- Location
- US
You're the one who was claiming your preferences are good writing practice. I just said the things you said not to spend time on are fun. You can't just go 'no u' when the logic doesn't hold up.
Tech-Atheist (WH30K/Celestial Forge v3 SI)
- Thread starter acerak
- Start date
I'd love to see a few other POVs from the other Mechanicum folks who have interacted with the MC. He is earning his street cred with the fleet. At first, he was limited to that one ship, but at the moment? He has had contacts with dozens of ships.
I wonder how difficult it will be for him to spread his knowledge. That Warp Scanner is a very useful tool and most of those working on the other ships would love to have one.
I wonder how difficult it will be for him to spread his knowledge. That Warp Scanner is a very useful tool and most of those working on the other ships would love to have one.
- Location
- Europe
Or a Saintly Halo, you know.
Yes, all those Saint Halo's, are shaped the same.
Add in the Inquisition it's use of a Eye Symbol on their I and then remember the Eye of Chaos in the former Aeldari heartland(s).....
I consider them tainted, at the very least.
Besides, he has now something to counter corruption, so he could potentially turn it into a anti-corruption thingy.
Mmm, is he going to refit water, alcohol, oil and fuel tanks, to be self filling?
Even if it's for his own use, I can see the advantage, there.
Hell, if he can alter the heat of it, he could even make a molten materials source, for faster forging, especially of the rarer materials, since this way he wouldn't run out of them.
It seems to me, that in a little while, he might be able to make his own little ship.
Now can he make it so the Imperial ships can dock with each other, in order to for a ship with a working powerplant, to supply power to a ship with a working FTL drive?
What about solving design flaws?
Or refitting ships with more advanced tech, learned from some of the other ships?
Like say better power lines and weapons?
Basically, using designs from one ship, to improve the design of some other ship.
Edit, do we know the ship it's class & name, by change?
Anyway, these two links from another story, it's TTS, show some interesting flaws in Imperial ship, either by design or upkeep & logistical flaws.
A Cogboy Amongst Angry Angels (40k/TTS/SI)
A SI Tech Priest's adventures during and after being assigned to the Angry Marines.
forums.spacebattles.com
A Cogboy Amongst Angry Angels (40k/TTS/SI)
A SI Tech Priest's adventures during and after being assigned to the Angry Marines.
forums.spacebattles.com
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I originally planned to have less explanation, but my beta convinced me otherwise. Your point is well-taken, but the explanations are mostly there are fluff. If I was to get serious, I would start drawing up designs and showing how they met any rules I was establishing. The way I see it, this is not much more than your flux capacitor example.
A birds-eye view would just show four branches. Sure, if you stand on the literal top, flattening your perspective would show 8 branches around a central point. That's not as suspicious because it's literally how going from 3D to 2D works. I admit, however, that for the Mechanicus, it's not out of the question that someone would try to subtly build architecture or machinery favoring the Ruinous Powers. I don't think it would be effective in most cases, though.
The way I see it is that certain shapes in real space can retain different 'flavors' of warp-energy for long periods of time, but can't actually generate the energy itself. So a 8 pointed star could maybe absorb ambient warp energy and give people a few nightmares, but can't open a portal to the Warp without human sacrifices or focused cultist attention
globalwarmth
ruining the weather.
- Location
- Polar ice caps
got a brainwave bout this
if you cant wick all the evil away without touching, force the touching!
All air in a ship is recycled air, just add a holy HEPA filter to the AC and force air through it periodically.
The HEPA filter also comes with another revelation, Origami.
if area is an issue, just fold that surface area into an accordion.
nasa packs huge solar sails in surprisingly small volumes
yeah this is going to be more on the magic side
this is strikingly familiar to heat management and air cleanliness issues, only spiritual.
if you cant wick all the evil away without touching, force the touching!
All air in a ship is recycled air, just add a holy HEPA filter to the AC and force air through it periodically.
The HEPA filter also comes with another revelation, Origami.
if area is an issue, just fold that surface area into an accordion.
nasa packs huge solar sails in surprisingly small volumes
yeah this is going to be more on the magic side
- Pronouns
- Zack
I wonder if in the future he will be able to meet Spirit of Eternity and The Blade of Infinity ?
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He will meet the Spirit of Eternity, but I've decided against him meeting the Spirit of Eternity.
- Pronouns
- Zack
I didn't realize I put Spirit of Eternity twice
Not_Interesting
The Munchkin of Megastructures
- Location
- In your walls(the walls between realities)
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Kinda irrelevant? I mean he can bullshit it fairly easily. AdMech is a GIANT bloated thing. It is also very early after the HH so it is also post schism and post reformation from the Mechanicum into the Adeptus Mechanicus. I doubt there even exists any kind of united list of all personell. He most likely can bullshit being a Magos with capability alone. Where else would he learn all he knows? Also he could bullshit being an apprentice to a Magos and the Magos died/got lost in the Warp/etc + there a lot of different people in AdMech, the culture quirks could be chalked up to his Magos Master/Planet of origin.
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Chapter 15
POV: First Lieutenant Ramirez
"My apologies for being late!"
I waved Medicae Avari's apology away as he shut the door to our examination room behind him. "It isn't a problem. I understand there's some kind of virus running around?"
"Yes, nearly 40 children, all having runny noses and coughs! Must have come into contact with someone or something from the lower decks." the elderly man answered, his thick white mustache well-groomed to avoid any stray hair being too close to his mouth or lips. He was shorter than me, which made the spots on his bald head unavoidable. "Children, always the same! I bet not even the Emperor could make a horde of toddlers obey him!"
My wife and I both chuckled. As he took a seat, a wrinkled hand gestured for us to do the same. I opted to move behind the sole remaining chair, resting my hands upon the top of the backrest.
"Now," Avari said, pulling a small slate out of his pocket and tapping on it with his other hand, "I understand that you submitted samples for fertility testing, yes?"
"That's right," my wife answered.
"Hmm. Well, you don't need to worry. You're both capable of doing your part to make a baby."
"…Are you…?" My wife's question died on her tongue, perhaps suppressed as it would be too insulting.
"Am I certain? Yes, I promise that I'm not some crazy old man just yet!" he said with a grin. "You want to see crazy old men, I've heard rumors a begging group sits near one of the elevators to the lowest decks. Anyway, I know for certain what the results say. I don't need to do any interpretation either, the machines can do that for us."
I placed my right hand on my wife's right shoulder to suggest she refrain from pushing too aggressively. Only a second later, her right hand came up to clasp around my fingers snuggly. "It's just…we've been trying for some time…"
"Do you mind saying how long? Oh, and how frequently?"
"At least two months now, and at least three times a week," I answered.
"Oh, that's understandable then. It's simply been too little time," he responded somewhat dismissively. "I thought you had tried for at least six to eight. That's how long it takes most women, I assure you."
"My mother said she got pregnant with me in just a month."
I held back the smirk at how childish my wife's words were. Sometimes, she really did think that she could compel reality to change with non-sequitur complaints.
"Well, she was very lucky then. But for most women, no more than eight months. I think you don't have anything to worry about. Keep trying and you should be pregnant soon enough."
What more could be said after that? We thanked him and left. All the way to my personal car, she sulked slightly. I kept quiet, not wanting her to be upset at me if I tried reinforcing the medicae's entirely reasonable conclusion. After seating her in the back, I told the driver to take her past the starboard shopping complex on the way back. It was the scenic route, and some shopping might distract her.
++++
After the relatively short excursion to Tarantulon, nearly everyone I knew was eager to take shore leave. For the vast majority, this meant heading to any functions or festivities taking place on a larger ship. Only a few, my wife and I included, could hope to go to Terra, and even fewer would actually get permission.
Today, I was included in the former group. Wilhelm had messaged me, asking if I could attend a private function he was hosting aboard his ship, the Callade's Dream. As my wife already had plans for that time, I agreed, somewhat intrigued at his insistent tone.
I found out the answer lay in a feminine form.
"First Lieutenant Ramirez, I'd like you to meet my wife, Mrs. Abigail Abraxis," Wilhelm declared jubilantly as he glanced at the woman beside him. There was a slight hint of nervous energy in him, as if he was presenting her for my approval.
"A pleasure," I said, taking her hand and brushing my lips against its back. "I can see why the young captain was so taken with you."
She demurely laughed, but no one would have disagreed. Her blonde hair was uncovered and free, starting off straight near her head and curling up as it draped over her shoulders. No makeup augmented her perfect complexion. Her skin was the same shade as caramel, almost golden, and complemented the large hoop earrings no doubt made of real gold. An elegant black dress left only her forearms and sandal-enclosed feet exposed. Thin plain gold bangles rested near both wrists. On her right ring finger lay her proof of marriage, matched by a smaller ring on her left foot's pinky toe which rested in a soft platform sandal.
This woman was objectively gorgeous, the kind that drove men to starve at her feet for a crumb of attention and other women to start coming up with the most vicious rumors to slander her behind her back for daring to upstage them.
"I have to say, I looked forward to meeting you. Wilhelm has nothing but praise for you," she said, her voice soothing to the ears like honey to the throat.
"Likewise." I tilted my head. "Your slight drawl…am I correct in saying you come from one of the Merican hives?"
"Oh, yes. You may have heard of my family, the Dades?"
My mind flailed as it tried to recall where I had heard that surname. "…No, forgive me. I think I have heard of them in passing at most."
"That's alright. We're the Dades of Floridami, the largest employers for thousands of kilometers."
I raised my index finger half-way. "Ah, you provide the Imperium with paper, right?"
"Paper products," she corrected, "and nearly all from recycled material."
That sounded right to me. From what I remembered, many of the clerical supplies used by the Armada came from her family. "Well, I didn't think I would meet someone responsible for giving me wrist pain."
She giggled. "That's what a secretary is for! Make a stamp of your initials or signature and have them do it! But Wilhelm says you work incredibly hard, so perhaps you should relax a bit to relieve your pains?"
I shook my head. "I can't do that, unfortunately. Your husband will agree with me when I say that anyone in charge of a ship works longer than any of their crew."
"Well, I think you're probably still a man married to his job," Wilhelm interjected. "You know, only the rulers of feral worlds typically have multiple wives," he added, wagging his eyebrows. "Anyways, let's get out of the entrance. Dear, we'll be in the game room."
"Oh, alright. Spoil my chance to talk to the man you spent ages building up," she pouted exaggeratedly.
We split up, with Wilhelm and I taking a door on the left of the foyer, while his new wife went through the door directly opposite the entrance. I glanced that way as she had her back to us, trying to complete my memory of her form. Alas, a second wasn't enough for such a thing.
My first view upon entering this new room was smoke. Quite literally, a cloud that nearly obscured my vision collided with the both of us. I was able to hold my cough back as I pushed through it. Turning my head around, I saw the source: a middle-aged white-haired man sucking on a thick Cheroot. His face was only visible because the smoke was drawn by the air filtration vents up and away. A metallic hand whose extent was hidden by the man's sleeve rose up and plucked the smoke-spewer from his lips as he spoke with two men seated nearby.
Wilhelm pulled on my shoulder, guiding me towards the right side of the room. A long bar ran along the length of the room, easily 20-25 meters. Behind the false wood bar counter were six men, each taking orders for whoever approached. At the nearest corner sat four men in barstools, one of whom looked up when he noticed us and alerted the others to turn around.
"Hey, this is Ramirez, a long-time friend of my family and good acquaintance! He serves under my father's command." Wilhelm explained, taking the nearest empty stool where a glass sat half-drunk. I sat next to him as the other men greeted me.
"Good to meet all of you. Your ships?" I asked.
"Just the one ship, actually. The destroyer Titan's Fall. Captain Marcus Graves, at your service," explained the man seated farthest from me. His wrinkles and brown skin reminded me of a chocolate and pomegranate seed cake I would eat each birthday. "I'll let my men speak for themselves."
