Hivemind

by Hogwire

Set in the early days of hive fleet Leviathan's invasion of the milky way, the Ordo Xeros of the Inquisition recognizes the unique threat the mind behind this alien locust posses to the survival of the Imperium. Inquisitor Volkorisna must convince Imperial high command of the necessity to take extreme measures against the swarm.

This is my first ever publication of fan fiction, and it is to a setting which I am still relatively new to discovering. The Tyranids offered a chance for me to tell a story rife with political machinations and I couldn't resist. Hence, I have tired to avoid to much discussion on the areas of 40k I'm not as well versed in. As such I've decided to play relatively fast and loose with the rules/timeline of certain events for the purposes of telling an interesting story which is not canon by any means.

While this story is fundamentally about the Tyranids, it focuses more on their impact on Imperial high-command the factionalism of the Imperium. There are no battle scenes, hence this may factor more into the 'Domestic 40k' genre.

Hivemind

Isolation

Duun Zelos tied the arms of his jacket around his waist trying to compensate for the cranked heat inside the docking bay, but it was to no avail. He'd sweat if he wore it and he'd shiver without it, so he picked shivering as his poison. A lho-stick hung from his mouth as the truck backed up toward him and he guided it toward the metal door leading to the containment chamber.

"You're good. Kill the fuckin engine Xazin! 'Less you wanna wreck the thing." He shouted to the driver, who after shutting the vehicle off hopped out the side and approached him.

"Got one for me?" Xazin indicated to the lho-stick. Duun nodded and held out his pack.

"What we got today?" Duun nodded toward the cargo. It was a large iron box about 7 meters across and four meters high, with interlocking iron bars running along the sides that were thin enough to allow airflow yet thick enough to obscure the view inside.

"Pissed off, whatever it is." Xazin picked up a piece of broken lumber on a workbench next to them and tossed it at the cage's side, producing a guttural snarl and the sound of something sharp scarping against metal.

"Sounds like a piece of work." Duun turned around and beckoned Xazin to follow.

"I don't know how the Doc gets this freaky shit."

"You don't wanna know. That kinda contraband? You don't want nothing to do with whoever gets it."

"He gets it from the Guard you ass." Xazin spat. "Saw one of their skull symbols stamped on the outside of the last cage when I was dropping it off. What I mean is why is the Guard shipping who-knows-what way out here?"

"The Guard?" Duun mulled it over. "You drinking that vodka Lex sells again? The one he makes with potatoes and shower-salts?"

"Skull with wings! You know anyone else with stripes like that?"

"No shit? Well, keep your mouth shut. Don't want you fucking this gig up. And the Doc sure as hell didn't hire us to pester him with questions." Duun tossed the lho-stick and crushed it underfoot as the two made their way inside the lab. The pair had been working these docks for two months. The Doc paid time and a half gelts what working on the warehouse docks got them, and it was far less strenuous. The shift was ten hours but the Doc didn't like the two of them snooping around when he was doing his testing, so the two could play cards till it came time to clean up the testing chamber.

Doctor Sebastian Ethar was hunched over his desk, mixing two bright liquids from one beaker into another before placing it atop a burner. Duun wrapped his knuckles on the door as he entered.

"Gotta another container for ya. Just came in. Cargo's alive and kicking."

"Back it up to the lab entrance." Dr. Ethar gestured in front of him without taking his eyes off the concoction. Before him was a clear shatterproof window, allowing access to a large cage in the form of a plastic box.

"You want us to hose it down again? I see there's still some blood and shit-stains in there." Dr. Ethar didn't move his eyes and waved the two away.

Duun sat in the driver's seat of the truck and reversed it until the back of the cage was flush against the plastic door which opened to the plastic prison inside. Once the door to the truck's cage was open, the doc would open the plastic door, then Duun and Xazin would shove shock sticks into the sides of the cargo container until the thing ran into the larger plastic cage. Duun laid heavy on the horn to let the doc know to stand by and for Xazin to get ready to lift the truck's gate.

"Why do I have to open the thing?" The kid protested, to which Duun simply gave him a stare and shrugged his shoulders. "Get shit on."

"All day every day." Duun waved and sighed, finishing off the last gulp of recaf from a plastic cup. Damn clerk must have spilt into the pot when he was making it, and Duun could taste the tiny grinds as they went down his throat and got caught in between his teeth. This place had always depressed him a little bit, being in the basement of the Institute, where all of the equipment and food for the college was brought it. It was a damp and dark place. When he was younger he'd always liked to imagine what the school grounds were like: Libraries stacked full of books and scrolls, all being studied and appreciated by students.

It was a place he'd always wanted to go, a place of learning. A place where people studied things because learning was important itself. He imagined what kind of life the students lived; debating each other, studying with each other, and respecting each other. But for Duun it was either the Guard or the docks. He may not have been smart enough for this place, but that was always an easy choice. He crushed the plastic cup then grabbed the shock stick on the passenger side before hauling himself out of the truck.

"You good?" Xazin called, already on top of the truck.

Duun yawned as he nodded. "Get to lifting." He muttered as he scratched his stubby, unshaven chin. Xazin squatted down, wrapped his fingers around the handle on the top of the door and began to pull.

A high-pitched screech suddenly filled the basement, causing Duun to jump as the occupant of the cargo container hurled itself against the door Xazin was opening, causing Xazin to lose his balance and slam into the concrete below the container. Xazin had enough time to cough and place one hand under his chest to try and stand before it was on top of him. He felt a sharp pain pierce through the skin of his calf. He tried to scream but could only gasp. The thing yanked him into the cargo container. His chin smashed against the metal walls as he was dragged in, but he was able to grab the edge and keep the thing from dragging him completely into the dark. Then he felt something long and sharp pierce his waist, followed by a feeling of dozens of sharp needles gnaw on his thighs.

It was at that point Xazin started shrieking. The sound hit Duun like a bucket of ice water. Dropping the shock stick he rushed to Xazin's side and grabbed his arm, and began to yank with all his strength.

"Xaz- Xazin! Grab my hand!" The youngster opened his mouth as if to plead, but instead coughed up a mouthful of blood that splattered all over Duun's face. "Sebastian! Sebastian!" He screamed, looking toward the door. He got no response. He yanked again to no avail.

Xazin opened his mouthed. "K-Kill!" He pleaded. "Kill it! Please!"

"Fuck!" Duun screamed. Releasing the boy's arms he rushed back to grab the shock stick, cranked the power to full then began shoving it between the slits in the cargo walls, shocking widely and blindly till it connected against flesh. An inhuman shriek escaped the cargo container.

A bipedal creature, with a fleshy skin tone, covered in an indigo carapace, and with two long talons for hands rushed out of the container. It scanned the room for a moment, leaving Xazin writhing on concrete floor. Upon seeing Duun, the creature turned and dug its foot into Xazin's back, as if to claim the boy as his own. It arched its back and snarled at Duun, its pink, serpentine tongue lapping at the air.

Before it could lung forward Duun activated the shock stick. At the sound of the electrical crack the creature yelped and took a step back. With the feeling coming back to his arms and legs Duun took a step forward and activated it again. The creature retreated behind itself, running directly into the plastic prison the two had planned to herd it into. Before doing so it looked down, and impaled Xazin with one of its long talons and dragged him sobbing into the cage with it.

Duun was tempted to take the chance to turn and run, but he couldn't leave the pathetic whimpers of Xazin. He approached the cage, but before he crossed the threshold the thick plastic door slide down and locked itself in place. Duun blinked for a second, before banging the shock baton against the wall to no avail. He looked around before settling on door to the lab. His fingers clenched around the shock baton and he approached the door to the lab.

Dr. Ethar was seated in the same place he was before, though he was looking intently on the scene before him in the plastic cage. The door smashed open, the impact knocking aluminum utensils off the counter next to it. Duun stood in the door way, the shock baton shaking in his hands.

"Open it."

"Duun?"

"Open it!" Duun shouted as he activated the baton, sending an electrical crack echoing through the lab, causing the doctor to jump.

After settling back into his chair Dr. Ethar regarded Duun, and then took a quick look in the cage. "There's no point." He shrugged.

Duun moved toward the doc, but stopped himself as he saw what was happening inside the cage. His eyes went wide as he saw Xazin laying on his back, his faced turned toward the inside of the lab where the two men observed him. His stomach was completely torn open, pink intestines strewn about on either side of him and the creature, but he was alive. Alive and aware. Xazin's eyes were open wide and his mouth was gapping wide, though he made no sounds. The creature dug nearly its entire head inside his abdomen, before yanking out Xazin's stomach and ripping it open using the small talons on an additional set of short, stubby arms.

"He's not going to make it, and if you go in you'll end up in the same position." Dr. Ethar looked down at the notepad in front of him and made some scribbles.

Duun activated the shock stick again. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat you to death right now." He demanded in a flat, calm voice.

Dr. Ethar looked at Duun then back to his notes, and tapped the head of his pen a few times. "You can have his wages." He nodded at Xazin. "For today, and everyday going forward."

For a second Duun couldn't believe what he'd just heard. He stood there with his mouth gapping like a fucking idiot. He could almost see himself moving forward, shoving the end of the baton into the doc's face, and switching it on until the electric charge burnt out. Then he looked back in the cage. Xazin was still alive. Duun met his eyes. Xazin made no noise but Duun knew what the kid was trying to say.

