The Scouring of Siphon IV

by Pollardinator

When the Imperial world of Siphon IV comes under attack from a Tyranid Hive Fleet its citizens rally to defend it. And yet,as one squad amongst an army of millions soon finds out, war is never as simple as that. With ancient prophecy coming true and Space Marine task forces and Inquisition spies infesting the planet the war soon takes sinister and unexpected turns for the worse.

1. Prologue- Prelude to War

The Scouring of Siphon IV

By Pollardinator and Spaceman727

'Deep beneath the halls of man, the Warrior begins to wake'

101101

Adeptus Terra Administratum Report 101010101010001

Produced on the Order of Lord Castellan Constantine and for his eyes only

Planetary Report- Siphon IV (Siphon System, Uhlis Sector)

Orbital Distance- 2.0 AU

Temp. 34 T.D (Terran Degrees- see attached chart 5C for details) (Summer Months), -9 T.D (Winter Months)

Climate-

The climate of Siphon IV, like its neighbour Siphon III (The only other habitable planet in the system- Siphon I and II being gas giants populated with a few dozen orbital mining platforms) has a fluctuating climate partially caused by the planet's irregular axis. (See attached ammendum 4E for Climate Survey Report). The 'summer' season is marked by warm temperatures and a climate more suited for a high yielding agri-world. The winter however, sees the temperature drop dramatically, near overnight, to lows of around -9, with snow and blizzards common. Native plants have adapted to this with a highly accurate and evolved hibernation system. Attempts to accurately plot these changes have been hampered by a simultaneous lack of interest by Imperial surveying groups and the fact that Siphon IV's predominant industries (Mining and heavy industry/refinement) are unaffected by climate fluctuations. Winters are harsh but bearable for the population- no further study needed.

Designation- Mining-Class Hive World-

Despite its designation as a Hive World, Siphon IV only possesses one city- Hive City Polaris, a sprawling city of approximately 1000 square miles (Making it one of the smallest Hive Cities on record). The overwhelming majority of the planet's population, industry and government is based here. Besides a few hundred mining facilities and a dozen large towns, the planet is largely uninhabited, mainly due to a lack of any real resources beyond the area around Polaris and the fluctuating seasons making permanent settlement hazardous without direct transport and supply links.

Hive City Polaris forms the economic, cultural and administrative heart of the planet, with its countless space ports, refineries, industrial plants and hab blocks forms a lone bastion of civilisation in a largely unexplored wilderness. The cities twenty major districts are each the size of a large city themselves, and each has a different specialisation (Trade, industry, habitation etc.). The city is unique amongst Hive Cities in that it is not entirely made up of the mile high towers that most consist of, and is mainly a sprawl of large scale hab blocks and industrial plants close to the ground. Only three city towers exist (Avaltine, Capitoline, Palatine), clustered around the city centre.

Population- estimates around 1 billion (Note- Census still underway)

Principal Exports- Munitions, factory goods, processed metals, geodes, quarried stone, techno-grunge music

History- The Siphon System was first colonised by the Imperium of Mankind approximately a thousand years ago. The primary reason for this was the discovery of one of the fabled 'Blackstone Fortress' space stations in orbit between Siphon III and IV. Although the exact nature (And connection to the six Blackstone Fortresses used and fought over by Battlefleet Gothic and the forces of Abaddon the Despoiler- see notes on 13th Black Crusade- Document 188-K) of the space station is unknown, it remains an immensely powerful (Albeit stationary) weapon, and the primary base for Imperial Navy and Guard units in the system. Siphon III is primarily a garrison/mining world, but is without a doubt the inferior to Siphon IV. The countless deposits of high quality silver coloured metals throughout the planet's mines has led to significant investment in the planet, with the metal itself, dubbed 'Siphon-Silver' proving well suited to munitions, armour and construction. The fact the metal itself is unique to Siphon IV (With Siphon III mainly of interest due to the ancient xenos ruins in its southern reaches) means that both planets have a strong industrial, mining and military history. In recent years the defences of the system have received a vast overhaul under Lord Castellan Constantine, current commander of the systems military forces. In civilian news, the population has been steadily increasing over the past decade as more mines are established around new 'Siphon-Silver' deposits.

