Hello everyone, this is my first fic. I've been interested in the Warhammer 40K lore (although I'm not an expert, so be warned, I will get things wrong) for quite a while now and I've finally decided to make my own small contribution to it. As much as I love the combat and "grimdarkness" of Warhammer, I've always felt that too much time is spent with Space Marines and the people high up in society (xeno and human alike). Whereas the average Imperial guardsmen doesn't get much of a look in (then again, I might be wrong).
EldarxHuman is quite interesting as a topic as it forces two people together from completely different backgrounds and cultures. I've seen a few good Adventure/romance fics but many of them never get completed as their authors didn't have an overarching plot to tie it all together. Instead, they relied upon the interactions between the two protagonists. Unfortunately, this can only work for so long before the story becomes stagnant. This is a tale inspired by the story 'Boots First' and as that fic will never be finished, hopefully this will go some way to bring closure to those who loved it as much as I did.
Chapter 1 – Gone Dark
Year: 745.M41
System: Eta Carina
Planet: Deyria (Day-righ-ah)
Function: Xenos Archaeological Site
Garrison: 2 Companies of the 195th Narvos Light Infantry
Outpost Landfall
Lance Corporal Wilt stood atop the palisade wall, huddled underneath his cloak as the lashing rain swept in torrents from the Black Craggs on the far side of the valley. His ears were filled with the drumming of rain on the hardened surface of the timber roof that covered the extent of the twelve-foot-high wall. It provided little in the way of protection from the elements, much to the guardsman's irritation.
The bleak daylight was fading fast; the grey overcast clouds only growing darker as the obscured sun began to set. He shivered in the low lamp light as he peered out at the alien world around him.
It was the same as it had been since the day they had arrived, just over a year ago now. An unending morass of palantal fir tree forests and black mountains that went on mile after mile, scarcely broken up by undulating scrubland.
Outpost Landfall itself was hardly a great testament to imperial craftsmanship. Any newcomer, unfortunate enough to find their way here, would be confronted by a large rectangular wooden fort; a watch tower positioned in either corner with a large clearing at its heart meant to accommodate several arvus lighters. Seeing these void-to-planet cargo haulers, vital for the garrison's continuation, was one of the few heart-warming sights that one could see at this soggy backwater.
Surrounding the primitive landing zone were the tents and wooden hovels of those guardsman unlucky enough to be posted here. The largest of these huts was dedicated to the long-range communications array. Of course, this was nothing more than a small roundhouse with a tall vox mast leaning on its northern side protruding into the sky.
The boredom of sentry duty soon led to Wilt's mind travelling to an oft discussed topic. Why here of all places? He thought. A question that he had heard both openly and covertly expressed by many of the men in the garrison.
What could possibly be so important on this untamed and wild planet that required the need for two full companies of imperial Guardsmen? He asked quietly to himself. The wind, seemingly annoyed by his curiosity, gusted strongly causing the lamp overhead to swing violently. The soldier pulled his smock and cloak ever tighter.
Whatever it is, I hope its bloody well worth it.
He remembered when they had first received their marching orders after the calamitous Lenerus campaign. The remnants of 'A', 'B', 'D' and 'F' Company were amalgamated into two new full-strength companies, 'A' and 'B', and temporarily sequestered for garrison duty. The other companies of the 195th who had primarily stayed in reserve during the campaign were quickly deployed elsewhere to help rebuff an ork incursion.
On receiving this news, many of the veteran guardsman were thankful to be given such an easy garrison assignment after the unrelenting hell they'd been put through. However, that erstwhile relief was quickly replaced with a deep sense of unease once they arrived to take up their new posting.
The planet they had been sent to was completely uninhabited; a place that the galaxy's great powers had ostensibly forgotten. This came as a bitter blow for those of the soldiery that had wanted to spend time relaxing at the local bars and brothels while roughing up petty criminals.
Underneath his sodden cloak, Wilt caressed his hands in the hopeless attempt to rub some warmth back into them. They were clammy to the touch and ice-cold, not too different from a freshly buried corpse. He shook his head at the unsettling thought and resumed his rounds as he strode along the wall.
Just three more days until the next rotation. He thought, being as encouraging as he could manage.
Due to the poor-quality terrain of the Deyrian moon, the only place where supplies could be safely and reliably off-loaded was several miles from the xeno monastery. This led to the establishment of Outpost Landfall and the subsequent road connecting the two sites.