"Landon Hopkins, Helmsman."
"Diamond Giles, Chief Gunnery Officer."
"Ngozi Emeka, Master Medicae."
I nodded to each man when they spoke, then introduced myself. "Luca Ramirez, First Lieutenant of the cruiser Sanguine Spear, but I prefer just 'Ramirez'."
"Oooh~! We have someone from a cruiser in our presence, captain!" Giles remarked, earning some small laughter from his fellows. "Sorry, your highness, we didn't know we'd get someone so important here!"
I chuckled. "Well, some of us are busy with important work, like holding the peace single-handedly, not needing another ship to hold our hands as we crawl towards a Mandeville point."
Graves raised his glass to his lips and took a sip, coughing slightly as it burned his throat. "So, how is it under Captain Abraxis?"
"Fine. I've only served on the one ship, so I can't compare it to any other experience," I explained.
"But you've worked elsewhere, no?" he asked.
I shook my head. "First posting. I wasn't always a first lieutenant, but all my life I've served under Wilhelm's father."
"Hmph…You must have been a rather good friend to the family," the destroyer captain remarked. Something undoubtedly passed between the man and his three officers, because I felt their expressions become slightly colder.. Even if I wanted to be closer to them, they wouldn't allow it.
Wilhelm noticed it as well. "Well, no one can deny Ramirez is a very good officer, even if he's a family friend. The Armada would feel his loss," he asserted.
"What is one more loss after the Betrayal?" Emeka asked. Whether it was rhetorical or not, the casual mention of the rebellion was a bucket of cold water thrown on the conversation.
"…Well, every loss matters. Especially now, since there are so many who died. We have to avenge them before we pass on," I answered after a few moments.
"I'll drink to that," Wilhelm murmured. Raising his glass, he said, "To the fallen."
"To the fallen," the other four affirmed.
Five empty glasses hit the table.
"Oh, Ramirez, I'm sorry, you didn't even get anything yet!" my captain's son apologized. "Hey, a round of drinks over here, please!"
At the order, a young man, no older than 25 at most, walked closer until he stood opposite us on the other side of the bar. "Same as before, sir?"
"Yes, but make my friend something first."
The bartender looked at me. "What can I get for you, sir?"
"What's your specialty?"
He reached down and pulled out an opaque rectangular glass bottle with slightly curved corners. It bore nothing but a tiny label, one I knew by heart - Oirysh Spring, the only brand the Armada approved for purchase. Pouring it into a glass no larger than my palm, he turned around and pulled out a bottle from the large shelf behind him. Said shelf was arranged like one at a more traditional bar, but the bottles contained only flavored and colored water, no alcohol. Filling the rest of the glass with the water and two ice cubes, he handed it to me. Standardized alcohol with flavoring was the best that any lesser captain, even one as connected as Wilhelm could do.
Not that I was upset, something about the artificial flavoring excited me. The drops that hit my tongue and rolled into my stomach reminded my taste buds of something sweet, rich, and a bit nutty. Only etiquette kept me from draining the beverage in one go. "That's good, what is it?"
"Hazelnut, sir," the young man answered, his hands moving to mix more drinks for the others.
I nodded, then clapped Wilhelm on the back. "Let me take a stroll around the room, I'll be back."
"No problem, enjoy yourself!"
Getting off the barstool, I walked along the bar slowly, drink in hand, soaking in the atmosphere.
The background noise consisted mostly of conflicting voices, occasional bursts of groans or laughter, and the semi-regular sound of ping-pong balls striking the top of either of the two tables set along the center of the room. A few other game tables were set up in the same line, with one on the farthest end dedicated to card games of the betting variety. Naturally, it attracted a crowd.
The air was awash with a slight acrid and smokey smell and vapors thanks to the many people with cigarettes or other smokables freely puffing away. If the vents were not working at full capacity, I doubt people would have been able to breathe at all. Though those at the oxygen stall set in the corner would do just fine under its brightly colored neon lights.
This room, I realized as I took another sip, was a collage for the senses, with areas dominated but never totally owned by one form of stimulation. The eyes, ears, nose, and lips could never form a crisp understanding of what occurred more than two or three meters away from them, struggling to find any absolutes in this smeared canvas of an environment.
Still, I was determined to see if there were any relationships to cultivate. Walking through the clusters, I met mostly peers of a sort – officers and captains of light cruisers. Most were unaccompanied by guests, but I did meet two husbands who were standing to the side and chatting about their marital woes.
The most audacious of these guests was a man in name only, his appearance that of a boy barely into puberty. The slightly-off makeup and demurely-made small talk marked him as a smileboy, a clearly inexperienced one at that. I snorted quietly at seeing a light cruiser's captain fulfilling the stereotype of their kind being naïve imitators. His reputation would have been struck by a macro-cannon if he ran in higher circles and thought he could so openly bring his object of lust to a party.
The ratings of the Armada had harvested, fermented, blended and aged generations of wisdom to a single quote when they came up with "Some are for the fleets, some are for the sheets".
The final group whose conversation circle I squeezed into, however, had the interesting figure of Captain Abigail Conway.
"-just like his mother!" were the final words of Conway's joke, and she was the first to laugh as well. The men around her did the same, but not as uproariously. That didn't stop her from stealing the next conversational gap as she segued into her views on the state of the Imperialis Armada and the Imperium to a certain extent.
Credit where it was due, her mind was the envy of any scholar. Her ability to condense the disparate facts on the ground into actionable conclusions surpassed my own by leagues, which was one reason no one had really complained when she'd jumped from commanding a light cruiser to a grand cruiser. Those who did found their complaints dashed hopelessly against her rock-solid claim of 14 kills against treacherous ships of the same class during the void war preceding the invasion of Terra. Command of a battleship wasn't out of the question in a few years.
And yet, here she was, mingling with people so far beneath her. She claimed it was due to still-fresh feelings of camaraderie, but that was not the whole truth and most likely a blatant lie.
No, Abigail Conway was here in a desperate attempt to preserve her family's social standing and influence. The promotion had the stench of an up-and-out play, moving someone away from their natural position to isolate them socially. She would be a newcomer to the social circles of those who ruled grand cruisers, including the officers of her new ship. Her family would have worked for years or even decades to assess and approach the light cruiser captains and officers only to see their efforts rendered fruitless. Coupled with her former peers in the light cruiser ranks seeing her now as yet another elitist officer who would look down on them, any attempts at growing a network of contacts and friends would be stunted.
The seemingly impossibly high walls enclosing her must have broken something in her brain, because she was now going around insisting she wanted to be thought of as a man, one Abel Conway. People were swift to comply, but no one really believed this was independent of some networking attempts.
None of this was the result of any analysis on my part. Like everyone, I relied on the grapevine which distilled such conclusions with ferocious and cruel debates, though there was no personal hatred in this. That was how everyone and everything was treated. Spend enough time listening and even the greatest of treasonous ideas would be openly and whimsically discussed.
How much of it I had believed before meeting Conway, I couldn't be sure anymore. But every remark about her had suggested she was a pitiable woman. Seeing her (him?) smash any attempts at conversation that didn't involve the outcast captain certainly cemented my view in that regard.
After another of Conway's jokes, I returned with my empty drink back to the seat by Wilhelm who was in conversation with those from the Titan's Fall. "Not bad."
"Ah, well…not as good as what my father could scrounge up, I'm sure."
"That would be a hard thing to do. Younger captains don't tend to get as much of the better entertainment." A party held by a captain of greater provenance would carry obligations to invite many more people, even arrange specific entertainment like athletic performers, comics, and desserts for the eyes. The cost of real alcohol alone could bankrupt anyone who didn't get their institution to somehow pay for it.
"Fair…I'm glad you were able to make it, though."
"You wanted to show off your wife, eh?" I joked.
He smirked. "Yes, but also because it would be rude for me to not invite the person who's done more for me than even his captain."
Clapping Wilhelm on his shoulder, I shook him slightly. "Don't think about him if it sours your mood. At the end of the day, you only have to do that to the extent you choose. We're here, we're having fun, that's all that matters, right?"
He looked up at me and smiled, not an ounce of disbelief in me or my words. "You're right. Hey, another round here, please!"
As the young man from before brought me another drink, I smiled. Years of investment, and this was the fruit that never stopped growing. I would have much to say to Wilhelm's-
"BRACE, BRACE, BRACE!"
The warning was barely audible over the immensely powerful klaxons that sounded at the same time, but the words were just a formality. Every person, from a rag-clothed child of some ratings in the sub-decks to the Lord High Admiral of the Armada, knew what they had to do if they heard the ear-piercing noise.
I leapt to the nearest open part of the bar counter and collapsed onto my rear with my head down, my hands in my hair, and my legs folded until I was a curled-up ball with my back against the counter's die wall. As I braced my feet against the floor, I could feel the vibrations of others doing the same. Several voices seemed to be shouting for others to get to the safest area.
Then our ordeal began. My stomach lurched as the wall slammed into my back with enough force to send me sprawling if I hadn't braced my feet. Something crashed into the ground near me, and I knew it was an undrunk glass by the high-pitched, barely noticeable shattering noise and the liquid soaking the left side of my pants shortly after. Another object lightly tapped against my foot. Someone's hand touched my leg to use it to push themselves back upright in their own ball. The shouts and screams were notable, even through the thought-destroying sounds coming from the alarms. They, like me, felt a powerful but constant force compressing me against the wall.
No, not constant, I realized after a moment. Or rather, it wasn't being applied evenly. The force was stronger on my left side.
'The maneuvering thrusters,' I realized. Placed a few dozen meters behind the ship's prow, they were present on every ship to ensure it could change direction in a matter of seconds or minutes as opposed to an hour. The abruptly exerted force on the ship, its internals, and the crew could be so harmful that unjustified use was one of the few guaranteed ways to be stripped of rank and even dishonorably discharged. The only times that justified it were combat or an impending collision.
My mind, helpless to do anything, screamed that Lupercal had come back to restart his war. I was forced to face the possibility that we slated to be the first casualties in the second round of his rebellion. 'Back to finish the job, traitor?' I sneered mentally, but it did nothing to mask fear of being one shot away from being an incinerated cloud of ash at best and a frozen body staring into the void for eternity.
Suddenly, the force slackened. I couldn't even relax slightly before a much stronger force pushed at me from the front. A few people on the opposing side made indistinct noise as they tumbled around. Everyone else quickly shifted to brace their feet even harder. But a human could only exert the force to keep themselves steady for so long. My thighs burned and my teeth were clenched so hard I thought they would chip or outright shatter.
Just before my legs turned to actual fire, the force crushing us slackened. Fast enough to be noticed, slow enough to try my patience, but still something we were all grateful for. However, we knew better than to try and move while the klaxons and warning lights were still active.
Then, they were gone too.
Cautiously, I raised my head and took in the damage. All along the walls were other human balls doing the same. A few had instead taken cover under the tables dotting the room. Smashed glass pieces littered the ground, some in pools of liquids. Lho-sticks dotted the room, letting off thin wisps of smoke.
Moving slowly, I rose to my feet. A hand in my peripheral vision made me turn right, and I helped the man get up. Others took notice and did the same, warning others to watch their step around all the glass.
"Ramirez! Are you alright?" asked Wilhelm, a panicked tone suffusing his voice.
"Yes. Yes, I'm fine," I replied. I turned around to face him. "We need answers, though. To the bridge?"
"Are you sure? You should stay, I can manage-"
"Not happening. I'm right by your side," I rebutted.
Suddenly, someone screamed and drew our gazes. I could make out blood running down someone's face, their body unresponsive to the person shaking them.
