Disturbing the Hive
The air was chilled, almost icy. Huge ventilation ducts spanned the upper walls, their foreboding presence reverberating a constant, numbing roar from the shadows. Humanity should not be here.
The thought stung Jecht like a knife from the shadows, his face twisting and contorting with each slow, relentless step onwards. Below, the frozen plasteel panels rattled and creaked in defiance of his passage, their surface one untouched by human feet for decades.
Pulling the butt of his rifle tighter to his shoulder, he pressed on, reassured slightly by the tingling feel of condensation freezing on the back of his neck. As if on cue, the Cadian noticed a gentle palm urging him forward.
"Of all the days to get point…" he muttered aloud, relying on the drone from above to hide his words.
He swung his fire arc from side to side; bathed the frosted walls in an eerie ultraviolet. Under the glare of his barrel-torch, the ancient stone revealed hundreds of faded messages, manual diagrams and even graffiti from bygone eras, all hopelessly entombed in ice equally as old.
Shivering violently, Jecht quickened his pace, the warmth of the mess hall his mind's escape from the unparalleled cold of reality.
Without warning the curtain of shadow gave way before him, the unlit corridor suddenly expanding away into a large, circular chamber.
Within lurked the ominous shapes of vast power conduits, each one surrounded by dozens of smaller consoles and monitors. "I guess that's why it's so cold in here," Jecht spoke, the vapours from his breath spiralling off into the shadows above. Raising his torch, he illuminated the four massive thermo-plasma generators, their archaic, adamantium structures leering down at him through the ultraviolet.
"An emperor damned dead end is what it is!" came the familiar sharp tone of Jecht's squad Sergeant Valerie, as he pushed to the front of the squad and on into the room. The rest of the unit followed warily, a multitude of torches desperately fighting back the chill darkness.
"But why is the climate control still active if these boys are powered down?" rose the voice of leftenant Mecca from behind, "It wouldn't make sense to drain the hive's reserve to keep it active if there's none being put back in return."
Valerie's reply was instant and rang clearly with sarcasm, "I don't think anything in this damned forsaken tomb rightly makes sense Mek. I'd give as good a guess as any to that being the reason why his emperor's finest have been thrown in the fridge to find out."
Brushing off some accumulated frost with the back of his glove, the heavily scarred sergeant peered down at one of the control panels and the array of controls on the display, "While we're here, might be some use in getting these things started up again. All this UV is giving me a headache. Mek see what you can do."
Leaving the others to work the control panels, Jecht shouldered his lasrifle and moved over to the conduits themselves. Shaped like four pillars, the generators were indeed colossal, disappearing upwards beyond the range of his light. Up to where nothing could pierce the inky blanket of shadow.
Wiping away the layers of crystal-like frost, Jecht studied the large warning illustration emblazoned in thick, black font on one of the conduits, its grizzly message reading like an epitaph.
In case of catastrophe, enable manual shutdown to avoid core failure
"What the hell happened here?" the shock trooper asked aloud, tracing the message with his finger. As if in mechanic reply, the generators sprang into sudden life, buzzing and humming as the power initiation process began. Groaning under the immense stress, the ancient machines slowly rose from slumber.
From the corner of his eye, Jecht spotted something against the rim of the outer wall. Shining like white pearls in his ultraviolet, Jecht moved over to the strange substance, curious as to what could survive the years so well. Kneeling down, he leant his lasrifle against the wall, pulling a separate, smaller torch from his belt.
Flicking the switch, he stopped to smile a little; the natural glow of the regular bulb a welcome change from the unworldly hue of ultraviolet. Yet gazing down, his momentary feelings of appreciation quickly dissipated to that of the gnawing sensation of fear, "Blood?"
Around and above him the generator casings slid apart. Marked with the grinding of metal and the cracking of ice, the massive chamber was filled with an unbearable cascade of sound, shattering the previous silence. Soon the glow of blue plasma filled the icy atmosphere as the conduits revealed their swirling cargo. The shadows above quickly relented, revealing the spherical expanse in its true glory.
The sight was magnificent, even enough to turn the storm trooper away from the frozen blood at his feet. Each of the pillar-like conduits stretched upwards through the shaft for what seemed like miles, beyond the comprehension of mere human eyesight. Lines of raw electricity crackled to and fro between the conduits and to individual transistors on the surrounding wall. Even above the furious racket, Jecht could hear the awestruck cries of the rest of his squad, "By the Emperor! This must be the main hive supply!"
Grimacing slightly, Jecht grabbed for his lasgun and followed the blood trail around the side of one of the generators. The air was already growing noticeably warmer and he had to pause to wipe nervous sweat from his brow.
