"The common man is like a worm in the gut of a corpse, trapped inside a prison of cold flesh, helpless and uncaring, unaware even of the inevitability of its own doom."
— attributed to Gregor Vindicus IV, a once-prominent planetary governor who was excommunicated in 364.M41 on charges of heresy and conspiracy to attempt planetary secession.
Alarms blared. Red warning lights pulsed in the communication centre, reflecting off freshly spilled blood and filling the room with a crimson glow. Communicae Officer Hogart Alisarus shivered as he dragged himself into a control chair with his remaining arm, partly out of the shock from the trauma he had sustained, and partly out of sheer terror.
Hogart had to consciously remember to use his left hand to type on the control console, for he was instinctively inclined to use his right hand, despite no longer having a right hand to use. Every character typed into the console required a conscious, straining effort, between the unnatural feeling of using only his left hand and the fact that his arm felt stiff and heavy like lead. But Hogart moved with purpose: it was up to him alone to send out a distress call, otherwise the entire planet would succumb to heretical savagery without any notice from the rest of the Imperium of Man.
About halfway through composing the message, Hogart's concentration was broken by the sound of metal crashing against metal as something heavy smashed into blast doors that sealed away access to the room. Hogart's heart sank, and his chest clenched with dread. The sound repeated itself, continuing to do so, each crash sounding angrier and more forceful than the last.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Hogart continued typing, cringing with each crashing clang of metal on metal. Soon, however, the banging stopped, only to be replaced by the muffled, sucking hiss of a welding torch being lit on the other side of the doorway, quickly accompanied by crackling as it began melting through the thick metal plate.
Finishing the message, the hissing ceased as Hogart hurriedly looked over the message one final time. He hit the send button frantically as the newly-loosened metal groaned and smashed against the floor. But just before he could confirm the sending of his message, a white-hot beam of energy streaked across the room from the now-open doorway, carving a blackened, smouldering hole directly through Hogart's cranium. His head fell limply against the keyboard, dead. But while his killers hurried away, a tone chimed faintly as Hogart's nose rolled off of the "enter" key.
Message successfully sent. Transmitting...