Wilhelm took charge immediately. "Everyone, please remain here! I will send for medicae and purgation teams immediately," he announced. Turning back to me, he said, "I need to see to the women in the other room. Wait for me by the entrance."
Five minutes later, we burst into the bridge. The scene was tense but orderly, even the hushed chatter between neighboring officers absent.
"Captain!" a man standing on the upper bridge said, his voice carrying over the entire space. To their credit, only a few glances were thrown our way as we rushed up the stairs. As I got closer, I saw that he too was a first lieutenant. He made the aquila at us, which we hastily returned.
"Salazar, report," Wilhelm demanded.
"Yes, sir. 84 minutes ago, a Warp rift opened up here," he gestured to a point in a nearby hololith projection which showed a 3D view of the ship and the space surrounding it in a sphere. "It closed in less than a minute and we detected nothing exiting, so I decided to simply note it and inform you when you next came to the bridge."
Wilhelm nodded. "But something did come out?"
"Yes, a ship, one that our augers are completely blind to. We have a pair of tech-priests on-board, neither can explain why. It came in a straight line towards us, happening to intersect with our path at the exact time we would be there."
"And that's why you used the port-side emergency thrusters?"
"Correct, sir."
"Wait, how did you know how to avoid it if the augers are blind to it?"
"A warning from the Sanguine Spear, actually."
"The Spear? How?" I asked.
"I don't know. What I do know is that roughly one minute before impact, the Spear managed to deliver a warning, along with the ship's track. The front of our ship might have been completely sheared away if they hadn't."
"And the use of the starboard-side thrusters?" Wilhelm asked.
"The Spear sent one more update as it was nearly upon us and we realized we had overcorrected to the point where our stern would be struck. We had to set the ships on a perfectly parallel course if we wanted to preserve the scant distance. I think we could literally have jumped from one ship to the other, that's how close it got."
"Hmm. Any signals from the ship itself?" he asked.
"None we can detect, at any rate. However, the Spear suggested it was no larger than a light cruiser, and we saw its silhouette as it passed by the bridge. Definitely of Imperial design."
"Where is the Spear now, for that matter? I think I need to return immediately," I said.
Salazar turned to me. "Approaching us, actually. They're in pursuit of the vessel and have asked us to alert any other ship since we can't track it like they can. If you leave now, I think it would only take minutes."
"Then I'll be off. Wilhelm, it was good to meet your wife. We'll meet again."
"No, thank you for attending. I'll arrange for an escort to the hangar."
Salazar was entirely correct in his assessment. Once I reached the hangar, it took less than 10 minutes to reach the Sanguine Spear, then another five to reach the bridge. Truesdale, who I'd left in command in my place, was glued to some display closest to the ship's fore. He glanced my way as I was announced, then snapped up and made the aquila. The auger officer, a middle-aged woman seated in front of the display, stood and did the same.
I returned the aquila. "At ease. Explain to me what's happening."
"How much do you already know, sir?" Truesdale asked.
"That there is a ship which isn't appearing on anyone's sensors except ours and it nearly collided with the Callade's Dream before you warned it," I answered.
"Then you know almost as much as us. Take a look at this," he said, gesturing to the display.
The display, meant for seeing 2D representations, was currently displaying an avian's view with the ship in the middle. Only a few dots were present, labeled with their names and trajectories. Close behind lay Wilhelm's vessel, further to our rear-right was the Sentinel of Cythic. To our front, near the edge of the display, were more ships with their names carefully squeezed together to be close without overwhelming the eye: Vigilant Eye, Mistress of Matter, Blade of Sand, and more.
But the real thing of import was simply titled UIS-Alpha. Unidentified Imperial Ship Alpha. It lay almost perfectly dead-ahead on the display, just slightly off to one side. Surrounding it, however, was a much larger and amorphous shape of lighter reading, as if the whole thing was encased in an ovaloid cloud.
"No response from our hails?"
"None," Truesdale answered. "We have someone listening for any transmission, but so far, we're the only one's really talking out here, and that's just to warn any friendly vessels in its path. That's harder than it might seem, we can't send anything if the transmission would go near that ship. That shape around it seems to mark the boundary where nothing standard can go through."
"What makes you so certain?"
"We were trying to hail the Callade's Dream and only succeeded when the line between us and them was just slightly outside the boundary," he answered.
"Alright. Has it only gone straight?"
"Yes, ever since it emerged from the Warp rift."
"Hmm…any ideas as to how we're able to detect it but no one else is?"
"Yes. Show us again," he said to the auger officer. She turned a dial on her right side a few times, the clicks changing the type of display from radar to infrared to ultraviolet to thermal. Only on the last one did something appear where the dot was.
I glanced at the small outline of a light cruiser, my eyebrows furrowed. "If we're seeing this on our thermals, then others should also be able to."
"It's not the thermal sensor, my lord. At least, I don't think it is," the officer explained. "Every display will show what type of sensor it's using in the bottom right. Thermal would be THRML." She pointed and I followed her finger to that part of the display.
"WRP? What is that?"
"I don't know. It appeared shortly after the Warp rift opened and is the only way we can follow this ship. But whatever this display is capturing, it's nothing standard," she answered.
"WRP…short for Warp, perhaps?" Truesdale remarked.
My eyes glanced away. "That was my hunch as well, but why-" A memory, roused by that word, floated to the front of my thoughts.
I turned back to Truesdale. "Where is Magos Acerak?"
"He's aboard, it's probably his rest period," he answered.
"I don't care, get him up here. Now."
Truesdale tapped his comm-bead and barked the order. Meanwhile, I took stock of where precisely we were even headed. From the readings, we were moving swiftly at a steep upward angle relative to the solar plane. We were already approaching the Sol System's effective border. In a few minutes, we'd cross that as well, the rest of the fleet far behind us.
10 minutes later, the red-robed man was escorted onto the bridge by a pair of bondsmen. He rubbed his eyes the way anyone who sought to cleanse them of sleep would, reminding everyone of his more human character.
Stopping before me, he asked, "How can I help, sir?"
"Magos, I want you to look at this and tell me what you think," I said, directing his gaze towards the display and ignoring the lack of even a salute.
He approached with some blinking to clear his vision, then narrowed his eyes. It took a full 10 seconds before the man's head jerked back. "H-how the f-That shouldn't even be possible!"
"Do you know something about this…'WRP' sensor, magos?"
"I-I…one moment." Suddenly, goggles appeared on his head, materializing out of nowhere. It didn't surprise me in retrospect that he'd never shown such technology before, his organization delighted in devouring and imprisoning all the mechanical curiosities they could. With a title like 'magos', I imagined he'd snatched his fair share of such things. "Okay, but that-wait, that wasn't even-gah, this makes no sense!"
"Is everything alright, Magos Acerak?" Truesdale asked.
The goggles disappeared the same way they'd come. "Uh, yes and no. I know why you're seeing this map, but it makes absolutely no sense that it's there in the first place."
"And why are we seeing it? Did you repair some auger that had been broken all this time?" It wasn't common, but ship's being in active duty for years or even decades with one or more non-functional components wasn't unheard of, though it was frowned upon.
"No, I…suppose I added one."
"You added one? You tinkered with the ship's augers and didn't inform us?" I pointedly asked.
"No, sir, I didn't do that. My tower was not plugged into the ship's main augers or their controls, and I certainly didn't overwrite this display to show my tower's measurements over the conventional thermal one."
"Your…tower?" I was now thoroughly confused. "Explain exactly what you did."
He sighed. "I built a tower which can detect Warp energy. What you're seeing is the output. But this makes no sense, because I did not connect it to the bridge's cogitators. I know I didn't. I can't tell you why it's here."
"Well, it worked out for the better that it's here, then." Truesdale interjected. "We were able to prevent a collision with the Callade's Dream."
My frustration and anger faded slightly as I considered his remark. If anything, this had been a valuable turn of fortune. If I said the right words in the right places, I could easily spin this into something higher command would have to remember. "Helmsman Truesdale is correct, though we should be careful letting the ends justify the means."
"It's stopped!"
We all turned to another auger officer, this one seated to our right. "What do you mean?" I asked.
"The unknown ship hasn't moved from its position in the last scan," he explained, pointing to the much closer outline on his own display. "Not just that, the cloud around it is gone. Er-wait, no…"
I saw on the display we were crowding around what seemed to confuse him. Pointing to the thin, almost translucent curved surface that bent forward half-way across the hull of the other ship. "What is that?"
"A void sail is the closest thing I can imagine, but deploying it forward when the sun is to its back makes little sense if it was trying to stop, and you wouldn't do it that way if you were trying to go forward," Truesdale pointed out.
When the next scan came in, any thoughts of a void sail were dowsed. The surface was much larger on the other ship's port side. Much, much larger.
"I think it struck something going the opposite way, my lord," the officer remarked. "An asteroid, perhaps."
"No, that's unlikely. Asteroids wouldn't have a consistent reading of Warp energy like that. I think this is something artificial," Magos Acerak interjected.
"Begin deceleration," I ordered.
The magos was proven correct as we grew closer. It became clear the other ship was lodged deep within some old void station, a lifeless and forgotten thing of centuries past. From our perspective, it appeared to be embedded in the right side of the massive relic.
I wondered, for a moment, if there were any crew still alive. Such a collision would have damaged the hull of the mightiest battleships while the station would barely have even felt it. If there were any bodies, would they even be recognizable, or just bags of pulverized flesh and smashed bone?
"Do we know anything about the station it's stuck in?" I queried a nearby man.
"No, my lord. Appears to just be another thing of our past," he answered after a few moments of looking at the data archives in the ship's cogitators.
Nodding, I touched my own comm-bead, something I'd ordered brought from my office a few minutes ago. "This is First Lieutenant Ramirez. Voidmaster Arona, report."
The response was swift, guttural and devoid of any femininity. "Voidmaster Arona, reporting. What do you require, First Lieutenant?"
"I want you to prepare your teams for boarding, they will be needed shortly."
Perks Earned:
Spirit Pyroxene (Atelier: Arland Trilogy): No one quite knows where this pyroxene came from, but it has a very definitive effect on the items that it forms a component of. The mystical power inside the pyroxene seems to carry over into the items that it forms at least a portion of the power does, and the crafted items became more conductive towards spiritual magic of a large variety.
Propulsion Gel Recipe (Portal): This is a recipe.. Okay, you get the picture. The acceleration gel is created by adding seemingly random elements to a modern recipe for no-stick spray. The gel increases the velocity of any object moving on it unless that object is at rest. Washes off with water.
Hull Architect (Endless Space): You know how to design ships. From nose to engine, you could draft up a functional space worthy ship. On paper. Putting all the pieces together maybe beyond you, but anyone who puts it together will agree, it's a mighty fine ship.
Beta'd by sarf.
"My apologies for being late!"
I waved Medicae Avari's apology away as he shut the door to our examination room behind him. "It isn't a problem. I understand there's some kind of virus running around?"
"Yes, nearly 40 children, all having runny noses and coughs! Must have come into contact with someone or something from the lower decks." the elderly man answered, his thick white mustache well-groomed to avoid any stray hair being too close to his mouth or lips. He was shorter than me, which made the spots on his bald head unavoidable. "Children, always the same! I bet not even the Emperor could make a horde of toddlers obey him!"
My wife and I both chuckled. As he took a seat, a wrinkled hand gestured for us to do the same. I opted to move behind the sole remaining chair, resting my hands upon the top of the backrest.
"Now," Avari said, pulling a small slate out of his pocket and tapping on it with his other hand, "I understand that you submitted samples for fertility testing, yes?"
"That's right," my wife answered.
"Hmm. Well, you don't need to worry. You're both capable of doing your part to make a baby."
"…Are you…?" My wife's question died on her tongue, perhaps suppressed as it would be too insulting.
