{oOo}
WHISPERS FROM THE TOMB
{oOo}
He breathed evenly, fast asleep in his cramped little corner of a supply room. Though even, his breathing was not relaxed. Nothing of him was relaxed or in the usual peace of sleep. One hand lay inside his ragged blue robes, dirty and torn from days of running and sweating. The other, an augmetic one made to resemble the human form, was at his side. In its grip was a heavily modified auspex, attached to the mechanical limb by a number of wires.
A blip appeared on the machine, at the very edge of the screen. The machine gave off no sound, but it sent a steady vibration into the prosthetic arm. The man woke with a start, his eyes flashing everywhere. His long black hair got in the way, and for one single, agonizing moment he gave in to an uncontrollable animal panic before he could move it out of his eyes and look at the device. The faint illumination shined in his brown eyes as he noted the slow moving blip. He pulled a chronometer from his robe and restrained a sob.
"Three hours!" he whispered manically, one eye on the timepiece and the other on his surroundings. He couldn't see much further than the faint glow from his auspex, but he knew the room was a small one, full of food and water. It had been why he'd holed up there in the first place. "I slept for three hours! Too long. Much too long. Was only supposed to be for one. Can't afford any more."
He looked back to the screen, all his attention on the blip and the numbers next to it. He mouthed the distance between the blip and his current position.
"Has it found me? I've been so careful. But the others were careful too. We were all careful… No, stop that! Just exhaustion talking. Have to keep moving. Can't stay still. It'll get me if I stay still."
He let out a small giggle, halfway between euphoria and despair, before clapping a hand over his mouth. He eyed the room again before looking back to the auspex. The blip had only moved a little further, but not toward his hiding place. "First time it's moved from the west side in days. Take the chance? So risky, could be trying to trick me. Can't take risks. Have to play it safe. Others took risks. They're all dead. They're all dead!"
He snapped his teeth shut. He'd almost shouted that last bit. Careless. Stupid. He couldn't afford to be so stupid!
He took another look at the screen before making his decision. He couldn't stay there; staying too long in one spot was too dangerous. But he didn't know how much longer he could keep moving. As it was, even with his augmented body he couldn't keep up his breakneck pace. And when he fell he was a dead man. There weren't any other options left.
He hauled himself up, always keeping one eye on the auspex. His legs gave faint, almost inaudible, whirring noises as he moved, revealing them to be as augmetic as his arm. He made his way to the door slowly as he fiddled with the device, bringing the screen's glow down to the absolute minimum. Finally, he reached the door. His hand hovered over the control panel, as it had so many times before. His stomach felt like ice, his limbs as if they were moving through water. He just couldn't get used to it, this stark terror before going back out there.
He took a deep breath before punching in the activation runes, and then he ran for his life.
The lights in the corridor were a dim red, indicating the emergency power had come on. He'd been living with it for weeks, the facility's well-hidden geothermal generator feeding in just enough power to keep everything operational. By this point he couldn't remember a time when the world wasn't covered in that horrible color. The color of blood flowing so freely from bodies ripped open, gasping as their lives congealed on the once sterile floor.
He slapped himself, keeping his thoughts organized. He had to move, had to be swift! And always, always, he kept one eye on the auspex. Doing so had saved his life more often than he could remember during these horrific times. The blip was still moving away, steadily but with agonizing slowness. He turned a corner, heading west. If he could just make it there he could call for help. The Guard would come for him. Even the Astartes would come! They would purge this place and he would be free. He would finally be free!
The trip seemed like it took hours, though he had been running only for a few minutes. He took his attention off the tiny screen in front of him to glance at the walls. They were grey metal, nothing more. This place had been built for function, not form, and he couldn't see anything obviously wrong with them. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked back to his machine, even more relieved that the tiny dot had moved further away from his destination.
Finally, after so much running, he reached the door to the communications array. Hands shaking, the Adept punched in the code to open the door, almost crying in relief when it opened. Pulling himself back together, he ran for the console and began what he'd wanted to do for so many weeks in this blighted hell.
"Have to call for help. Yes, call for help. Can't report to Terra, too far away. Would need an Astropath. But Halafax? Yes, close enough for mundane communication. They can send word out, and then I can leave. I can leave!"
He giggled again, this time not bothering to restrain himself. The communications array lit up as he activated it, and he felt hope bloom in his heart. He'd almost forgotten what that felt like, so long trapped in this horrible place that had become his home.
Hope died when the machine sparked and smoked before shutting down completely.
"No," he shrieked. "No! No no no no no! You can't do this! You can't! It's not fair!"
With a barely restrained screech of anger and despair the Adept ripped open the casing beneath the control panel, looking deep into the guts of the machine. All the wires were cut. Almost nothing within the entrails of the communications array was in its proper place. Everything was either removed or broken, done carefully so as not to disturb the face of the device. To fix this, even if he could find the right tools, would take hours. He didn't have hours. He probably didn't even have minutes.
"It's not fair," he said again at a whisper. "It's not fair."
And then he laughed, a full body laugh that shook him from head to toe. He laughed loudly, uncaring how it echoed down the halls behind him. He laughed at the injustice of it all. He laughed at the uncaring universe, bringing him so close to hope and then snatching it away. And as he laughed he cried, for he knew that his desperate running, his terrified hiding, was now at an end. He dropped the auspex, the wires connecting it to his arm snapping free with hardly any resistance. From his robes he pulled a pict recorder. It wasn't his, he'd lost his original one ages ago. But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
He turned it on, the little green light telling him it was recording.
"This… this will be my last record," he said with careful consideration. He was so tired. It was so hard to think. The adrenaline of his frantic run was gone now, leaving him with nothing left. He felt feverish, bone weary. "I just want whoever finds this to know we meant it for the best. We meant everything for the best. We wanted to make the Imperium safer. We thought we had found the ultimate tool for that purpose. We thought we had found a weapon like no other. And we were right, may the Emperor and Princess forgive me, we were right. But it wasn't what we hoped for, what we wanted. And now I fear we've doomed the entire human race."
He could feel it now behind him, could hear the relentless steps of his pursuer, his constant companion in this hell he'd been trapped in all those weeks ago. He set the pict recorder on the control board of the ruined communications array.
"We meant it for the best," he sobbed. "We meant it for the best."