Please.

"Well?" The doc asked, looking back and forth between the creature and his own notes.

Turning back to the doc, Duun felt like he was going to throw up. His fingers, which had gripped the baton so tightly felt as though they were getting week. It slipped from his fingers and made a cracking sound as it hit the titles beneath him.

"Good." Dr. Ethar responded. "Get the mop and clean up the blood stains on the loading dock's floor before it settles. Go."

Duun felt as if all his limbs had turned to rubber. When he turned and walked out the door to get the mop it felt as though it wasn't really him who was doing it. He didn't take another look at Xazin on his way out of the lab. He mopped up the blood, and then sat on the steel steps waiting for his next task. He didn't say another word to the Doc for the rest of his shift, and when he was done he went to the tavern and spent a week's earnings on gin, and did the same thing after work for the next four days.

A high-pitched screeching filled the lab. Dr. Ethar gave the hormagaunt with a perplexed look. Once it had finished eating the dock worker the creature began hurling itself against the plastic wall, snarling and hissing at the doctor. It had continued this uninterrupted for four hours, and had continued to do so after Ethar had administered electric shocks to it after every failed attempt. He didn't understand; even the most rudimentary animals would have learnt to stop attacking the cage after several shocks, but his hormagaunt subjected itself to constant punishment. Even now, exhausted from its efforts, the creature hissed at the doctor, arched its back, and hurled itself at the plastic again.

This it showed none of the awareness reported at Macragge. He'd read the chronicle of Captain Invictus's demise, and how the Tyranid forces had managed to route and nearly wipe out the 1st company of the Ultramarines. The creatures were relentless, but plenty of reports had showed them to be capable of targeting weak points, implying that they also had the ability to search for weak points. However upon its arrival it had showed no signs of intelligent thinking.

"Something's missing…" Dr. Ethar muttered to himself. It seemed exhaustion had finally caught up with the hormagaunt as it backed away from the plastic wall. It cocked is head toward the ceiling and let out a high pitched squawking. It was different from the snarls and hissing it had been making all day. It sounded like it was wounded, or if was calling for help. It wailed, like an infant crying out for its protector. A protector it had once known very well, and without whom it was incomplete.

Who are you calling for?

Arrival

The recycled oxygen of the shuttle tasted like old rubber in the back of his throat, and a tear in the vents blew cold air into the lobby, causing Dr. Ethar's hands to crack. He rubbed them in a vain attempt to find relief, yet all he did was further dry out the skin of his knuckles. The seat's cushion had long ago worn away, so nothing more than a thin canvas separated his ass from the cold steel. The shuttle rumbled as it made its decent. Ethar had spent the last twenty minutes imagining the shields giving out and the atmosphere turning the ship into an inferno. Then the shuttle came to an abrupt stop, before lowing again at a much steadier pace, and stopping shortly after. Ethar ripped off the vest keeping him in his seat, and already began to feel a little better. Soon he would be far away from the smell of rust. The shuttle doors opened and the orange light blinded him. He lowered his arm, and through squinted eyes took his first look at Holy Terra.

Ethar's first steps out of the shuttle were uneasy. He'd never imagined he would get so sentimental, though now that he was here he could not help but marvel at the significance of the ground he walked upon. This was where his species had been born. Perhaps on this very spot – the concrete beneath he landing pad – his ancestors had once walked; little more than apes with simple tools and crude language. A small shelter made of branches and rock would have been their most advanced dwellings. Yet before him stood a structure so immense it looked like a city carved into a mountain range of concrete and steel with thousands of electric lights. Structures, which he couldn't distinguish if they had been built form the ground up or where simply part of the mountains themselves reached into the sky and pierced the orange clouds.

He stared slack-jawed at the city before him. This couldn't be correct. He'd expected the Lyceum of Terra would make the Institute look feeble by comparison of course, but this was too much. This place was built like a fortress, not a university.

Two figures approached him. They wore dark armor with a red sash draped across their hips. One was dark skinned and the other's skin was pale. They both bore a strange tattoo under one of their eyes and they each had white hair. They were armed, but their weapons were holstered.

"Dr. Ethar." One of them said curtly. "You're to come with us."

"H-Hello." The doctor stammered while shielding his eyes from the harsh light of the setting sun. "I was told that I would meet a representative of the Guard. Are you with the Militarum?" While trying to clean his glasses he dropped them. Before he could retrieve them he felt one of them grab him by the flap of his coat and yanked him forward. "Hey – wait!" He tried to protest, his vision now blurred and assaulted by the sun. His attempted to pull himself free but the pale woman's arm might as well have been vice.

"Sisters?" A soft voice called from behind them. The women halted and turned. Through the harsh light and his blurred vision Ethar could make out a slim, dark figure several meters behind him. "My, you are prudent. Something about the early bird?" The voice toyed. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to release this catch."

"Orders come from Lord Ritira."

"Perhaps they did. But he's not here. Next time, tell Eos to make the trip in person if he deems it so necessary to Ecclesiastical affairs."

The pale-skinned woman released Ethar with a shove and left, nearly knocking him over. The doctor regained his footing when he saw the blurred figure approach.

"Dr. Sebastian Ethar." The soft voice addressed him. "I believe these are yours." Ethar felt his glasses being pressed into his palm. Adjusting them on his face he found that his eyes had begun to adjust to the harsh light. He saw a dark-haired woman, thin and wearing a simple and unadorned black uniform, along with a large rimmed black hat. She looked toward the orange glow of the sun. "It burns the first time, I know. Though it's nothing compared to Mars. Welcome to Terra."

"I'm sorry but – who, who are you? They," He gestured in the direction of the two women who he'd first encountered. "I was told that I'd be met with a detachment of the Militarum. Is that you?" He'd seen plenty of Guardsmen, and they were an easy lot to distinguish: Green uniforms, plenty of gear. "Thank you for the help back there but I'm…I'm to give a presentation at the Lyceum?"

The woman smiled. "I'm afraid things have changed since you were first summoned." His eyes having adjusted to the light he was able to make out some more details of the woman. She wore a black cloak, draped over what looked to be a dark grey, tight fighting military style jacket. On her lapel sat a single pin, a large red letter 'I,' with a pale skull entombed in the center. Her face remained warm and inviting as Dr. Ethar realized that for the first time in his life he was knowingly staring at a member of the Imperial Inquisition. "Volkorisna of the Orders of his Holiness's Inquisition, Ordo Xenos." She introduced herself. "This way please."

The two rode in the back seat of long black car with tinted windows across from one another. She'd made some polite conversation, asking Ethar how his trip to Terra had been and such. Between the realization that the Inquisition had taken an interest in him, and that he was being taken into the Imperial Palace itself, he'd found it difficult to compose himself. His knees had felt so weak he'd barely been able get himself into the car.

"Lho-stick?" The Inquisitor asked.

Ethar didn't answer, but held out a shaky hand and took one despite the years of working around chemicals that had already wreaked havoc on his lungs. He placed it into his mouth and fumbled for his lighter before a thought hit him. He slowly looked up at the woman's face with a pleading look in his eyes.

She cocked her head for a moment, looing confused. Upon realizing his worry she chuckled. It was both amusing and a little embarrassing when civilians learnt who she was. She leaned forward and took the lho-stick out of his mouth, placed it in her own and lite it. Ethar relaxed, and she offered him another stick.

"Forgive me Mrs – Inquistor!"

"Volkorisna doctor, please. You've heard some very colorful stories about us I'm sure. To be frank they surprise even me. Let me assure you, you're under no suspicion. There is absolutely no reason for you to feel nervous."

That is exactly what they would tell someone under suspicion! He thought. He was about to declare his love for the Emperor, but decided that such a transparent attempt to make himself look innocent might give her more reason to suspect him of whatever they suspected him of. "Of course! My apologies! I- I just wanted to say that I was, that I'm here because I received an invitation to speak at the Lyceum."

"I'm aware Doctor. That invitation was sent from my office. The Lyceum was burnt to the ground ten years ago."

"The Lyceum of Terra is gone?"

"Heresy. Quite regrettable." She said. "Not my office I can assure you. All thanks to a colleague of mine – Anton Zerbe. A very…devoted man, to be sure."

"I am sure that it was necessary!"

"I rather miss the place myself." She shrugged. "I enjoyed sitting in on the occasional lecture, and it fostered some extremely promising minds in the fields of biology and physics, some of them even made their way to Mars."

Ethar wasn't sure if agreeing with the Inquisitor – and therefore criticizing the other Inquisitor – was prudent. "You umm… you said your office sent the invitation? Why?"

"Your dissertation came across my desk."

"You read my dissertation?" Ethar was aghast, and wasn't sure if he should feel honored or not.

She nodded. "The behaviors of tyranid organisms in isolation contrasted with their swarm tactics, and its implications for tyranid history, consciousness, and future movements. Why do scholars always come up with the dullest titles? Is it an attempt to scare off laymen?" She chuckled. "Fascinating analysis. Disturbing implications, but fascinating."

"Perhaps… I could have toned it down?"