"Am I certain? Yes, I promise that I'm not some crazy old man just yet!" he said with a grin. "You want to see crazy old men, I've heard rumors a begging group sits near one of the elevators to the lowest decks. Anyway, I know for certain what the results say. I don't need to do any interpretation either, the machines can do that for us."
I placed my right hand on my wife's right shoulder to suggest she refrain from pushing too aggressively. Only a second later, her right hand came up to clasp around my fingers snuggly. "It's just…we've been trying for some time…"
"Do you mind saying how long? Oh, and how frequently?"
"At least two months now, and at least three times a week," I answered.
"Oh, that's understandable then. It's simply been too little time," he responded somewhat dismissively. "I thought you had tried for at least six to eight. That's how long it takes most women, I assure you."
"My mother said she got pregnant with me in just a month."
I held back the smirk at how childish my wife's words were. Sometimes, she really did think that she could compel reality to change with non-sequitur complaints.
"Well, she was very lucky then. But for most women, no more than eight months. I think you don't have anything to worry about. Keep trying and you should be pregnant soon enough."
What more could be said after that? We thanked him and left. All the way to my personal car, she sulked slightly. I kept quiet, not wanting her to be upset at me if I tried reinforcing the medicae's entirely reasonable conclusion. After seating her in the back, I told the driver to take her past the starboard shopping complex on the way back. It was the scenic route, and some shopping might distract her.
++++
After the relatively short excursion to Tarantulon, nearly everyone I knew was eager to take shore leave. For the vast majority, this meant heading to any functions or festivities taking place on a larger ship. Only a few, my wife and I included, could hope to go to Terra, and even fewer would actually get permission.
Today, I was included in the former group. Wilhelm had messaged me, asking if I could attend a private function he was hosting aboard his ship, the Callade's Dream. As my wife already had plans for that time, I agreed, somewhat intrigued at his insistent tone.
I found out the answer lay in a feminine form.
"First Lieutenant Ramirez, I'd like you to meet my wife, Mrs. Abigail Abraxis," Wilhelm declared jubilantly as he glanced at the woman beside him. There was a slight hint of nervous energy in him, as if he was presenting her for my approval.
"A pleasure," I said, taking her hand and brushing my lips against its back. "I can see why the young captain was so taken with you."
She demurely laughed, but no one would have disagreed. Her blonde hair was uncovered and free, starting off straight near her head and curling up as it draped over her shoulders. No makeup augmented her perfect complexion. Her skin was the same shade as caramel, almost golden, and complemented the large hoop earrings no doubt made of real gold. An elegant black dress left only her forearms and sandal-enclosed feet exposed. Thin plain gold bangles rested near both wrists. On her right ring finger lay her proof of marriage, matched by a smaller ring on her left foot's pinky toe which rested in a soft platform sandal.
This woman was objectively gorgeous, the kind that drove men to starve at her feet for a crumb of attention and other women to start coming up with the most vicious rumors to slander her behind her back for daring to upstage them.
"I have to say, I looked forward to meeting you. Wilhelm has nothing but praise for you," she said, her voice soothing to the ears like honey to the throat.
"Likewise." I tilted my head. "Your slight drawl…am I correct in saying you come from one of the Merican hives?"
"Oh, yes. You may have heard of my family, the Dades?"
My mind flailed as it tried to recall where I had heard that surname. "…No, forgive me. I think I have heard of them in passing at most."
"That's alright. We're the Dades of Floridami, the largest employers for thousands of kilometers."
I raised my index finger half-way. "Ah, you provide the Imperium with paper, right?"
"Paper products," she corrected, "and nearly all from recycled material."
That sounded right to me. From what I remembered, many of the clerical supplies used by the Armada came from her family. "Well, I didn't think I would meet someone responsible for giving me wrist pain."
She giggled. "That's what a secretary is for! Make a stamp of your initials or signature and have them do it! But Wilhelm says you work incredibly hard, so perhaps you should relax a bit to relieve your pains?"
I shook my head. "I can't do that, unfortunately. Your husband will agree with me when I say that anyone in charge of a ship works longer than any of their crew."
"Well, I think you're probably still a man married to his job," Wilhelm interjected. "You know, only the rulers of feral worlds typically have multiple wives," he added, wagging his eyebrows. "Anyways, let's get out of the entrance. Dear, we'll be in the game room."
"Oh, alright. Spoil my chance to talk to the man you spent ages building up," she pouted exaggeratedly.
We split up, with Wilhelm and I taking a door on the left of the foyer, while his new wife went through the door directly opposite the entrance. I glanced that way as she had her back to us, trying to complete my memory of her form. Alas, a second wasn't enough for such a thing.
My first view upon entering this new room was smoke. Quite literally, a cloud that nearly obscured my vision collided with the both of us. I was able to hold my cough back as I pushed through it. Turning my head around, I saw the source: a middle-aged white-haired man sucking on a thick Cheroot. His face was only visible because the smoke was drawn by the air filtration vents up and away. A metallic hand whose extent was hidden by the man's sleeve rose up and plucked the smoke-spewer from his lips as he spoke with two men seated nearby.
Wilhelm pulled on my shoulder, guiding me towards the right side of the room. A long bar ran along the length of the room, easily 20-25 meters. Behind the false wood bar counter were six men, each taking orders for whoever approached. At the nearest corner sat four men in barstools, one of whom looked up when he noticed us and alerted the others to turn around.
"Hey, this is Ramirez, a long-time friend of my family and good acquaintance! He serves under my father's command." Wilhelm explained, taking the nearest empty stool where a glass sat half-drunk. I sat next to him as the other men greeted me.
"Good to meet all of you. Your ships?" I asked.
"Just the one ship, actually. The destroyer Titan's Fall. Captain Marcus Graves, at your service," explained the man seated farthest from me. His wrinkles and brown skin reminded me of a chocolate and pomegranate seed cake I would eat each birthday. "I'll let my men speak for themselves."
"Landon Hopkins, Helmsman."
"Diamond Giles, Chief Gunnery Officer."
"Ngozi Emeka, Master Medicae."
I nodded to each man when they spoke, then introduced myself. "Luca Ramirez, First Lieutenant of the cruiser Sanguine Spear, but I prefer just 'Ramirez'."
"Oooh~! We have someone from a cruiser in our presence, captain!" Giles remarked, earning some small laughter from his fellows. "Sorry, your highness, we didn't know we'd get someone so important here!"
I chuckled. "Well, some of us are busy with important work, like holding the peace single-handedly, not needing another ship to hold our hands as we crawl towards a Mandeville point."
Graves raised his glass to his lips and took a sip, coughing slightly as it burned his throat. "So, how is it under Captain Abraxis?"
"Fine. I've only served on the one ship, so I can't compare it to any other experience," I explained.
"But you've worked elsewhere, no?" he asked.
I shook my head. "First posting. I wasn't always a first lieutenant, but all my life I've served under Wilhelm's father."
"Hmph…You must have been a rather good friend to the family," the destroyer captain remarked. Something undoubtedly passed between the man and his three officers, because I felt their expressions become slightly colder.. Even if I wanted to be closer to them, they wouldn't allow it.
Wilhelm noticed it as well. "Well, no one can deny Ramirez is a very good officer, even if he's a family friend. The Armada would feel his loss," he asserted.
"What is one more loss after the Betrayal?" Emeka asked. Whether it was rhetorical or not, the casual mention of the rebellion was a bucket of cold water thrown on the conversation.
"…Well, every loss matters. Especially now, since there are so many who died. We have to avenge them before we pass on," I answered after a few moments.
"I'll drink to that," Wilhelm murmured. Raising his glass, he said, "To the fallen."
"To the fallen," the other four affirmed.
Five empty glasses hit the table.
"Oh, Ramirez, I'm sorry, you didn't even get anything yet!" my captain's son apologized. "Hey, a round of drinks over here, please!"
At the order, a young man, no older than 25 at most, walked closer until he stood opposite us on the other side of the bar. "Same as before, sir?"
"Yes, but make my friend something first."
The bartender looked at me. "What can I get for you, sir?"
"What's your specialty?"
He reached down and pulled out an opaque rectangular glass bottle with slightly curved corners. It bore nothing but a tiny label, one I knew by heart - Oirysh Spring, the only brand the Armada approved for purchase. Pouring it into a glass no larger than my palm, he turned around and pulled out a bottle from the large shelf behind him. Said shelf was arranged like one at a more traditional bar, but the bottles contained only flavored and colored water, no alcohol. Filling the rest of the glass with the water and two ice cubes, he handed it to me. Standardized alcohol with flavoring was the best that any lesser captain, even one as connected as Wilhelm could do.
Not that I was upset, something about the artificial flavoring excited me. The drops that hit my tongue and rolled into my stomach reminded my taste buds of something sweet, rich, and a bit nutty. Only etiquette kept me from draining the beverage in one go. "That's good, what is it?"
"Hazelnut, sir," the young man answered, his hands moving to mix more drinks for the others.
I nodded, then clapped Wilhelm on the back. "Let me take a stroll around the room, I'll be back."
"No problem, enjoy yourself!"
Getting off the barstool, I walked along the bar slowly, drink in hand, soaking in the atmosphere.
The background noise consisted mostly of conflicting voices, occasional bursts of groans or laughter, and the semi-regular sound of ping-pong balls striking the top of either of the two tables set along the center of the room. A few other game tables were set up in the same line, with one on the farthest end dedicated to card games of the betting variety. Naturally, it attracted a crowd.
The air was awash with a slight acrid and smokey smell and vapors thanks to the many people with cigarettes or other smokables freely puffing away. If the vents were not working at full capacity, I doubt people would have been able to breathe at all. Though those at the oxygen stall set in the corner would do just fine under its brightly colored neon lights.
This room, I realized as I took another sip, was a collage for the senses, with areas dominated but never totally owned by one form of stimulation. The eyes, ears, nose, and lips could never form a crisp understanding of what occurred more than two or three meters away from them, struggling to find any absolutes in this smeared canvas of an environment.
Still, I was determined to see if there were any relationships to cultivate. Walking through the clusters, I met mostly peers of a sort – officers and captains of light cruisers. Most were unaccompanied by guests, but I did meet two husbands who were standing to the side and chatting about their marital woes.
The most audacious of these guests was a man in name only, his appearance that of a boy barely into puberty. The slightly-off makeup and demurely-made small talk marked him as a smileboy, a clearly inexperienced one at that. I snorted quietly at seeing a light cruiser's captain fulfilling the stereotype of their kind being naïve imitators. His reputation would have been struck by a macro-cannon if he ran in higher circles and thought he could so openly bring his object of lust to a party.
The ratings of the Armada had harvested, fermented, blended and aged generations of wisdom to a single quote when they came up with "Some are for the fleets, some are for the sheets".
The final group whose conversation circle I squeezed into, however, had the interesting figure of Captain Abigail Conway.
"-just like his mother!" were the final words of Conway's joke, and she was the first to laugh as well. The men around her did the same, but not as uproariously. That didn't stop her from stealing the next conversational gap as she segued into her views on the state of the Imperialis Armada and the Imperium to a certain extent.
Credit where it was due, her mind was the envy of any scholar. Her ability to condense the disparate facts on the ground into actionable conclusions surpassed my own by leagues, which was one reason no one had really complained when she'd jumped from commanding a light cruiser to a grand cruiser. Those who did found their complaints dashed hopelessly against her rock-solid claim of 14 kills against treacherous ships of the same class during the void war preceding the invasion of Terra. Command of a battleship wasn't out of the question in a few years.
And yet, here she was, mingling with people so far beneath her. She claimed it was due to still-fresh feelings of camaraderie, but that was not the whole truth and most likely a blatant lie.
