The rendezvous that Nathaniel had commanded to be set up over the Vox was on route to his and The Second-Commanders own destination. There had been no communication from Commander Dariel since Private Krell had first told the Psyker to report to his superior. In itself this aspect was worrying, the Guardsman Commander was usually reliably communicative when it came to crunch time; and if there was ever such a time, this was it. Nathaniel turned to Keeva, going to voice his concerns to her; the look on her face towards him put her off. He knew he could lie about the rifts not being his fault, but he wasn't sure he'd get away with such a falsehood would get past her at this point. He'd deceived her once already. That hadn't gone down too well when she'd found out what he'd been hiding. Truth be thought, he wasn't even certain if the rifts had been his fault; but they certainly seemed to know how to twist his feeble powers to their own gain.
"Sir!" A shout came up from the long corridor, the voice belonged to one of the 412ths Veteran squad. A stalwart man addressed as Crowe. The shout pulled the Psyker from his chastising thoughts and made him realise that he was still half dragging Keeva with him. His human fingers let go of her the second the knowledge came to him.
"Report," the Primaris Psyker ordered, hurrying behind the make-shift bunker. The Guardsmen had done their job well, piling up sandbags on either side of the wide corridor. They'd set up a portable Vox-Caster for future communications and even had a small medi-centre where a wounded Guardsman was being attended. Behind them, a few yards down the corridor was the majestic entrance to the Commanders Chambers – it could wait until Nathaniel was briefed on the status of his men. Keeva however, was already heading towards the chamber doors.
"Not good, Sir," Crowe informed. "Long range communications are non-functional, we're getting steady reports of collapses throughout the ship. And you won't believe this one sir, apparent sightings of daemon spawn!" He stated with a level of humour, assuming one of the fresher recruits was playing comedian.
"I believe it," Nathaniel replied, his expression ashen. Crowe took his meaning and nodded.
"Morale is good, considering the surprise attack. Not that it's ever lacking."
"The wounded?" The Psyker asked, motioning to where the man lay; he'd started groaning in pain.
"Drake, Sir."
"Any unique skills?" Nathaniel asked of the veteran once more.
"Good tracker, usually our Vox guy." Crowe answered.
Nathaniel cursed softly under his breath. Looking over his shoulder for the Second-Commander. Seeing that she'd already made her way to Commander Dariels office he cursed, louder this time. What was with the woman and her lack of desire to simply obey!
"Dismissed," He stated briefly towards Crowe, who saluted and returned to his post.
He turned towards the other two with him and told them "Wait here," Victarius gave him a raised brow look; it wasn't the Psykers place to dismiss him so readily, he was returned with a pleading look which Victarius nodded to. Krell hunkered down behind a pile of sandbags; dutifully obeying.
"Second-Commander!" The Psyker called after the woman, striding towards her. He grabbed her by the arm and forcibly turned her back towards him, half expecting her to appear glassy-eyed or possessed, at least that would have explained her constant defiance.
Keeva however struggled from his grip, still disgusted by his touch. Even though he'd grabbed her with his more human fingers once again. The look she shot him was icy, even for her cold demeanour.
"We have orders," She informed him, avoiding his eyes as she looked back towards the office doors.
"And I have them to give," He stated; there was still a chain of command rippling down the structure of the guardsmen and the veterans, although dutiful and able to think for themselves, still needed orders in order to function at maximum efficiency. "This little power struggle is getting tiresome, Second-Commander Genesis, and I have no desire to see it through during the current status of the ship. I suggest you fall in line." Nathaniel spoke to her directly and authoritatively. How he should have done from the off-set. "Ultimately, I am going to need you and your skills, so please, do me the favour and put your petty grudges behind you and act like the Commander you are meant to be?" He asked her, rather than ordered. Though the undertone of his speaking was not of such a respectful nature.
Without letting her answer the Psyker turned back to face Crowe, "Sergeant, make sure you hold this line no matter the cost. Commander Dariel is Prime Concern. If your wounded show any adverse signs, kill them." He spoke with little compassion for the potential death sentence of the order; a trait they all knew to be untrue.
He turned once more on his heel and made his way – with Keeva at his side – towards Commander Dariels office doors.
"You shouldn't speak to me with such disrespect, I am technically your ranking officer," Keeva stated flatly, without humour.
"Technically you're a guest," Nathaniel replied with a sigh, seeing as she was still so keen on trying to pull rank. Insisting on continuing their silly little struggle.
"I would say not, considering the state of emergency,"
"All right then, Commander, what would you have me do?" He reversed the power towards her, seeing as that what she wanted to vie for.
"Do you still have a Mercy Blade?" She asked looking towards him finally with a raised brow.
"Yes," The psyker replied, feeling himself shrinking inside despite himself.
"I would have you use it," Keeva replied. "For all our sakes," Outlining herself and exactly where she stood with the Psyker. She recalled now that Private Krell had warned her from the off-start about Primaris Greyson and she wished she had listened to the strange mans words then – pried with more questions, beaten answers out of him if she had to. But hindsight was always clear.
"Then I am glad I do not have to defer to your leadership qualities," He answered flatly. Cutting the exchange short as they reached the door. He pressed the buzzer, which under normal circumstances would have started communications with those present within the room. However the door just lazily slid open and stopped part way through. As much as he wanted to, Nathaniel resisted giving Keeva an uncertain look. Seemed like not even the quarters were safe from the influences of the outside.
The room that was being tantalizingly displayed to the two was encased in darkness, just the dim light of a holo-display penetrated to the hallway where they stood. Nathaniel entered the room first, "Commander?" He questioned leaning down to pick up a data-slate that had fallen to the floor. He gave it a quick glance before setting it down on top of a desk, on first glance it told him nothing of import. The room itself was exactly what would be expected of a high-ranking officer. Elaborate in every detail. A great contrast to the rest of the barren ship. Keeva entered the room behind him, the door slamming shut behind her.
The effect of the single light on their faces was haunting. It flickered creating strange shadows, much akin to a dancing candle.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel saw an aged figure hunched over. At first he assumed the commander was hurt and tending to his wounds, but the way he sat. It wasn't natural.
"Commander Dariel," Nathaniel addressed the man. As his voice rang out the holo-display shorted out and they were plunged further into darkness; the only source the data-slate. A small narrow beam dimly peeping. That. And two illuminated globes that were Commander Dariels eyes. Glowing vibrant yellow as the mans head turned towards them.
"You!" Strained vocal cords raged towards the Psyker. Not for the first time during this ordeal the Psyker thought that his Mercy Blade might not be such a bad idea.