A rota was immediately established where one platoon from the main garrison would be assigned to spend ten days at the outpost. An assignment that all of the guardsman loathed. The xeno monastery was strange enough but at least there was some semblance of shelter and normalcy.
Outpost Landfall on the other hand was in the middle of the wilderness; surrounded by an army of alien trees, now silhouetted black in the coming darkness, forever watching the human intruders - their judgement cast long ago.
A burst of muffled laughter drew Wilt's attention as he looked down into the fort's courtyard. Three figures inside a tent, their silhouettes cast by a lamp. From just a glance, Wilt could tell it was Guardsman Lowe conning two others at a game of dice.
Judging by the lankiness of one of them and the booming voice of the other, he guessed the two unsuspecting fools were Gansk and Lacher respectively. In spite of being soaked to the bone, he couldn't help but smile at the soldier's antics below.
He paced further along the wall, adjusting the strap of his lasrifle which had become tangled in one of the folds of his cloak. Lazily, he stared out more at the unchanged scenery, when suddenly he paused. For a moment he could have sworn he saw the briefest glint of something metallic out beyond the fort perimeter in the tree line.
It was difficult to tell in the drizzly twilight, but he refused to simply brush it aside. Another brief glint through the tree line was proof enough for him. In the year that he had been here, he could never recall seeing anything but the eerie wilderness. Unslinging his lasrifle in hasty response, his blood ran cold.
He made to shout, calling the skeleton garrison to arms but his voice failed him. A small pain in his chest made him glance down. Much to his horror, an inhuman looking dagger stood proud of his chest. It was only then that he noticed the moving shadow; Wilt tried to turn to face them, but his muscles refused to respond.
Before he knew it, the floor was rushing up to meet him, only at the last minute did something arrest his downward plummet. Gradually, he felt himself lowered to the wooden decking in a gentle embrace. Wilt tried to turn to see his assailants, but his strength had left him. As death came to claim the guardsman, the last thing he heard were a few alien words whispered in his ear.
Xeno Monastery
Colonel Demetris sat at his desk in his makeshift office and blearily looked up from the multitude of paperwork scattered around. For seemingly the millionth time, he scanned the smooth onyx walls that enclosed his office, with their strange swirling and digital like patterns. A distracting dull white light seemed to emanate from them which Demetris, much to his annoyance, still hadn't gotten used to in spite of living on Deyria for almost a year. Although he had to admit there was a strange sort of beauty to them...
Better not repeat that aloud when Commissar Virilus is nearby, he reflected. The patterns covered every wall in every room in the building.
The monikers, 'Xeno Monastery' or 'The Monastery', had been given to the ancient building in which they had taken residence. It was set inside one of the tallest of the Black Cragg mountains. The interior of which was a twisting labyrinth of winding corridors and rooms, many of which seemed to lead to nowhere and served no discernible purpose. Demetris recalled a humorous conversation between Major Halbritter and guardsman Koster upon arriving at the monastery for the first time.
"Wonder what this all used to be?" Koster asked to his squad mate.
"Whatever it was, it's now your billet." The Major butted in. "Make yourselves at home, lads and lasses."
Principally it seemed that the monastery's layout was made up of several levels each connected by a myriad of staircases and ramps, each one a different size and style. The lowest level was the entrance into the xeno monastery which immediately led into a grand hallway, with a high vaulted ceiling, that ran for half a mile before ending at a tiny octagonal plaza. The only feature of the octagonal room was a humble well; a square hole in the ground surrounded by a low wall made of the same onyx coloured stone that the rest of the monastery was built from.
Whoever the original owners of this place were, they clearly didn't care to make things easier for newcomers. A sapper had had to install a pulley system on the well, complete with a bucket, in order to successfully extract the water below. Until that had been done, they'd all had to rely on the Munitorum water shipments which had often had an odd aftertaste of promethium.
In hindsight, it appeared that the grand hallway acted as a central hub, allowing any individual to travel throughout the entire facility. The second level was taken up almost entirely by what any politician or high-born noble would instantly recognize as a vast circular forum where the assumed elite of this long-forgotten society would gather. Several staircases connected the first and second level together.
In the centre of the room stood what Corporal Winsen had called a 'barro bath', referencing the garden ornament common in many Narvosi households. A silver liquid sat at the bottom of the small basin, still as a mirror.