No, Abigail Conway was here in a desperate attempt to preserve her family's social standing and influence. The promotion had the stench of an up-and-out play, moving someone away from their natural position to isolate them socially. She would be a newcomer to the social circles of those who ruled grand cruisers, including the officers of her new ship. Her family would have worked for years or even decades to assess and approach the light cruiser captains and officers only to see their efforts rendered fruitless. Coupled with her former peers in the light cruiser ranks seeing her now as yet another elitist officer who would look down on them, any attempts at growing a network of contacts and friends would be stunted.
The seemingly impossibly high walls enclosing her must have broken something in her brain, because she was now going around insisting she wanted to be thought of as a man, one Abel Conway. People were swift to comply, but no one really believed this was independent of some networking attempts.
None of this was the result of any analysis on my part. Like everyone, I relied on the grapevine which distilled such conclusions with ferocious and cruel debates, though there was no personal hatred in this. That was how everyone and everything was treated. Spend enough time listening and even the greatest of treasonous ideas would be openly and whimsically discussed.
How much of it I had believed before meeting Conway, I couldn't be sure anymore. But every remark about her had suggested she was a pitiable woman. Seeing her (him?) smash any attempts at conversation that didn't involve the outcast captain certainly cemented my view in that regard.
After another of Conway's jokes, I returned with my empty drink back to the seat by Wilhelm who was in conversation with those from the Titan's Fall. "Not bad."
"Ah, well…not as good as what my father could scrounge up, I'm sure."
"That would be a hard thing to do. Younger captains don't tend to get as much of the better entertainment." A party held by a captain of greater provenance would carry obligations to invite many more people, even arrange specific entertainment like athletic performers, comics, and desserts for the eyes. The cost of real alcohol alone could bankrupt anyone who didn't get their institution to somehow pay for it.
"Fair…I'm glad you were able to make it, though."
"You wanted to show off your wife, eh?" I joked.
He smirked. "Yes, but also because it would be rude for me to not invite the person who's done more for me than even his captain."
Clapping Wilhelm on his shoulder, I shook him slightly. "Don't think about him if it sours your mood. At the end of the day, you only have to do that to the extent you choose. We're here, we're having fun, that's all that matters, right?"
He looked up at me and smiled, not an ounce of disbelief in me or my words. "You're right. Hey, another round here, please!"
As the young man from before brought me another drink, I smiled. Years of investment, and this was the fruit that never stopped growing. I would have much to say to Wilhelm's-
"BRACE, BRACE, BRACE!"
The warning was barely audible over the immensely powerful klaxons that sounded at the same time, but the words were just a formality. Every person, from a rag-clothed child of some ratings in the sub-decks to the Lord High Admiral of the Armada, knew what they had to do if they heard the ear-piercing noise.
I leapt to the nearest open part of the bar counter and collapsed onto my rear with my head down, my hands in my hair, and my legs folded until I was a curled-up ball with my back against the counter's die wall. As I braced my feet against the floor, I could feel the vibrations of others doing the same. Several voices seemed to be shouting for others to get to the safest area.
Then our ordeal began. My stomach lurched as the wall slammed into my back with enough force to send me sprawling if I hadn't braced my feet. Something crashed into the ground near me, and I knew it was an undrunk glass by the high-pitched, barely noticeable shattering noise and the liquid soaking the left side of my pants shortly after. Another object lightly tapped against my foot. Someone's hand touched my leg to use it to push themselves back upright in their own ball. The shouts and screams were notable, even through the thought-destroying sounds coming from the alarms. They, like me, felt a powerful but constant force compressing me against the wall.
No, not constant, I realized after a moment. Or rather, it wasn't being applied evenly. The force was stronger on my left side.
'The maneuvering thrusters,' I realized. Placed a few dozen meters behind the ship's prow, they were present on every ship to ensure it could change direction in a matter of seconds or minutes as opposed to an hour. The abruptly exerted force on the ship, its internals, and the crew could be so harmful that unjustified use was one of the few guaranteed ways to be stripped of rank and even dishonorably discharged. The only times that justified it were combat or an impending collision.
My mind, helpless to do anything, screamed that Lupercal had come back to restart his war. I was forced to face the possibility that we slated to be the first casualties in the second round of his rebellion. 'Back to finish the job, traitor?' I sneered mentally, but it did nothing to mask fear of being one shot away from being an incinerated cloud of ash at best and a frozen body staring into the void for eternity.
Suddenly, the force slackened. I couldn't even relax slightly before a much stronger force pushed at me from the front. A few people on the opposing side made indistinct noise as they tumbled around. Everyone else quickly shifted to brace their feet even harder. But a human could only exert the force to keep themselves steady for so long. My thighs burned and my teeth were clenched so hard I thought they would chip or outright shatter.
Just before my legs turned to actual fire, the force crushing us slackened. Fast enough to be noticed, slow enough to try my patience, but still something we were all grateful for. However, we knew better than to try and move while the klaxons and warning lights were still active.
Then, they were gone too.
Cautiously, I raised my head and took in the damage. All along the walls were other human balls doing the same. A few had instead taken cover under the tables dotting the room. Smashed glass pieces littered the ground, some in pools of liquids. Lho-sticks dotted the room, letting off thin wisps of smoke.
Moving slowly, I rose to my feet. A hand in my peripheral vision made me turn right, and I helped the man get up. Others took notice and did the same, warning others to watch their step around all the glass.
"Ramirez! Are you alright?" asked Wilhelm, a panicked tone suffusing his voice.
"Yes. Yes, I'm fine," I replied. I turned around to face him. "We need answers, though. To the bridge?"
"Are you sure? You should stay, I can manage-"
"Not happening. I'm right by your side," I rebutted.
Suddenly, someone screamed and drew our gazes. I could make out blood running down someone's face, their body unresponsive to the person shaking them.
Wilhelm took charge immediately. "Everyone, please remain here! I will send for medicae and purgation teams immediately," he announced. Turning back to me, he said, "I need to see to the women in the other room. Wait for me by the entrance."
Five minutes later, we burst into the bridge. The scene was tense but orderly, even the hushed chatter between neighboring officers absent.
"Captain!" a man standing on the upper bridge said, his voice carrying over the entire space. To their credit, only a few glances were thrown our way as we rushed up the stairs. As I got closer, I saw that he too was a first lieutenant. He made the aquila at us, which we hastily returned.
"Salazar, report," Wilhelm demanded.
"Yes, sir. 84 minutes ago, a Warp rift opened up here," he gestured to a point in a nearby hololith projection which showed a 3D view of the ship and the space surrounding it in a sphere. "It closed in less than a minute and we detected nothing exiting, so I decided to simply note it and inform you when you next came to the bridge."
Wilhelm nodded. "But something did come out?"
"Yes, a ship, one that our augers are completely blind to. We have a pair of tech-priests on-board, neither can explain why. It came in a straight line towards us, happening to intersect with our path at the exact time we would be there."
"And that's why you used the port-side emergency thrusters?"
"Correct, sir."
"Wait, how did you know how to avoid it if the augers are blind to it?"
"A warning from the Sanguine Spear, actually."
"The Spear? How?" I asked.
"I don't know. What I do know is that roughly one minute before impact, the Spear managed to deliver a warning, along with the ship's track. The front of our ship might have been completely sheared away if they hadn't."
"And the use of the starboard-side thrusters?" Wilhelm asked.
"The Spear sent one more update as it was nearly upon us and we realized we had overcorrected to the point where our stern would be struck. We had to set the ships on a perfectly parallel course if we wanted to preserve the scant distance. I think we could literally have jumped from one ship to the other, that's how close it got."
"Hmm. Any signals from the ship itself?" he asked.
"None we can detect, at any rate. However, the Spear suggested it was no larger than a light cruiser, and we saw its silhouette as it passed by the bridge. Definitely of Imperial design."
"Where is the Spear now, for that matter? I think I need to return immediately," I said.
Salazar turned to me. "Approaching us, actually. They're in pursuit of the vessel and have asked us to alert any other ship since we can't track it like they can. If you leave now, I think it would only take minutes."
"Then I'll be off. Wilhelm, it was good to meet your wife. We'll meet again."
"No, thank you for attending. I'll arrange for an escort to the hangar."
Salazar was entirely correct in his assessment. Once I reached the hangar, it took less than 10 minutes to reach the Sanguine Spear, then another five to reach the bridge. Truesdale, who I'd left in command in my place, was glued to some display closest to the ship's fore. He glanced my way as I was announced, then snapped up and made the aquila. The auger officer, a middle-aged woman seated in front of the display, stood and did the same.
I returned the aquila. "At ease. Explain to me what's happening."
"How much do you already know, sir?" Truesdale asked.
"That there is a ship which isn't appearing on anyone's sensors except ours and it nearly collided with the Callade's Dream before you warned it," I answered.
"Then you know almost as much as us. Take a look at this," he said, gesturing to the display.
The display, meant for seeing 2D representations, was currently displaying an avian's view with the ship in the middle. Only a few dots were present, labeled with their names and trajectories. Close behind lay Wilhelm's vessel, further to our rear-right was the Sentinel of Cythic. To our front, near the edge of the display, were more ships with their names carefully squeezed together to be close without overwhelming the eye: Vigilant Eye, Mistress of Matter, Blade of Sand, and more.
But the real thing of import was simply titled UIS-Alpha. Unidentified Imperial Ship Alpha. It lay almost perfectly dead-ahead on the display, just slightly off to one side. Surrounding it, however, was a much larger and amorphous shape of lighter reading, as if the whole thing was encased in an ovaloid cloud.
"No response from our hails?"
"None," Truesdale answered. "We have someone listening for any transmission, but so far, we're the only one's really talking out here, and that's just to warn any friendly vessels in its path. That's harder than it might seem, we can't send anything if the transmission would go near that ship. That shape around it seems to mark the boundary where nothing standard can go through."
"What makes you so certain?"
"We were trying to hail the Callade's Dream and only succeeded when the line between us and them was just slightly outside the boundary," he answered.
"Alright. Has it only gone straight?"
"Yes, ever since it emerged from the Warp rift."
"Hmm…any ideas as to how we're able to detect it but no one else is?"
"Yes. Show us again," he said to the auger officer. She turned a dial on her right side a few times, the clicks changing the type of display from radar to infrared to ultraviolet to thermal. Only on the last one did something appear where the dot was.
I glanced at the small outline of a light cruiser, my eyebrows furrowed. "If we're seeing this on our thermals, then others should also be able to."
"It's not the thermal sensor, my lord. At least, I don't think it is," the officer explained. "Every display will show what type of sensor it's using in the bottom right. Thermal would be THRML." She pointed and I followed her finger to that part of the display.
"WRP? What is that?"
"I don't know. It appeared shortly after the Warp rift opened and is the only way we can follow this ship. But whatever this display is capturing, it's nothing standard," she answered.
"WRP…short for Warp, perhaps?" Truesdale remarked.
My eyes glanced away. "That was my hunch as well, but why-" A memory, roused by that word, floated to the front of my thoughts.
I turned back to Truesdale. "Where is Magos Acerak?"
"He's aboard, it's probably his rest period," he answered.
"I don't care, get him up here. Now."
Truesdale tapped his comm-bead and barked the order. Meanwhile, I took stock of where precisely we were even headed. From the readings, we were moving swiftly at a steep upward angle relative to the solar plane. We were already approaching the Sol System's effective border. In a few minutes, we'd cross that as well, the rest of the fleet far behind us.
10 minutes later, the red-robed man was escorted onto the bridge by a pair of bondsmen. He rubbed his eyes the way anyone who sought to cleanse them of sleep would, reminding everyone of his more human character.
Stopping before me, he asked, "How can I help, sir?"
"Magos, I want you to look at this and tell me what you think," I said, directing his gaze towards the display and ignoring the lack of even a salute.
