A/N Sorry for taking so long Dx I have had exams, assignments and Emperor knows what else chewing my legs off. I know I should have updated my other story first, but that is being worked on. Next chapter of that should be up soon, but first, I was struck with inspiration and somehow churned this out. Enjoy ^^
BTW, cookie for any who gets the somewhat hidden NGE reference.
A red light flashed on the captain's control throne and without turning his head, he addressed the Commissar, "Sire, there is a Vox cast from the Psyker's quarters." His voice was oddly emotion less and distant, which was only to be expected as his mind was linked directly to the ship's systems. A Vox was barely significant to warrant a flicker of attention to. The Commissar, however, sighed.
"What now?" He growled, before pressing a rune on his own command chair, signalling the system that he accepted the call. "This had better be good." He growled into the Vox caster before the other party could respond.
_/_"Sir, the Psykers have lost it!"_/_ The guardsman sounded frantic, but, as testament to his training, his speech was not impaired by his panic. He was sergeant for a reason. His panic, however, was forgivable. Psyker's going off when a ship is immersed in the immaterium is never a good sign. _/_"They have all begun chanting something all at the same time. It sounds heretical; by the Emperor's left nut, I don't want to even-"_/_
"Guardsman!" The Commissar yelled; half to keep him from panicking, half to reprimand him for his language. "Guardsman," He repeated after a pause. His voice was lowered, both in volume as to not alert the serf in the bridge and in octave, so as to get his point across. "What are they saying?"
_/_ "I-I-"_/_ he paused and, at least, reaffirmed his speech, if not his courage. _/_ "I don't know, sir. It doesn't seem to be either Low or High Gothic, or any variation of Low that I know of. In fact, I don't even know if it -is- Gothic. We are recording it, however." _/_ The Commissar swore in some other form of Low that the Guardsman didn't know either, but at least it sounded like Gothic.
"Quick thinking; the Inquisitor will want that." He said finally, "But if it causes -any- kind of... strange things, then destroy the recording and the equipment used to record it, understood? That is a direct order, I don't care what that pompous freak of an Inquisitor says; I will not have anything on board that could leave us open to the Warp." The Guardsman responded in the affirmative and the Commissar shut off the connection. He sighed, then summoned a servitor. "Go to the Navigator's quarters. Do not enter, but check for any speech patterns coming from the room, understood?" Without replying, the servitor left. He ordered another servitor to do the same with the Astropaths. He then sat back in his command chair. Right then, all he wanted to do was go and check for himself and see if killing one of the blasted Psykers would stop it. It doubted it would, but it would make him feel better. However, he refrained, as right now, it was more important to seem unconcerned. Regardless of the fact that, as Imperial Guard, he wasn't actually in control of the ship, moral in the Imperial Guard and Navy alike was more skittish than a Gretchin in a firing range and every bit helps.
It had been nearly two hours since the chanting stopped and not so much as a Warp spawned fart had yet to occur. All the warp-influenced on the ship, Navigator included, had been chanting the exact same thing. The Navigator had also insisted upon a course correction which, while the commissar had not exactly been willing to do, the Inquisitor had pulled rank and agreed to it. He had had training in blocking unwanted psychic communication, standard practise among even non-psyker Inquisitors, and, oddly, the message had simply drifted away. It hadn't even been that forceful to being with. Insistent, yes, but with a minor shrug of his own warp-presence, it had simply given up. Daemons did not give up, nor did they start off that strongly. Xenos and Heretics usually used a lot of force to begin with and other humans tended to probe his defences a few times and announce themselves. The Inquisitor found it all very intriguing.
Inditor Malcovitch Vaseres was now standing before him. Malcovitch had been a member of his retinue for about six years now and had proven himself invaluable in gathering and deciphering information of almost any nature. He was bald and had so many biotic replacements that he could easily pass for a tech priest, testament to battles won and lost. He had been charged with deciphering the chant and to attempt to define its meaning the moment the chant had ceased. The fact that he was now looking nervous meant that whatever he had found, the Inquisitor did not doubt he had found -something-, he was not satisfied with the results.
"Inquisitor Atellus, I have managed to translate the Language spoken by the Psykers." He said, after the inquisitor had acknowledged his presence. Malcovitch's voice had a slight metallic tinge to it, "It is a variation of a human language, one, thankfully, that has variations upon a -small- number of feudal and feral worlds. Not Gothic, though, which means it either predates it, which would put it at a time before the Emperor," He made the sign of the Aquila before continuing, "or it developed independently after the Age of Strife." He handed the data slate over to Atellus. The Inquisitor began to read the translation and the Inditor waited to be addressed again. Malcovitch's eyes took in the Inquisitor's presence. His eyes and hair were as jet black as the void. He seemed young, but that was just the rejuvenation treatments. To be an Inquisitor, he had to be nearing seventy at least. But then, as an inquisitor, he had an expected lifespan of well over two hundred, if he was good. Malcovitch hoped Atellus hadn't caught that thought. The Inquisitor didn't react, so he continued to examine the scene before him. His eyes caught on Atellus's left hand; its colour was off, a bit too pale. It betrayed the biotics underneath and to a trained eye, it was a more obvious scar than any mere flesh wound. The Inquisitor looked at him and his entire attention focused back on the situation at hand.
"Have you found out what the meaning may lie behind it?" Malcovitch paused and Atellus grinned in his own head. He was wondering what had the Inditor so worried.