The steps stopped right behind him, and the Adept could hear the drops hitting the floor. Someone else had been alive, been taken. But he was the last one. He knew that as surely as he knew his own culpability in this horror. From the dimness behind him came a sickly green light, growing brighter and brighter with each passing second. Soon it filled everything, filled his entire world. He closed his eyes, but the light burned its way through the thin flesh. Nothing existed but that horrible, deathly glow. And he screamed.
{oOo}
Reality tore open in a harsh, multicolor swirl as the Warp briefly encroached upon the physical realm and deposited a small frigate before the Materium reasserted its dominance. Heavily armed and armored, it was obvious this was no mere civilian vessel. The sub light engines of The Silver Lance flared to life, bringing the small ship closer into foreboding grey rock floating silently through the void.
Soon after settling into orbit, a shuttle broke away from the larger ship and shot toward the surface. It was unadorned, painted in a functional olive green, save for the golden aquila set on its side. The Imperial Guard had arrived.
Inside, men were strapped into their chairs as the ship buckled against the thin atmosphere of the planet below. At the front was a well built, stern faced man who looked even more so because of the scar across his nose. He tapped his helmet, sending a signal to everyone else in the room.
"Vox check. Everybody sound off."
A chorus of "Sir, yes sir!" erupted from more than thirty throats, coming clearly through the comm channel over the noise of atmospheric entry, and he smiled. He closed his green eyes briefly, basking in the well-oiled discipline of his platoon before continuing.
"You all should have read the mission briefing on the trip over here," he said wryly. "But I'll say it again just in case you lot had something better to do than stick to protocol." There was a little snickering over that, quickly hushed up by the rest of the men. "There's a research facility on this Emperor forsaken ball of rock belonging to the Blue Robes and the Cogboys. Nobody's heard anything from them in almost a month, so it's our job to secure the site before the guys with brains come down to figure out what the hell happened. If there are hostiles on site, we are to neutralize them by any means necessary. Now, in case I've been using too many big words for you ladies, that means you shoot it till it stops moving."
More than one of the men broke out laughing. One, a squat man with short black hair, chimed in. "You don't need to tell us how to do that, lieutenant. We've gotten pretty good at it."
"Sometimes I'm not so sure, Torver," the lieutenant shot back, but there wasn't any heat in his voice. "Private Halx, details on the mission area."
"Yes sir, Lieutenant Kraxman." The thin, almost scrawny but for lanky muscle revealed by his rolled up shirtsleeves, man pulled out a data slate from within his crash webbing and began to read off it. "Atmosphere is barely tolerable for human survival. There's no surface water to be found anywhere outside the polar caps, but the facility has access to an aquifer. The complex itself is seventy five thousand square meters, powered geothermally."
"Do we have any idea what was being done here?"
"That's need to know, Larcus," Kraxman responded. "As in we don't. Just have your weapon ready when we touch down."
Though, Kraxman thought bitterly. It's not as if the Colonel knew either. We just get sent in to deal with the mess. He turned his head to the side and frowned. And, of course, there's this.
Eyes closed, to all appearances sleeping peacefully, was a tall woman with waist long blonde hair. She was dressed conservatively, wearing a no nonsense military outfit that Kraxman had to admit fit her. She had the air of a soldier, though at first glance she didn't look it. He noticed the rest of the men glancing at her from time to time, but he couldn't fault them. After all, how often was it you had royalty accompany you on a mission?
She opened her eyes and looked at him, giving him a small smile. Kraxman jumped in his seat and turned his head away to hide his flush. He nearly jumped again when he heard the Senshi speak clearly without using the vox system.
"I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, Lieutenant."
"No need to apologize, Ma'am," Kraxman said immediately. Somehow she could hear him even over the shuttle engines, which both surprised him and didn't at the same time. She was a Senshi. For all he knew this was just the most mundane of what she could do. "Just not used to having someone of your status on a mission. I'll adapt."
"I understand. Normally I'd say you don't need to be so formal, but that wouldn't be good for discipline. I've probably been bad enough for that just attaching myself to your team so abruptly."
"Speaking of that," Kraxman eased in, glad to finally have a chance to broach the subject. "Why did you attach yourself when we were in transit from Halafax? I'm sure you've got better things to do than pounding dirt with the Guard."
"You don't give yourself and the Guard enough credit then," Azmina interrupted, the barest hint of sharpness entering her voice. She shifted in her seat, making Kraxman uncomfortably aware of how well she fit into her uniform. "We acknowledge the Guard, Lieutenant. We acknowledge you. The entire family knows and appreciates the sacrifices the Guard makes on behalf of the Imperium."
Kraxman had to fight down the urge to flush again. Hell, I'm acting like some Juvie who's just met a pretty girl for the first time! Her almond shaped eyes seemed to be concentrated completely on him. "Ah, I'm sorry, Ma'am. That wasn't what I intended. I'm just curious as to why you're here, after all. This whole operation's a little rushed."
"Well, you know how the Mercurians and the Adeptus Mechanicus don't get along most of the time. This is one of the few research posts that actually has them working together. Tekhne knew I was near by and sent me a message asking I help look in to the matter." Her expression softened to something significantly less regal and much more civilian like. "And to be honest, I was tired of doing the diplomacy thing. Rogal would say I'm being irresponsible, but I've wanted to get back in a military operation for a while."
"I can understand wanting to get your hands dirty every now and then, Ma'am. But I'm not sure how to settle who's in charge. You're the highest ranking person in the whole subsector."
"It's your op, Lieutenant," she said calmly. "Unless something extraordinary happens, I'll mostly just be standing aside and letting you do your jobs."
Kraxman nodded. "I appreciate that, Ma'am. Thank you for your support."
She leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs. A glimmer of amusement filled her intense, blue eyes. "Of course, Lieutenant."
The shuttle jerked a bit as it halted its flight, hovering near the facility's hangar.
"Inputting access codes," the pilot said over the vox. "We're in luck. Seems there's still enough power to keep things running."
A few minutes later the shuttle touched down and the doors closed, allowing the atmosphere to reach a more comfortable level. As soon as the light on the hatch turned green, Kraxman got to his feet.
"Okay people, move out! I want heavy weapons teams around the shuttle immediately. Everyone else scout the hangar area. Teams of five."
"Sir!"