He approached with some blinking to clear his vision, then narrowed his eyes. It took a full 10 seconds before the man's head jerked back. "H-how the f-That shouldn't even be possible!"
"Do you know something about this…'WRP' sensor, magos?"
"I-I…one moment." Suddenly, goggles appeared on his head, materializing out of nowhere. It didn't surprise me in retrospect that he'd never shown such technology before, his organization delighted in devouring and imprisoning all the mechanical curiosities they could. With a title like 'magos', I imagined he'd snatched his fair share of such things. "Okay, but that-wait, that wasn't even-gah, this makes no sense!"
"Is everything alright, Magos Acerak?" Truesdale asked.
The goggles disappeared the same way they'd come. "Uh, yes and no. I know why you're seeing this map, but it makes absolutely no sense that it's there in the first place."
"And why are we seeing it? Did you repair some auger that had been broken all this time?" It wasn't common, but ship's being in active duty for years or even decades with one or more non-functional components wasn't unheard of, though it was frowned upon.
"No, I…suppose I added one."
"You added one? You tinkered with the ship's augers and didn't inform us?" I pointedly asked.
"No, sir, I didn't do that. My tower was not plugged into the ship's main augers or their controls, and I certainly didn't overwrite this display to show my tower's measurements over the conventional thermal one."
"Your…tower?" I was now thoroughly confused. "Explain exactly what you did."
He sighed. "I built a tower which can detect Warp energy. What you're seeing is the output. But this makes no sense, because I did not connect it to the bridge's cogitators. I know I didn't. I can't tell you why it's here."
"Well, it worked out for the better that it's here, then." Truesdale interjected. "We were able to prevent a collision with the Callade's Dream."
My frustration and anger faded slightly as I considered his remark. If anything, this had been a valuable turn of fortune. If I said the right words in the right places, I could easily spin this into something higher command would have to remember. "Helmsman Truesdale is correct, though we should be careful letting the ends justify the means."
"It's stopped!"
We all turned to another auger officer, this one seated to our right. "What do you mean?" I asked.
"The unknown ship hasn't moved from its position in the last scan," he explained, pointing to the much closer outline on his own display. "Not just that, the cloud around it is gone. Er-wait, no…"
I saw on the display we were crowding around what seemed to confuse him. Pointing to the thin, almost translucent curved surface that bent forward half-way across the hull of the other ship. "What is that?"
"A void sail is the closest thing I can imagine, but deploying it forward when the sun is to its back makes little sense if it was trying to stop, and you wouldn't do it that way if you were trying to go forward," Truesdale pointed out.
When the next scan came in, any thoughts of a void sail were dowsed. The surface was much larger on the other ship's port side. Much, much larger.
"I think it struck something going the opposite way, my lord," the officer remarked. "An asteroid, perhaps."
"No, that's unlikely. Asteroids wouldn't have a consistent reading of Warp energy like that. I think this is something artificial," Magos Acerak interjected.
"Begin deceleration," I ordered.
The magos was proven correct as we grew closer. It became clear the other ship was lodged deep within some old void station, a lifeless and forgotten thing of centuries past. From our perspective, it appeared to be embedded in the right side of the massive relic.
I wondered, for a moment, if there were any crew still alive. Such a collision would have damaged the hull of the mightiest battleships while the station would barely have even felt it. If there were any bodies, would they even be recognizable, or just bags of pulverized flesh and smashed bone?
"Do we know anything about the station it's stuck in?" I queried a nearby man.
"No, my lord. Appears to just be another thing of our past," he answered after a few moments of looking at the data archives in the ship's cogitators.
Nodding, I touched my own comm-bead, something I'd ordered brought from my office a few minutes ago. "This is First Lieutenant Ramirez. Voidmaster Arona, report."
The response was swift, guttural and devoid of any femininity. "Voidmaster Arona, reporting. What do you require, First Lieutenant?"
"I want you to prepare your teams for boarding, they will be needed shortly."
Perks Earned:
Spirit Pyroxene (Atelier: Arland Trilogy): No one quite knows where this pyroxene came from, but it has a very definitive effect on the items that it forms a component of. The mystical power inside the pyroxene seems to carry over into the items that it forms at least a portion of the power does, and the crafted items became more conductive towards spiritual magic of a large variety.
Propulsion Gel Recipe (Portal): This is a recipe.. Okay, you get the picture. The acceleration gel is created by adding seemingly random elements to a modern recipe for no-stick spray. The gel increases the velocity of any object moving on it unless that object is at rest. Washes off with water.
Hull Architect (Endless Space): You know how to design ships. From nose to engine, you could draft up a functional space worthy ship. On paper. Putting all the pieces together maybe beyond you, but anyone who puts it together will agree, it's a mighty fine ship.
Beta'd by sarf.
Last edited:
globalwarmth
ruining the weather.
- Location
- Polar ice caps
Good proactive machine spirit!
Priest got a nice feather in his cap for this.
I'd say the best use would be on macrocanons though. Not much water in space. A gel grenade for the army to coat the artillery on a case by case basis might be nice
Really the biggest change is the holy Civil War orcs would unleash debating if Orange is Red and this makes em 'fastah
Now this is just "boring but practical"
Real nice for living in a ship. The Imperium could use some Horatio and Vaulter aesthetics though
Priest got a nice feather in his cap for this.
I'd love to see a bolter with a barrel treated with this.
I'd say the best use would be on macrocanons though. Not much water in space. A gel grenade for the army to coat the artillery on a case by case basis might be nice
Really the biggest change is the holy Civil War orcs would unleash debating if Orange is Red and this makes em 'fastah
Now this is just "boring but practical"
Real nice for living in a ship. The Imperium could use some Horatio and Vaulter aesthetics though
It probably wouldn't make much difference. The initial detonation with a bolter shell is mainly to clear the shell from the gun so that the second stage rocket accelerator doesn't transfer it's force back into the person shooting it.
I totally agree with the macro cannons though. Or even better if he comes across a ship with a spinal mounted gun as the longer the runway the more it can accelerate.
- Pronouns
- Zack
Do you plan to update the List of Perks in the future?
Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
well it has been established that Ramirez, while competent, is a backstabber, willing to go quite a ways to manipulate others for his own ambitions.
So it doesn't surprise that he's also a social snob and a transphobe.
So it doesn't surprise that he's also a social snob and a transphobe.
- Pronouns
- Male
Ramirez seriously rubs me the wrong way for some reason and somehow feels like a ticking timebomb in regards to the mc. Acerak better prepare some contingencies or escape plans. At least I hope so. He may come across as a somewhat naive teenager sometimes, but I think he has enough sense to prepare (hopefully).
- Location
- A haze of forgetfulness
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Ah excellent I'm interested to see where this goes.
Chapter 16
POV: Claude Ngolo, Sanguine Spear Naval Breacher
With a thump that gently shook my body as my magnetic boots got close enough to the floor, I landed in the passageway. I quickly took a kneeling stance, my shield and shotgun already aimed squarely at the darkness ahead. The eternity of a second passed before I turned around and waited again.
'Focus, Claude,' I told myself. 'Keep your gun steady.'
The latter was nearly impossible. My heart beat furiously and if not for my gloves, both shield and gun would have slipped away due to sweat.
Another thump came from behind me and to the right, the armored form of Tahiry. He took up his position watching where I'd first looked.
"Clear," I said into my vox.
Following our example, the rest of the team descended from above. After six more thumps, I felt some tension release. Not much, though.
"Lieutenant Tahiry, Sergeant Rakoto. Over," my sergeant said, his voice a bit crackly even though he stood only a meter away.
I heard the lieutenant's strict voice in response. "I acknowledge. Over."
"Deck Indigo-4 is impassable, we've cut a hole down into Indigo-5 roughly 80 meters from the stern-side entrance. Over," the sergeant explained, referring to the deck by its probable name. The first deck we'd come across was called Indigo-2 according to a scratched and dented sign, so we simply assumed the others had a similar naming scheme.
"Another one?" Her sigh was tangible. "Understood. Squad Eight is making their way behind you, they've just reached Marker Two. Keep moving forward. Out."
I frowned at that. We'd blown and cut our way through several narrow points made of pulverized interior walls, deformed pipes and smashed furniture since then.
"Squad, let's move. Claude, you and Tahiry take point," Rakoto ordered.
"You would order your lieutenant around like that?" Tahiry joked. He wasn't particularly funny, and his singular jest regarding the identical name got old fast. Doubly so on duty.
Like a pair of offerings for the mouths in the dark, we walked ahead of the squad by several meters. I could see our shadows ahead due to the multiple lumens coming from our rear, though I kept my eyes trained forward to watch for the slightest movement.
A tightness had instantly coiled in my stomach the moment I was ordered to suit up and prepare for boarding. The briefing had been sparse, just the short words from the voidmaster that our mission was to breach an unknown Imperial ship. We were told it was an honor to get such an easy mission, since good scans of the target ship were available. If I'd had a chance, I would have traded that honor away for my team to be assigned as the secondaries like Squad Eight who were to follow along. Literally every story we told ourselves involved xenos lurking in the dark which destroyed the first squad and left some lucky bastard in the second or third alive after a gruesome fight. Sure, they were just stories, but every story had a small and bloody truth in it. If so, then we were surely going to meet our ends soon.
"Where are the bodies?"
I glanced at Tahiry. "What do you mean?"
"Quiet! Stay focused!" barked Rakoto.
My head went back to face the front, but Tahiry's words raced in my mind and probably everyone else's. We'd come across destroyed machinery and furniture that had to be hacked apart, jammed doors which needed the plasma cutter to push through and collapsed flooring that required demolition charges. But not once had we come across anyone or anything.
Where were the bodies? Had we even come across a bloodstain? I wracked my mind for any story about space creatures or xenos which took their victims without leaving any trace, but none came to mind.
A large sheet of thin metallic paneling floated in the void which I carefully pushed aside with my shield. Our suits were breach resistant, but no one ever took a chance with that sort of thing.
On we went, passing the occasional door which would lead to other passageways or small storage rooms, until we reached the end.
"Great, now what?" I asked, the exasperation clear in my voice as we gazed upon another opening clogged by twisted metal beams and jagged pieces of familiar plate.
"Lalaina, get a charge in there."
"It won't help," I remarked. "That's adamantium."
"Unless your name is somehow now Lalaina, keep your mouth shut!" Rakoto snarled. I didn't blame him too much, he was probably wound up by Tahiry's observation as well.
"Claude is right, sergeant," our quiet grenadier confirmed. "It's adamantium. Looks too tightly packed as well. I don't think it will work."
"Just do it!" he ordered.
With a sigh, she complied. Tahiry and I came forward and braced our shields against the direction of the blockage as the others took cover behind them. We couldn't see Lalaina blow the charge, but we felt it go off as it sent a powerful vibration through the area.
'If anything was hunting us, it definitely knows where we are now!' a nasty thought remarked in my mind. I shoved it aside.
"No effect, sergeant," Lalaina said unhelpfully.
"Put one on the ceiling," he ordered in stride. This time, a two-man-wide hole was successfully blown open above us. "Reine, send it."
Our surveyor's magnetized boots thudded against the wall, then the ceiling as she got near the hole before unstrapping her C.A.T from her body. She leaned close to the hole and carefully pushed the bulky drone up until it was floating above the undamaged floor of Indigo-4. A jab at a button on her boxy controller caused a small vibration as the drone's magnets pulled it towards the floor. Once she walked back down, she huddled with the sergeant as they moved the drone around and saw whatever it saw.
I saw all this from brief glances backwards and my own knowledge of what Reine's role was as Tahiry, two armsmen and I had switched our positions to watch the passage we'd come through.
