In the void, no one hears your screams.
Mikhal Ester walked through the halls of the battle barge, The Vengeful Maul. It belonged to the Omega Marines, a space marine chapter few of the Imperium knew well due to their distant home world. Mikhal was not of the brethren, but instead one of the Astra Militarum soldiers rescued from a desolate world besieged by Orks. He was one of the few sanctioned psykers stationed on that horrid planet, doomed to die there to hold back the green tide that was washing across the sector.
The battalion was sent to evacuate civilians from one of the planets that would be caught in the wake of the green tide but was not able to be fortified in time to defend it. The Orks arrived earlier than expected and the battalion set up roughshod defenses in the hive city that was currently being evacuated in preparation for the Orkoid assault. The battalion held strong against the green skins for six weeks, but not without incurring heinous casualties. On the end of the seventh week, the one that the strategist estimated the green skins would finally break through the lines and route the beleaguered defenders, the Commander received a vox from an unknown space marine chapter, going by the title of the Omega Marines. The commander, set in precarious situation, decided to hail the would be allies. Hope against hope, the Omega Marines made land fall. The Space Marines of black and white made good on their promise of marital support, bring both munitions and fire support to the imperials defending the last of the civilians still in need of evacuation. With the renewed moral, the Astra Militarum forces, bolstered by the 7th company of the Omega Marines, braced for the final assault on their position.
And the assault did come, but with twenty-fold the might that the army was expecting. The Orks, for all their brutishness, they were crafty creatures deserving as much respect for their might as they were of loathing. As the civilians continued to pour into the evacuation ships, the defenders sent las-bolt, shell, slug, rocket, bolt round, and plasma cluster down onto the advancing green wave. Mikhal remembered the Orks breaching the ramshackle fortification, as well as the valiant last stand made by himself, the remnants of the Imperial guard and the Omega Marines. As the last of the civilians were ushered off world by the evacuation transports, the remain guardsmen were left to hold out until another rescue ship could be dispatched. As one of the remaining Psykers alive in the service of the God Emperor of Mankind, Mikhal vowed to make sure that as many of his fellow guardsmen made it out of the fray alive.
With one last prayer to the emperor, Mikhal outstretched his hand and began to whisper an incantation, broadening his psychic barrier. The toll on Mikhal's mind was manageable at first, that was until slugs from the ork guns started to rain in high concentration on his position. His fellow guardsmen made use of the time allotted to them by the intervention of the psyker, making aggressive volley fire at the encroaching orks as well as making successful rear-guard actions to ensure as many of them were able to retreat. After most of his fellow guardsmen were out of harm's way, the psyker finally collapsed from the strain of maintaining the barrier, his head reeling from the migraine that attempted to split his head in twain.
As he attempted to recover from the debilitating pain, one of the damnable orks had found him. In an attempt tot shield himself from the xenos's savage strikes, Mikhal used the last of his mental power to launch a wrathful bolter of lightning from his hand into the xenos's face. Though this killed the ork, the momentum of the swing was not deterred. The savage blade struck Mikhal's outstretched arm, crushing it just in front of the elbow. Mikhal wailed at his destroyed appendage, clutching his arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The wail did not go unnoticed as soon another ork was upon him, intent on striking him down. Just as Mikhal closed his eyes and cowered inward, expecting to meet his end here at the hand of an ork, a short, damp thump was heard. Mikhal opened his eyes to an ork with a head torn asunder by bolter and his savior, one of the angels of death. The Omega Marine hoisted Mikhal up under his arm and began to run toward the evac spot, every so often turning to send bolt rounds screaming into encroaching orks. Mikhal does not remember what transpired after this as he fainted due to blood loss on the trip to the evac sight.
He woke up next in what he assumed to be a medicae center with a searing pain in his head. He jolted upward in the bed and brought his right hand to cradle his head, only to find the cold embrace of metal instead of flesh. His eyes shot to inspect his new mechanical arm. 'The mechanicus decided to amputate almost all of my arm!' he mourned internally at the loss of his human arm. He was brought out of his self-pity by thunderous steps. He turned expecting to see the oculars of a tech-priest but was met with the visage of an Omega Marine. It then donned on him that the astartes standing before him was an Apothecary. "Psyker Mikhal, I see that you have awoken," boomed the astartes, static rasping at the edges of his voice.
"Where am I, my lord?" questioned Mikhal gingerly.
"You are on The Vengeful Maul, battle barge of the Omega Marines." Answered the apothecary.
"I see… what of the other guardsmen?"
"they are also on board, in the crew quarters. They need to get reacclimated to space travel and are being consolidated into the chapters forces, as too few were left to be able to scavenge a battalion from unfortunately."
"… many thanks are in order then."
"what for?"