Personnel were warned from going near it after one of the troopers began seeing things in its mirror-like sheen. Sergeant Parre diagnosed the symptoms as mere sleep deprivation, but that explanation did little to quash the rumours.
The third level, fondly nicknamed the 'dustman's nightmare', was what the adepts assumed was some sort of archive or library. Although, the tomes and books that had once lined these ancient shelves had long since disintegrated over the eons. Only the metallic tablets lined with strange runes and hieroglyphs remained. Attached to the archives was where the interest of this whole expedition truly lay.
A single passage led from the archives to an atrium which held the mysterious artefact that the garrison was really here to guard, along with the two adept researchers of course.
Well... one now. Demetris admitted uncomfortably. The remaining levels of the monastery appeared to be little more than warrens of empty storage rooms and winding passageways. Desperately seeking an excuse to keep his mind off the Emperor-forsaken paperwork, the colonel found his mind wandering back to their arrival to this place.
The Monastery had been found by ambitious explorers trying to find planets with rich ore deposits. It was completely by chance they stumbled upon the moon Deyria III, which had for so long remained undiscovered, while scanning the gas giant of the same name. Upon discovering the moon, they sent down an exploration team.
They found no ore deposits, nor anything of any value… apart from an ancient and abandoned xenos monastery cut into a mountainside. They alerted the Logis Strategos of the Administratum of their discovery once it became clear that the planet was seemingly worthless.
As ever though, the wheels of bureaucracy turn slowly. It was not for another eighty-seven years after the explorers' report that any action was taken. The Administratum sent two adept scholars to investigate. It was in the monastery where they found an artefact of some importance and quickly requested a garrison to protect their findings.
The colonel hadn't failed to notice the prime defensive location of the monastery while looking through the window of the Valkyrie drop ship. The entrance of the ancient building stood atop a steep hill surrounded by scree and sheer cliff faces.
The archway and subsequent path were initially hidden from view by a curtain of jagged stone which swept round much of the hill's summit before ending abruptly. At which point, the path briefly widened out to what could be called a courtyard of sorts, before narrowing again and winding round the hill to the valley floor.
A thick and reinforced palisade wall was constructed where the stone wall ended and completed the ringed defences around the crown of the hill. To Demetris's mind this had had two benefits: vastly improve the defensive capability of the monastery while also keeping the guardsmen busy for at least a few weeks.
The timber for these additional defences had come from the trees sprouting around the base of the hill which was now entirely bare. This was an added bonus as it created a perfect killing zone devoid of cover for any would-be attacker.
He'd set up his office on the second level in one of the few rooms joining to the circular forum. The room afforded him some level of privacy, especially with the addition of a curtain covering the entrance where normally a door should have been. The men of his two companies, however, did not have the same luxury. They simply set up sleeping and living quarters in various rooms scattered throughout the monastery.
It had taken quite a bit of getting used to living in this alien environment. In the first few weeks there had been numerous incidences of guardsmen getting lost in the winding corridors. The worst of which was when Guardsman Newbell went missing for several days and was found, dehydrated and starving, sobbing in one of the corridors on the upper most levels. When she had recovered from her ordeal, the soldier had made several excuses; she claimed that the walls had shifted around her.
Demetris shook himself out of his daydreaming and looked back to the task at hand, the papers covered with lists and requests demanding his attention. He was tired, he hated dealing with the logistics of running the regiment.
He had always delegated the task to his quartermaster but unfortunately, he, along with over half the regiment, was off fighting the orks on an agri-world in a nearby system. He could have delegated to one of his other officers, however many of them were busy with their own tasks. In the end, he had decided that he should try his hand at bookkeeping and managing of supplies.
That was a mistake. He concluded
He gained a whole new appreciation for his quartermaster, Quietus Len. A severe individual with glasses that were endlessly falling off his nose, considered an incredibly dull person by most of the fighting men of the 195th. Demetris however, would argue that he was probably the best quartermaster and bookkeeper he'd ever seen.
If Quietus ever became Master of the Administratum, the Imperium would run like a well-oiled machine on juiced-up stims. The thought of his bookish friend being a High Lord of Terra made him smile. He turned his attention back to the papers on his desk, a requisition order for new boots had floated its way up to the top of the pile.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the wall outside of his office. Before he could even answer, the head of his vox operator poked out from the curtain.