A seemingly endless wait for anything lurking in the dark, truly the worst part of my life. At least when we were moving, there was a sense of security in not being pinpointed.
Eventually, Rakoto spoke up. "Alright, we have a clear path from above. Claude and Tahiry, you two first." He turned away and placed another marker to guide Squad Eight as they trailed behind.
"Yes, sir." I strapped my shield securely to my left arm and my gun to my right. Then, I made my way up the wall and the ceiling. Carefully placing my hands around the closest edge of the hole to avoid any sharp edges, I deactivated the magnets in my boots, then swung my body around until I was hanging off the edge. Pulling with my hands, I propelled myself through the hole. Then, I activated the magnets once more and rotated my body around to land on my feet against Indigo-4's ceiling. Quickly walking down and readying my shield and shotgun, I felt the others repeat my actions until we were once more gathered in the same place.
"Straight ahead, sergeant?" I asked.
"Yes, about 200 meters," he replied.
Waiting for us at the end of the passageway was Reine's C.A.T, looking ahead through an opening. I knew that was just how she'd left it, but my heart skipped a beat when my mind entertained a stray thought that it was seeing something we couldn't.
As she collected the drone and strapped it back against her body, I peered into the opening and saw stairs leading up and down. They were wide, our whole squad could have walked side-by-side without bumping each other on them. Each flight had a landing half-way up where we would u-turn.
"We're close!" Rakoto exclaimed. "Let's see if we can get to Indigo-1 from here."
At the unspoken order, Tahiry and I led the way once more. As we reached the half-way landing, we swept our gun-lumens up and around to give us the slightest chance if-
"Stop!"
I froze at Tahiry's command. "What is it!?" I hissed.
"I…I think I saw something around the corner! I swear I saw movement!" he answered. I could see his gun aimed at the top of the stairs where someone could get off to reach Deck Indigo-3 or continue upward.
Every curse I could levy against xenos and monsters ran through my head, but they could do nothing against the dread that strangled my corpse. The fact that we recently had a thrilling retelling of the story of Squad Nine didn't help either.
In the shadows deep, where the void does weep, stood brave Squad Nine, their oath to keep.
Against the tide of Horus' might, they held their ground in endless night.
I forced my mind to stop running through the incredibly sarcastic lyrics detailing how some of our own had been effortlessly slain by the fallen Angels of Death called the Night Lords. "Well…time to be the next Niners?" I said before instantly regretting it. No one here needed that, least of all me. "Pushing forward."
With slow steps and the widest possible berth given to the corner, I moved ahead, trying to blink as little as possible.
Four meters to the corner.
I reached the top of the steps and swore I felt them creak slightly. Or were they creaking due to some inhuman, bulky weight lying in wait?
Three meters.
My helmet illuminated a piece of Indigo-3, the thought of a hundred rooms-worth of attackers pouring through the passageway seizing my mind.
Two meters.
The trigger tightened under my finger, just slightly, to give me that infinitesimal faster shot. But what difference would it make against a giant power claw rising up to slice me apart?
One meter.
…
…
…
"C-clear," I called out, alone and with a clear view of the whole landing.
Tahiry was beside me in seconds, slamming his shield down at an angle so we had partial cover from anything approaching from Indigo-3. The bootsteps of the rest came as well, more hurried than before.
"Mov…Movin-" I cleared my throat. "Moving up the stairs."
Whatever Tahiry saw, it didn't reappear as we moved upwards, but that did nothing to settle my nerves even as we reached Indigo-1.
"Reine," Rakoto ordered.
Once more, she set down the C.A.T and sent it off into the dark passageway as we waited. An hour must have passed before she spoke up. "I'm there. No obstructions and the power is on."
I checked my chrono and was stunned to see it had only been minutes.
"Just for that room?" Rakoto asked.
"I think so."
With that, we set off once again. It wasn't long before we stopped, but I was feeling the onset of exhaustion from having to move with such tense muscles.
To the right lay an unassuming door, only notable by the lit panel next to it. Sergeant Rakoto examined it. "It's unlocked…that's not a good sign."
"What do you mean, sir?" Tahiry asked.
"This room is one of those used by the elites. You know, officers and people of their ilk. It takes a passcode to open so that if there's ever a riot or outright mutiny, these 'people' would be safe. Feh!" he answered. His was a common sentiment.
"Could someone actually be inside?"
"That's what we're here to see. Claude, take point once I open it."
Silently, the door slid to the right, letting me step into the room and off to the right to make way. Tahiry took up the rear once everyone had entered, bracing his shield against the door frame.
The room itself was clearly packed for maximum efficiency. Racks of food, water, and other essentials were strewn about the room, ruptured containers spilling their contents into the vacuum. A small and partially destroyed sphere of ice hung near the ceiling while some thick brown mixture sat in a frozen lump on the floor. Some chairs and a table must have been smashed against the walls or each other, as splinter-covered wood chips filled the left side of the room. The only undamaged things were the lumens above which completely banished all darkness in the room - even our shadows.
There were only two things of note: a smaller room in the back which was marked as the lavatory, and a long metal box near the center back of the room, easily big enough for someone to lie inside. It was sealed by some powered mechanism, the lights around its lid and the panel on the right side confirmed that.
I moved forward towards the lavatory and found it completely empty, bottles for who-knows-what purpose suspended around me. "Clear!" I called out.
"Lieutenant Tahiry, Sergeant Rakoto. Over." I heard.
"I acknowledge. What is your status? Over."
"We've made it to the location. The room has power, but the atmosphere is totally gone. There's nobody here except a box with some electronic lock on it. Over."
"Send a picture. Over."
Rakoto gestured for Reine to do just that. "Image sent. Over."
There was a brief pause. "Squad Four, that is a vitae pod, there is likely someone inside. Squad Eight is following your markers and should be there in 45 minutes, wait for them and then bring it back to the ship. Over."
"Understood. Out." Turning to the rest of us, Rakoto said, "Stand down, team. We will need all our strength when they get here."
I was only too happy to comply.
An hour passed before Squad Eight reached us, and our two teams worked together to pull the pod out, the responsibility split between an endurant and an armsman from both squads. I was the unlucky one chosen to do that.
It took another 90 minutes to get the damn thing back to our ship, the lack of gravity not as much of a help as a fresh breacher might have thought. Waiting for us in the Sanguine Spear's hangar was Lieutenant Tahiry.
"Take that to the Medicae Quarter," she ordered. "Come on, come on, we don't have all day!"
I groaned in my mind at having to carry the heavy thing, but then I saw the grav-trolley behind her. That made things much easier. We heaved and lifted the pod, carrying it as swiftly as possible until it was placed perhaps a bit too hard on the trolley's shelf.
"Careful!" Rakoto barked. Then he turned to the sergeant from the other squad. "Let them rest, I think. Others should push now." The man agreed, so we stepped back as four others took up the burden of moving it. Our sergeants led the way and the rest of us took up a spot behind the trolley to keep everyone away.
As we passed out of the door to the hangar, another of our transports seemed to arrive. The doors closed before I could see anything, but it seemed to be drawing more attention than I would have expected.
Rakoto put a voice to our curiosity. "I wonder what happened."
"Oh, right, you were deep inside the ship. They decided to take a look at the station that ship is stuck in as well, just as a precaution. No idea why," explained the other sergeant.
It took roughly 30 minutes and one commandeered elevator to reach the Medicae Quarters. Waiting for us was a thickly bearded man in a thick blue uniform with the symbol of the Armada painted in thick, white lines. Below that was the symbol of the Officio Medicae, if I remembered correctly. He guided us into a chirurgy hall which had no patients, just empty gurneys. Shifting one out of the way, he had us move the trolley into its spot, then raised the trolley until it floated at waist height.
The door to the hall opened behind us and several people entered. All but one wore clothing similar to the man who guided us. The unique one was a man wearing red robes with a cog symbol that I had seen before, but had never learned anything about. Was that some odd chirurgical symbol I didn't know about? It was entirely possible.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" our guide asked the robed man.
"Magos Acerak. I'm here because that pod has a notable Warp energy reading. Opening it before we deal with that could be a very, very bad idea."
"I…see. Do you have some way to deal with it?" the guide asked.
"I do." He stepped forward and pulled a gray metal cube out of his sleeve which he placed at the top of the pod, then he did it twice more and placed one on the middle of the lid and the other at the bottom of the pod. "I'll let you know when we can open it."
Where did those cubes even stay on his body? In any case, we shuffled slightly to avoid standing while the magos pulled some odd pistol-looking thing out of his robes and pointed it at the pod. I wasn't entirely certain why we were waiting since this wasn't our responsibility, but I wouldn't complain about getting more rest.
After a few minutes, he spoke up. "Huh, that was fast. Okay, we should be good to go…how do we open it?"
"It's this button," the bearded medicae answered. "Step back." Once the man titled 'magos' was clear, the medicae touched multiple buttons on the panel. Suddenly, the top jerked up slightly like the whistle on a pressure cooker, then swung open on its own. As the closest to whoever was inside, it was fitting that the magos and guide reacted first.
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" the former shouted and practically jumped back. The latter simply collapsed as if he was suddenly boneless.
Then, whoever was inside sat up and the rest of us were compelled to scream.
Beta'd by sarf
Perks Gained:
None
With a thump that gently shook my body as my magnetic boots got close enough to the floor, I landed in the passageway. I quickly took a kneeling stance, my shield and shotgun already aimed squarely at the darkness ahead. The eternity of a second passed before I turned around and waited again.
'Focus, Claude,' I told myself. 'Keep your gun steady.'
The latter was nearly impossible. My heart beat furiously and if not for my gloves, both shield and gun would have slipped away due to sweat.
Another thump came from behind me and to the right, the armored form of Tahiry. He took up his position watching where I'd first looked.
"Clear," I said into my vox.
Following our example, the rest of the team descended from above. After six more thumps, I felt some tension release. Not much, though.
"Lieutenant Tahiry, Sergeant Rakoto. Over," my sergeant said, his voice a bit crackly even though he stood only a meter away.
I heard the lieutenant's strict voice in response. "I acknowledge. Over."
"Deck Indigo-4 is impassable, we've cut a hole down into Indigo-5 roughly 80 meters from the stern-side entrance. Over," the sergeant explained, referring to the deck by its probable name. The first deck we'd come across was called Indigo-2 according to a scratched and dented sign, so we simply assumed the others had a similar naming scheme.
"Another one?" Her sigh was tangible. "Understood. Squad Eight is making their way behind you, they've just reached Marker Two. Keep moving forward. Out."
I frowned at that. We'd blown and cut our way through several narrow points made of pulverized interior walls, deformed pipes and smashed furniture since then.
"Squad, let's move. Claude, you and Tahiry take point," Rakoto ordered.
"You would order your lieutenant around like that?" Tahiry joked. He wasn't particularly funny, and his singular jest regarding the identical name got old fast. Doubly so on duty.
Like a pair of offerings for the mouths in the dark, we walked ahead of the squad by several meters. I could see our shadows ahead due to the multiple lumens coming from our rear, though I kept my eyes trained forward to watch for the slightest movement.
A tightness had instantly coiled in my stomach the moment I was ordered to suit up and prepare for boarding. The briefing had been sparse, just the short words from the voidmaster that our mission was to breach an unknown Imperial ship. We were told it was an honor to get such an easy mission, since good scans of the target ship were available. If I'd had a chance, I would have traded that honor away for my team to be assigned as the secondaries like Squad Eight who were to follow along. Literally every story we told ourselves involved xenos lurking in the dark which destroyed the first squad and left some lucky bastard in the second or third alive after a gruesome fight. Sure, they were just stories, but every story had a small and bloody truth in it. If so, then we were surely going to meet our ends soon.
"Where are the bodies?"
I glanced at Tahiry. "What do you mean?"
