++Biometric scans complete, Homo Sapiens identified++

++Access Granted++

++Beginning download; packet_1++

The Warp. To the many inhabitants of the Milky Way galaxy, the Warp is different things.

To the untainted humans, it is a begrudging coexistence; the hellish domain is the sanctuary of the damned, spawn place of heresy, mutation, and also the only reliable means of travel from point A to point B. So while there may be a few cases of a-sploding heads during Warp travel, and maybe a few errant demons to space out an air lock after a holy bolter shell or twenty goes through what passes for its face, it is a small price to pay for interstellar travel. Oh, and time travel. Don't forget time travel. Lots of fucky shit in the Warp. Dangerous to humans.

To the Tau, it is merely something to hope ravages the enemy, for the Greater Good has shielded them from the horrors of it, (and removed their souls in the process, filthy xenos).

To the Orks, well...no one's really sure what they collectively think of the Warp, or if they think of the Warp at all. Any one that has gone to ask has never come back. Thus, attempts to ask the Orks for their input to this entry has been diverted elsewhere.

To the Necrons, we've decided to group them in with the Orks, as they don't really speak. Ever. Not even Yo-Mama jokes provoke them into speaking. Then there's the whole thing with them flaying people alive with their weaponry. Yeah, their input is forfeit as well.

To the Space Elv-...er I mean Eldar, the Warp is mostly a curse, still being stingy about causing the whole ruckus in the first place back in the 25th millennium (Human Calendar) having literally fucked each other so hard that in one intense orgasm, gave birth to the God of Debauchery, Slaanesh. And they're still grouchy about it, and now that mankind is paying the price for it, they're still aloof of our petty troubles. Lazy xenos.

To the Dark Eldar, the Warp is...well, for the most part, they hate the warp with the same abandon that the regular Eldar do, just that they handle their frustrations by being sadistic, cowardly pirates.

To the Tyrannids...yeah, another group like the Orks and Necrons. My investigative team has refused to attempt contact, stating they already got flayed by Necrons, and almost WAAAAGH'd to death by the Orks. And thus, playing 'Nid bait for a few opinions from creatures whose most intelligent response to date is a roar before biting off your head, wasn't high on their list of things to do before the end of the month. (Such lack of opinion was later confirmed after I disposed of my team and acquired another one.)

To the traitorous sons of bitches that make up the Traitor Legions, no doubt the Warp is a heaven for whatever hell they prefer, be it debauchery, decay, death, or being constantly mind-fucked.

~ Exerpt from Studies on the Warp, pages 897-898, Volume III, notable radical Inquisitor Feorn Persus, Ordo Xenos

++ 0101000001100001011101010111001101100101++

258.998.M41

While his mortal form sat upon the Golden Throne, the Emperor of Mankind's consciousness was ever patrolling, ever vigilant in plugging holes in the Warp that his traitorous sons tore, that most of the tide might be staved off while humanity can rebuild, or try to rebuild. And as such, while patrolling, there are infinitely large lapses in between psychic engagements (If one is fast enough or powerful enough), in of which, a deity from another universe came a knocking.

He was calmly observing the Crusade launched by the Black Templars to the planet of Armageddon, one of his most reverent and wholly zealous gatherings of unruly grandsons he'd ever seen, when the diety made his presence known.

"Ahh...Jesus, isn't it?" he asked, conjuring up a little more appropriate setting for them to be meeting, like his throne room on Terra.

The white robed Messiah bowed a little in polite greeting, "Kemal, good to see you again. You're looking..." he looked at the Emperor's decayed form sitting on the Golden Throne then back to the psychic manifestation "Well preserved for the times, my friend."

"Why thank you. How's the ribcage?" the Emperor jested back. In response the Prince of Peace stretched to one side a little, groaning.

"Still not quite healed. That guy had one hell of a sharp sword, let me tell you," he said. The Emperor nodded, knowing there was more to the small deity's presence than just friendly banter.

"So what brings you here?" the Emperor asked, getting directly to the heart of the matter.

"Well...alright. I screwed up. I was imprinting this galaxy right, another one with humans in it," the Emperor nodded accordingly, "And then this bird thing comes over and asks if I want some help. Since it'd speed up the process, I say 'Sure, why not?' being Prince of Peace and all. Well, turns out that bird created this race of machines that recycles all organic life every 50,000 years or so. Sound familliar?"

"A tad familiar. It's beginning to sound like you got Tzeentch'd," the Emperor said offhand. The mental ear-to-ear smirk not evident in his voice. "Go on."

"So then I try to create heroes and stop this, but it's just not working. All of my heroes end up dead and the cycle continues. Well, now humanity is reaching out wards from Earth, and it should be linking up with the rest of the races...now. And I need a hero, because I already got a glimpse of the hero I chose, this guy named Shepard, Commander Michael Shepard, Alliance fleet, he dies before the cycle is stopped. So...I'm gonna need a hero. Got a one or two to spare?"

The Emperor thought for a (fraction of a) moment. Heroes he had in abundant supply. Each one of his Astartes could easily take on the challenge and come out victorious. But...maybe. Why stop at just saving that universe if Tzeentch has it's claws in it? The Messiah would be back, asking for more heroes. And he'd have to send more and more. But why not just avoid that altogether? Could it work? Just maybe. Maybe this'll work. The chances are slim, but that's what his advisors told him before he created the Astartes. It'll work. The hero would have to have plenty of starting capital and have an open enough mind to survive the transition. After scanning the souls waiting to be born, he knew just the person to send.

"Alright. I've got a few to spare. I'll send them when I can, but what's my deadline?" he asked.

"Deadline...?Oh, right. It's 26 years from today is when Shepard will depart on his fatal mission. Try to not cut it too close. I've put a lot of work into this universe, and my Father's already mad at me as is. Still thinks I'm a rebellious teenager. Can you believe it?"

"Yeah. I can. You got Tzeentch'd after all," the Emperor said with a smile, "No problem. I'll send him before Shepard leaves for the mission. 25 years, 51 weeks. Alright?"

"Alright. Thanks man. I owe you. Big time," Jesus said with relief. The Emperor nodded slowly.

"Say, if you want to get rid of your debt right now, I've got this bastard of a Black Crusade in the making at the Cadian Gate. If you'd be so kind as to clear that up with a few miracles and genius moves, I'd consider us even." The Emperor smiled his kissing babies face (when he did kiss babies, eons ago). He could tell it worked on one of the kindest deities in existence. In fact, he knew it would. It had in the past.

"Cool. Shouldn't be too much trouble..." Jesus muttered to himself and left for the Cadian Gate. The Emperor smiled smugly. Yes. He knew just the person to send. It was high time for him to prove himself.

++Download packet_1 Complete++

++Thought for the day: Success is measure in blood. Yours, or your enemy's++