"Sir, there's something wrong." Guardsman McNesp warned. The colonel grunted at the casual insubordination of the gruff highlander.
"Well don't keep me waiting, what is it?" The vox-operator came into the small office, shouldering his bulky equipment.
"Outpost Landfall failed to respond to the morning roll call." He said, glaring suspiciously at his vox caster.
The colonel tapped his fingers on the table in thought. "Well, there was quite the storm last night, possibly just an electrical fault?"
The guardsmen shook his head. "I don't think so sir, we received a transmission late last night."
"And you're only telling me this now… because?" Demetris raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Couldn't make heads nor tails of it to begin with sir, but I've managed to unscramble it. It's still scratchy as a battered hab cat but there's something there. Here, have a listen." McNesp tapped a few buttons and the recording sprang to life as the sounds of the previous day played themselves out once more. Demetris winced at the high-pitched static which hurt his ears. "I can't really-" he started before being rudely shushed by McNesp.
Normally he would have baulked at this casual insubordination, but he had known the highlander for long enough to be used to it. Rolling his eyes, he listened for a few more seconds when he heard something. The whine of a lasrifle discharging was instantly recognizable.
Demetris's mind froze as his worst fear slowly became a reality. "It pretty much ends there sir. What are your thoughts?" The blunt vox operator asked, his brown eyes beginning to wander around the room.
Demetris ceased his finger tapping. "Get me Major Skult. Right now!" He ordered.
The vox-operator soon left Demetris with his own thoughts when the colonel heard another knock on the wall outside. "Come in, take a seat," The commander said wearily.
Major Skult, the commanding officer of 'B' company, pushed aside the curtain and closed it behind him. He snapped a smart salute, then sat in the chair opposite the colonel. Skult was a good officer, although sometimes prone to recklessness. Like most of Narvos' inhabitants he was tall (well over six feet), with blonde hair and a handsome face. He was the poster child for the 195th.
"You wanted to see me sir?"
"That I did Major, that I did." Demetris said, shuffling some paper into a neat pile. "I have quite a bit of housekeeping to do so I'll be brief. Radio contact has been lost with Outpost Landfall-"
"Again?" The officer interrupted him. The scepticism was clear in his voice.
"Yes, again…" Demetris struggled to recover his train of thought.
Maybe I'm getting too old for this… just two more years.
The commander's brow furrowed as he regained his composure. "In two hours', time I want 'B' company to go to the outpost, find out what happened and re-establish vox contact."
"Sir, are you sure that's necessary? I recall the same thing happened a few months ago and that was just the vox-castor playing up." Skult argued.
"True enough." Demetris conceded. "However, this time I have reason to believe that there might be something far more malicious at work than a malfunctioning vox-set."
"You think we might be under attack?" At the implication, the scepticism disappeared from his tone,
Not wishing to appear overly cautious or paranoid, Demetris mulled over the company commanders' question. "Possibly." He replied, in a guarded fashion. "Although it's not clear." The colonel hastened to add. "A late-night transmission came from the outpost, but the only thing we could make out was a single gunshot."
Skult massaged his thumb with his middle finger as he weighed up the possibilities. "Lieutenant Avern's lads up to their old tricks again?" He suggested, uncertainty now taking the place of his previous cynicism. "Doesn't take long for reformed drunkards to turn back to the bottle."
Demetris bobbed his head in consideration. "Maybe... but we should never assume anything. Especially with what we're guarding, war has taught me that much at least. The ill-prepared and unwary are the first to fall." Demetris trailed off as he started reliving his memories in the Guard, of countless battles, the deaths of friends and foe alike.
By the Emperor, I am getting old.
"Surely a platoon would be enough?" The major enquired.
The colonel didn't speak for several moments. He could understand the man's reasoning, but he couldn't help the growing feeling of disquiet in the pit of his stomach. He decided to compromise.
"Two platoons, Major, your choice on who." Demetris said dismissively.
Major Skult looked down at the table. "Yes sir." The officer nodded calmly. "What about scout riders?" He asked, looking back at his regimental commander.
"Who went on that cartography expedition?"
"That would be Guardsmen Borr, McGaffe, Mordax, Chenauls, Ingran and Fiorenzi."
"They deserve a break." Colonel Demetris thought for a moment, trying to remember who the other six scouts were. "That means Guardsman Haslinger, Faltz, Locke, Capaldo, Lueker and Kosters will be riding with you. Give them a bit more practice in the saddle eh?"
