Armorum Fidei Chapter 9

Through the haunted depths of the Empyrean dark silhouettes sailed. They were bulbous ovoids, formed into hourglass shapes that cast ominous shadows into the lurid colours of the Warp. Daemons drifted nearer, hungering for the lives within, but were repulsed by discordant noise that grated likes rasps over nerve-endings. The Psybrids race understood this realm better than most, the Otherness was no alien environment for them and they sailed untroubled towards their hunting grounds.

Deep within the vessels the vital work of their race went on, tens of thousands of mindless drones labouring to keep the ships functioning. Arcane devices were tended and engines charged but far more than mere mechanical toil was required. The hourglass ships were curiously organic, their internal passages oval and seemingly formed of resinous sap in which strange veins pulsed and throbbed. The air was dank and foggy, cloying to the skin of slaves, not that they had wit to care. Trudging workers laboured until they fell down dead, then their bodies were picked up and thrown into cocoons that filled vast arenas, where they would be rendered down for nutrients. Black tubes ran from these cocoons into deep pits at the centre of the spaces, which filled with blood, bile and the decomposing fats and gristle of living beings: the Psybrid's staple diet.

Most races would have considered this a vision of hell, but Chuqik found it invigorating. The Praecentor was busy counting the numbers of slaves and was satisfied their stocks were adequate. Casualties had been sustained among the slaves but the captured humans had compensated for their losses. No Psybrid had died taking out the watchpost, they were few enough as it was and could ill afford losses at the best of times. All was in order and his plan could progress. The Song of his people was confident and sure of success.

Chuqik turned from the arena of toiling slaves and made his way through the vessel. His exo-cuirass allowed him to move swiftly, long legs bounding down corridors with alarming speed. He wore it well but knew the time had come to shed his mantle, for the next few cycles he needed to be his true self. Soon he reached a special chamber and stepped within and lifted his arms. From the roof and walls extended fleshy tendrils, wrapping themselves around his limbs and chest. Special solvents oozed from the tentacles and caused a chemical reaction in his form. Limbs grew saggy, carapaces crumbled and bones folded, disintegrating into mulch. An Exo-cuirass was no crude assembly of metal and gears, as lesser races boasted, they were unique creations, bespoke to the user and made anew each time. An Exo-cuirass was grown, not built and the only way to separate suit and user was to kill it.

Gobbets of meat fell away, revealing the Psybrid within. Without his protection Chuqik was revealed to be a pale and gaunt figure. Emaciated legs supported a thick trunk of a torso and snapping, whip-like arms fluttered wide. His head was bald, with unblinking black eyes and a lamprey mouth filled with needle teeth. Feeble in form but powerful in the realm of the Song.

Chuqik shrugged off the decomposing remains of his exo-cuirass and stepped out, finding Mewak awaiting him. "Is it done?" she asked.

"For now," Chuqik responded, "Is the army ready?"

"Ready and eager, the Choir for War has reached a crescendo."

Chuqik was not amused and stated, "We must not let them consume all other thoughts, we must steer our fate to a better course."

Mewak's aura grew discordant and she ventured, "Should we, why not join our voices to the Choir for War?"

"You know why," Chuqik sang in counterpoint, "The Choir for War would lead us to disaster. A headlong attack into human space could only lead to our extinction. The Choir for Prosperity is more cunning, we act to ensure our race's survival in the face of the ultimate threat. We fight to live; we do not live to fight. If we forget this the Songbreaker will destroy us utterly."

Mewak's spirit filled with revulsion as she wailed, "He comes for us, after a hundred generations of rebuilding he returns to end what he began so long ago."

Chuqik agreed, "Long has been his plotting for revenge and cunning his scheme. To make us and the humans think he was dead, only to return at the head of an army of Praetorians, on our very doorstep. The Songbreaker expected us to forget, but he underestimates us, the Song remembers every slight and insult. We remember him, a hundred generations of watchful vigilance has paid off, he will not find us unready, but only if we act fast."

With that Chuqik turned and made his way to another part of the vessel. Mewak followed, keeping pace easily in the torpid mix of an atmosphere. Chuqik gave her a second of consideration. Her body was slighter than his, her belly gravid in preparation for her next clutch of eggs. Psybrid reproduction was a cold affair, with none of the passion and connection lesser races experienced. Matings were a brief and functional matter and eggs left to be tended to by the Choir for Procreation. Chuqik normally gave no thought to passing on his genes but pheromone traces told him Mewak would soon enter a breeding cycle and primitive impulses stirred in his guts.

With annoyance he dragged his mind off bestial matters. He had a war to plan and a race to save, he didn't need distractions. With a thought he portioned off the animal part of his brain, letting his higher-self focus. For a psychic race it was simplicity itself to divide his awareness, keeping his thoughts pure and focused. Animal urges fell away and he was glad of it, leaving his mind uncluttered and dispassionate.

