Sergeant James Drake, in the middle of a battle on a Forge World against the Orks, saw only a quick flash of light, and then was standing in a bright, sterile hallway. Unfamiliar with where he was, he quickly grew frustrated. The ceiling scraped against his helmet as he lurched forward. His Terminator power armor quickly responding to every pull and twitch of his muscles.
He tried to enable his communication device to reach out to the rest of his squad, but instinctively felt that he was far from home. Was it a Chaos trap? Did the Eldar have him secluded for study? The possibilities raced through his mind, and all of them were only making him more angry. If there was one thing James Drake couldn’t stand, it would be living the rest of his life as a lab rat.
Shouting to an empty hallway, James let loose some of his frustration and anger. “After all I’ve done for the Imperium, is this to be my punishment?” Red lights were blinking around him, and a strange siren blared repeatedly. A quick flick of his arm into a nearby wall, quickly quelled the lights and noise.
James crouched slightly, and began to assess his position. Alone, isolated, and on alien territory, he readied himself. Pulling the near empty clip from his storm bolter, and slamming a full one in its place, James knew he would take on any threat that came his way or die trying.
The wall he had smashed into finally buckled and fell away, looking into the room, Drake could see a small window, and beyond it, the stars. He knew of no enemy that could move him from the underground tunnels he was doing battle in, to a space vessel in such a short time. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see someone approaching him. It was a small group of five humans, all wearing yellow jumpsuits.
Attempting to turn around, James’ helmet continued to push up the ceiling slightly as it rubbed against it. “Why have you strange guardsmen brought me here?”
All of the men were without armor. James had never seen anyone so ill prepared for battle, even on the Imperial ships, everyone was required to be ready for possible boarding actions. All of the men were holding small pointed guns. Having lived thirty-six years, James knew that the best way to stay alive was to shoot everyone before they could shoot you. He lifted his arm and pointed his bolter back at the small group.
They all started moving backwards and yelling at him to “stand down”. One of the jumpsuit clad people looked liked a teenager. His hand was shaking as he pointed the gun at James. Powering up his power sword, a beam of red light arced from the device and hit James square in the chest. His suit diagnostics computer almost laughed at the paltry attack, comforting James as he pulled the trigger on his bolter. The five men were quickly transformed into a mist of blood, covering the nearby corridor and the noise resonated through the entire deck.
Assured now that whomever had him was the enemy, Drake started to move forward. In his mind, the goal was to take over whatever ship or station he found himself in, and kill anyone that stood in his way, so that he could find a route back to his troops and continue to help the Imperium.