"That... seems to be avoiding my understanding, sir." He paused again, gathering his thoughts, "I do have a number of theories, however."
"I'm listening."
"Most likely, it is a prediction of future events. However, the scale we have seen here today is very rare. From what I can gather, this 'boy' may be a powerful Psyker of some kind, considering the phrase: Shining more light than anyone else." The Inquisitor nodded, glancing again at the data slate as he spoke. The Inditor continued, "However, what runs counter to this theory is that, unlike any prediction I can find, this one almost seems to be asking for this to happen, rather than stating, even vaguely, events. I also have found no reason as to why the Navigator demanded the course correction. The only things I can find referring to anything resembling a destination are a few references to a 'chapel of memories' and, quote, 'the cradle of my love'. It is possible, however, that the Navigator may either have gotten a different message altogether, or the message was meant for him only. However, the sheer number of Psykers affected makes both of those possibilities highly improbable."
The Inquisitor sat there is silence for a few minutes, reading the data slate once more. He was about to request Malcovitch to interview one of the Psykers when a Vox cast interrupted. It was the Commissar, -politely- requesting his presence on the bridge. Atellus chuckled, it was amusing to hear the Commissar use pleasantries, him being so used to shouting his orders it sounded almost a threat. However, Atellus had been around the Commissar for long enough to know that he didn't meant to sound threatening, but speaking civilly was something he learned to do -after- becoming a Commissar. Atellus dismissed Malcovitch, who no-doubt would rush off to further decipher the strange recording, and made his way to the ship's bridge.
Ignoring the captain, who was muttering something about a power conduit being rerouted, likely actually talking to a tech priest somewhere else on the ship, Atellus addressed the Commissar.
"Inquisitor, I thought you might be interested in seeing this first hand." He handed Atellus a data slate and the Inquisitors brow furrowed something vicious.
"Is this correct?" The Commissar grinned.
"Aye, it is. A planet in the immaterium and, as far as our Psykers can tell, untouched by daemonic influence. What's more, it appears to have its own Warp shield." The Inquisitor gave him an odd look and the Commissar chuckled, "I had that exact same look. See for yourself, it all there." He indicated to the data slate, "We are currently within the Warp shielding. The planet itself appears to be dead. The only thing of note we can find is a temple sitting on the equator. It gets better. The temple matches records of human architecture. The tech priests want to at least have a look, as they say it may have some ancient technology down there that could be valuable, if it is human. To be honest, I wanted your opinion as to whether we go down or not. As much as it pains me to say, the Warp is more your field, being an Inquisitor, and I won't subject my men to needless deaths if this is some kind of trick."Atellus nodded.
"Yes, it was a good idea to ask me." He replied, "I can see no reason as to why, or how, this should exist. Warp beings would not, could not, create a Warp shield around an entire planet, let alone make one in the first place. As to whether it is or is not evidence of human habitation I cannot say." He paused to consider the current events, "I will go down with my Magos and a select group of Stormtroopers. I will report in every hour. If I do not make the deadline, wait no more than five standard minutes then leave."
"Of course Inquisitor."
Within the next hour the Inquisitor and his chosen retinue were on a Valkyrie headed planet side. This bode well, considering that if the Warp shield of the planet had been a ruse then they would have been dead seconds after leaving the ship's protective radius. The Magos that he had taken along had been with him since he had first become an Inquisitor and recruited his retinue. Currently she was mattering various praises and prayers to the spirit of the Valkyrie. Unlike most tech priests, Magos Regia's obvious biotics were minimal; limited to four large tendrites extending from her back and a plug hole just below and behind her right ear. All the rest had been hidden beneath synthetic skin. While this was frowned upon by other tech priests, she had successfully reasoned to her colleagues that, since she was going to be part of an Inquisitor's retinue, she needed to resemble more human than machine. It allowed her to more easily blend in among crowds and to get informants to more easily trust her. However, Atellus knew that she secretly wanted to remain as much as she once looked as possible. Atellus could hardly blame her, though, as, even with the slightly off-coloured synth-skin, she was quite attractive. Platinum blonde, cropped short at the jaw line, with light blue eyes, with a faint red light the only indication of the machinery behind them.
The Valkyrie touched down and the group got their first look at the planet. It reminded Atellus of Mars, only brown and a lot less depressing. They were about half an hour's walk from the temple and from their landing site they could see that it was huge. Regia stepped ahead of the group as they set up camp, recording the sight of the temple with her own biotics. She zoomed in on the entrance and noted that there appeared to be a statue of a two huge headed eagle. It affirmed her suspicions that this place was a human ruin.
After setting up a base camp, Atellus, Regia and half the Stormtroopers headed towards the temple, the rest of the troopers staying behind to guard the base and the Valkyrie. At the temple stairs, Atellus made his check with the ship and then began his assent. Regina followed him a few steps behind faithfully, seeming the picture of emotionlessness, but to his trained eye, he could see the minute telltale signs of glee. She was excited, that much was certain, as would any tech priest be when confronted by the possibility of forgotten technology. At the top, the two huge stone doors, both easily 50 meters high (52.73 meters, Regia calculated) opened themselves before them. Automatic doors were nothing special in and of themselves; what was inside, however, was. It was at that exact moment that Regia's organic brain thought it would be a good time to reboot, somehow overriding all of her augments and the frantic runtimes of her digital components.
Atellus blinked. He didn't know which was more stunning, the sight before him, or seeing a Magos faint. To him, both seemed equally as impossible.