Author's note: Hi, and welcome to my first attempt at writing something that isn't for school and is still readable. There are plenty of crossovers between 40K and other well-established sci-fi verses, and I've found myself enjoying several of them. So I wanted to try setting up a somewhat generic, militarized sci-fi society on the edge of Imperium territory as a backdrop for... another thing? *confidence drops 50%* Hope you guys like it.
Oh yeah.
Disclaimer: I don't own anythin' in 'dis, itz all Games Workshop's fault.
In the morning cycle of a small, inhabited planet that no one alive really cared about, a spirited, cheerful scientist was ready for another day at work. After eating breakfast and making sure he hadn't forgotten anything important, he boarded a tram to get to his shift.
Coincidentally, a security guard whom he'd met on the first day was on it as well. The scientist noticed curiosity tugging at his mind, and indulges it. He was with a friend, after all, nothing bad would come from what he planned to discuss.
The security officer was incredibly hungover. Parties and all that good stuff. The newest passenger, however, didn't notice.
"Good morning Mr. Ramsen!"
Too loud. Definitely too loud. The scientist clearly didn't have any ill intent though.
"Morning, doctor."
Having successfully initiated a conversation, the scientist leaned towards the guard conspiratorially, as if he was about to share a secret that could end the universe just by being talked about too freely.
"Have you heard the rumors about what our colleagues are up to? It's unbelievable."
Mister Ramsen was about to ask just what these rumors were, until he remembered what all the 'off-topic discussion' had been about the day before. He cringed, unable to hide it from his oblivious coworker.
"When the hell are they not up to something? It's just rumors, it's always been that way. Probably just ran out of ideas for messes to make."
"That's a bit harsh, but..."
The scientist paused for a moment, unable to find the right words for his statement, before he simply laughed.
"Well, I'm sure you know Mr. Kennings, right?"
Who didn't know would be a more interesting question, the perpetually 'inquisitive' engineer was practically a celebrity around the place.
"Yeah."
The scientist looked incredibly excited to Ramsen at that point.
"He says that for the past six months, Gateway Research has been making a lot less noise than usual, but they're recruiting for personnel more aggressively than ever. You remember the last time it was like this?"
The recovering officer's face looked extremely thoughtful, likely because it was taking a huge amount of effort for him to respond.
"Before that subsidiary of theirs, Monolith Medical, released a new line of laxatives. Kennings started the rumors about those, if I remember right."
If the sarcasm in that statement had been noticed, the cheery scientist showed no signs.
"Very good point. But you do recall that giant information breach last year? Same behavior from Gateway."
The guard sighed.
"What can we do about it? It's not like we're the ones who have to worry about violently dying 'for science'."
There was silence for a few minutes, which the suffering security guard was deeply grateful for.
"Well, this part of the facility is where I get off! Have a good day, Mister Ramsen."
The doctor was a nice person, despite his inability to notice social cues, and he couldn't just let him walk away like that.
"Have fun."
The scientist got off the tram, inhumanly excited about another day at work. The security guard promised to himself to never try anything with the word 'tequila' in the name again.
In a place distant in terms of both physical location and time period, a politician lamented the state of his government to a trusted subordinate. In a subordinate's perpetual paranoia, always making sure to discreetly record everything around herself, the woman had caught something well above her pay grade.
It's a shame how some people grow up without ever seeing anything more than toxic smog and cracked concrete. Everyone around here, they've grown up being able to peek through a window and see the stars during the night cycle. The people of this planet take pride in this, in how space is still visible at night despite our industry and way of life. Indeed, some of the younger ones around here, they wish to see what's out there. They find the pull of the stars irresistible. They think glory, fortunes, and power lies out there, and it is theirs to find.
They are wrong. But their ignorance is understandable, for to be human in this age is to be spoon fed propaganda about the superiority of the monolithic Imperium Of Man. It's not like I never felt the same when I was their age.
Heresy, you say? I don't think you truly understand what that word means, my friend. I wasn't always a Planetary Governor of an out-of-the-way planet that conveniently was my homeworld, Adept. I used to be a proud and, dare I say, competent officer in the Imperial Guard. I fought and bled against monsters that literally boiled my comrades' blood under their skin whilst flaying them alive, against sadistic xenos covered in pointy blades and slow acting toxins, and against traitors armed with flying tanks and rifles that killed my friends from a kilometer out.
As you can see, I survived where so many of my colleagues did not. Of course, being on good relations with a superior whose daughter I married helped, but a man lacking strategy and initiative in my position would have been by the Emperor's side much sooner than he would've likely planned for.
It all taught me that ignorance may be bliss, but only for so long. I know that the Imperium as it is is but a shadow of what it once was, hindered by corruption, lack of leadership, and a miasma of utter incompetence.
I know that the Adeptus Mechanicus oil themselves over the ruins down south because this planet used to be a place of high technology and knowledge millennia ago, something it will never be again.
I know that even without being under direct attack many planets are struggling to hold their own lines against the Tyranid filth.
I know that the Arch-Heretic is readying yet another Black Crusade and the previous dozen or so were just a warm-up session for the traitorous scum, although just about everyone knows about the daemonic incursions occurring every couple hundred years.