"Very good sir." The officer agreed but without enthusiasm.
Skult stood up, saluted once more and began to move towards the exit… then paused.
"Sir, can I ask you a question?" Demetris merely grunted in response as he organized his paperwork. "The men are getting restless, as are many of the officers, including myself. Why are we here in the middle of nowhere, when the rest of our regiment is off fighting? I know that there's some sort of xenos artefact, but surely this should be a matter for the Inquisition?"
Demetris didn't immediately respond, as he tried to decide whether to disclose the information or not. In the end, he saw no harm in it. He looked up at the major, who was fidgeting with curiosity like a small child.
The colonel sat up in his chair and levelled his gaze at Major Skult. "Agents of His holy Inquisition were supposed to relieve us three weeks ago. As of yet we have heard nothing from them. For your question about the artefact, unfortunately I'm not at a liberty to discuss such things." He stated flatly.
"All you need to know is that the artefact, if Adept Doric is to be believed, could potentially be extremely beneficial to the Imperium. Besides, whatever this thing actually does, the allure of a xenos artefact is sure to bring unwanted attention and we simply cannot allow it falling into the wrong hands. That is why we are here, Major." He punctuated the point by pointing his finger.
"Dismissed!" Demetris's tone indicated that the conversation was at an end. Major Skult saluted once more and left the Colonel to his busy work.
After morning roll call, the monastery became a hive of activity. The forum was filled with the hustle and bustle of imperial guardsmen going about their individual tasks. Many were hunched over their portable stoves, waiting patiently for the water to boil to make a brew or heat up their breakfast MRE pack. Guardsman Tomas Locke was no exception, sitting at the end of his sleeping bag with his stove set up on the tiled floor.
"Starin' at it ain't goin' to make it boil any faster you know!" Locke turned away from his stove to look at his friend, Guardsman Syemon Brandr. "Can't help myself, I'm absolutely starving." He replied, impatient with hunger.
Another voice, half-muffled by food, joined their conversation. "You're always starving." Raevan Jaxx chimed in, gesturing with his fork.
Locke patted his muscled stomach. "A boy needs to eat, it's what me mam always used to say." He smiled innocently.
"Well, your mam raised a right fat bastard!" Brandr quipped. The trio broke out into laughter while Guardsman Austein Daud sat apart and simply smiled at his friends' banter.
Locke glanced around the large chamber. "Where's Kern when you need him, he's always got some food on him." He asked once the laughter had subsided.
Jaxx swallowed another mouthful. "The big man lost his seax." He said with confidence as he used his fork to pick a piece of gristle from his teeth. "Last I saw, he was about to rough up ol' Glenns near the latrines."
Locke shook his head the mention of the man's name. "Wouldn't put it past that little weasel."
The hungry guardsmen noticed the twinkle in Jaxx's eyes as well as the cheeky grin quickly spreading across his face. Realizing what his squad mate had done, he couldn't help but shake his head as a chuckle escaped from his lips. "Ya little twat, you didn't." Locke chuckled.
Cool as a cat, Jaxx opened his jacket to reveal the hidden short sword. "He's gonna kill ya when he finds out, ya know that right?" Brandr grinned.
"Maybe... but I'll be laughing so hard I won't care." Jaxx shrugged. "Plus, if it means Glenns gets his shit pushed in then I'll have done the Imperium a massive favour." More laughter ensued, this time even Daud joined in. The silent sniper was sat off just a little way away from the group, cleaning his long-las as he often did.
Returning his gaze back to the submerged MRE pack, another thought came into Locke's mind. "Anyway, speaking of missing people, where's Elis and Tapia?" He wondered aloud, gesturing at the two absent spots where they usually sat.
Jaxx chewed another mouthful without pause. "Braiding each other's hair, how should I know?" The rogue replied with another apathetic shrug of his lean shoulders.
Locke smirked at this explanation. "Well seeing as you and Tapia are practically connected at the hip-"
"That connection ain't at the hip." Brandr jeered.
"Jog on ya sad sack." He jabbed back in a smarmy manner, a perfect fit for his unscrupulous nature. "Just 'cause you like to watch." He claimed.
Unperturbed by his squad mates attempt to embarrass him, Brandr kept a cool head. "Not much choice." He said, flashing a quick smile to Locke. "I'm a captive audience, like everyone else, when it comes to you two." His eyes full of amusement as he watched his opponent squirm in embarrassment.
