting in front of him, Smith shifted his weight from foot to foot. ‘Jenkins? Jenkins?’ No reply. ‘Bates? Come on Bates no more jokes, this is serious …’ Smith’s voice died away into the silence, the stillness. Then noises to his right, some way off. His initial shock turned to relief, he must have wandered off a bit, easy to do in the dark. He jogged off towards the direction he thought the noise had come from. There it was again, closer this time. He opened his mouth to call out, just as he heard the noise for a third time. Now it seemed to be coming from behind. Smith turned, ready to greet a colleague. He froze – the cat. There, under a roots, eyes strangely reflective. Smith forgot the hunt for his squad and began to advance, cautiously, bow-legged, squeaking once again. When he was within a couple of feet of his target he lunged – fell – screamed. Something was holding him back, but not Bates. Pain spread through his body as he looked about franticly for the impediment, eyes registering the spectacular bioluminescence of a lictor before the feeding tentacles engulfed his face. The ‘nid ate him. The cat purred.
_________________ AFK with real life, still checking PMs
Last edited by Apocolocyntosis on Fri Nov 07, 2014 3:32 pm, edited 5 times in total.
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