Military Forces-

442nd Imperial Guard Infantry Regiment 'The Silver Legion' based on Siphon IV

443 Imperial Guard Infantry Regiment based on Siphon III

Battlefleet Rubicon based on the Blackstone Fortress (Aurelius Base)

Blackstone Fortress- codenamed Aurelius Base

50 Orbital Defence Nova Cannon (25 currently under repair/refit orders and are inactive)

Ramielles Class Defence Station 'Divine Rampart'

Misc. Orbital Defence Lascannons/Torpedo Launchers

Titan Legion Gigantum (Currently deployed on training exercises on Siphon III)

Thought for the Day – To better thyself in the eyes of thine Masters is reward enough

101101

Departmento Munitorum Squad Report-

Squad Pusillus, 5th Platoon, 20th Company, 7th Battalion, 442nd Imperial Guard Regiment-

Acting Squad Leader- Sergeant Thaddeus Cicero (50 Terran Years of age)

Born on Siphon IV Prometheus Mining Platform

Notes:

Expert leader of small squad unit

Has shown exemplary bravery befitting a Guardsman many times (Earned Silver Cross medal for bravery four times)

Mr Cicero however shows certain troublesome and negative attitudes to authority figures and commanders (Recommend new leader be informed of this)

Heavy Weapons Specialist- Guardsman Achilleus Lentinus (35 Terran Years of Age)

Born in Hive City Polaris Manufacturing District D6

Notes

Despite no formal training Mr Lentinus has proven himself an able user of man portable heavy weapons, and as such is cleared for use of such weapons on the battlefield

Signs of depression/suicidal tendencies when faced with extreme stress (Recommend leave within next month to alleviate symptoms. If depression continues, refer Guardsman to Psych. Division)

Romantic relationship with Guardsman Fabiola Vestalis key element of squad morale and cohesion. The aforementioned relationship with Guardsman Vestalis also gives Lentinus a source of stability throughout his bouts of stress and depression.

Designated Marksman- Guardsman Fabiola Vestalis (34 Terran Years of Age)

Born in Hive City Hab Block 2334455A

Notes

Has set platoon record for marksmanship for the last five years- recommend using Guardsman alongside other sniper teams when not attached to own squad

Possible Ratling heritage on father's side of family may explain short stature and superior sniping abilities (No further study needed- skills in combat are paramount)

Some tension with Guardsman Strabo over personal differences but combat experience has created an unbreakable trust between the two soldiers.

Displays many physical tics and twitches. Often compulsive to the point of obsession over small factors. This is especially the case when setting up to shoot. However, these compulsions aid in halting her tics before shooting. Outside of combat, her compulsions can make her unpredictably violent or angry when things are not to her preference. Further psych. evaluation may be needed to help suppress violence when her compulsions are not met.

Guardsman Paulus Strabo (40 Terran Years of Age)

Born in Hive City Hab Block 3447889R

Notes

Displays almost suicidal desire for close quarters combat (Is near fanatical with use of bayonet and improvised weapons). Recommend monitoring of this aggression with routine medication (Except in battlefield situations- refer to Field Manual Page 455 for further details)

Family connection to Strabo mining dynasty hasn't affected military career (Has repeatedly turned down offers of promotion based on family donations to regimental coffers)

Poor eyesight (refuse to wear field issue spectacles or pay for eye treatment) may be reason for overreliance on close quarters combat

Guardsman Sabia Calvus (27 Terran Years of Age)

Born in Hive City Hab Block 6678821M

Notes

Ms. Calvus seems to function as unofficial 'peacemaker' of the squad, especially when tensions are running high.

Possible eligibility for officer corps or Psych. Division overlooked due to positive effect on squad

Twelve times champion of District 3344423 chess competition (May link to skilled tactical insight- may be in line for replacing Sgt. Cicero if needed)

Captain Romulus Remus the Third (45 Terran Years of Age) - captain of 20th Company

Born in Hive City Hab Block 'Fiddler's Green' (One of the most prestigious hab blocks in the city)

Notes

Reckless disregard for direct orders from superior officers

Penchant for the dramatic and prefers to take personal glory

Unstable to the point of having a superiority complex (Family connections prevent disciplinary action)

Squad Transfer Request from Department Munitorum Office on Siphon III (Hive City Cepheid)

Lieutenant Alexandra Komenos (30 Terran Years of Age)

Born in Hive City Cepheid Hellenistic Ward

Notes

Formerly pursued a career as propaganda icon and model/pin up girl for regimental posters

Military career began during 'Children of Koine' Chaos mutiny on battlecruiser 'Achilles' when Ms. Komenos rallied surviving loyal forces aboard the cruiser to fight back against Chaos influenced mutineers. Leadership skills allowed quick promotion during career.