And just like that, within five minutes everyone was out of the shuttle and doing their jobs. Kraxman stood back with Azmina, admiring the well-coordinated efforts of the platoon. Torver was getting his heavy weapons crews down and around the ship; autocannons on pintle mounts covering all sides.
"Expecting a need for a quick get-a-way?" the Senshi asked with another smile. Kraxman noted she seemed to do that a lot.
"Never hurts to be careful, Ma'am. If we do need to leave in a hurry, it's best to have the shuttle protected by the heaviest stuff we got."
"A good strategy." She paused for a second, thinking about something. "You know, I met another Lieutenant Kraxman once. It was years ago on a planet called Graztex. He was part of the Guard effort against the Orks when a Chaos band came looking for Esin."
"Yes Ma'am," Kraxman responded, feeling both uncomfortable and proud at the same time. Dammit, I'm not used to this kind of attention. Can't say it's all bad, though. "That was my great grandfather, Fredrick Kraxman. Mom used to tell me stories about him."
"He was a good man. I'm glad to see his blood stayed strong."
Is she… Is she flirting with me? It took everything he had to keep the thought from registering on his face. No, can't be. I must be losing my mind.
"Thank you, Ma'am," he said as calmly as he was able, making sure nothing of his mad thoughts bled into his voice. "That means a lot to me."
The Senshi looked almost disappointed in the corner of Kraxman's eye, but he attributed that to his almost certain growing insanity. It was a relief when the rest of the platoon returned.
"Nothing in the hangar, sir. Just some busted up ships in bad need of repair."
"All right, here's what's going to happen," he barked, much more comfortable now that he was back in his element. "Sergeant Torver, you will remain here and take charge of the heavy weapons crews. I want this bird just as shiny as I left it when I come back."
Torver saluted with a grin. "Sir, yes sir. Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted."
"Since it's already a banged up junker, how will you tell if it's got any new scars, sir?"
Kraxman waved him off with a grunt, but there wasn't any animosity behind it, and turned to the rest of his men. "Standard operating procedure, gentlemen. Teams of five. I want constant updates every ten minutes, and if you have to engage a hostile fall back and meet up with the rest of the platoon. I'm not gonna tolerate any stupid heroics. Am I clear?"
"Yes sir!"
"Good. Fan out. We meet back in the hangar in two hours."
They spread out once outside the hangar, all four teams going down different paths. Azmina tagged along with Kraxman's group as they made their way down the red-lit halls, the faint light enhanced by the luminators attached to their lasguns. The Senshi herself had a bolt pistol, ready to use and pointed ahead along with the rest of them. He could not help but notice that her body was dense, muscled, and ready for battle. He stopped looking at her before his thoughts became inappropriate, but he saw her grin in the corner of his eye. A grin that said she knew what he'd been thinking.
In any event, Kraxman made a note to not get in her line of sight if it came to a combat situation. Friendly fire was bad enough, but bolt pistols left especially nasty wounds.
They looked through a number of doors, most leading to either crew quarters or storage rooms. There wasn't anything of interest aside from a few shelves knocked over and some crates that had been pried open. But despite finding nothing Kraxman couldn't help but feel on edge. The air was stifling in this place, the ventilation working on minimal capacity in order to conserve power. It was muggy and hot, sweltering like the swamps he'd trudged through before on different planets. But while that was open air, which allowed some relief, this was in a confined space, which made it all the worse. He felt the sweat drip down his face.
And that was the least of it. As they continued on they found nothing broken. There weren't any signs of struggle anywhere. Everything seemed perfectly in place for an Imperial research laboratory. Except for the fact that there weren't any people.
The place was unnerving, stark passageways giving an oppressive atmosphere in the red-lit halls. After several minutes he was getting annoyed with the color. It made him start seeing shadows and things that weren't there, playing tricks on his mind. Weird shapes that crawled along the floors and walls as they passed, making gruesome daemonic faces and unnatural bodies. It didn't help that he was pushing his senses to the utmost for possible ambushes. It made everything in his peripheral vision seem even stranger as they trudged their way down the corridors.
The wall shuddered in the corner of his eye as is alive, rippling like a snake sloughing off its skin. He blinked and then held up his hand. The rest of the team stopped, looking in all directions for any sign of enemies.
"What the hell was that!" cried out another man on his team. It wasn't loud, and he kept his weapon up, but it was obvious from his expression he'd seen the exact same thing as Kraxman. The wall had moved somehow, undulating like some metallic beast settling itself. Kraxman repressed a shudder at that mental image before pushing on. This place was disturbing enough without his imagination adding to it.
"Halx," he motioned the smaller man to the wall. "Take out your auspex and scan that wall."
The private didn't waste time asking questions, pulling out the scanning device and directing it toward the wall in question.
"Nothing unusual, sir. Standard steel alloy, cheap and easy to produce."
Kraxman grunted, not pleased at all with that assessment. Was he just seeing things? It wouldn't surprise him. Still…
"Ma'am, I hate to ask, but could I request a favor?"
Azmina raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Lieutenant?"
"Do you feel anything strange in the metal around us?"
The Senshi narrowed her eyes and seemed to stare momentarily into space. Kraxman wondered what was going through her mind. Did she think he was overstepping himself, or perhaps just plain crazy? He wouldn't blame her. He was starting to think the same thing. After a moment she raised her eyes to his and moved to the wall. She laid a hand on it and closed her eyes. There was a slight vibration where she touched, and after a few moments she pulled her hand away.
"It's steel, but there's something more…" she paused, brow furrowing in concentration. "I can't put my finger on it. Something foreign."
"I'm still not getting anything on the auspex."
"It's faint," she whispered. "Barely there at all. I'm afraid I can't be any clearer than that. It's familiar, but it's so faint I can't get enough of a feeling to spark a memory."
"But there's definitely something in the walls?" Kraxman asked, eying the hallways around them and gripping his lasgun tighter.
"Yes," she said softly.
That, of course, had everyone a little spooked. Not overly, they were too well trained, but it had Kraxman cursing for what it had done to morale. He tapped the vox in his helmet, barking out a harsh command to remind everyone of proper discipline and maybe get some answers.
"Sitrep. Anyone find anything?"
"Larcus sounding in. Nothing so far. Hell, if it wasn't for the lack of people I'd swear there was nothing wrong here."