"Why is that?" She cocked an eyebrow. "If you know a meteor the size of a moon where barrelling toward Terra, would you keep such information to yourself? Conceal it?"

"Absolutely not Lord Inquisitor!"

"Nor would I. I don't see why the same logic shouldn't apply if something far worse is coming, no? I like to think the Inquisition, better than even you schoolmen, understands the importance of knowledge. So please doctor, relax. Your invitation asked you to give a presentation a yes? That's exactly what I'd like you to do: I've set up a bit of a different audience than you might be used to, but please; just imagine you're presenting to a group of colleagues, or rather; a group of superiors whom you respect. Again, no reason for you to feel nervous." She assured.

"May I umm… may I ask a question?" Volkorisna nodded. "Who were those women and what did they want with me? I thought I was about to be robbed."

Volkorisna let out a sigh before answering. "What has happened doctor is that your report seems to have crossed more desks then just my own, thanks to some of my more fanatical colleagues. Given that it is such an interesting read, some people here have some very strong opinions about some of the things you say. I would just like to ensure that you are able to present your findings. Now please, just make yourself comfortable. We've a staked bar." She pressed a button a door in the arm rest opened, revealing a small refrigeration unit with several small, glistening bottles and a bowl full of small, glistening olives. "I recommend a single, small drink to help quell the nerves. Let me do the talking at the checkpoints. The Custodes can be an edgy bunch."

The car moved at smooth, but fast pace, interrupted by the occasional checkpoint guarded by troops so imposing Ethar could scarcely believe that the men beneath the golden armor were indeed, human. It took four hours to reach their destination. Upon arrival she introduced him to a slim looking man with a plain haircut and wearing a simple, unadorned black uniform.

"This is my assistant, Mr. Na'Varsh. Think of him as an extension of myself; stick with him until you've arrived before the High Lords and you'll be fine."

"Wha- Wait!" Ethar gripped her door before she could roll the window up and speed off. "I – the High Lords? What's happening here?"

"Doctor…" Volkorisna placed her hand above his. "As I said: Your report has generated quite an interest. Where it up to me I'd give you more time to prepare, but the lords only wait for one. The best I can suggest is that you give your report as best as you can. My advice? Imagine them all naked. Well, save for the Ad-Mech. I imagine they look like some kind of fleshy-nightmare under all those robes and tubes."

"B- but why?" Ethar protested. "The Tyranids are no secret! What in the name of the Emperor do the High Lords want with me?" Volkorisna gave a small smile and patted his hand.

"Your ideas… are quite creative. That's why you've caught so much attention. Doctor, please head my advice: Be careful, and stay with my guide. Creativity is not always a virtue on Terra." The tinted window closed, and the long car moved on. Sebastian Ethar looked at the thin, darkly-dressed man in confusion.

"This way sir." He offered, and turned without waiting for his charge to respond.

"Damn it all…!" Ethar muttered before scurrying behind the man in black.

Ethar's frustration at the situation drained away from him as he took in the sights around him. As he was lead past the walls and crossed various towers he could not stop thinking to himself that this was the cradle of civilization. The walls of the Palace seemed to stretch nearly as high as any hive-world skyscraper, made of thick slabs of reinforced concrete. While on the ground level it was easy to feel a sense of vertigo; despite the obvious strength of the structures, it was all too easy to imagine being crushed beneath the various walls, towers, columns, and spires. He resolved to focus his attention on following his guide, and mentally preparing his report.

The aid did not lead him to any kind of meeting room, and instead brought him to what appeared to be a large restroom, complete with a large set of showers, constructed with dark bricks. The room was empty, save for a man who was diligently preparing a razor.

"Freshen him up." Said the aid. Ethar hesitated.

"What's this about?" Ethar asked glancing nervously at the razor.

"Doctor, I understand this is all out of your depth, but you are about to address the handlers of the Imperium itself. You will not do so looking – or smelling – like you've just been through the slums. You'll be in good hands. This is Mr. Solis, he's been a personal groomsman to several Lord Commanders of the Militarum. Now we're in a rush, so while you're showering and being shaved I will instruct you on the etiquette you will show when addressing your audience. Now off with your clothes." Ethar hesitated again. "Your clothes. Now, please." The aid repeated.

Senatorum Imperialis

The chamber of the High Lords glowed with an orange light, illuminating a large semi-circle table. Of the twelve seats four were filled: The first was Mar Av Ashairel, Lord Commander Militant of the Astra Militarum. His face and hand bore the marks of many years of service: A portion of his bottom lip was torn off along with a cybernetic eye – both the result of a demon's talon decades past. His left arm also ended in a stump, a stump to which he refused to have a cybernetic replacement attached. Even though he rarely interacted with ground troops, Mar Av Ashairel understood the importance of guardsmen seeing their commanders as flesh and blood men, just as they were. He wore a dark green officer's coat adorned with old, gold epaulettes on each shoulder. Given the informality of this meeting due to so few lords being present he chose to wear only a few sparse medals pinned to his chest. A large cigar hung from his mouth as he struck a match against the table's surface and lit it.

A few meters away from him sat Eos Ritira, Ecclesiarch of the Adeptus Ministorum. He was a large, round man with a few tuffs of white hair remaining on his pale head. His pointed hat was cradled in his arm, and it bore an iron engraving of the Ministorum along the front. His blue robes were long and the sleeves pooled around his arms. Attached to his breast hung a small metal tube containing a relic. It was the bone of a small finger, belonging to Alk-Dumat of the Frateris Militia who had perished during a demonic assault on the world of Tar'hash, and was the last remains of the zealot who'd been lost in the Eye of Terror. He absentmindedly fiddled with it as he glared at the seat directly across from him on the other side of the table.

Across from the Ecclesiarch was the seat of Oud Oudia Raskian, the Fabricator-General of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Given the massive amount of augmentation the Fabricator-General had undergone he had essentially become a part of the temple he resided in on Mars, hence his seat was filled instead with a holographic projection. Through the static of the projection it was difficult to make out anything beyond wires and tubes. If one looked closely they just make out the small mechanical lenses that had long ago replaced the machine-cultist's eyes. Standing next to the seat was a blinded servitor, who'd been augmented for the purpose of translating Raskian's mechanical gurgling's into speech. The machine-man's presence made Ritira want to puke; not only was the toleration of this heresy an affront to the holy Emperor, but the fact that he could not even be bothered to show up to this meeting in person was an insult to the rest of them.

In the center sat Violeta Roskavler, master of the Adeptus Administratum. She wore a simple white shirt, underneath a brown coat, with brown pinstriped pants. She kept her hair short and brown, and had permanent black bags underneath her eyes. She could have been mistaken for any clerk within the Administratum. The only difference being the team of four servitors behind her, three of which were constantly organizing/switching out the notebooks she was always scribbling in, and scribbling in themselves. The fourth stood behind her and continuity monitored an IV attached to her arm, feeding her a sustained mixture of caffeine, Adderall, Ritalin, and even a mild form of cocaine. Roskavler herself almost never stopped scribbling; names, dates, items to be ordered, requested and cataloged, orders to be given, orders to be rescinded, inventory checks, reminders and cancelations of all of the above were all noted. Having had her hands removed and replaced with biotic ones, she could write for hours without any pain. Given the nature of her duties, and the Fabricator-General's physicality, they were the only two high lords permitted to have any such companions sit in on meetings while being present themselves. A single servitor stood at the seat of all the absent lords, each one recording the meeting and storing it deep within their mainframe, which would only be activated upon meeting their respective Lord.

Ritira impatiently rapped his fingers against the rough stone top of the conference table. There was really no need for this meeting anymore. The doctor would have already been picked up by now, and then he could expose this sham. It was a good thing that the Militarium and Administratum were present to see this. The Ordo Xenos had crossed a line, and if push came to shove he might need the manpower of the Guard to stop a conflict. Glaring at Roskavler he wondered if the Mechanicus had had a hand in this. Given Mars was one enormous bed of heresy it would not be surprising. That would complicate things, however at least Fabricator-General and his personal escort would not be present.

Suddenly the door opened, Volkorisna's slim figure entered. She carried her hat in the crook of her arm, her head held high and her black hair resting past her shoulders. She addressed the four. "My apologies for the delay. Our presenter's arrival hit a snag, but he is here now." With that Volkorisna took her seat. She smiled at him, and gave a polite nod.

Bitch. He thought to himself.

All parties being present Roskavler placed her pen next to her notebook, closed it, and then folded her arms to address the council. She listed off all present parties, and acknowledged those High Lords not present. "Inquisitor Volkorisna, you are your bureau's representative and this meeting was called at your behest. The floor is yours." The master of the Administratum lifted a hand into which one of her servitors placed a notebook. Taking her pen in hand and opening the new book she was prepared to catalogue what transpired.

"Master." Volkorisna nodded as she rose, then took her place on the stage beneath the table. "Humanity faces many threats. Between the ever present forces of Chaos, and the challenge served to us by the awaking Necrons our hands are nearly full. We do not need more problems, but convenience has little effect on truth and I am bound to speak truthfully. We face another threat. We've been content to imagine the Tyranid fleets as more of a problem for local Militarum or Astartes forces to contend with, a far less serious issue-"

"Of course!" Ritira groaned. "Of course the Ordo Xenos wishes to convince us that these xenos are the greatest challenge to us! Interesting that your order specifically stands to benefit from such a view, isn't it Inquisitor Volkorisna? It seems that for the Inquisition, truth and convenience do indeed go hand in hand?"