I know that the arrogant Eldar xenos are putting together the final pieces of their plan to survive whatever they call their final battle against Chaos. Good riddance.
And I know that the forces of the Emperor are, everyday, being sent into combat more and more often and dying in ever greater numbers to buy time for the rest of us. Some even dare to claim that even His Angels will not be enough to plug the innumerable gaps in the defense. They always disappear sooner or later.
The face is not necessary, Adept. Think about it. All this talk about battles being won means that there are wars being fought, likely more than ever before. If any other battles were victories, they would not have been conveniently forgotten. That means we are losing ground, slowly, perhaps, but surely. It does not take much effort to confirm that.
I am not my counterpart on the next habitable planet over. If you're taking notes, that man isn't fit to run anything more than the simplest data entry operations, and should be relegated as soon as possible to such a job. But I digress. I keep an ear out, because in this world, one does not need to look for trouble in order to meet it.
The Imperium is crumbling, ever so slowly, and this is the truth, as much as how a Guardsman is worth less than the lasguns we give them. It is the forty second millennium. Whatever passed for hope in the previous millennia is dead, and all that's left in this forsaken galaxy for those bright-eyed children is war.
May our Holy God-Emperor have mercy upon us all. The gates are beginning to give in under the strain, and the light is dying precisely when we need its guidance most.
Of course, this is never spoken of by anyone who might have heard the conversation or its records. To speak of such things, or to act on it, is to risk creating unrest and heresy where there was none, or at least not enough to earn the ire of the ever-watchful Inquisition. It would be disastrous if there was a leak and the wider populace learned about the subjects of the discussion.
After all, the continually temperamental masses cannot be trusted with such dangerous power.
In a more rational and less nihilistic world, a group of underpaid and overworked scientists, engineers, and technicians toiled to run an experiment to confirm a potentially monumental scientific breakthrough, with emphasis on underpaid and overworked.
"Sensor package functional. Power supply stable. All systems working within acceptable tolerance levels. Testing room fully sealed. The recorders are ready, and so is the test, doctor."
The head of the project nodded.
"All right, good. Before we start, I would like to say a few choice words. It has been from Gateway Research that the technology and knowledge that allowed mankind and its allies to not only survive, but thrive in an uncaring galaxy, was created."
He paused. The project's newest overseer had a certain reputation, backed by accomplishments and a few, less savory, actions. He looked at every other staff member present in the eye to make sure they weren't sleeping through everything. Nobody had dared to slack off under his watch. He continued, and a few, more on edge than the others, breathed small sighs of relief.
"From us came the FTL drives that are found in just about every spacecraft in the known universe, and power generators that don't require incredibly rare materials to build or explode on touch. Despite the hardship, this will undoubtedly be the next great thing to come from the best and brightest at Gateway. We have come a long way since the beginning of this project, when it was just an idea on paper shared between a small group of visionaries and thinkers."
He turned away from the group of men, women, and one AI avatar to look at the culmination of all their time and effort on a large, meter thick piece of reinforced armorglass. No one really used the imperial or customary systems anymore in any situation, although a handful of devices could still do the conversions between the metric system and inches.
"And if all goes as planned, we will be remembered as revolutionaries of our time, the ones who made space-time manipulation possible for mankind. Commence testing."
The face of the scientist next to him, the one who had delivered the good news, curved upwards ever so slightly with pride.
"Input one megawatt, in increments of 100 kilowatts."
A few scientists and technicians interacted with the control display and a few prominently placed, rather old-school buttons and dials on a console.
"Slight deviancy, within predicted levels Dr. Jennings. No change in tested variable."
"Increase total power to two megawatts, same increments."
"Slight change in tested variable doctor, clocks no longer in sync by about 5 milliseconds."
A rare, thin smile broke out on the veteran scientist's face.
"Don't break the champagne out yet, boys and girls, although we do have some very good vintage from the sixth millennium in the house. We need to know how this effect scales up in response to power input. Push the system to five megawatts. Same increments."
A woman in the midst of flicking some switches suddenly looked rather distracted. No one, including the technician overseeing the experiment's progress, noticed.
"Increasing to five megawatts. I'm reading major fluctuations in the system, doctor. Barely within our established tolerance parameters. Cameras picking up distortion in the testing chamber."
A flicker of surprise and understanding appeared in the eyes of the then-frozen woman.
"My God."
The overseer suddenly looked slightly annoyed at being interrupted, although the expression didn't last.
"What is it?"
Righteous anger was unleashed.
"That's where the budget for the anti-mass spectrometer went, wasn't it? Of all the things you could have spent billions of credits on, you chose two millennia old alcohol."
Just retribution was returned.
"And during what could be a momentous scientific success in human and Federation history, you choose to discuss the project budget. Keep going, at worst we'll put the shielding and the sensors to the test."
The previously indignant complainant now looks sufficiently chastened, but the damage to morale had been done. A scientist doing actual work managing the test, expressed more relevant concerns.
"Scenarios 33-78 within realm of possibility, now."
Realizing he'd slipped up on control, the overseer moved quickly to squash the dissent.