Ideal transfer for Squad Pusillus (Base new platoon around squad if trial period goes well)

101101

Aurelius Base Blackstone Fortress

Orbit over Siphon IV

23:45 Local Time

The Adeptus scribe leafed through the crisp white sheets of the report before him, skimming its contents quickly through his tinted spectacles and turning to his colleague as he finished.

"Adept Novars!" he said in an annoyed tone, absently pushing his spectacles up his nose in frustration as his colleague slowly turned his chair to stare across the tiny room at him. "Why is this squad transfer report mixed in with the planetary report?"

Adept Novars, a squat and plump man with a shock of black hair, his grey Adeptus robes streaked with coffee stains and breadcrumbs, sighed as he took the report from his colleague. In direct contrast to Novars, Adept Plebus was tall and almost unnaturally thin, his pinched face and sour expression giving him the appearance of a scavenger bird. Yet again pushing his spectacles further up his nose with one bony finger, Plebus nodded at the stack of papers he had just given to Novars.

"I was just compiling the new planetary report for Adept Tacitus when I noticed that this squad transfer report for…Squad Pusillus, I think it was, mixed in with it?"

"Don't look at me," Novars replied with a shrug. "This isn't even our department. I thought the Munitorum scribes over on the Triarch Arm were responsible for this?"

Plebus didn't look the least bit impressed with his companion's report, but only nodded in agreement. For a second his eyes lingered over the tiny cramped cabin they shared, the four metres square box of riveted metal and rusted iron that was their shared office, bedroom and general recreation area aboard the massive Aurelius Base. The high ceiling was stacked with shelf after shelf of crisp white sheets of statistics and reports, while a tiny ladder against the far wall was the only way the two men could ascend to their bunks bolted into the roof three metres above their heads.

The only nod to luxury in the cramped space was the tiny circular porthole in the wall opposite the door, which, through ten metres of Imperial naval armour and the strange obsidian-like metal the Blackstone Fortress itself was constructed of, one could just see the grey form of Siphon IV far below.

"Do you ever wish we had a bigger window, Novars?" the thin Adept asked as his colleague methodically separated out the planetary report and squad transfer sheet he had just read.

"You know the rules. Can't have anything larger than a foot by a foot or else we risk leaving a weak spot for enemy fire. Besides, it took a near point blank shot from a ship mounted lance cannon to make that hole. This old space station doesn't exactly make it easy for the enginseers to add our own modifications. Do you remember how hard it was for them to blast out space for the hangars and defence batteries?"

"I remember the paperwork," Plebus said simply, before turning back to his blank steel desk, unadorned except for a small paperweight in the shape of the Aquila, and a small box of lead pencils and pens. "Sometimes I think this damn space station is more trouble than its worth. I mean, have you seen the files on how much raw material and money was poured into actually making this floating junk pile work?"

Novars shrugged noncommittally. "It doesn't matter. We are just Adepts of the Administratum. It's not our place to question command. Anyway…" he added, standing up and, shuffling awkwardly across the tiny amount of floor space in the cramped room, opening the small vacuum tube port on the wall. "I should send these reports to the right offices."

"Wait a second," Plebus snapped. "Send the squad transfer report over to the Triarch Arm. I'll get this planetary report straight up to the command bridge."

Novars laughed slightly. "The command bridge? You do know how much clearance you need to get in there? Adept Briars four doors down has been on a waiting list for a week now!"

"Trust me. I can get in. I have a Priority One clearance form…" Plebus added with a slight smirk, reaching into his grey robes and withdrawing a small paper form, marked with a bright red stamp and wax seal depicting the Imperial Aquila."

"How did you…?"

"Let's just say Adepta Tehranna owed me a favour. I can get a tram there as soon as…"

"Wait, wait wait…" Novars said with a frown, holding up an ink stained hand. "I am the senior Adept here. I should be the one who takes the report to the bridge."

"Under whose authority?"

"I've been an Adept precisely four months, three days and twelve hours longer than you." Novars replied shortly. "My robe is greyer than yours, I passed the monthly examination with two more points…"

"And you have an ego the size of a Reaver Titan." His companion said with a smirk before making for the day, snatching the report from the dumbfounded Novars' hand with a laugh and waving it, and the Priority One form, with all the pride of a Space Marine standard bearer.

"Well…have a fun hour long tram ride across the station!" Novars shouted futilely after Plebus and, as the door shut after his colleague, sighed and returned to his seat, realizing he was only halfway through a fifteen hour shift, and wouldn't have anyone to talk to for at least another five hours.