"Ecclesiarch," Lord Commander Ashairel spoke up, stifling the scorn he felt. "one of my Lord General's perished on Tarsis Ultra, defending a system containing several hive worlds an agri worlds. Along with four entire armadas of guardsmen, and their accompanying Navy ships and materials of course. I can assure your Holiness that these xenos are anything but convenient."

"One interruption of Inquisitor Volkorisna by Ecclesiarch Ritira, followed by Lord Commander Militant Ashairel." Roskavler noted as she jotted the accusation and its rebuttal its in her notebook. "Please refrain from such outbursts my Lords." The priest huffed and leaned back in his seat, fiddling with the relic above his breast.

"Thank you Master." The Inquisitor nodded. "As I was saying: We have been content to view this predator race as a minor threat. By His grace, we have - I think - been spared the worst of their onslaughts. But that it luck my Lords, luck which will run out. I would like to point out that Macragge – while a success – did depend on many factors: To begin, it was fortified by perhaps our most well-funded and equip Astartes, under the leadership of one of our most gifted chapter masters – I think you will agree that there are not many men the likes of Marneus Calgar in the whole Imperium."

As he listened Ashariel smirked. Damned Marines always got all the credit, but he had to admit the Inquisitor was right about Chapter Master Calgar.

"Furthermore," Volkorisna continued. "Behemoth was unfamiliar with this galaxy and its species. While we've still to determine a picture of the size of this new Leviathan fleet, the fact that it has managed to roll over worlds with defenses that have resisted previous fleets suggests it larger than either Behemoth or Kraken, possibly as large as both combined, despite the fact that our intelligence put the bulk of their forces tied up in Octarius. And as unpleasant as it may be to admit it was halted at key battles by the influence of Chaos as much as our own forces. More are coming."

A deep mechanical groan emitted from Raskian's seat. The servitor spoke in a clear, monotone voice a moment after. "You sound as if you speak with certainty. Do you have proof that further hive fleets are due to arrive?"

"I second that concern." The Administratum Master spoke up as she continued taking notes. "The logistics of preparing for an intergalactic invasion force are a massive undertaking. We cannot be expected to make such a commitment without an assurance that such an undertaking is required."

"That's why I've gathered us here. I've sought out an expert on the enemy. If his theories are true they not only demonstrate the gravity of the threat, but a possible solution. I'd like to present my guest, Dr. Sebastian Ethar, one of the foremost researchers of Tyranid conscious."

Dr. Ethar hesitated before entering. They'd hastily dressed him in a dark, ill-fitting frockcoat. Between the tightness and the nerves, he found it difficult to breath. After a moment Volkorisna's aid gave him a shove and the doctor stumbled in. As he entered he saw the woman who had picked him up from his shuttle take her seat at the table. Approaching the middle of the stage before the table he took a moment to observe each of his spectators. This was all too much for him. Two months ago he had been in his office at the academy, and now he was face to face with the offices so high in rank he could not recognize them. High Lord Commander Militant? An Ecclesiarch? Obviously it was someone high up in the Imperial Cult, but the man looked like he already disliked Ethar and sat with a scowl across his face.

"Dr. Sebastian Ethar: Aged fifty seven. Hailing from the Institute of Sauga, Laval IV." Announced the woman with the mechanical hands surrounded by servitors. "According to this report you are one of the foremost experts on the Tyranid race?" The woman's cold voice echoed off the stone walls, and was akin to being doused in ice water. He collected himself enough to answer.

"I – have been studying these creatures for nearly my entire academic life, and my institution has been provided occasional specimens via the Militarum. As such, we are one of the most well informed civilian knowledge bases on the… well, Tyranid race if you want to call it that. Not that I would ever with to suggest I knew more than your Lords, I can only hope I am able to do as my Lord Inquisitor has asked.

"And what would you call them, if not a xenos race?" The gruff, Lord Commander coughed in between puffs.

"Well Sir…" Just imagine that they're colleagues. Ethar thought to himself. "an ecosystem. Or more preciously, many echo systems. Eco-systems that migrate, and do so seemingly with an intelligence seen in none of the individual creatures. Each hive-fleet is a complete and complex system, where all creatures within provide for the whole. It's unlike any other xenos life form we have encountered. Closest we've seen to such a species within our own galaxy being the Orks, and of the collective predatory insects viewed on worlds such as Klendathu. However the level of Tyranid adaption is strikingly more impressive. Whatever the Tyranids may need in any situation – what any other race would consider 'technology,' from weapons, tools, to intergalactic transport, is an organic construct, born from the fleet itself. The only thing they cannot provide for themselves is sustenance – food. They are the most primitive, yet at the same time the most advanced space-faring organisms we have ever encountered."

A mechanical screech startled Ethar. "It sounds as if you admire these creatures." Spoke the servitor next standing next to a projection of wires and parts which Ethar could not really make out.

Before Ethar could respond the Lord Commander spoke up. "I've seen primitives look upon the tanks that destroyed their homes with a strange mix of fear and reverence, Fabricator-General. I don't think it's possible to look at how much damage fucking bugs can cause and not be impressed."

"Similar to rooting out cults. Understanding a cult's sophistication is often required to destroying its leadership." Volkorisna added.

"The nature of the doctor's interest in the species is irrelevant." The Master cut in before addressing Ethar. "As interesting as the minutia of Tyranid biology might be doctor, I fail to see how that is relevant to us. I'm assuming you have some new suggestion for how to kill them?"

"I've found bombs and bolts work best." Mar grunted.

"Well… as far as killing them is concerned the Lord Commander is correct. They're just as susceptible to traditional firepower as any other foe. However simply killing them might not be the most effective strategy. Any fallen Tyranid organism may be consumed by its brethren, all to be broken down into biomass, and hence any losses are reclaimed. It makes no difference if a fleet loses a billion, or five billion organisms. Unless the entire fleet is repelled then any loses will be nil. Furthermore if the theories of myself and my colleagues are correct, there may in fact be far too many Tyranids to too kill."

"I think the scholar is unaware of the amount of ammunition a single forge can produce." Said the servitor to Lord Raskian.

"Why?" Asked the Lord Commander. "Behemoth and Kraken were both shattered. It's never been easy but we can wipe them out."

"Of course Leviathan can be destroyed. However I see no reason to suggest that will be the end of them."

"From dark space? More hive fleets? You have proof of this?" The Administratum Master asked.

"Proof? No I am afraid not. However if we factor in everything that we do know about the species, the odds that we have seen the last of the fleets is minimal."

Another mechanical grown, followed by the monotone voice of the servitor. "Explain."

"Well…" Ethar went to place a small projector on the table in front of him, though he stopped himself and looked toward Volkorisna who gave him a nod. Pressing a button caused a holographic image of the galaxy to appear. "Our first encounter with Behemoth took place in 745 M41." A red cloud appeared in a remote counter in the south eastern edges of the Ultima Segmentum. It started out small but grew quickly, spreading and enveloping system after system.

"Humanity has gone its entire existence without ever encountering such creatures." He continued. "And then, in less than 150 years we have encountered three major hive fleets, and over two dozen minor fleets. They have all had to have come from somewhere – other galaxies. And given the vastly different entry points for each fleet into our own galaxy, that strongly suggests that each of these fleets came from a different somewhere. All of that information suggests two things: First, these creatures are ancient. More ancient than ancient, given the amount of time it would take for them to spread across the intergalactic stars. And furthermore, that they have indeed spread across the universe. It is possible these creatures have been travelling form galaxy to galaxy for billions of years. The odds that a species this old, this aggressive, and this spread out amongst the known universe, are comprised of only Behemoth, Kraken, and Leviathan, is..." He stopped himself from saying laughable. "Unlikely."

Save for Master Roskavler's scribbling the room was silent. On the holographic display the history of Tyranid invasions played out. The high lords watched the advancement of Behemoth and Kraken from the Eastern Fringe before pouring into the Ultima Segmentum, before seeing Leviathan emerge from the galactic south and seeping into Ultima, making its way toward the Segmentum Tempestus.

Rosita was taken aback by the sight. The advance of the Hivefleets was like watching some terrible cancer extending over the Imperium. He began to fiddle with his relic again, but remained silent. Ashairel was taken aback as well, to his surprise. He'd seen the swarms first hand, so large that the entire ground had looked like a teaming mass of xenos chitin. But he'd never realized just how many human worlds they'd consumed. For every world which had died the hologram had marked it with a tiny yellow dot. Scores of them could be seen before the swarms stopped. If either representative of the Administratum or the Adeptus Mechanicus were similarly perturbed they made no show of it.

Fabricator Raskian made another groan. "Most of these worlds have been relative backwaters correct? Have they taken any fortress worlds?" His servitor asked.

"Only one that we know of." Answered Master Roskavler as she read through her notes. "Sybari, an old fortress world in the Ultima Segmentum. World had fallen into decay before being assailed by Behemoth. Beyond that assaults have been made, and some worlds were touch and go, but they have yet to breach the most defended worlds."