The sight that confronted him at the end was less than magnificent. Across one of the control panels lay a corpse, its face frozen in perpetual horror. "Arbiter…" Jecht whispered, noticing the Arbites insignia on the late peacekeeper's carapace. The thick armour had been torn through as if mere paper, its unfortunate occupant's spine being ripped out.
Jecht span away, his heart racing. The previous grinding of the thermo generators had given way to a deep, pulsing drone. It rose to shake the very floor beneath for one moment, before dropping to silence the next. As the plasma ebbed and surged, so the temperature rose.
The Cadian Trooper poured with sweat as his mind struggled to deal with the situation. Sweet Emperor what is going on in this place? the thoughts careered through his mind like stars drifting past on the passage of the warp stream. The relentless droning echoed through his ears, resonating across his very soul. Doubling over, he retched violently, struggling desperately to keep himself from vomiting.
Staggering back to the others, Jecht gasped at the air. He was in danger, they all were. He called out desperately. Futile. He was too late.
The attack was fast. Too fast for something so large. Too fast for anything. The sergeant was dead in seconds, his face a mangled wreck. Two more died bringing their rifles to bear, the creature's claws working like a machine to dismember them.
Mek screamed in defiance and unleashed a long cylinder of liquid fire towards the alien visage. Jecht's hopes rose as he brought his rifle to aim; he'd never seen anything survive when Mek set his flamer to it. Yet whatever this thing was, no incinerator was going to cause harm. It simply slithered to one side, dodging the worst of the flames before surging forward and brushing the burly leftenant aside as if he were but a fly. The freshly disembowelled man span around, his mouth wide with agony and horror. With a finger still fast on the trigger, the rest of the Shock squadron could only scream as they received the full force of the ghastly weapon at close range. Skin melted on contact with the white hot promethium and lasfire crackled around the chamber as the poor men fired in spasm.
Jecht dropped to his knees, gagging and retching. He wanted so desperately to bring his rifle to bear. To die fighting. To die well. Yet he couldn't. He felt useless. Like a baby in his mother's arms. He could only look up for one final sight of horror, as the monstrous creature slithered inevitably towards him. He had never seen anything like it before; a long, glistening, snake-like torso; six huge, scything claws. As it drew closer the massive bone-weapons stretched back, as if in anticipation of the final, fatal embrace.
From above, the inexorable din of the generators warped and contorted the air. As it rose and fell, so the vile creature swayed, matching its movement to the rhythm of the plasma. With it, Jecht began to sway too, hypnotised by the baleful dance.
Gazing up into the alien's twisted face, his breath caught and held. Below the bone mandibles that clicked and scratched with its excitement, Jecht registered the grin etched across its face…
The shadow consumed him, pulling and tearing at his senses.
Strange that death could be so painless.
A lone voice echoed around him, its cruel, robotic tone seeming to drag him from the warmth and safety of the darkness. What it spoke he could not make out, the words seeming strangely alien and unworldly. Yet strangely he knew that the language was his own.
"Sector command; All guardsmen to report immediately to respective lander bays. Planetfall to commence at 08:00 hours. You will be briefed en route to your landing zones."
Jecht's eyes sprung open, though he could see nothing. The glare from above left him paralysed, mute. Desperately he struggled against it, trying to find his bearings against the unceasing racket from the command vox.
"Sector command; 'You are the children of his will. Fear not evil nor pain. Fear only the righteous wrath of his iron might, lest you fail in service of his glorious name! Praise him, and you shall live forever!"
"Up you get boys and girls! I hope you've dreamt of home caus' there's no time for that where we're going. Up! Up!" the voice was crudely familiar.
Valerie? Jecht let the name cross his thoughts, rubbing vigorously at his half closed eyes, all the while attempting to sit straight in his bunk. As his feet hit the chill plasteel below, the truth became wholly apparent.
Yet he had watched them die! Every one of them!
"Damned warp dreams. Why can't they pull out of the stream at night, so I can at least get a few hours of sleep without my head feeling like the fallout from a frellin' Amasec binge." the voice came from above, shortly followed by the arrival of leftenant Mecca, leaping down to his side, already half dressed in his black, dusty flak armour, "You alright there Jecht? Demons didn't get to you too bad I hope?"
The young Cadian met his superior's grinning gaze, his head cradled heavily in his hands, "Just a dream?" he asked, surprised to even hear his own voice. Mek's only reply was a short laugh as he headed off to rouse the others.
Jecht returned his gaze to the floor below. It had seemed so real. He remembered every sensation, every image, every drop of blood, and with cruel detail. He had no idea where it was they were being sent. No idea what they were even doing here. Yet he knew that whatever their purpose was, the dreadful reverie of the past night could only be an omen. A bad omen…