"Quiet! Stay focused!" barked Rakoto.
My head went back to face the front, but Tahiry's words raced in my mind and probably everyone else's. We'd come across destroyed machinery and furniture that had to be hacked apart, jammed doors which needed the plasma cutter to push through and collapsed flooring that required demolition charges. But not once had we come across anyone or anything.
Where were the bodies? Had we even come across a bloodstain? I wracked my mind for any story about space creatures or xenos which took their victims without leaving any trace, but none came to mind.
A large sheet of thin metallic paneling floated in the void which I carefully pushed aside with my shield. Our suits were breach resistant, but no one ever took a chance with that sort of thing.
On we went, passing the occasional door which would lead to other passageways or small storage rooms, until we reached the end.
"Great, now what?" I asked, the exasperation clear in my voice as we gazed upon another opening clogged by twisted metal beams and jagged pieces of familiar plate.
"Lalaina, get a charge in there."
"It won't help," I remarked. "That's adamantium."
"Unless your name is somehow now Lalaina, keep your mouth shut!" Rakoto snarled. I didn't blame him too much, he was probably wound up by Tahiry's observation as well.
"Claude is right, sergeant," our quiet grenadier confirmed. "It's adamantium. Looks too tightly packed as well. I don't think it will work."
"Just do it!" he ordered.
With a sigh, she complied. Tahiry and I came forward and braced our shields against the direction of the blockage as the others took cover behind them. We couldn't see Lalaina blow the charge, but we felt it go off as it sent a powerful vibration through the area.
'If anything was hunting us, it definitely knows where we are now!' a nasty thought remarked in my mind. I shoved it aside.
"No effect, sergeant," Lalaina said unhelpfully.
"Put one on the ceiling," he ordered in stride. This time, a two-man-wide hole was successfully blown open above us. "Reine, send it."
Our surveyor's magnetized boots thudded against the wall, then the ceiling as she got near the hole before unstrapping her C.A.T from her body. She leaned close to the hole and carefully pushed the bulky drone up until it was floating above the undamaged floor of Indigo-4. A jab at a button on her boxy controller caused a small vibration as the drone's magnets pulled it towards the floor. Once she walked back down, she huddled with the sergeant as they moved the drone around and saw whatever it saw.
I saw all this from brief glances backwards and my own knowledge of what Reine's role was as Tahiry, two armsmen and I had switched our positions to watch the passage we'd come through.
A seemingly endless wait for anything lurking in the dark, truly the worst part of my life. At least when we were moving, there was a sense of security in not being pinpointed.
Eventually, Rakoto spoke up. "Alright, we have a clear path from above. Claude and Tahiry, you two first." He turned away and placed another marker to guide Squad Eight as they trailed behind.
"Yes, sir." I strapped my shield securely to my left arm and my gun to my right. Then, I made my way up the wall and the ceiling. Carefully placing my hands around the closest edge of the hole to avoid any sharp edges, I deactivated the magnets in my boots, then swung my body around until I was hanging off the edge. Pulling with my hands, I propelled myself through the hole. Then, I activated the magnets once more and rotated my body around to land on my feet against Indigo-4's ceiling. Quickly walking down and readying my shield and shotgun, I felt the others repeat my actions until we were once more gathered in the same place.
"Straight ahead, sergeant?" I asked.
"Yes, about 200 meters," he replied.
Waiting for us at the end of the passageway was Reine's C.A.T, looking ahead through an opening. I knew that was just how she'd left it, but my heart skipped a beat when my mind entertained a stray thought that it was seeing something we couldn't.
As she collected the drone and strapped it back against her body, I peered into the opening and saw stairs leading up and down. They were wide, our whole squad could have walked side-by-side without bumping each other on them. Each flight had a landing half-way up where we would u-turn.
"We're close!" Rakoto exclaimed. "Let's see if we can get to Indigo-1 from here."
At the unspoken order, Tahiry and I led the way once more. As we reached the half-way landing, we swept our gun-lumens up and around to give us the slightest chance if-
"Stop!"
I froze at Tahiry's command. "What is it!?" I hissed.
"I…I think I saw something around the corner! I swear I saw movement!" he answered. I could see his gun aimed at the top of the stairs where someone could get off to reach Deck Indigo-3 or continue upward.
Every curse I could levy against xenos and monsters ran through my head, but they could do nothing against the dread that strangled my corpse. The fact that we recently had a thrilling retelling of the story of Squad Nine didn't help either.
In the shadows deep, where the void does weep, stood brave Squad Nine, their oath to keep.
Against the tide of Horus' might, they held their ground in endless night.
I forced my mind to stop running through the incredibly sarcastic lyrics detailing how some of our own had been effortlessly slain by the fallen Angels of Death called the Night Lords. "Well…time to be the next Niners?" I said before instantly regretting it. No one here needed that, least of all me. "Pushing forward."
With slow steps and the widest possible berth given to the corner, I moved ahead, trying to blink as little as possible.
Four meters to the corner.
I reached the top of the steps and swore I felt them creak slightly. Or were they creaking due to some inhuman, bulky weight lying in wait?
Three meters.
My helmet illuminated a piece of Indigo-3, the thought of a hundred rooms-worth of attackers pouring through the passageway seizing my mind.
Two meters.
The trigger tightened under my finger, just slightly, to give me that infinitesimal faster shot. But what difference would it make against a giant power claw rising up to slice me apart?
One meter.
…
…
…
"C-clear," I called out, alone and with a clear view of the whole landing.
Tahiry was beside me in seconds, slamming his shield down at an angle so we had partial cover from anything approaching from Indigo-3. The bootsteps of the rest came as well, more hurried than before.
"Mov…Movin-" I cleared my throat. "Moving up the stairs."
Whatever Tahiry saw, it didn't reappear as we moved upwards, but that did nothing to settle my nerves even as we reached Indigo-1.
"Reine," Rakoto ordered.
Once more, she set down the C.A.T and sent it off into the dark passageway as we waited. An hour must have passed before she spoke up. "I'm there. No obstructions and the power is on."
I checked my chrono and was stunned to see it had only been minutes.
"Just for that room?" Rakoto asked.
"I think so."
With that, we set off once again. It wasn't long before we stopped, but I was feeling the onset of exhaustion from having to move with such tense muscles.
To the right lay an unassuming door, only notable by the lit panel next to it. Sergeant Rakoto examined it. "It's unlocked…that's not a good sign."
"What do you mean, sir?" Tahiry asked.
"This room is one of those used by the elites. You know, officers and people of their ilk. It takes a passcode to open so that if there's ever a riot or outright mutiny, these 'people' would be safe. Feh!" he answered. His was a common sentiment.
"Could someone actually be inside?"
"That's what we're here to see. Claude, take point once I open it."
Silently, the door slid to the right, letting me step into the room and off to the right to make way. Tahiry took up the rear once everyone had entered, bracing his shield against the door frame.
The room itself was clearly packed for maximum efficiency. Racks of food, water, and other essentials were strewn about the room, ruptured containers spilling their contents into the vacuum. A small and partially destroyed sphere of ice hung near the ceiling while some thick brown mixture sat in a frozen lump on the floor. Some chairs and a table must have been smashed against the walls or each other, as splinter-covered wood chips filled the left side of the room. The only undamaged things were the lumens above which completely banished all darkness in the room - even our shadows.
There were only two things of note: a smaller room in the back which was marked as the lavatory, and a long metal box near the center back of the room, easily big enough for someone to lie inside. It was sealed by some powered mechanism, the lights around its lid and the panel on the right side confirmed that.
I moved forward towards the lavatory and found it completely empty, bottles for who-knows-what purpose suspended around me. "Clear!" I called out.
"Lieutenant Tahiry, Sergeant Rakoto. Over." I heard.
"I acknowledge. What is your status? Over."
"We've made it to the location. The room has power, but the atmosphere is totally gone. There's nobody here except a box with some electronic lock on it. Over."
"Send a picture. Over."
Rakoto gestured for Reine to do just that. "Image sent. Over."
There was a brief pause. "Squad Four, that is a vitae pod, there is likely someone inside. Squad Eight is following your markers and should be there in 45 minutes, wait for them and then bring it back to the ship. Over."
"Understood. Out." Turning to the rest of us, Rakoto said, "Stand down, team. We will need all our strength when they get here."
I was only too happy to comply.
An hour passed before Squad Eight reached us, and our two teams worked together to pull the pod out, the responsibility split between an endurant and an armsman from both squads. I was the unlucky one chosen to do that.
It took another 90 minutes to get the damn thing back to our ship, the lack of gravity not as much of a help as a fresh breacher might have thought. Waiting for us in the Sanguine Spear's hangar was Lieutenant Tahiry.
"Take that to the Medicae Quarter," she ordered. "Come on, come on, we don't have all day!"
I groaned in my mind at having to carry the heavy thing, but then I saw the grav-trolley behind her. That made things much easier. We heaved and lifted the pod, carrying it as swiftly as possible until it was placed perhaps a bit too hard on the trolley's shelf.
"Careful!" Rakoto barked. Then he turned to the sergeant from the other squad. "Let them rest, I think. Others should push now." The man agreed, so we stepped back as four others took up the burden of moving it. Our sergeants led the way and the rest of us took up a spot behind the trolley to keep everyone away.
As we passed out of the door to the hangar, another of our transports seemed to arrive. The doors closed before I could see anything, but it seemed to be drawing more attention than I would have expected.
Rakoto put a voice to our curiosity. "I wonder what happened."
"Oh, right, you were deep inside the ship. They decided to take a look at the station that ship is stuck in as well, just as a precaution. No idea why," explained the other sergeant.
It took roughly 30 minutes and one commandeered elevator to reach the Medicae Quarters. Waiting for us was a thickly bearded man in a thick blue uniform with the symbol of the Armada painted in thick, white lines. Below that was the symbol of the Officio Medicae, if I remembered correctly. He guided us into a chirurgy hall which had no patients, just empty gurneys. Shifting one out of the way, he had us move the trolley into its spot, then raised the trolley until it floated at waist height.
The door to the hall opened behind us and several people entered. All but one wore clothing similar to the man who guided us. The unique one was a man wearing red robes with a cog symbol that I had seen before, but had never learned anything about. Was that some odd chirurgical symbol I didn't know about? It was entirely possible.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" our guide asked the robed man.
"Magos Acerak. I'm here because that pod has a notable Warp energy reading. Opening it before we deal with that could be a very, very bad idea."
"I…see. Do you have some way to deal with it?" the guide asked.
"I do." He stepped forward and pulled a gray metal cube out of his sleeve which he placed at the top of the pod, then he did it twice more and placed one on the middle of the lid and the other at the bottom of the pod. "I'll let you know when we can open it."
Where did those cubes even stay on his body? In any case, we shuffled slightly to avoid standing while the magos pulled some odd pistol-looking thing out of his robes and pointed it at the pod. I wasn't entirely certain why we were waiting since this wasn't our responsibility, but I wouldn't complain about getting more rest.
After a few minutes, he spoke up. "Huh, that was fast. Okay, we should be good to go…how do we open it?"
"It's this button," the bearded medicae answered. "Step back." Once the man titled 'magos' was clear, the medicae touched multiple buttons on the panel. Suddenly, the top jerked up slightly like the whistle on a pressure cooker, then swung open on its own. As the closest to whoever was inside, it was fitting that the magos and guide reacted first.
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" the former shouted and practically jumped back. The latter simply collapsed as if he was suddenly boneless.
Then, whoever was inside sat up and the rest of us were compelled to scream.
Beta'd by sarf
Perks Gained:
None
- Location
- A haze of forgetfulness
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Lmfao oh no. Does our poor magos have any perks useful for killing demons yet?
Not really, it's pre-inquisition even the imperial cult is still ~2,000 years off.