"Technically that's true." Interjected Ashairel. "Though I've read the numbers sent to Macragge, and I personally saw the amount of troops stationed at Ragthor. Both of them were aware of the coming invasion and boasted their numbers appropriately. I'm sure you will agree by the time of the swarm's arrival both worlds were as almost as well defended as Cadia itself. And while they were not lost, both worlds were by no means a guaranteed victory.

At the snap of her fingers one of Roskavler's servitors handed her one of her note books. She flipped through it and re-read some pages, then acknowledged that by the time of the Tyranid invasions, said worlds had the same number of troops, marines, ships and knights to exceed that of most fortress worlds.

"I'm assuming you aren't simply here to tell us that there will be more fleets I hope?" Ashairel directed his gaze toward Volkorisna as he spoke. "You hopefully have some way to kill these bugs? A way that we haven't thought of yet?"

"I – well sir, yes and no. I believe – my point is that if we wish to combat this threat, finding new ways to kill them might to be a secondary consideration."

"Secondary?" Rosita and Ashairel asked at the same moment. "What would you have us do, sue for peace?!" Rosita continued.

"No, my lord. That would be futile. Merely that there is a possible strategy that has been ignored until this point. The Tyranids themselves, the flesh and blood creatures that swarm our worlds, individually the majority of them are little more than animals. I suggest that these are not our true foe. Rather, our enemy is the consciousness that controls these fleets."

Ashairel coughed. "Their consciousness? What are you suggesting? Psychological warfare?"

"Of course not my Lord." Ethar answered and then paused. "Actually… yes my Lord. Psychological warfare of a different kind, depending on the kind of mind we are facing. All my colleagues agree that the fleets are likely controlled by some kind of hive-mind, though there are two major theories regarding it: The first, endorsed by several of my colleagues at Sauga, is that each of the hivefleets is governed by its own individual consciousness. In this sense, Kraken, Behemoth and Leviathan are separate entities. And the theory has its strengths: Given how fractured the fleets have been and the massive physical gaps between them, it would explain why these fleets have been seen warring amongst themselves when they do come into contact with each other.

"However, this theory cannot explain other phenomenon we have witnessed. Mainly, Tyranids which have been separated by light years and centuries seem to have been able to react to the defences against previous fleets, and have adapted to them in ways that suggest some kind of communication between the fleets. How this communication is possible between such vast differences is a complete unknown."

"Unknown?" Asked Master Roskavler. "You're entire proposal hinges on this, are you sure you are not reading evidence of shared intelligence where there is none?"

"It is a possibility my Lord, but we are dealing with probabilities. But I would like to appeal to Chapter Master Calgar's very own testimony, who after facing the xenos on Ichar in M41. 992 declared that the creatures had seemed to expect, and hence be able to counter, the same methods of the Militarum and Astartes used against Behemoth at Macragge over two centuries earlier. Simply put my Lords, there is strong evidence to support the hypothesis that our foe is legion: A single, unified consciousness. Therein lies the xenos strength and – by His grace - their weakness.

"The Tyranids themselves are its weapons certainly, but this Hivemind is what is directing them. The creatures are the gun, while the mind is what pulls the trigger. A gun without a hand to fire it is harmless. If we can somehow attack this consciousness, the fleets themselves will descend into infighting and chaos. We've already seen that Tyranid organisms can be cut off – isolated from this Hivemind. Under such conditions, most of them have varying degrees of animal intelligence."

"Explain what kind of intelligence these isolated specimens have exhibited doctor." Volkorisna prodded.

"An inability to recognize defenses has been noted in several of the most common types of tyranid organisms. We have seen hive fleets have been able to recognize and avoid heavily defended worlds in favor of weaker, more isolated ones, or actively seek out and exploit weak points in human defenses. Now it is true that certain organisms seem to maintain even sophisticated problem solving abilities when separated from the hivefleets, however once isolated the vast, vast, amount of these creatures are immune to all but the most basic form of strategy, often times even turning on each other. Such specimens are still dangerous mind you, but no more dangerous than any other predatory creatures in the galaxy. Hardly a match for any kind of organized offensive."

"Divide and conquer." Commander Ashairel turned to Inquisitor Volkorisna, nodding his approval. "And I thought that only worked on us and the fucking green-skins…"

"We effectively destroy the Tyranid intelligence apparatus, and get them to turn on each other." Volkorisna addressed the council. "This could perhaps be the most cost effective way paralyze the Tyranid fleet. The only fleet. I would like to ask the Lords present to please keep this in mind."

"The idea is attractive." Commented Raskian's servitor. "How do we do this?"

"This is a difficult task to quantify. While individual Tyranids can be separated from the Hivemind, we have no idea how the Hivemind is able to maintain control over the various fleets that are separated by light years. And in all my research I have never been able to find any account of human, or even Eldar psykers managing to have any kind of impact against the Tyranids. However…" Ethar looked nervously at Rosita, who despite his silence had been glaring at the doctor the entire time. He looked to Volkorisna for some kind of assurance and received a small nod from her.

"There is… one phenomena we have observed to which the hive fleets seem uniquely venerable too…" Ethar paused, and seemed to fight with himself in order to finish his sentence. "…Chaos."

Master Roskavler stopped her scribbling. She looked directly at Dr. Ethar. Commander Ashairel froze as he was just about to light another cigar. The room was silent. Volkorisna watched Ritira out of the corner of her eye. The old priest was still.

"Despite the massive psychic presence exerted by the Hivemind – the 'Shadow' as I believe those in the Astra Telepathica refer to it as," Ethar continued. "most Tyranid organisms have a minimal amount of psychic potential. I have not been able to run many experiments of this kind, but one of the more recent tyranid invasions we know of coincided with a demonic invasion upon the world of Taris. The reports led me to the following conclusions: The Tyranids are almost entirely biological entities, meant primarily to hunt and navigate within our material existence. They are completely ill-prepared to deal with the immaterial nature of any kind. At Taris an enormous demonic force challenged the Tyranids, which provided the beasts with a unique problem we have no records of them ever encountering before: Any fallen demons provided no biomass, and the warp rifts which opened within the planet seem to have disturbed the fleet's synaptic connections for a time. These are the only beings I am aware of which the Tyranids cannot make any kind of gains against.

"More importantly, Taris revealed to us something else about the Tyranids: They are utterly incapable of navigating the immaterial plane. Many Militarum ships reported that once sucked into the Warp, the Hive ships and other Tyranid craft lost any semblance of organization, despite thepresence of synaptic organisms still within the fleet. Enormous clusters of Leviathan were lost to these rifts, most of which have not been heard from again. Those few fleets which have been detected since have been found in sectors of the galaxy no tendril of Leviathan has ever reached, and once again lacking any of the organization and tactical prowess indicative of the Hivemind. Destructive to any undefended worlds of course, but easily dispatched by any serious Imperial resistance. My Lords my thesis, the result of all of my research has lead me to the conclusion that the Warp is the greatest threat to the Hivemind, and that the Hivemind – not the fleets – is our greatest threat." The exhilaration of sharing his topic had begun to wear off, and he could feel the impulse to shake returning to his bones. "I… I thank you for your time my Lords… I – I hope my research has been able to offer you some assistance."

The Lords were quite. After he'd concluded, Master Roskavler picked up her pen and resumed her scribbling. The servitor stared ahead with the same empty expression on its face. Volkorisna and the Lord Commander seemed to be waiting for something. A slow, single clap was heard echoing off the thick stone walls, and the sound almost caused Ethar to jump out of his skin.

"Enlightening." Said Ecclesiarch Ritira, who pushing against the table raised himself to his feet. "Very enlightening Doctor. I do believe thanks are in order: You've just demonstrated to us quite clearly, that the Ordo Xenos has become a breeding ground for heretical thought!" He looked directly at Volkorisna as he spoke. "My fellow Lords, I move that the Ordo Xenos be stripped of its autonomy until it and the rest of the Inquisition can be thoroughly vetted by Ministorum agents. And for her flagrant crimes against our Emperor, that Lord Volkorisna be placed under arrest, along with all of her subordinates.

Volkorisna – despite knowing full well that he Ecclesiarch had no authority over the Custodes present – cast a single, nervous glance at the guards posted in the corners of the room. The remained silent and motionless. "Thank you Dr. Ethar, you may be excused." She said.

"Do not move!" The Ecclesiarch pointed at Ethar before he could take a full step, causing the sleeves of his long robes to flap. "It is obvious that this 'doctor' is a central agent in Inquisitor Volkorisna's plot."

"I am not suggesting the doctor leave the Palace, Ecclesiarch. But Dr. Ethar was here acting as an expert on Tyranid life forms. Given that his presentation is concluded, there is no reason for him to remain within this chamber given that this is business for High Lords only, not a bio-chemist from Laval IV."

"Agreed." Said Raskian's servitor. "Remove him."

"I concur. The doctor may be removed under the jurisdiction of the Inquisition." Master Roskavler commanded. Moments later Volkorisna's aid appeared and Sebastian Ethar found himself hurriedly dragged out the door.

"I don't see how this is a matter of debate!" Ritira claimed. "Inquisitor Volkorisna just endorsed an open alliance to Chaos!"