"For allowing us to serve you as it is one of the highest honors that I know of, and for saving this humble servant of the emperor, who was at the mercy of the foul xenos. But I must ask, why was I saved? I was not able to retreat with the others as I was stricken and unable to move, yet I was saved by one of your chapter."
"How long did you maintain the psychic shield?"
"beg your pardon?"
"How long did you maintain the psychic shield?" the apothecary repeated harshly.
"It felt like… maybe 5 minutes, maximum."
The apothecary hesitated.
"You held it for over an hour, and not only did it prevent the xenos weaponry from reach their mark, but it also prevented the xenos themselves from entering."
Mikhal realized the implications of this occurrence and what could possibly result if they were found to be true. Before he was able to reply, the apothecary relayed new instructions.
"you are to report to the Librarium Vault to meet with the Epistolary, Nhezim when I have completed your final medicae assessment. It was nearly complete before you woke up."
"My Lord, I do have one more question, why are you doing the medical treatment, not the medicae staff of the battalion?"
"For the same reason you will be visiting the Librarium Vault in short order."
"Ah."
Mikhal arrived at the vault after about 15 minutes standard terran time. He paused before the great door. Unlike other imperial navy ship, this vault's doors were decorated and adored with liveries of the Chapter, denoting honors to the brothers that were gifted in the ways of warpcraft. 'huh,' bemused Mihkal, 'the psykers of the Omega Marines are honored by their brethren rather than feared by their compatriots.'
'When a psyker does that of which they could not do before, under duress no less, would cause alarm in anyone, even my fellow space marines,' came a whispered voice within Mikhal's mind. The vault's doors opened making a clatter as the great hinges and mechanisms screeched in protest. A space marine in blue came to the threshold. The Omega Marines' chapter symbol emblazoned on the left knee pad and right shoulder pauldron; the left pauldron being dominated by a horned skull. The symbol of the Librarium was as intimidating as the space marine that stood before Mikhal. The Librarian was without his helm, his shaved head sprouted cables that attached to his psychic hood. His eye glowed from the resent use of his psychic abilities.
"I am Epistolary, Nhezim, and I assume you are Mihkal Ester?" A smile cracked across the librarian's face. The apprehension that was worming its way into Mikhal's brain accelerated its pace, his worry starting to manifest across his features. "you needn't worry, we already did an initial scan of you before you were treated," reassured the Nhezim dryly. "your fellow Psykers that were less maimed were also scanned and have reported here, you are the last, but also the most important." Mikhal's head dipped downward as he began to mull over the most frightening piece of information he had received. A sudden boost in psychic power was always a baneful omen, but what could he-
"do try to think less loudly."
Mikhal head snapped to see Nhezim's now disgruntled face staring at him. "oops," muttered Mikhal apologetically. The Epistolary raise a knowing eyebrow to the remark before turning and walking deeper into the librarium, gesturing for Mikhal to follow. They made their way through the Librarium to a secluded area home to a throne with a short back, arm rests sporting restraints. Mikhal hesitated, looking at the Librarian as he made his way around to the back of the throne. "the shackles are for those who might lose them selves to madness or already have. You seem cogent enough that I think we can forgo the restraints, "Nhezim said ploddingly. Mikhal released a sigh that he held until the Librarian finished his thought. Mikhal obeyed the silent order to sit on the throne. Nhezim gently placed his fingertips on the sides of Mikhal's head, encircling the ear and temple. Nhezim activated his psychic touch, allowing him to temporarily enter Mikhal's mind. Mikhal could not discern what the Librarian was looking for, but, if the emperor were willing, would find only good premonitions.
The seconds turn to minutes, then to hours. As the Librarian prodded every nook and cranny of Mikhal's mind, Mikhal could feel the areas that were being intruded into. First was the altercation that he had been saved from working backwards in time, all the way to his childhood, buried beneath years of difficult training and rigorous testing. A mild chill ran down his back as the Librarian released his hold on Mikhal, the sudden return to complete consciousness brought the full breath of sensation back as well. He felt as cold as the void. 'A by product of the mind scouring?' Mikhal pondered. "yes," affirmed the Epistolary," you seem fine enough, nothing stood out as foreboding and the imperial tarot bares no ills to come." Mikhal signed in relief only to suck it back in as the librarian continued. "your connection to the immaterium has grown substantially though, this will require more training to deal with."
"So, I'll be sent back to the schola to get retrained."
"That would be the best course of action, if we weren't on route to another distress call."
"So, I'll be trained by the resident psykers within the normal crew?"
"No, they won't have the ability to discern what you will need. I have trained hundreds of my fellow librarians in the art of warpcraft and am bereft of new recruits to train, so I'll oversee your training until you are found another potential teacher."
"It would be an honor to train under your tutelage, Brother Nhezim!" launched himself into a kneeling position before the librarian.
"Rise, we have much work to do. You will also function as my aid and you will do whatever I say, is that clear."