"Those are worst case scenarios. Still not likely to happen. Don't make Informational Security doubt your loyalty, Researcher Salim. I'd prefer not to have to take over the controls of as big a project as this."
An uncommitted staffer looked over, quickly looking away due to natural survival instincts. Yet despite any implied threats, the recipient of any such messages wasn't fazed.
"I fully believe you. Clocks out of sync by about 50 milliseconds. Power supply getting some feedback from the system, but it's low enough to not interfere with the experiment. Some nonessential sensors appear to be malfunctioning. Scenarios 34-50 appearing very much possible now."
Any hostility on the senior scientist's face had by then disappeared, satisfied by submission.
"Check on the emergency systems. Continue to five megawatts, the area of effect doesn't seem to have spread beyond the initial ranges."
The junior scientist found fault with this, however, his face looking up from gently glowing monitors.
"The evacuation procedures are ready to be enacted, but is pushing the system this far necessary? We can already tell throwing in more power boosts the effects of the equipment, as well as what those effects are."
Reasonable question. Resonance cascades and the like had come from pushing gear too far beyond their specifications.
"We can always cut off the power if it gets out of hand. And we've got the proper gear for an evac. Don't worry about it. In the meantime, we need to complete the data set, so someone working on what comes out of this doesn't miss something and cause a real accident."
Strange logic, but it made sense to those listening.
"System receiving sustained input rate of five megawatts a minute. Data successfully encrypted and transferred to the CSS Enlightening View. Significant amount of feedback to power supply, therefore activating emergency cutoff and shutting down all systems in experiment."
"See, perfectly simple experiment. Nothing went wrong."
For a full second, there was complete silence, impossible when moments ago there were a dozen people moving around and talking before the word 'simple' described their test. If any of the people in the room were more sensitive, they would have noticed a palpable aura of dread hanging over the suddenly terrified staffers.
As with other convenient, unexplained plot events, the chaos began with a single sentence.
"Testing room sensors dead."
The previously rather uninterested monitor of the test, also known as rebellious scientist Researcher Salim, started panicking.
"I cut the power, but the device is somehow generating its own. And before you ask, no, that was not part of the intended design. Damn it, everything was going well until you dropped in the word 'simple'!"
The others in the room, with the exception of the AI(due to incapacity for fear), were all terrified, be it by the fact that they might very well be casualties in a disastrous experiment or that one of their coworkers had just spoken to their boss in such a disrespectful manner. But the boss was in a good mood. The job was done, after all, and there was yet any paperwork to be done for the staff members.
"This is going quite well. Proceed to evacuation points immediately. I'll take care of the servers and the device. We can figure out the energy producing characteristics of this device later, but only if we're alive to rebuild it."
After security officers and scientific staff ran in an orderly fashion to a large, well-kept shuttle, a distress signal was sent out to the 43-year-old Enlightening View, per standard protocol. The re-purposed frigate noticed, among other things, a spike of energy emissions within a planetary system from which it had received a correctly coded distress signal, containing some important information about a secret project.
Other things it had noticed were a drastic and unexpected change in the constellations around it, which was drawing a lot more attention than the problems of some far off people. The calmer ones wondered whether the timing of the three events was more than just suspiciously coincidental. Back at the super-secret project, one man was trying to cheer everyone else up until his superior returned from the server rooms.
"Whoops. Everyone all right? You look rather unhappy Salim, cheer up. We did our job, and the drinks are still good. Look, we've got cups!"
The general mood improved immensely at that.
And while cups were filled and laughter was shared, far away a stream of images and scenes flowed through the mind of a leader at sleep. Though disjointed and vague, they weren't simply nonsensical dreams, or mere recollections of his past. They were the future, the skeins of fate, something which would've driven a weak mind to madness just with a glimpse.
Slowly at first, they came, and he was able to casually browse them at his leisure and dismiss them at his will. But faster and faster and faster and faster they came, in a seemingly endless wave, until he couldn't tell them apart, and until a loud, out-of-place noise suddenly pierced the silence. He shouted.
"Brothers! Sisters! You are not alone! We are-"
Looking around, he found he was alone in his room, with everything but the lamp on the floor in its proper place. The poor thing had belonged to his teacher, with sculpting done by long-dead savants and artists, and now it had a crack running down the side of its wraithbone shell. It could be healed. It could have been much worse.
But as his heart rate slowed, until it was merely significantly faster than a human under duress, he was busy thinking about what he had just watched. Despite all his power, all his mental fortitude, he couldn't recall exactly the things he had seen. At the same time, even though no one else would hear, the psyker felt that he had to say something to describe his feelings about it.
"This is going to be hard to explain."
Whether it was about the lamp, or about what he suspected were serious portents of danger(the mon-keigh were always danger), he couldn't say.
A/N: Criticism and explanations as to what I could do better would be really appreciated! I'm not sure if I made the conversations too vague to follow(making dialogue the focus was my intention here) and if the events leading up to the new guys landing in the 40th millennium, birthplace of "grimdarkness," were too convenient, as I didn't want to spend a lot of time and text on something that's pretty implausible in the first place. Although I'm still not sure about the name, that might change...