"That's a bold charge my Lord." She turned her response to Roskavler and Raskian. "A charge that I'm unlikely to survive if you see to it. I am not suggesting that we appease the demonic hordes, but that we try to focus on how we can cause our two enemies rip each other apart for us, instead of fighting two enemies at once."

"Except you are ignoring the very real evidence that our current strategy of combating the Tyranids has worked out just fine!" Caught off guard by the Ecclesiarch's claim, Ashairel had to stifle a laugh. "Lord Commander," Ritira caught Ashairel off guard again. "You can vouch that the Guard, by working in tangent with the Imperial Navy is more than capable of dealing with these xeno infestations?

"We-"

"Whatever your opinion of Dr. Ethar may be," Volkorisna cut him off. "his predictions of future hive fleets corroborate the little intelligence we've been able to gather on the fleets, and his findings confirm everything we seem to know about Leviathan. That it is yet another splinter fleet is a fantasy my lords! Even our most recent intelligence supports are uncertain of its size, yet they report that this is indeed an enormous fleet! The Ultramarines were nearly extinguished by Behemoth. For the moment our only defense against these beasts is that a sizable chunk of them are bogged down fighting the green-skins, and what shall we do if they succeed? The only defense in their path are the worlds of the Blood Angels. Can they really be expected to hold the line against this invasion alone?"

"So you would you invite Chaos to Terra itself?"

"Of course not." Volkorisna kept herself composed, which she knew would only aggravated Ritira further. The more unhinged he came across, the more likely it was that she could count on Roskavler's support. "But our lack of action will lead to Terra under siege."

"That is a bold claim. And we are supposed to trust your instincts?" He charged.

"The Inquisition does not deal with whims, but probabilities my Lord Ecclesiarch. May I?" She indicated to the projector used earlier. "Dr. Ethar is not the only person to have studied Tyranid movements. We used to think these were random. However notice the path of Leviathan: Entering the galaxy in the middle of the Segmentum Tempustut, then spreading forward, putting it on a direct path to Solar itself, should its movements remain unchecked. Now notice fleets Kraken and Behemoth: Though the latter two may have been halted before they could make great incursions into the galaxy, if you continue their trajectory…" The dots representing the fleets ate their ways through the galaxy, through the Tau and past the Maelstrom, until they all reached the same, inevitable destination. All three converged on Sol.

"Why?" Asked Roskavler. "Why Terra? Is it the high concentration of prey in this system?"

"That is one theory my Lord. If Dr. Ethar's theory of this Hivemind is correct then it can direct all Tyranids simultaneously, and it has likely done so since prehistoric times. It is puzzling then, that we have encountered three within such a short time span. Why have we only seen them now? Perhaps because they are being drawn? Certain tyranid specimens have confirmed that the Hivemind itself has some kind of psychic presence, the vulnerability of its minions to the Warp notwithstanding. There are two events which have occurred in this galaxy of such magnitude in recent years, historically speaking. The fall of the Eldar… and the interment of our Emperor upon his Throne. My Lords given these facts, we must face the reality they imply: The very site on which we stand has become a brilliant beacon in the void of space, a beacon which these fleets are being drawn too, like locusts to a flame."

The room was silent. "One day sooner or later," She resumed. "Terra will be challenged by perhaps the largest armada it has ever seen. An armada that operates with perfect unity and organization. Whereas we cannot even be sure how many planets are within the Imperium."

"You claim to act in the interests of Holy Terra, yet you insult it in your analysis. Terra is the most defended planet in the galaxy. Not only are you inviting heresy, but it seems you've contempt for the Militarium, the Custodies, and even the efforts of the Adeptus Mechanicus?"

"My Lord Commander Militant." Volkorisna turned to Ashairel. "Are you confident that your forces can continue to man Cadia's gate and repel an entire hive fleet should it reach Sol?" The rest of the Lords looked to him for his response.

Fucking Inquisitors… Ashairel thought to himself. He'd hopped to escape attention for the rest of the meeting. It was difficult enough for the Guard to get any support without pissing off the rest of the Imperium.

"I am confident that there are others who are far more knowledgeable on the issue of demons than myself." Sitting in on enough of these meetings had given him a good grasp of speaking without saying anything. Volkorisna saw that, but she would have none of it.

"I admire your deference to expertise. However you have indeed been present at Cadia? You have personally seen the sacrifice we have made in its defense. No one else in this room, even lord Ecclesiarch – knowledgably as he is on heresy and demons – can claim that. I would argue that such a firsthand account makes you equipped – perhaps the most well equipped than anyone else to speak on this issue. Do you believe that if whole new theatre of war were to emerge, that the Militarum could hold?" Raskian and Roskavler voiced their agreement, asking him to answer.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to stop himself from scowling. This was the entire reason he was here. No one ever specified for the Guard to be present during such meetings. Volkorisna was just using him as a ploy to get an advantage over the Ecclesiarchy.

"I… I don't know." And her plan had worked. One thing Ashairel could never bring himself to do was lie, at least not in here. If the Imperium was to have any hope in gaining ground, not simply treading water, it needed to work together. The only thing the Guard had going for it was its honor, and he could not risk tainting that. "As of now, I suspect not. If more of the Militarum and Astartes were redeployed to this system, I am confident we could hold off a fleet the size of three behemoths. However this would leave vast amounts of territory unprotected."

"Unprotected against Orks, the Tau, even Chaos itself." Volkorisna agreed. "Lord Commander I will be frank: I do not understand how your guardsmen are able to face so many fronts. In fact I don't believe you can. The only reason I think the Militarum still stands is because of the monumental will, and discipline of its personal."

Ashairel clenched his hand into a fist under the table. Volkorisna was insulting the Militarum to his face, using it as damned political chip and making it sound like a compliment. And he could not do a thing about it.

"You've witnessed the destruction force both these foes can bring." She continued. "From your perspective Lord Commander: Would it be beneficial to the Imperium if one of these factions destroyed the other?" At his silence, Volkorisna looked at Roskavler for help.

"I would like to hear the Lord Commander's opinion of this strategy. Please my Lord, answer."

"Yes, I think it would." He looked away. The scowl on the Ecclesiarch's face was a promise, a promise that the Sororitas's would declare open season on local Guard personal across the galaxy. With that one response, he knew he'd signed the death warrant of thousands of senior guardsmen.

A series of beeps and boops, followed by a deep mechanical groan echoed throughout the auditorium. "The strategy is worth consideration. Unpleasant alliances can often be necessary to avoid an even worse fate. How would you implement this strategy?" Asked the servitor.

"We don't waste recourses repelling the fleets. We manage them. The ultimate goal would be to direct the next fleet, or at least portions of it. Toward the Eye of Terror, the Maelstrom, or to demon worlds themselves. The low amount of biomass such foes have will hopefully help to dwindle the Devourer's numbers. If xenos are victorious, then at least those cult dominated worlds are left barren and unusable by all. If that cannot be done then we do what we can to attract it to areas infested with high numbers of chaos cults. Whether the Devourer consumes the cult armies, or the Chaos gods assist their servants and wipe out the swarm, we will have gained a victory without firing a shot."

"Dr. Ethar's points and suggestions will be dispensed to the other lords not currently present. No further action will be taken until the Imperial Navy and Adeptus Astoria are briefed on the contents of this meeting. My own opinion is that the logic of this strategy is sound." Roskavler noted.

"Sound?" Ritira almost shrieked.

"Your concern is understandable m y Lord." The Administratum Master reassured him. "However Volkorisna is not suggesting we encourage the spread of Chaos influence. If the Tyranids are defeated by any such forces, the Ecclesiarchy will be well within its rights to dispatch its forces against the threat. Now, I can assume that the Inquisition has the consent of the Adeptus Militarium and the Mechanicus?" The two lords voiced their agreement. "Very well, let it be noted that for the moment the Inquisition also acts with the support of the Adeptus Administratum, pending a further review. May I record the Ecclesiarchy as opposed to the Inquisition's proposition?"

"Vehemently." Ritira answered.

"Vehemently. Noted." She shut her notebooks. "Dr. Ethar's points and suggestions will be dispensed to the other lords not currently present. The Imperial Navy and Adeptus Astoria are to briefed on the contents of this meeting. With the exception of our chiefs of staff and our own astropaths this discussion is to be remain confidential. This meeting is adjourned." Not waiting for the other Lords to rise, Ritira got up and stormed out. Volkorisna leaned back in her seat and spoke quietly into her personal vox-caster.

"Bring him to my office."

Offer

Volkorisna was making her way to her personal transport when she heard footsteps behind her. At the opposite end of the dank, brick hallway she saw a hunching figure wrapped in a red clock approaching.

"Fabricator-General?" She was surprised. She'd never spoken directly with the Ad-Mech leader outside official channels. "What may I do for you?" She spoke up, ensuring the servitor's microphones picked up her words. Considering the lack of a hologram she assumed he only received audio.

"The timing of this meeting was no accident, was it? Lord Kerapliades and Valoris's objections would have been assured were they present." Spoke the servitor in its flat voice.

Sharp. Volkorisna thought to herself. When the commander of the of the eight foot tall monsters that ran the Palace partook in a meeting it was easy to forget that the lords were all supposed to be 'equals.' And Volkorisna could only imagine the fit that the Master of the Astra Telepathica would have over her suggestions.