Jaxx was about to counter but his mouth was left hanging as nothing came to mind. Unable to counter his friend's gentle ribbing, he sought to change the subject to the original topic.
Turning to Locke, who was half-paying attention to his friends and his food, Jaxx raised another point of discussion.
"Now, I've been thinking-" He started.
"First time for everything." Locke interrupted not looking up from his submerged MRE pack.
"Good one mate." Jaxx mocked sarcastically. "Seriously, though, I've never once ever heard you complain about the food. Don't tell me you actually like it?" A hint of disgusted curiosity tinted his voice.
Locke's response was immediate. "Oh no, it tastes like dirt half the time, but it still beats me Dad's cooking."
"Remind me to never go to your house for dinner." Jaxx said. Laughter broke out once more from the huddled soldiers.
A grinning Locke saw his water boiling and was just about to retrieve his ration pack from the bubbling liquid when he heard Adept Doric calling his name.
"By the Throne!" He cursed under his breath, then yelled loud enough for Doric to hear. "Can it wait, I'm about to have my breakfast?" Locke already knew what the answer would be.
"No! Come on, it's important!" Doric called. Locke grumbled as he got up and walked towards the adept, who was waiting patiently near the edge of the assembled guardsmen, as his squad mates jeered and chuckled at his irritation.
His squad mates waved him away in a teasing manner. "Don't worry Locke, we'll have your MRE, can't let it go to waste!" Brandr called after him. Locke in response, turned around and made a rude gesture in the direction of his comrade.
The sound of laughter dogged his heels as he approached the scholar. "Good morning Adept." Said Locke as he fell into stride besides the adept.
"Oh, it very much is my friend, undoubtedly so." Doric said excitedly. "Come with me, I need to show you something. It's absolutely fascinating."
Locke smiled at his friend; Doric's energy was infectious. "Lead the way." He sighed.
Doric was every inch the stereotypical academic, with long flowing scholarly robes on a slim and short build. His receding brown hair was never properly combed, giving him a crazed sort of look in complete contrast to his mild-mannered bespectacled face.
Locke walked alongside the enthusiastic adept who babbled on about his research and his various theories. Locke simply let it wash over him as they walked down through the forum and up one of the many staircases toward the archives
When the guardsmen had first setup their living areas in the monastery, they were awed by the alien symbols and patterns covering the shiny onyx-coloured walls along with the strange white light that emanated from them.
Stranger still were the small alcoves dotted along the hallways and rooms at regular intervals. In the alcoves were ancient bowls, of an unfamiliar material, that held large clusters of blue crystals that produced their own light.
Commissar Virilus had considered them xenos' sorcery and any who touched the crystals were deemed heretical, leading to one public flogging. Even in the face of this, curiosity still proved too strong for the guardsmen: many of whom ended up chipping pieces off the crystals for souvenirs. Locke himself had taken a crystal shard which he'd turned into a necklace. What he found surprising was that the shard still produced the ethereal blue light, although very much diminished.
Locke and Doric were now passing the men of 'B' Company; most didn't take much notice, but some watched them pass by with curious expressions. Locke had heard the hushed tones and whispers, as they walked past. A few rumours were circulating about him and Doric. His favourite one was that Doric was experimenting on him. The very idea made him laugh aloud.
Doric stopped his prattle mid-sentence, wearing a confused look upon his face. "I didn't realise the origin of the xeno linguistics and hieroglyphics was so funny."
The confused look on the adept's face made Locke chuckle again. "Don't worry. It's nothing, just something I was thinking about earlier."
They left the noise and lively atmosphere of the forum and bustling stairwell. as they walked down the deserted aisles of the archives to the atrium. Disturbed by their presence, small rodent-like vermin scattered into the dusty ruins of old bookshelves. Two bored-looking soldiers, stood at ease, were guarding the double doors which led into the atrium. The guardsman on the left nodded at Doric with a simple, "Adept" in way of greeting.
Doric opened the door and beckoned Locke in. The soldier on the right moved to block Locke's path. "Guardsman, this is a restricted area. Only the Adept and the Colonel may pass."
"He's my assistant, let him in," Doric stated firmly. The guardsman hesitated. Locke didn't blame him; he didn't look anything like an adept's assistant. Standing at 6'5" he towered over Doric, and was wearing his full combat gear, minus his rebreather, webbing and lasrifle.