"Torver sounding in. Nothing creepy crawly has moved into the hangar. Pity, I was all for roasting something. Nothing like autocannons to grill up some big nasties."
The other two teams, under Hollock and Janson, responded likewise, which did nothing to relieve the growing tension Kraxman was feeling. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. But by all accounts the facility was working fine, outside of running on minimal power. But where were the people? Hell, there weren't even any bodies! What had happened here?
Their footsteps created ominous echoes as they slinked along, and Kraxman found himself straining for any sign of noise, anything at all to give some sign of life to this place.
An intake of breath to his left almost had him jumping out of his skin, but rigid discipline ingrained through years of training and warfare kept any overreaction in check. He looked over to see Senshi Venus sweating slightly, her eyes grimacing as if in pain.
"Ma'am, are you all right?" he whispered, not wanting to add to the tension his men were already feeling.
"Yes, just a slight headache," she said with only a hint of strain in her voice. She pushed some of her fine, blonde hair from her face and looked at him straight on. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."
"No disrespect intended, Ma'am, but are you sure? So far nothing on this op makes any sense. I'd hate for you to be getting ill from it as well."
"Really, it's nothing," she said firmly. "I've felt worse wrestling with Rogal. So don't worry about me. There're bigger things to focus on."
Kraxman felt like he'd almost swallowed his tongue at how she casually mentioned wrestling with a Primarch, so he just nodded and kept his eyes focused ahead.
"Hey!" came Halx as he checked inside another door, moving his head quickly back to avoid possible fire from hidden assailants. "This looks like one of the actual laboratories. Might have clues as to what the hell happened here."
They advanced inside, covering everything carefully to ensure the dim illumination and the many contraptions did not conceal any adversaries. The first thing that Kraxman noticed was the smell, like the atmosphere after a lightning strike. The air took on a different texture as well, slightly greasy in a way that did not mix well with the overall staleness. The maddening red lights cast eerie shadows, giving the room a sinister, bloody appearance.
It looked like a laboratory out of the holopicts, with great cogitators taking up portions of the room and other devices on various workbenches strewn about. Granted, there weren't any machines sending off arcs of electricity or any other theatrics, but the table with the holding straps fit the stereotype well enough. There was also a vaguely gun like contraption held over it.
"What would they need chained to a table?"
"Who knows? The binds are intact, so nothing broke out of them. Halx, see if you can't find any logs on the cogitators."
"Yes sir."
Halx fiddled with the machines a bit, flipping switches as he went through the most obvious start up routines. After a few seconds he managed to get some screens working, after which he cursed and hit the cogitator with his fist.
"Problem?"
"Damn thing just keeps telling me it doesn't have enough power for 'primary functions.' I'm gonna have to mess around with everything until I find some recordings. Still, might be easier if we can get primary power back up."
Kraxman tapped his helmet. "Message to all teams. If anyone is near anything that looks like the primary power grid, see if you can't get it up and running. I'm getting tired of seeing things in a red tint."
"Thanks, sir. Now, I'll just look around a bit more."
Halx moved from cogitator to cogitator, fiddling with them gently and growing more and more frustrated as his attempts failed to bear fruit. Eventually, after several minutes, he gave a triumphant cry. But soon enough it faded into even more colorful obscenities than before.
"What's wrong?"
Halx turned around, his expression as if he'd eaten something sour. "Finally found some records, but it's locked behind a pass code. We won't be getting anything here."
Kraxman grunted. "Unfortunate, but not unexpected. We'll just have to move on and see if we can't find anything else."
He turned around to signal his men to move out, but before he could anything Azmina was moving toward the controls. He opened his mouth to ask, respectfully, what she was doing, but she cut him off before he could get any words out.
"I should be able to override the command passwords. Just give me a second."
Kraxman held back a whistle. "That's mighty convenient."
She gave him a smile before responding, her voice light for his ears alone. "I'm more than just a pretty face, you know?"
Kraxman came to the conclusion that he'd been spending too much time around Guardsmen if he was blushing this much in one day. He planned to rectify this the next time his platoon got leave.
Azmina typed a long stream of letters and numbers into the cogitator, after which the screen changed. A lengthy list of dates appeared, and Kraxman couldn't keep a little grin off his face.
Finally. Something's going our way for once today.
She opened up a vid file near the end, which promptly took up the entire screen. An older man in blue robes appeared, his face obscuring the rest of the laboratory. Sounds of activity could be heard behind him, though. When he spoke, it was with the clinical precision of one who had done this deed many times before.
"Date is 245120.M40. We have performed further testing on the miraculous subject discovered by our survey teams so many weeks ago, and the discoveries have been magnificent! The substance that composes its structure seems to heal itself from all deformations inflicted upon it. The time required seems to be dependent on the amount of damage incurred, though this does raise issues on why the subject has not healed the overwhelming damage already present when it was discovered. Further testing on this will be required before we have an accurate assessments of its exact limits."
The man paused for a second, stroking his chin with one augmetic hand. He seemed deep in thought, looking for the proper phrasing of what he wanted to say. After a few seconds he gathered himself together and continued.
"It has been suggested by some of my colleagues that we run a current through it in hopes of further reaction. Perhaps this might even activate the device? We'll have to ensure it is properly restrained. Still, it's suffered so much damage I can't see this as a likely possibility. However, I can't see any harm in the attempt after we've done some more testing. We'll just have to see."
The screen winked out, bringing back the previous list of recordings. Kraxman had leaned in to get a better look when it was playing, consequently bringing himself closer to the Senshi. They looked at each other, which promptly reminded the lieutenant who she was now that his attention wasn't hyperfocused on the matter at hand. He backed away to a respectful distance and cleared his throat.
"So they were experimenting on something? Is that what everything in this room was for?"
"The other records seem to be about the same subject matter, yes," Azmina responded as she looked through the files. "Everything here is labeled under 'Project Infragilis.'"
"Leave it to the techies to make something sound more important with high gothic," Kraxman heard one of his men mutter, and he couldn't really disagree. It seemed both politicians and technicians simply loved to give their various projects grand sounding names in the mostly dead language.
"Sir!" came a frantic call over the vox. "Sir, this is Larcus reporting in from the main power generator. It's busted up bad, sir. We've got some freaky shit here!"