"I was grateful for your support my Lord. A pleasant surprise." Volkorisna did her best to hide just how jarring it was to see the leader of the Adeptus Mechanicus supporting such a strategy. If the Cult Mechanicus and the Ecclesiarchy had anything in common, it was that getting them to accept change was like pulling teeth.

"Do you think us invulnerable to the swarms? With so little biomass, the Devourer might as well pass us over correct?"

"No, of course."

"No indeed. Further any technological finds on a consumed world would be forfeit. As such, the Inquisition can count on the full support of the Mars in this manner."

"The Mechanicus…" She began at a loss. "once again prove to be full of surprises."

"We'll require some help from the Inquisition of course."

Of course. She thought. Here it comes.

"Transmit your files on the upper echelons of Tech-Priests."

Volkorisna couldn't hide a smirk. "Just how useful do you think that will be? The Cult Mechanicus area among the most frustrating of the Imperium to gather intel on."

"Yet you gather all the same. I'll provide the names and the residences of the priests. Focus your efforts on them and send them to me alone."

"Done." Turning the Fabricator-General effectively into a client would give the Inquisition some of its teeth back after the mess Kryptman had left. "I can keep the doctor safe for now. If that changes I may call on you. You'll replace his lungs when the dust does its work?"

"Naturally."

"Very well." She nodded. "General." At her dismissal the lights on the servitor's chest plate and face dulled and it began to sulk away.

Haven

Since being removed from the conference room Ethar had been dragged through a myriad of hallways, following the Inquisitor's black-clothed aid. Two soldiers belonging to a kind of regiment he had never seen before followed behind him without saying a word. They looked more akin to exterminators then soldiers: Covered head to toe in a light blue armor, carrying some sort of plasma weapon attached to their backpacks with a hose. Aside from the aid telling Ethar the importance of keeping quiet he only spoke once.

"Sororitas." He had whispered. One of the soldiers responded by shoving Ethar against the stone wall and stepping in front of him, keeping is weapon lowered but ready. After waiting for a few minutes the group carried on, with Ethar constantly being pushed by the soldiers behind him. Eventually they came to a long tunnel with a transport. The aid bid Ethar to enter and then followed him inside. The soldiers remained behind as the transport sped off down the immense tunnel to another portion of the Palace.

Volkorisna's office in the palace was more akin to a cozy residence than an office. One of the walls held a fireplace, two velvet couches sat in the center of the room, with a large oak desk dominating one side of the dwelling.

"Can I get you anything?" The aid asked, after she took his coat without his permission.

"Yes, actually..." Ethar began, having been kept silent. "you can tell me what in the name of holy Terra you've gotten me involved in!"

"I'm sure the Ecclesiastic has already issued a bull declaring you a heretic doctor. Try to avoid giving them any further ammunition against you." Said the aid as he placed some wood in the fire place and lit some crumpled old scrolls with a match.

"A heretic?" He'd heard the High Lord use the word before but the aid's matter-a-fact way of saying it allowed it to sink in.

A Heretic… He had gone to most of the Institute's services on Sauga, left donations in front of the effigy of the Throne, and even brought his son to those ridiculous public prayer services. To be called that word, by the ultimate authority of the Ecclesiarchy no less, it made him feel as if he'd been diagnosed with some terrible illness. The bones in his legs felt as if they turned to rubber, and he slumped against one of the couches. He made several appeals to the aid to try and assure him that he'd always revered the Emperor. The aid, whom after starting the fire and lighting some incense seemed more interesting in reading through reports, largely ignored Ethar's pleas.

Finally Volkorisna entered.

"Thank you Na'Varsh." She indicated toward the aid, who sat silently on the opposite couch.

"My Lord, forgive my tone but I need to know what exactly happened in there? Why did I need an armed detachment to bring me here, and why does the Ecclesiarch seem to want me dead now?"

"Yes I suppose you would be full of questions. Come sit with me." Volkorisna indicated to her desk. "Na'Varsh, would you please retrieve some spiced wine for me and my guest?" The aid nodded and opened a hollowed out wooden globe in the corner of the room, reveling a small bar inside. "Do you have a taste for wine doctor?"

"I do not."

"That's unfortunate, it's more subtle notes will likely be lost on you. It comes all the way from one of the paradise worlds of the Calixis Sector. I'll send a bottle with you when you leave regardless as a thank you for your service." Ethar opened his mouth to speak but the Inquisitor silenced him with a gesture as she took a sip from her glass, and bid Ethar to do the same.

He was shocked at the craftsmanship of the crystal. The glass looked like more of a work of art then a utensil. It featured the Imperial Aquila, surrounded by elegant patterns of line and dot-work. It felt so light Ethar was worried he would crush it simply by holding it. He took a sip and found it tasting no different than most other wines he had tried, save for a heavier taste of oak. Nonetheless it was welcome after the last two hours, and he took several slow and steady gulps.

"You've walked some of the most important halls in our history." Volkorisna said as she placed a long, thin cigar in her mouth and lit the end. Ethar nodded in agreement after as he placed his glass on the desk. "I'm sure that even now, you can't really appreciate the gravity of what you've done and where you are. Not the prettiest place I know, I'm sure that you had a much higher assumption of how the heads of the Imperium cooperate. I'd like to say you're only seeing us at are worst, but to do be quite honest that went much better than I imagined it would." Placing her arms on the desk she leaned toward Ethar. "Have you ever heard of a place called Talasa Prime?"

"N-no."

"It's a fortress world. A little dreary, and not the most comfortable place. But it will keep you safe."

For the second time that day it felt as if Ethar had been dropped into a conversation he had been excused from. "S-safe?" He stammered.

"Yes." She nodded, her cigar now resting between her slender fingers. "It's the home of a chapter of very devoted Astartes. Friend of mine who's the head of the chapter there is quite interested in any new ways to kill xenos. He'll ensure you have access to the finest equipment and plenty of specimens"

"I can't go to Tesla…" Ethar whispered.

"They're sending me a shipment of live specimens," Volkorisna continued. "including several of the larger ones as well. I will warn you, Space Marines can be an old lot to be around. Don't ask any questions that don't impact on you work. As a matter of fact just avoid any kind of small talk with them at all, it'll save you trouble."

"I am not going!" Ethar shouted, and rose from his seat. "Why can't you answer my fucking questions? You invite me here under false pretences – the message I'd gotten said that I was invited to give a talk at the Lyceum of Terra not to be forced into a meeting with the heads of the Imperium itself! And then I'm accused of being a heretic by the leader of the Ecclesiarchy itself! I haven't done a thing against the Imperium in my entire life, and now …! What in the name of the Emperor is wrong with you? I thought you people were supposed to protect us, not-not this!" Volkorisna sat and waited until he was finished venting.

"Sebastian," She began, looking him in the eyes. "sit down." Gone was any hint of pleasantness in her voice. Suddenly remembering just who he was talking to Ethar felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dunked over his shoulders. He sat and opened his mouth to apologize. "I understand." She raised her hand to stop him from speaking. "This is unprecedented for you. And I am sympathetic to your frustration. I did lure you here under false pretences, and I suspected Eos would react in such a way. But it was necessary. I make no apologies for my actions."

Volkorisna pointed to a small icon of the Emperor above the door. It depicted him upon the Throne: His body slumped over in exhaustion, but with a strong gaze that looked directly into the viewer.

"I would never…" Ethar began to assure the Inquisitor.

"Nor would I if I had any reason to suspect you were a legitimate heretic. Your Institute has already been informed you won't be returning. I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do? You'll be more than provided for on Tesla Prime, but are there any personal effects from your home you would like me to have retrieved and sent to you?"

"I…I have a son." Ethar whispered. "I have a son. I don't, I don't spend as much time as I should with him, but I would like it if he were to live with me." He quietly pleaded as met Volkorisna's eyes. She motioned for Na'Varsh to fill his glass again.

"Drink." She urged. Ethar did as he was told, and without bothering to taste it, guzzled down the exquisite wine.

"He won't be a problem." He promised.

"We both know that's not true. The nightmares? He's woken up and destroyed part of his room? Or set it aflame hasn't he?" Ethar froze. His eyes crept from his glass toward the Inquisitor's face.

She knows. By the Throne, of course she knows!

"Please…" He begged. "I couldn't turn him over. His mother – after she went-"

Volkorisna held up her hand again. "I know doctor. I knew before you ever received your invitation. I understand. I suppose he was fortunate that his father was so well versed in the fields of synaptic-biology. Keeping your own son mentally castrated with pills might seem cruel to some, but I understand your situation. The problem is that if I know, the Ecclesiarchy will find out as well. I would be shocked if they hadn't begun their own invitation into you after they received the abstract of your lecture. Your suggestion of using Chaos in a positive way already has me on thin ice. Being found hiding an unsanctioned psyker is a risk we simply cannot take.

"What I can do however, is offer your son a way out. A way to serve the Imperium, far away from the Black Ships. The Master of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica is a good friend of mine. I'll ask for a favor, and he'll be trained as an astropath. He'll be kept far away from the front lines, just used to help with communication."

Ethar didn't say anything but instead looked intently at the desk before him as he clutched the empty glass close to his chest.