After a moment's pause the sentry relented. "Alright lad, you can go in. Don't do anything stupid now." He ushered him through with a wave of his hand before closing the door behind him.
Despite the rumours circulating about him, Locke had never been in the atrium before. He'd expected something grand but was woefully disappointed when it proved to just be an unadorned circular room. The walls still glowed with white light from the various patterns. Along the edge of the chamber were more of the same blue crystal clusters in alcoves that perfectly illuminated the room.
A few desks and tables, covered with piles of paper and various pieces of equipment, were pushed hard up against the chamber's walls. There was a small room that joined onto the atrium, evidently Doric's sleeping quarters. At the centre of the room, on a low dais, stood a pedestal. Cradled on top of the pillar was a small cube: the xenos artefact.
Two companies of infantry to guard a rock smaller than my fist! Is this a joke? Once again it was the same shade as the walls.
Locke walked over to the object, stared at it for a few moments, and then tentatively reached out to touch it. Just before his index finger made contact with the cube, his hand was swatted away as if he were a child trying to steal an apple from the market.
"You fool! You could have killed yourself!" Doric yelled, all enthusiasm and warmth disappearing in an instant. "Have you forgotten what I told you happened to my colleague? Have you?" He barked at the cowed soldier.
"Something to do with him bursting into flames and turning to ash." Locke said with an air of indifference.
Doric sighed and cradled his face in his hands. "Well… yes, that is essentially what happened, albeit highly simplified."
The guardsman shrugged. "Sorry, it just looks like a little block of stone!" He said defensively.
"Looks can be deceiving. You told me yourself that your mother had a saying for such a thing?"
Locke thought briefly for a moment, searching for the correct analogy. "Don't judge a book by its cover." The guardsman clicked his fingers at the answer. The dull snap seeming louder than it had any right to be in the small chamber.
"That's the one." Doric had quickly returned to his jovial state, after his outburst. "Sometimes it's the little things, the ones easily overlooked, that in the end hold the true balance of power. Anyway, swiftly moving forward," The adept took Locke by the arm and practically dragged the tall soldier over to the table.
"It truly is fascinating." He said, gesturing to the scrawls of parchment with hands splayed. "I have tried numerous times to scan this facility and various things within it but all to no avail." He enthused, thrusting his index finger skyward. "This place is so old that even my scanner's machine spirit cannot comprehend how ancient it is."
Locke nodded, signalling for the adept to continue. "This raises some important questions. What race of beings existed so far back in early galactic history who also were advanced enough to build constructs such as this?"
"Beats me Adept." Locke shrugged again.
Doric was talking faster and faster as his enthusiasm grew, spilling information that he had kept bottled up for months, waiting in anticipation for the day he could tell someone about his findings. Officially, he was forbidden from speaking to anyone about the artefact if they were not authorized to know.
This had left him with very few people he could talk to about his passion. It didn't help that Doric had never been a very social person to begin with, often finding himself ignored or openly shunned by most people, preferring instead the comfort of books and his research.
That was until the garrison, he and his fellow adept had requested, arrived. On the first day the guardsmen had been present, during their lunch break he had decided to have lunch with them since he hadn't had human contact for two weeks.
Most of the guardsmen, at best, simply ignored him. At worst, they were outright hostile to his presence. It hadn't taken long before Doric was on the verge of giving up and retreating to his private quarters. That was until Locke noticed the adept standing awkwardly behind him. Many people in Locke's situation would have told the odd-looking man to get lost.
Instead, Locke had invited him to have lunch with him and his comrades, much to Doric's surprise. Since then, the scholar had counted Locke as one of his few friends, so much so that the awkward scholar had ended up breaking the rules and confiding to the soldier about his research.
Not recognizing the soldier's apparent disinterest, the studious man continued. "I've started to decipher the various runes and hieroglyphics on the floor surrounding the dais. From what I've found so far, the Artefact itself is some sort of repository but also an amplifier for warp energy. The potential for what this thing can do seems almost limitless, from opening portals to different places and dimensions to enhancing the user's psychic abilities."
The mention of the warp and psychic abilities rubbed Locke the wrong way, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. Before he could raise his concerns, the adept had moved the subject onwards. "There is a catch, however. Along the floor here, there is a warning of sorts to any who might try to use it.