Mikhal nodded in affirmation.
20 standard years later
Mikhal Ester still serves Librarian Nhezim closely as servant, but the relationship looks to outsiders more like that of master and student. He partakes in most functions next to his liege, save those that are for Astartes only. During these moments he visits his fellow serfs. The other two sanctioned psykers that were evacuated, Kalgor Isseth and Camsis Kreen, make up some of the few compatriots that Mikhal fraternizes with outside of the Librarium. Both have been tasked to stay with serfs that would enter a combat zone, fitting for there prior experiences, though they rearly are deployed. Mikhal on the other hand is deployed often, but not as a normal combatant. Due to his connection to the Librarium, his service to the Librarian often is extended to the rest of the chapter as well. He has come to be a mixture of messenger, negotiator, and infiltrator.
Mikhal's status of negotiator and inflitrator came with the discovery of his latent ability with teleportation. This was found auspiciously when a negotiation went horribly awry, revealing that the hosts had fallen to chaos. Mikhal, pinned down by las-fire and slowly being surrounded, sent out what he thought was an astropathic distress signal to Librarian Nhezim to the revelation was a psychic link transposing the those within the launch bay to his current location. The assault marines were non plussed at being suddenly dropped into a fight without warning. After the chaos scum were dealt with, a meeting convened with the express role of determining what should be done with Mikhal. Brother Abolth denoted that Mikhal seemed to be developing new skills at an unusually fast pace and that he should be either detained or eliminated for the preservation of the other members that resided within the Vengeful Maul. Brother Ishnak countered with the utility of his teleportation ability, noting that the initial assault in the negotiation chamber crippled the rebels early in the campaign. The meeting ended with a compromise: Mikhal would be allowed to live and continue in his service to the librarian and the chapter, but with a handler. The express role of the handler was to, of course, terminate the psyker if he were to be possessed or corrupted. Mikhal was confined to his cell when he was not with Nhezim until they found some one to be his handler. Until then he was to train with Nhezim to better grasp and amplify his teleportation ability.
With his tutelage under the Librarian, he has come to able to teleport others to his location with little effort, the only requirement being that they are within proximity of a focal point, an item or place of significance in Mikhal's mind. The Librarium, the bridge, and deployment decks to name a few. The stronger the connection, the faster and the safer the teleportation is.
After a particularly grueling campaign to bring another planet into imperial fold once again, the handler was found. A lone Krieger, Han, was absorbed into the rank and file of the ships crew. Han was as loyal to the Emperor as Plasma is hot and willing to kill at a given moment if it was his will. His willingness to fight and die for the Emperor was inspiring at first, then quickly became irritating as he never stopped requesting to be sent to a warzone or sent to be reintegrated into Krieger regiments.
Brother Abolth, in a moment of either despicable humor or tactical genius, suggested that the Krieger should be Mikhal's handler. Han was the only imperial guardsman that willing spent time within Mikhal's proximity and seemed to tolerate his existence noted Nhezim. The few times the Librarian had seen Mikhal interact with anyone other than fellow psykers, it was with Han. Usually, it was just for directions, but the Librarian noticed the that the Krieger was Isolated away from the bulk of the other chapter serfs, usually congregating with the psykers, to much their dismay. Han and Mikhal were called to the Librarium after the deliberation was over and the task was set, Han was to be Mikhal's handler. Han accepted the request with little fanfare, but he seemed sated. Mikhal took a moment to look over his to be companion and potentially executioner, the metal skull mask that shrouded the features of his face as foreboding as the grave. Mikhal peered into the mind of the Krieger next, trying to scry why the Krieger was so willing to take this role. What he saw was… predictable. The Krieger saw it as a holy duty given by His angels of death and that was enough for him. It would be about years before Mikhal is ever not under the Krieger's watchful eye.
That year is now, that moment is upon them. Mikhal feels a stir in the warp, as does his master. Han watches them from away. standing silent as the grave, his las-rifle at hand. Mikhal aids his master in the scrying ceremony, gathering unguents, materials, and wards at his master's request. Something dark looms over the passengers of the Vengeful Maul, blocking the ability of the Librarians to scry the future. In a moment of shortsightedness, the Company master decides to warp travel out of its clutches. With the Gellar fields raised and the crew braced for warp translation, the Vengeful Maul enters the Empyrean. What ever loomed over them in realspace, now had it clutches on the ship in the warpspace, dragging the ship to and fro. The chapter serfs prayed to the Emperor in desperate pleas, Mikhal turns to Nhezim in distress. Nhezim is obviously anxious but remains calm nonetheless and Han just stares at them both.
"Will we survive this?"
"I believe so, the Emperor does guide us and protect us. Let us have faith."
"Yes, master. You are right. The Emperor protects"
"The Emperor protects," whispered the Krieger.
All goes dark and the whispers of the warp cease to exist.