"Doctor?" Volkorisna asked gently.

Ethar's eyes met hers. She no longer looked stern, and instead seemed apologetic. As if she understood his plight. He nodded. "Okay." He whispered. "Okay, I'll… I'll do it. May I… May I send have a message sent to him?"

"Of course. I'll see to it that he gets it."

"Alright. Tesla Prime?" She nodded. "Okay. I will need certain instruments-"

"It will be handled. I'm sure the Institute of Sauga is has adequate facilities, but now you've the backing of the Ordo Xenos." Volkorisna stood, approached Ethar, and extended her hand. Ethar, feeling warm from the wine and comforted by her assurances, gave her his own. "Wonderful. Na'Varsh, please have Dr. Ethar escorted to his transport. I'm sorry I cannot spend more time with you, but I'm afraid the Ecclesiarch has a great deal of influence on Terra. Since I cannot guarantee your safety if you remain here, you'll be leaving for Tesla Prime immediately. So long as you do exactly as my assistant directs, you'll be fine. From here on out you may consider yourself under my personal protection."

Protected by the Inquisition. It sounded like a bad joke. The thin aid approached Ethar from behind and placed the man's coat over his shoulders before beginning to move the doctor to the office door. Before he was escorted out he cast a glance at the Inquisitor. She was already engrossed in whatever paperwork she had in front of her, wielding a long, silver rimmed fountain pen as she scratched and scribbled the pages in front of her. Ethar pushed himself away from the door frame, with more force than he figured he'd need given that the aid did not try to stop him.

"Swear." Ethar demanded. What are you doing?! He screamed at himself, as he tried to hide every sign of anxiousness. He clutched his fists tight to keep his hands steady, but he could do nothing about the shaking in his leg. He'd hoped she couldn't see it over her desk. "Swear by the Emperor that you will protect me and my family."

Volkorisna regarded him with a raised eyebrow for a moment. She set her pen aside in its ink-pot, stalked the papers in front of her and neatly set them aside before crossing her arms on the desk.

"By the Emperor?" She smiled, and glanced at the small icon across the room. Approaching the mantle-place she picked it up and turned it over in her hands a few times, as if to admire the details: His proud, impeccable armor, and his hand resting upon the hilt of his flaming greatsword which was plunged into the ground by his feet. "This Emperor?" She asked as she tossed the figure into the flames.

Ethar reached out and took a step almost as if he meant to save the icon, before looking aghast at the Inquisitor. Ethar had been skeptical of the Emperor's divinity of course, but he'd never seen such open disrespect toward the Master of Mankind.

"That man might have been the worst calamity to befall the human race." Volkorisna mused as she returned to her desk, and neatly folded her hands across it. "Did you know that the average human can only accommodate 150 other people in its social circle? Essentially 150 people we can care truly care about in that we can remember their names, their needs, their history, and so forth. He spent so much energy building this Imperium of who knows how many souls? And in the process alienated who knows how many other races to us? And since he established it, the Imperium has spent its entire history trying to ripe itself to shreds. As far as I'm concerned, humanity would have been better off if we had never climbed down from the trees. Unfortunately I can't undo 60 million years of evolution, so it's my job to hold this Imperium together despite its efforts to collapse itself. And your research, despite how inconvenient it is for you – and for me – is vital to that.

"Now my bringing you here was a risk doctor. Your little presentation has hurt me and my order, even if you can't understand that. Do you think I would risk reputation with the other Lords – just to throw you to the Ecclesiarchy's goons? You can't help me kill the Hivemind if you're dead Doctor."

"Kill it? The Hivemind?" It was something Ethar had theorized about, but that was just with colleagues at the Institute. An interesting idea but nothing that he ever imagined would be feasible. Now he was speaking with the most powerful woman he had ever met and she spoke of it as if it were a matter of certainty. "You think you can?"

"Whether we can do it or not doesn't really matter doctor. If we can't, the Imperium will die. Might take time, but if you're correct, even Terra will go. It's that simple. Either these halls will swarm with Xenos, or we'll be so busy on this front that the rest of the galaxy will burn without us." She extended her arm and grasped Ethar's hand. "You've made some powerful enemies today, I won't lie. If human-kind isn't wiped out, your work will have contributed to its survival. Don't ever forget that doctor."

Taking that as his cue Na'Varsh quietly took Ethar by the arm and lead him out the door. No doubt the Ecclesiarchy was trying to get in contact with the Ordo Hereticus. The Custodes wouldn't tolerate any kind of internal conflict within the Palace, and depending on what strings Ritira was able to pull, the Inquisition's own fortress on Terra might not cut it. They had to get the doctor on a transport to Talasa Prime immediately. Four hours later Na'Varsh returned.

"Done?" Volkorisna raised her head from her paperwork.

"Shuttle took off an hour ago. It'll dock with the ship within two hours, and head for Talasa Prime immediately."

Volkorisna exhaled a sigh of relief and sat back, tossing her pen in front of her. "No problems?"

"Had a company of Deathwatch with us. Ran into some Sisters, but even they weren't that foolish. They won't leave his side until they arrive at the Fortress."

"If they are intercepted, if they get surrounded…"

"They'll shoot the doctor before giving him up."

"Good. Good. Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

"Forgive me my Lord but, was this really necessary? Why bring him here first?"

"If all we had to worry about was another fleet I wouldn't have bothered. We'll survive Leviathan, and we'll survive the next. But we might be facing two, or twelve, or maybe a fleet larger than Leviathan, Kraken, and Behemoth combined, who knows? With those kinds of number's we'll need the Militarum, the Navy, the Mechanicus, and the Administratum all backing us up. So long as we have that then Ecclesiarchy and the Grey Knights can fling as much shit as they like and it won't be a problem."

"So that's why you lied to them?"

"Of course." She rose. "If we gave them the whole story it would have made the Kryptman affair look like a joke." She stepped in front of the fireplace.

"So we're going to do it then?" Na'Varsh shifted for a second. It was still difficult for him to voice out-loud.

"Warp rifts." She answered. "The one thing they can't adapt to. We just have to make sure they open where we want them too." Volkorisna watched the fires crackle as she discussed what the other lords would certainly have agreed was high treason. "If we could get the bulk of the fleets in one location… well… let's see the Hivemind recuperate after all its limbs are scattered across the immaterium."

This was the second time Na'Varsh had ever openly discussed the operation with his Lord. For all he knew they were the only two people in the galaxy who knew of the plan. He hadn't dared to voice this to anyone else in the order. If Volkorisna had shared this with anyone else she had not mentioned it to him. He'd once thought about trying to record one of these discussions as a contingency plan. He could take it one of other Lords, and possibly save himself from the fallout, but she'd sniff it out, one way or another.

"You're certain about this?"

"Chaos has always been there. Always will. I don't know if we can maintain it forever, but we won't get a chance to try if the entire swarm consumes us. In the meantime," Volkorisna left the fireplace and returned to her desk. "it's time we stop wasting our recourses. Put out some feelers to Ethereal Supreme, let them know that we're willing to withdraw our forces from their boarders."

"That might be a hard sell. Just last year the Novamarines started attacking fringe Tau strongholds. Wiped out a fortress and turned one of their trade routes into a minefield."

"Fucking Astartes." Volkorisna sighed. "Speak with Ashairel, let him know we need this. They'll have to deal with the Novamarines and any other aggressive chapters on their own, but we can assure them that they won't have to deal with the Guard."

"You think that'll be enough?"

"Unless the Celestial Caste were all lobotomized when I wasn't looking. They know what the Devourer is capable of. Between that and the Guard, a single chapter's an inconvenience they can handle on their own."

"Consider it done my Lord."

"I already do. When you're finished get some rest Na'Varsh, I'm sure it's been a long day."

"I wouldn't say long my Lord. But it's not every day I'm worried I'll see a civil war break out in the auditorium." Volkorisna smirked at his comment.

"More likely you would have just seen me hung. If Ashairel went the other way, or if Valoris was present who knows?"

"Shall I prepare a draft to be sent to Kerapliades of the Astra Telepathica?"

"Yes actually. While you're at it give them the location of doctor's son, have him added to the Blackship quarry next time they pass through the Laval system."

"The… the Blackships my Lord? I though he was to be recruited?"

"Ha! Was I so convincing? Zlatad Aph? A friend of mine? Right now Lord Ritira will be pulling whatever strings he can to get me disbarred. If he caught me trying to pull strings to protect an unsanctioned psyker, the son of who might as well be an admitted heretic? I'd be giftwrapping myself for him. We'll draft a death certificate saying the boy was possessed during psyker training and had to be put down. We'll send it to the father a year after he gets set up on Talasa Prime." She looked up from her papers. "Go on. That's all I'll need for now."

"My Lord," Na'Varsh began. "I've read Ethar's file myself. He was telling the truth. Sebastian may have hid him, but the boy himself is hardly old enough to understand what he is, let alone try and hide himself. He's completely innocent." Na'Varsh's comment seemed humorous to the Inquisitor Lord. She chuckled, before leaning back in her chair for a moment to regard her aid.

"My dear Na'Varsh. Innocence?" Picking up her pen again she returned to her work. "Innocence proves nothing."

The End.