000000

It took Plebus ten minutes of walking down dank iron walled corridors and up rickety riveted staircases and ladders to reach the main tram station for Aurelian Base's Pincian Arm, one of the four 'arms' of the vast space station. The Blackstone fortress itself was huge, its four main hangars big enough to dock a Lunar class Imperial cruiser while the gun batteries along its length could take out whole enemy fleets in one thundering broadside.

Stepping aboard the tram, a riveted box of iron and sheet metal filled with rows of metal benches, Plebus allowed himself a moment to relax. It was at least another ten hours until he could eat his breakfast, a nutritionally balanced bowl of algae that was sent in tins via vacuum tube, and this was the closet he got to a break.

The rest of the tram was filling up fast, mainly with other Administratum adepts in robes ranging from the dull black of recent initiates to the dazzling white of overseers and senior managers. But, here and there in the sea of monochrome, there were a few other people. The largest group was a small huddle of Menials- the labourers and general workers of the Administratum- in black overalls at the other end of the tram, overseen by a haughty female Adepta in grey robes. But there were also a few Imperial Guardsman in the black uniforms and flak jackets of marines, as well as a red robed Enginseer with two Skitarri- the Administratum's equivalent of Guardsmen- sat on each side. The Enginseer was deep in thought, scribbling notes on a large roll of paper with one pale hand while the other, a mechanical claw, absently tinkered with the third mechanical arm that held the paper aloft.

After a near robotic sounding droning over the intercom from the trams bored sounding Menial driver, the vehicle shuddered then began clattering down the iron track. The black walls of the tunnel they descended into were the same as the material the rest of the Fortress was originally built from, and Plebus noted with a frown that the Enginseers hadn't bothered to sheath this particular section in iron plating like the vast majority of the station's interior.

He shook his head. Such ideas weren't his area to pry into. 'Better to trust in your superiors' was the motto he had learnt back at the academy, and he and Novars had kept to that philosophy as much as they could. To amuse himself as the tram kept monotonously moving onward, he leafed through the planetary report again. How they had ended up with that unrelated report on that Imperial Guard squad was beyond him. Probably a mix up in the vacuum tubes again. The Ratling labourers, the short 'abhumans' who had been brought in to work on the vacuum tube system, had been on strike for a day now, and even when their leader was thrown out an airlock yesterday they still refused to keep working.

He looked out the plastic window and sighed. The monotonous row of fluorescent lights did nothing to lighten his mood, and he turned away as a massive supply train, an ugly yellow block with a cargo of ten metre long torpedoes on long carriages for the station's battery of Imperator class heavy guns, thundered past, gangs of servitors and Menials leaning off the sides.

Suddenly the train clattered to an abrupt halt, and Plebus stood up, staring out the plastic window of the driver's cab at the front of the tram. Up ahead loomed one of the Fortress' infamous 'Black Doors', the armoured constructions made of the same black metal as the rest of the space station. The doors were almost ridiculously heavily armoured. He had seen maintenance reports on how even high-powered construction lasers still took hours to carve through them, and they were also prone to frequent glitches and failures to open or close. They were an annoyance at the moment but Plebus had a fear that someday the doors might actually become a big problem, especially if the station were to be attacked.

As he thought about the theories he had heard about the station's origins, a deep rumbling mechanical voice filled the cabin, a voice definitely not human.

"I am the watcher in the blackness of space. I see all. The prides and kingdoms of all races are but fleeting memories for one as ancient as I. When the stars begin to die and all mortal races are piles of ash and dust, I will endure. Deep beneath the halls of man, the Warrior begins to wake."

Sighing, the Adept settled back into his seat, a bored expression on his haggard face. He had heard the strange voices of the Black Doors before. Everyone had. Sometimes the voices would cut in during an announcement or a break in the newsreels. Sometimes it would just be a few words while he was sleeping, as if the station was whispering in his ear. Novars was slightly scared of the voices, but Plebus had learnt to ignore them. So long as the voices weren't Chaos daemons trying to tempt him, he would just continue to put up with them. Further up the carriage one of the Skitarri looked at his Enginseer master through eyes covered by thick black goggles, but his face paling slightly.

"Master Enginseer, what is the Door talking about?"

The Enginseer turned his thin face, his right eye a small cybernetic implant that whirred softly, turning to look at the Skitarri.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. The machine-spirit of this battle station is millennia old. Of course it's going to go a bit senile in its old age. We've pored over this things workings for decades and found no problems. So long as we still have oxygen and light, why should a few mad proverbs be a problem?"