"Calm down," Kraxman said immediately. "Tell me what's going on. Have you found any bodies?"
"No sir, no bodies. But the walls are covered in all sorts of gibberish. A whole bunch of it looks like it was written in blood."
Kraxman felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "Do you see any signs of a Chaos incursion?"
"No sir. No Warp symbols or any blasphemies. It's all written in plain gothic. But none of it makes any damn sense."
"What's it say?"
"I can't make out most of it. It's like the guy wrote over what he'd already written. But there's one thing that's repeated over and over again on every damn wall."
"What is it?"
"'The metal lives.' Just over and over again. 'The metal lives.'"
"What in the hell does that mean? Did everyone else get this?"
"I got it, sir," Torver said before everyone else. "Gotta tell ya, this is mighty weird."
"Janson reporting in! Sir, there's blood everywhere in this apartment! Emperor on earth, some of it's on the warp damned ceiling!"
"Hollock here. Lieutenant, we've found a body stuffed in one of the storage containers. It's, aw hell!" There was a sound like someone dry hacking in the background, like the man was trying to hold back throwing up. "She's missing her skin! Sir, this has got to be the aftermath of a Chaos raid! Nobody else does this shit!"
The vox net exploded with activity, voices talking to each other so fast Kraxman could barely understand what they were saying. It had to be a Chaos Warband, one voice cried. They had to call for back up! But then where were the blasphemous symbols of the ruinous powers, came a response? Heretics didn't attack somewhere without leaving some kind of mark for their worship. Maybe it was the Orks? But Orks aren't nearly this clean, and they'd have looted the place! Hell, maybe it was those Dark Eldar bastards! They're certainly sick enough for it.
"Everybody, calm down!" Kraxman barked over the vox. Years of training and serving together had an immediate effect, and instantly the response imbued into them through years of combat took effect. The chatter died and discipline was restored. "Hollock, is there anything around the body? Are there any signs as to what did this?"
"No sir, nothing but the corpse and a lot of… wait a minute. There's a pict recorder set down near the crate."
"Can you patch it into the vox net? It might give us some clues. Everybody else, stay frosty. We've all been through worse."
"Yes sir, just give me a minute," Hollock responded, his voice a little less tense now that Kraxman had snapped everyone out of their rising panic. It was strange. They'd all gone through combat with many of the worst enemies of the Imperium, but this place was getting to him. It was getting to everyone. There was an ill-defined something about this place, this situation, that was putting everyone on edge.
"Did you hear that?" Azmina said suddenly, looking around for something. Kraxman raised an eyebrow.
"No Ma'am, I can't hear anything. What is it?"
She paused for a second, looking around the room. "No, no it's nothing. I could have just sworn I heard someone whispering."
"Got it set up, Lieutenant," Hollock voxed before Kraxman could ask the Senshi for more information. "Obviously I can't do a video feed, but audio should come through fine. Playing now."
There was a brief crackle of static as the message played. There was first silence, then punctuated with the deep heavy panting of a man who had perhaps run for hours on nothing but will power and bone gripping terror. There then was the sound of gulping down liquid before, finally, the man on the message spoke.
"I found," the voice began, pausing for another drink. Kraxman recognized it as the voice belonging to the same tech priest they'd listened to just a few minutes previously. "I found Jarena, just a moment ago. She… her skin's gone. The monster's skinned her alive. Took it off her just like Vozzix. Oh, oh Throne on earth. I didn't mean for this, I didn't mean for any of this. I'm sorry. Jarena, I'm so sorry."
He tried to say more, but his sobs got in the way. The man's weeping was eerily quiet, as if he was forcing himself to keep silent. After several minutes he managed to compose himself enough to continue."It's been five days since we ran a current through the device. Five days since we activated it. It's been a nightmare. The restraints didn't do anything, it moved through them like they weren't even there. It killed Ferrilis and Eziphal almost immediately. I ran. I've been running all this time. I heard it take Vozzix three days ago. He was screaming so loud. I didn't know a man could scream like that. And then when I peeked my head out, I thought I saw him turn a corner. But it wasn't him. No, it wasn't him."
The man giggled hysterically for a moment, which soon broke down into more sobbing.
"It's destroyed all the transports so we can't get off the planet, and now it's holed up on the west side with the communications array. We're trapped. We're trapped and it's playing with us! Wait… what was that?"
The vox cut off, and Kraxman realized he was gripped his lasgun so hard his hands were growing numb. He unclenched his hands with effort, knuckles popping from the release in pressure. He tapped his helmet vox and growled out his commands.
"Larcus, Janson, take your teams and head back to Torver's position. I want as many guns around the shuttle as possible. Hollock, meet up with me at the communications array. I want to see if we can find any sign as to what this thing is before we get off this rock."
They made their way down the halls at a quick march, everyone with their eyes open to look for the enemy. All were properly afraid now, taxing the discipline beaten into them by long training and longer combat service. Even the Senshi had sweat beading on her brow as she clenched her teeth. Kraxman considered asking her to go back to the shuttle with some of his men, but the circumstances mitigated against any reduction in numbers and he was concerned she would be offended.
The faint emergency lighting took an even more ominous tone in the wake of what they had seen and heard. The adepts here had awakened something, something that should have stayed buried. Then it had killed them all in horrifically gruesome ways. Whatever it was, it was still be on the planet! There were no other shuttles that could take it anywhere else. And then there was that cryptic message on the walls of the generator room.
The metal lives, Kraxman thought urgently as they trudged on, ready to shoot anything that didn't wear the uniform of the Imperial Guard. What does that mean? How can metal be alive?
They turned a corner, almost colliding with Hollock's group with their swift march. The sergeant was at the forefront. Kraxman almost couldn't make him out in the dim light thanks to the man's darker complexion. Order returned swiftly, however, and the now doubled team made their way to the communications array. The door was open, and two troopers dove inside, weapons ready to fire on anything that moved. The rest of the squad came inside when they gave the all clear.
"What in Serenity's name is that?"
In front of the machine, right next to a ripped open casing, was a desiccated corpse in blue robes. The man's face was drawn and thin, as if all the fluid had been sucked from his body, leaving it in a rictus mask of horrified agony. One of his men turned the adept over, the dried skin of the man's arm flaking off as he did so.