Something to do with having a strong enough 'will'. Those that are deemed 'worthy' may use the device, but it seems to come at a terrible cost for the one who wields it." He blinked a few times at his own words. He was obviously trying to ponder what this enigmatic 'cost' could be.
Locke shivered with unease; he had a bad feeling about all of this. "Doric, don't you think you might be prying too far into things you don't understand?" The guardsman asked carefully, aware of the other man's ego.
The adept rounded on him in a second. "I work for the Logis Strategos." He proclaimed. "My business is to pry." The scholar snorted in a way that only the condescendingly educated could.
Locke kept his face expressionless. "I know... but I'm getting a bad feeling from this thing. Your colleague died because of this thing. Is it safe to be around it?" Locke whispered conspiratorially to the scholar, worried that the black cube could hear what they were saying.
The adept waved his hand in dismissal at the guardsman's words. "My compatriot died due to his own idiocy. One must expect losses when delving into the galaxy's mysteries. That is par for the course. I assure you it is safe. Provided you don't touch the damn thing."
Realising that an argument would be pointless, Locke conceded the point. "Well as long as you think it's okay." He said still uneasy at the whole prospect.
"Although, If I may say so." Doric paused, looking around the empty room as if to make sure no one overheard. "There is something that is a bit strange. If I tell you, you must promise not to tell the commissar."
A small part of the soldier's mind screamed at him to not get involved further. "I promise." He said, his trusting nature overruling his better judgement.
Doric raised his hand to his mouth and dropped his voice into a low whisper. "The artefact speaks to me sometimes. I hear strange voices inside my head."
The guardsman's eyes went wide at this admission. "What, it talks to you?" Locke cried, taking an involuntary step back away from the adept.
"Yes, I don't listen to it obviously." Doric replied, waving his hands in a calming motion. "Have you not heard it?" He queried with an interested gleam in his eye.
The guardsman shook his head. "No!" He exclaimed bluntly. "This is serious, you need to tell someone." Locke insisted, prodding his finger into his friend's sternum.
The scholar batted his finger away with a flick of his hand. "Are you mad, that's a one-way ticket to a firing squad." Doric said while crossing his arms and looking away. To Locke's mind, he looked like a petulant bairn.
The scholar continued. "I'll keep quiet for now if it's all the same to you. Though it is odd, everyone else who has made eye contact with it started hearing the voices. Although the effect did wear off once they could no longer see it." Doric cupped his chin in his hand. "Very interesting though." The adept trailed off, obviously wondering what this could mean, stealing glances at Locke every now and then.
As Locke looked back towards the pedestal, he heard a bugle sounding across the monastery- the call to muster.
Shit, what now? He ran towards the parade ground, leaving Doric alone in the atrium.
Locke joined a small number of guardsmen from the forum who were all rushing to the mustering area. As Locke ran through their open billet, he quickly stopped to pick up his rebreather, webbing and lasrifle before rushing on down one of the staircases, through the hallway, out the grand entrance and into the sunlight with the rest of the garrison. He fell in with the rest of his section as they formed up on the parade ground, finding himself next to Brandr.
"Where ya been Locke?" his friend whispered.
"Doric just wanted to talk to me about the usual." Locke replied, in the same hushed tone.
Once both companies had mustered, a silence settled over the amassed troops. Locke watched as Sergeant Major Dobbs marched out in front of the company before doing a perfect left face to the assembled men and women.
"Company! Company, attention!"
There was a loud stamp of feet as the assembled soldiers snapped to attention. Major Skult then took over command from the Sergeant Major. "Well then lads." The major announced, his voice carrying clear to the back ranks. "It looks like Outpost Landfall has gone dark on us. Most likely some moron's gone and tripped over a wire and pulled out the plug." This drew out a few chuckles.
"Or it could be an enemy force." His tone had become serious now. "You all know as well as I do, that we are supplied through that outpost. Without it, we're in deep trouble. Colonel Demetris has decided that 1st and 2nd platoon of 'B' Company shall have the honour of re-establishing contact with the outpost. Looks like we get to go for a nice jaunt around the woods. Guardsmen Haslinger, Faltz, Locke, Capaldo, Lueker and Kosters will be travelling with us as our scouts."
Am I ever going to get a chance to sit down with my brew?
"Unlucky, Locke," Jaxx whispered.
"Company! Fall Out!"