As he said this the door up ahead opened with a dull clatter of metal and the tram continued onward.

"Piece of junk…" Plebus heard a Menial further down the tram mutter under his breath as they passed through the open Black Door and, Plebus thought with a slight smile, he had to agree with him.

000000

An hour later-and after hearing another Black Door spouting nonsense- Plebus emerged through a side door into the cavernous main room of the command bridge.

The bridge was situated at the very tip of the black pyramid at the centre of the Blackstone Fortress' four arms, its walls made out of hundreds of interlocking hexagonal plates of a strange black glass. Despite looking as thin and fragile as plastic, the black glass was surprisingly armoured and, Plebus thought to himself, if it was so fragile command wouldn't have even considered putting the bridge at the tip of the pyramid.

The Adept felt as small as an insect as he stood on the main floor of the bridge, the room sprawling out for hundreds of metres in all directions, dozens of individual catwalks and maintenance walkways, as well as miles of pipes and ducts, criss-crossing in a mad pattern far above his head.

At the very centre of the huge room, looking out over the ocean of computer consoles and bridge staff milling about clutching reports and reports, was a large platform of glass and steel, the four staircases leading to it each guarded by a full squad of black uniformed marines. Atop the command platform stood the main commanders and senior staff aboard the station, and it was there that Plebus needed to get to.

Walking nervously forward, Plebus was hit by a strange sense of agoraphobia as he walked down the wide central aisle towards. Besides the large manufactorums in the Gothic Arm and the various ship hangars at the edges of the station, the majority of the fortress was very cramped and confined. Plebus almost liked being in such close environments. It felt safe and secure. Here he felt out in the open and vulnerable.

As he reached the staircase to the command platform, the sergeant of the marine squad raised a hand while the others moved to block his path.

"Halt. State your business, Adept."

Plebus took a deep breath. He was unused to the world beyond his cubicle, the way that non-Munitorum bureaucrats worked. However he did know his way around Imperial protocol.

"I have an urgent report for High Command," he said shortly, brandishing the Priority One clearance form. "It's the report on the system that Lord Castellan Constantine requested."

At the mention of the Lord Castellan's name, and the sight of the official looking priority clearance form, the marine's sergeant quickly relented, nodding and offering a curt salute as his men parted.

"Of course, Adept. I expect the Lord Castellan will be most pleased"

Smiling inwardly, Plebus walked past the Marines and ascend the steel riveted stairs, noticing for the first time the sight of the most powerful men and women in the Siphon system.

The most obvious was Adept Benaris, the head of the Administratum in the system, a thin and bony looking old man swathed in a bright white robe, two servo skulls- the cybernetic skulls of loyal Administratum agents preserved as faithful servants after death- hovering at his side. Next to him stood High Enginseer Vinci, a small shrunken man made to look larger by the various cybernetic claws protruding from the back of his robes, standing next to Lord Admiral Thrax, leader of Battlefleet Rubicon, a cold but beautiful looking woman with dark skin and garbed in an immaculate dress uniform. At the edge of the small group stood Primaris Theodora, the Lord Castellan's personal Sanctioned Pysker, latent psychic energy collecting around the tip of her silver staff and at the edges of her short black hair, while tiny bolts of lightning crackled across her long overcoat and ceremonial armour.

And yet, even amongst the gaggle of aides, scribes and other members of the commander's retinue, the Lord Castellan stood out. Constantine was a tall man, his curly hair grey and his beard trimmed to a fine point while his dark green and tan dress uniform and overcoat were clean and pressed. From his well-polished black jackboots and elegant but deadly powersword in a sheath at his side to the brace of medals across his jacket, the Lord Castellan was obviously a very powerful and seasoned commander. So when he turned to Adept Plebus, a slight grin on his face, breaking off an in depth conversation with Lord Admiral Thrax, the lowly Adept nearly fainted with surprise.

"What do you need Adept?" he asked, politely but briskly and for a second Plebus was blank.

"We have important matters to discuss. Out with it!" Thrax added, but Constantine silenced her with a simple raised hand.

"I-I have a report for you sir." Plebus said quickly, bowing and snapping off a salute simultaneously and looking ridiculous in the process.

Constantine took the report from the shaking Adept without another word, scanning it briefly before smiling.

"Good work. It takes some bravery to approach your superiors like this, Adept. The least I can do is let you linger here for a bit." He added with a sly grin, then pointed out at the vast blackness of space beyond, the grey form of Siphon IV, wreathed in white cloud, looming to the right.