"That's the adept from the recordings," Azmina whispered, faintly out of breath. "What happened to him?"
Kraxman had no idea. He'd never seen something like this before. He'd been at the bloody aftermath of Chaos incursions and Dark Eldar raids, but their attacks always left copious amounts of gore. This, in comparison, was bloodless. But the manner in which it was done, the unknowable purpose behind everything that had happened, made the entire situation even more nerve wracking.
He noticed a small auspex near the body, strange looking and heavily modified. He bent down to retrieve it, slipping it into one of his many pockets as he gave the tech priest a closer look.
"This might be able to answer that," Halx called, motioning to a pict recorder set on the destroyed communications array. The Guardsman adjusted it for a few moments before a holographic screen emerged.
The adept's face was shown, drawn and haggard from malnutrition and lack of sleep. He stepped away from the screen, shaking as tears flowed down grime-covered cheeks.
"This… this will be my last record," he said slowly, as if struggling with the words. "I want whoever finds this to know we meant it for the best. We meant everything for the best. We wanted to make the Imperium safer. We thought we had found the ultimate tool for that purpose. We thought we had found a weapon like no other. And we were right, may the Emperor and Princess forgive me, we were right. But it wasn't what we hoped for, what we wanted. And now I fear we've doomed the entire human race."
Something was moving behind the adept now, barely seen in the shadow of the doorway. It was coming closer, the sound of metal on metal marking its steps.
"We meant it for the best. We meant it for the best."
A green light glowed from behind the man, illuminating an unnaturally thin figure. The light came from a hand with inhumanly long fingers, the points of which looked far too sharp for fingernails. At first it appeared it was wearing ragged strips of clothing, but as it came closer it became obvious this was not the case.
It was a nightmare creature, a thing dredged up from the darkest corners of the mind. Its face, if it could be called such a thing, was a metal shell shaped like an elongated skull. Blood and gore dripped from its cloak, which, to his horror Kraxman realized was made of human skin!
This thing was wearing flesh like clothes! Why would it do that? What purpose did it serve? The strange light was coming from inside the creature's hand, a monstrous appendage made of foot long knives that looked impossibly sharp.
The adept turned around, his face parallel with the necrotic glow, and screamed in agony and fear. An ethereal fog forced itself out of his eyes, ears and mouth; a fog that gave a faint glow as it was absorbed into the creature's body. The adept screamed as his skin compressed and cracked, his agony saturating the air before suddenly ceasing with the finality of a thread snapped in two.
As the adept fell to the floor, the metallic monster gave it only a moment's consideration before turning and slinking off. The blank picture continued until, with a shaking hand Halx, turned it off.
Everyone stood there, trying vainly to process what they had seen. What had that… abomination done to that poor man? Why was it doing this? They had no answers and no time to look for them.
'Flesh…'
"Did anyone hear that?" Azmina again asked, breaking the silence. Her voice snapped Kraxman to action. Immediately he put a hand to his helmet, activating his vox.
"Torver, I want that shuttle ready to go yesterday! We're in way over our heads here. Larcus, Janson, help Torver load up the equipment. If anything's left by the time we get back, we're leaving it!"
"Sir, Larcus hasn't come in yet," Torver responded. "He's not responding to my calls."
"What? Larcus, come in!" He switched to one to one frequency with the man's vox unit. "Damn it Larcus, we don't have time for this. Come in!" Static was his only answer.
'Your flesh…'
"You can't tell me you're not hearing this," Azmina said, distracting Kraxman from his frantic calls.
"Hear what?"
"The whispering! It's been coming from the walls for the past ten minutes now!"
"Ma'am," he snapped, frustration bleeding through. "I haven't heard a damn thing!"
'Give me your flesh!'
The voice was not in any language Azmina had ever heard before, but its intent was so strong that it lanced into her mind like a spear. The Senshi screamed, a blood curdling noise that echoed throughout the room as she clutched her head, falling to her knees in pain so intense she slammed her skull into the floor in a vain attempt to shake it off. Tears flowed from her eyes as she continued to shriek in an ear piercing sound Kraxman never would have anticipated emerging from the throat of one who was all but divine in comparison to regular men.
"The pain!" she cried. "So much pain! Millions of years without flesh and blood and feeling! An eternity trapped in the dark! Make it stop, please make it stop!"
Kraxman reached for her, trying to keep her from injuring herself, but her strength was greater than his. She tore herself free from his hands and rammed her forehead into the floor, denting it over and over again as she screamed until finally, blessedly, she knocked herself unconscious.
But screaming continued. Kraxman heard something on the other end of his vox, the crack of lasgun fire and men howling as they engaged something that was tearing them apart.
"What the fuck is that thing!" Torver yelled. "Shoot it! Shoot-"
He cut off with a gurgle, and there was a squelching sound like a butcher slaughtering, then carving up a side of beef. He heard the heavy pounding of autocannons accented by men screaming in fear and pain.
"Grab the Senshi and come on! We've got to get back to the shuttle!"
Hollock and one of his men grabbed Azmina by the shoulders and legs. They shot down the halls at triple time, the sounds of annihilation filling their ears as the shuttle team tried desperately to hold out against the monster they'd seen on the pict screen. They, even at a full run, moved torturously slowly until, halfway there, the sounds abruptly stopped.
The hangar was a charnel house, the stench of death everywhere. Bodies were cut to ribbons, blood pooling on the floor like a crimson tide. Chunks of meat were strewn about the place. The sterile horror of the previous killing sites had now come to the opposite extreme with fifteen men slaughtered like cattle in a frenzy. The autocannons were smashed to pieces, and the thrusters on the shuttle had been sliced apart by some impossibly sharp tool.
But none of this was what drew Kraxman's eye. Standing over Torver's prone, eviscerated body was a stooped figure; its form hidden by a mottled cloak that Kraxman knew was not made from any fabric or animal leather.
It turned its head from its task; long fingers cutting Torver's hide into bloody strips. The lieutenant couldn't stop himself from recoiling in horror. Wrapped around that unnatural metal skull, worn like some kind of macabre half mask, was Larcus' face.
"You monster!"
The crack of a lasgun rang out, and Kraxman didn't even realize he had opened fire, his men following suit not one second later. Red shots of energy careened through the air, hitting the creature and everything around it with bolts of photonic death. They blew little craters in the creature's silvery skin, the material dispersing most of the energy harmlessly. Kraxman noticed other wounds beneath the ones they were inflicting upon it. There was an enormous hole in its chest from direct autocannon fire.
How can this thing still be moving after all this?
They shot enough lasbolts at the thing to stop a sauropod, the air in the hangar heating up in shimmering waves from the firepower unleashed. But despite all it still moved, turning to face them and taking everything they had full on. It was then Kraxman noticed that its wounds were healing, the metal that formed its body repairing the scars and craters that dotted its surface beneath its monstrous clothing. It charged them with a speed that belied the slow gate they'd seen on the recording, bladed hands ignoring the man's armor entirely and slicing a Guardsman straight through.
Kraxman shouted to his men to concentrate their fire at the creature's chest. At this close range, every volley jolted the thing shot after shot. Soon its wounds grew, especially around the hole in its chest, the rapidity of fire preventing it from fully healing itself. They drove it back. It stumbled, barely catching itself before letting loose an ear wrenching static howl before diving at the wall.
Instead of smashing into an unyielding surface, the metallic killer simply passed straight through the wall like it was made of air. Kraxman's jaw dropped, and he was only shaken from his astonishment by the sounds of his men and a faint vibration coming from one of his pockets.
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and took stock of the situation. The hangar was a mess, and their ship was destroyed. They had no way to leave the planet now. He grimaced as he turned to where Halx and the others were trying to keep Hitchens from bleeding out. Now they were trapped, prey to be picked off at this thing's discretion.
"How is he?" the lieutenant asked as he pulled the strange, vibrating auspex out of his armor jacket. It showed a dot moving away, quickly reaching the edge of the screen. Interesting.
"Hitchens's dead, sir," Halx said with an expression like he'd just chugged some of the worst rotgut the galaxy had to offer. "Damn thing nearly cut him in half in three places."
"Fuck," Kraxman whispered. He had to restrain himself from shouting it. A member of the Imperial royalty unconscious and some kind of horror stalking the hallways of this damned laboratory. But worse than that, so much worse, over two thirds of his platoon were dead! He could feel his teeth threatening to crack under the strain of keeping his cool. He had to stay focused, had to keep his mind on dealing with the matter at hand. There'd be time for mourning later, time to think about the letters he'd have to send to his men's families.
He distracted himself with looking at the strange auspex. The dot was gone from the screen, but he was sure he'd seen it. That crazy techpriest had made something useful before he'd succumbed.
"Halx, I want you to get some men to scrounge up supplies from the shuttle. Anything we can use. Get in touch with The Silver Lance if you can. If we can get off this rock I want to pound this place into slag."
"What's the damn point!" one of his men yelled out. He was shaking, hugging his weapon like it was a lifeline keeping him from falling into some dark pit. "That thing just wiped out over half the platoon! Sir, we've got to run!"
He was panicking, and the rest of the group aside from Halx and Hollock weren't far behind him. The man looked in every direction at once, trying to spot the enemy that had decimated them, before continuing. "It'll kill us all. It's gonna-"
Kraxman punched him in the jaw, sending the Guardsman off his feet and cutting short his hysterical rant.
"Get a hold of yourself! Where would we run? The planet would kill us in a few days and that thing will butcher us if we just run around the facility. We need to strike back, kill it before it kills us! Do you understand me, Guardsman?"
The man got back to his feet, legs shaking but growing steadier. He wiped some blood off his chin and saluted. "S… Sorry, sir. I don't know what came over me."
"Just don't let it happen again." He motioned to the shuttle. "Well? Get moving!"
He was sitting on a crate examining the auspex when his men returned, some supplies in hand. He knew he hadn't imagined the blip on the screen, and if this was what he thought it was, then they might have a chance.
"Wasn't too good, sir," Halx reported. "Damn thing killed the pilot and messed up the dashboard before it tore off the thrusters. I could probably jerry rig something to boost our comms to the Lance, but that would take hours."
The lieutenant grunted. "Tell me you found something we can use."
"We lucked out and found a melta bomb, but besides that there were just a few grenades. The inside of the ship looks like a tornado filled with knives set on it."
Kraxman nodded. "Think you can rig a detonator?"
Halx blinked in surprise. "Well, yeah. Shouldn't be too hard. You got something in mind, sir?"
"Yeah, I got something."
He turned to his men, who were setting down all they'd found in a pile.
"Listen up. You, you and you," he pointed. "Will stand guard over the Senshi. The rest of us are going hunting."
{oOo}
He was sweating now that he was back in the hallway, the heat of this place getting to him again now that he was back in the cramped quarters. Hollock wasn't much better, the taller Guardsmen continually wiping his forehead to keep the sweat from pouring into his eyes.
Kraxman had the auspex in front of him, his gaze never leaving it as the two men stalked down the dim corridors. They weren't taking any care to keep their footsteps concealed, combat boots sending ominous echoes down the corridors. He filtered them out, keeping his ears open and his eyes locked on the device.
"Can I say something off the record, sir?" Hollock whispered as he trained his gun down where the hall turned a corner.
"Go ahead."
"I am really uncomfortable walking out here again."
"Well, you volunteered."
"Doesn't mean I have to like it," the bigger man grumbled. Kraxman might have found it amusing if the situation wasn't so insanely dangerous.
A blip appeared at the edge of the auspex, slowly heading in their direction. Both men stopped to stare at the small device, keeping track of the numbers counting down till it reached their position.
"Now?"
"Not yet."
The blip came closer, speed increasing. It was ignoring walls, just heading straight for them in a beeline. The lieutenant could hear Hollock shuffling around, trying to see where the thing would come from.
"Now?" he asked with more urgency.
"Almost…"
It was almost there, just twenty meters away. He could swear he heard the thing's metal footsteps, even though such a thing would be impossible if the warp blasted thing was coming through the walls. Just ten meters away now. Five… Two…
"Now!"
They broke into a run as a clawed hand swiped from the wall adjacent to where they had been standing, missing the lieutenant by just a few scant inches. It howled that horrific sound, like someone screaming through a badly tuned vox unit, and gave chase. Kraxman spared just a moment to look over his shoulder and wished he hadn't.