"We seem so far away from the planet don't we?" Constantine said with a slight smile. "Siphon III is just a blob of green…" he added, pointing with one thin finger at the distant form of Siphon III, the orbital defences and shipyards in its orbit just visible as tiny spots of light.

"It's…impressive." Plebus muttered agreeably, staring out at the vast space beyond. "I'm guessing that light is the Divine Rampart station?" he asked, pointing a trembling finger at a bright pinprick just visible on the far side of Siphon IV.

"Indeed. My second in command, Castellan Augustus, is commanding that station. Between there and Aurelius Base, you should be able to see the rest of our defences."

He shifted his outstretched hand to gesture at the dozens of grey floating rocks that were the orbital defence Nova Cannons. Built into the giant asteroids that had been ensnared by Siphon IV's gravity, the guns were vast constructions, their barrels hundreds of metres long and each possessing enough power to knock out a cruiser in one hit.

"With all due respect sir, I've read the reports. Why are you showing me all this?"

Constantine grinned. "It's always good to see them in person, Adept. You bureaucrats tend to forget that all the numbers and lines on your charts are actual people and objects. I mean, take Battlefleet Rubicon…" he said, pointing at the silent armoured forms of the Battlefleet, the vast ships hovering countless miles away from the space station, yet close enough to pick out details on their hulls.

"You bureaucrats could probably tell me how many ships there are, how big the crew is, that kind of thing. High Enginseer Vinci could talk to me for hours on their weapons systems and how their Warp drives work. And of course Lord Admiral Thrax here could tell me of all the battles and great campaigns the ships have fought in."

As he said this he turned to Thrax and smiled, the admiral simply nodding curtly in response.

Spreading his arms wide the Lord Castellan looked out at the fleet beyond.

"I look at the big picture Adept! Not only this station, or that fleet out there, but the Imperial Guard regiments on the ground, the individual soldiers and units ready to protect our sacred soil. I have to know all of them. Its-it's a big responsibility." He said with a frown, and looked ready to speak again when another figure shambled over and touched him lightly on the arm.

The figure's robes were a deep red, worn and slightly ragged, as if the owner didn't care much about their appearance, with the hood up. Their hands meanwhile were pale and wrinkled with long nails, clutching a large carved staff with an Aquila crest atop it.

Plebus recognised the man as an Astropath, the powerful Pyskers who, despite lacking most of their senses and being fully blind, were able to send messages across millions of miles of space using nothing but their own psychic ability.

The Astropath looked to be about to speak when suddenly he threw his head back, his hood flying off to reveal a scarred and worn face, deathly pale, with empty sockets where his eyes should have been. Convulsing as if he was in pain, the Astropath collapsed to the floor with a crack of bone on the hard steel, gasps of astonishment issuing from the gathered onlookers.

"We need a medical team, now!" the Lord Castellan roared as two Marines ran over and tried to revive the Astropath. Instantly Primaris Theodora stepped forwards, shoving the Marines aside and examining the non-moving Astropath herself. As she stepped towards him the Astropath began babbling and screaming in an incomprehensible alien tongue, his anguished cries echoing across the massive space of the bridge.

"What's wrong with him?" Constantine snapped, and Theodora stared at the screaming Astropath with wide eyes before, with no warning, the man suddenly fell silent and lay still. Quickly examining him, Theodora looked up, shaking her head.

"He's dead," Theodora said bluntly "Must have been a massive psychic attack, especially to overwhelm his own mental barriers like that. I didn't even feel a thing so, whatever did this, they knew exactly who to target, and had the power to be subtle about it."

"What should we do Castellan?" High Enginseer Vinci demanded, all the other commanders asking similar questions as the Lord Castellan just stood there, staring out at the void of space beyond.

Finally he, without taking his eyes off the view beyond, said simply, in a voice that was equal parts unsure and afraid.

"This…this is something new."

Plebus looked out at where the Lord Castellan was looking and, as he saw what was out there, he felt his blood chill, his whole body tense up, and a warm trickle of liquid down the hem of his robe.

Out there, in the void beyond the orbiting Battlefleet and defences, past the dead gas giants of Siphon I and II, was a shadow even darker than the blackness of space around it. It moved quickly across space, bearing down upon the planets below, filling up the entire view beyond with a rolling cloud of indistinct shapes and half glimpsed forms.

And, in the centre of the thousands of miles wide shadow, something was moving.