The creature was still wearing Larcus' skin, but now it had strapped the robe tighter around itself using strips of flesh that had to have come from one of the other troopers it had killed. Its face was an expressionless skull, but its eyes glowed with a green light that showed its hunger. Hunger for him, for his skin. Perhaps even for something more…
They turned around the corner, nearly crashing into the wall in their haste. They caught themselves just in time, rushing down the hallway as fast as their legs could take them. All the while they heard the thing move, the strange metal that made up the creature echoing on the floor. They almost fell over themselves when the sound suddenly cut off.
Kraxman looked at the auspex, eyes widening in alarm.
"Duck!" he roared, pulling Hollock down with him as the figure burst from the wall beside them, flying through the air and crashing into the opposite wall. They ran again as it got to its feet, and Kraxman suddenly realized he was screaming at the top of his lungs, with Hollock's own cry joining his. But above both of them came the thing's horrific shriek, digging past their ears and into their brains, forcing itself inside and burning its way into memory.
It seemed like hours they ran, hounded by that wail and the echoing of metal steps. Hours chased by a creature born out of some mad engineer's fever dreams. But only minutes had passed, precious minutes where the burn in their lungs and the pain in their legs reminded them they were still alive. But for how long could they remain so? How long could they keep this up?
They ran into one of the laboratories, still screaming at the top of their lungs. The flesh wearing abomination was but a few steps behind them, crossing the doorway just seconds after they did. But adrenaline and fear pushed the Guardsmen past their limits, their steps eating ground till they were almost on the other side when the creature stepped through the opening.
"Halx, now!" Kraxman barked, his voice raw and hoarse from his exertions. The room was huge, and they were almost to the door on the other side. If they could just …
The world erupted in fire and sound, the force of it sending the two men off their feet and into the wall opposite the door with enough force to knock the wind out of them. Actinic light and black smoke filled the room, and the thing howled as the melta bomb went off right next to it, the clutch of krak grenades detonating just an instant later. Bombs designed to rip through tanks played havoc with the weaker metal around them. The walls melted under the heat, and the ceiling groaned ominously as load bearing structures evaporated under the anti-armor explosives. Various pieces of machinery sparked as the blast wave ripped into them, delicate deformations happening simultaneously with major distortions.
Kraxman groaned as he sat up, wincing at the pain in his ribs. They felt cracked. Hollock was out cold, bleeding from his temple. He was half inside and half out, the explosion knocking him through the door on the far side of the room. His back was smoking, his body armor charred from the heat the explosion had unleashed. The burning sensation he felt underneath all the chemicals swirling through his system told him he wasn't any better off.
He drew the Senshi's bolt pistol, trying to pierce the smoke. He looked at the auspex and cursed. He'd landed on the thing, which helped explain some of his aching ribs. The device was smashed, its screen cracked and pieces falling off. He chucked it to the side and returned his gaze to the smoke filled crater on the other side of the spacious room.
Did that kill it? He thought furiously, his heart beating a staccato tune inside his ears. Please tell me that killed it.
There was no screech when it emerged from the smoke, just the scraping sound of metal on the once smooth floor. One of its arms was gone completely, the other not much better as its metallic flesh ran like wax onto the floor. Its chest was cracked, the side where its arm had been sloughing down and glowing reddish yellow with residual heat. There was something amiss with its legs, which were not moving properly. But even then he could see it beginning to repair itself. Slowly but surely the metal began to reform. It reached out for him with its remaining clawed hand. As Kraxman stared into its horrible green eyes he knew that it would never stop coming for him as long as it lived, if such a word was even applicable to this horror.
He fired off the bolt pistol, the heavy rounds blowing craters in its weakened armor as it continued to reach for him. The explosive ammo took out great chunks, sending metal flying as he pulled the trigger, but still it moved onward toward him. Unyielding. Unfeeling. Unstoppable.
"Halx!" Kraxman cried, his voice coming out strangely muted in his ears. "Halx, get in here! Everybody, get in here!"
The response to his call came in the form of a bright flash, and when the spots cleared from his eyes he saw the after image of a massive beam of power. It tore through the top half of the abomination, and when the light vanished completely the thing's upper torso was simply gone. The lower half fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, lying there for a moment before disappearing in a flash of sickly green light, leaving no trace that it had ever existed at all. In some idle part of his mind Kraxman wondered if the thing had some sort of self-destruct mechanism to prevent looting. Anything was possible where this thing was concerned.
The lieutenant blinked in confusion, not sure what to make of all this as his adrenaline died down and the pain of his wounds came to the surface of his mind. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, trying to block out the burning he felt on every square inch of his being. When he opened them again, Azmina was kneeling beside him, worry etched into her beautiful features.
"Ma'am?" he said softly, but with growing alarm. "What?"
She cut him off by kissing him fiercely on the lips.
His eyes almost popped out of his head. This couldn't be happening! She was royalty, and he was just some lieutenant in the Guard. There's no way she'd be kissing him right now, and he certainly did not hear his men sniggering in the background. No, certainly not. He had to be dreaming.
Yeah, that's got to be it. The explosion knocked me out, and this is all in my head because there's no way this is real.
Kraxman was gasping for air again when the kiss ended, though he had to admit that this time it was much more pleasant. Granted, he'd have enjoyed it more if it weren't for the burning pain he felt everywhere, but he'd take his victories however he could get them.
"Steven Kraxman," she said with a smile, though her earlier pain lingered on her expression. "I would very much enjoy if you would dine with me when we get back to The Silver Lance. I'm very interested in getting to know you better."
Kraxman opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking vaguely reminiscent of a fish, before he could choke out a breathless response.
"Okay."
{oOo}
Far away in the infinite void, something stirred. Something ancient and eldritch, alien in ways men could scarcely even conceive. Something made of cold logic and unshakable order, which had grown powerful before entire species had ever come to be. And now it welcomed back one of its own.
Unit 5683785739374 has returned, extensive damage suffered. Downloading data… Data received. Corroborating with data from other units… Life in galactic sphere has returned to acceptable levels.
New sentients have been detected alongside those already recorded. Capable of interstellar travel. Technology observed as grade 3. Threat rating: Moderate.
Warning, new energy recorded from unit. Energy similar to wavelengths recorded from the realm designated: Empyrean. Potency: Extreme. Designated threat rating of such enemy units: Extreme. More data required. New course of action set.
Begin initial awakening…
{oOo}