Swiftly the pair made their way to an isolated part of the vessel, where the Song was curiously muted by complicated wards. They entered a section filled with cubic containment vessels, resinous prisons filled with living beings. Unlike the slaves outside these ones were wild and uncontrolled, their heads filled with the discordant noises of free will. Fear, shock and revulsion wafted off them as Chuqik passed by, many of them shrinking back from their captors as if that would spare them. They had been deliberately isolated from the Song, experimental subjects meticulously gathered for study.

Mewak commented, "I see humans, Glag, Vespid, Tau, Tallestrians, but no Orkoids. I never see Orkoids, why is that?"

Chuqik looked over and mused, "Oh, you've never encountered the Greenskins. They have their own Song, a Waaagh energy that drowns out our choirs. We cannot control the Orkoid kind."

"I know all races have a few whose notes will not be drowned out. Eldar and Slaugth can resist, if they gather in large enough numbers, but an entire race being naturally insusceptible?"

"There are a few others, Necrons, Tyranids, Khrave, all thankfully rare. But that is not why we are here."

Ahead Chuqik spied another Psybrid, lurking outside a containment cube. This one was squatter than they, with an enlarged cranium. He was a special being among their race, a thinker and inventor. He was called Yeuek and his voice was enjoined to the Choir for Science, a minor chord in the Song but one that called for learning and discovery and exploring the deeper truths of the universe. Chuqik found their voices too placid and naïve to ever dominate the Psybrid collective, but he respected their wish to advance. The Choir for Prosperity had a common cause with the Choir for Science.

"Yeuek," Chuqik called, "Have you begun the work?"

"Patience," Yeuek scolded without looked away, "I am studying the reactions."

Chuqik glanced into the cube and saw a bunch of humans cowering in the corner, fear radiating off them. "What are you attempting?" he asked.

Yeuek explained, "A curious feature of this race seems to be their fascination with small discs of common metal. It has been observed they devote a great proportion of their brief lives acquiring such items, even killing and betraying each other, all over inconsequential amounts of base metal. Clearly it is important to their behavioural patterns, and yet when I introduce these base elements into the cube they provoke no such response. Why is their response different?"

"Perhaps it is being in captivity," Mewak proposed, "Many animals react differently in confinement than in the wild."

"I have considered that, I am no newly-hatched whelp," Yeuek retorted, "I suspect that the disc's shape and imagery may be important, many species gather reflective items to attract mates. I am considering an experiment to prove my hypothesis."

Chuqik snorted, "As much as I appreciate your curiosity, that is not why I have come."

"No, you have come for something dangerous, something that has never been done before."

"Can you do it," Chuqik pressed.

"It can be achieved… but it will require power and focus. The Song will have to be concentrated as never before, a Gestalt will have to place itself in the nexus and it will require lifeforce… many, many lives."

"As we suspected," Chuqik sighed, "The hunting grounds can supply our needs, but it will take time to gather enough slaves. Their warrens flee before our armies and their shells are difficult to overcome, they have learned to keep the Song out with wards and baffles. We will have to physically overpower each warren first."

"Actually I have already considered that," Yeuek declared, "Follow me."

Chuqik was confused as they turned to another cube. This one was already filled with humans, a dozen of them cowering within. Their fear was muted by the many wards built into it, but he could just make out their terror of him. Suddenly a small opening emerged in the roof and from it fell a score of small black objects. The humans fell back in terror, trying to get away and Chuqik looked on with curiosity as the balls folded, revealing legless bioforms sprouting, some form of wyrm creature. Silence fell for a moment then they sprang, leaping high to land on flesh. The humans screamed in their mushy tones and their panic surged. They beat upon their clothes and tried to claw their way through the walls but it was useless. The wyrms moved like quicksilver, blurring as they climbed higher and onto faces. Before the humans could slap them away the bioforms sprang into their mouths, launching themselves down throats and disappearing within.

It had barely taken a couple of seconds but the effect was pronounced. The humans went into convulsions, dropping to the floor and shaking in throes of distress. They rolled about in wild spasms and then suddenly went still, laying unmoving upon the floor and staring up at the ceiling. Chuqik sensed nothing from them anymore, no fear, no panic, no free will. The wards were still in place, the Song couldn't have reached them, not the normal way but yet they acted as if they were under its thrall.

Yeuek turned to them and gloated, "What do you think?"

"I don't know," Chuqik answered, "What did you create?"

"I call it a leash. I couldn't find a way to overpower the shells upon the human warrens, so I created a way to bypass them. These bioforms are engineered to seek sentient prey and connect to their nervous systems, once bound they act as amplifiers, letting the Song in no matter how many wards stand in the way."

"Can you create enough to take a whole warren in one go?" Chuqik asked.

"Well no, but a handful in the right places could do a lot of damage. Imagine having slaves inside the defences, just waiting for your call to rise up and attack."

Mewak didn't sound impressed as she observed, "If you think these leaches will win a war then you understand very little. The humans are blank, the leashes will be obvious at a glance, no use as infiltrators."

"Ah, but therein lies the genius. These are fully active but the leash can lie dormant for a time, letting the host think and act with free will, until the moment is right. They will have confused memories, a sense of dislocation and odd thoughts but retain enough of their minds to act without suspicion. They will do as you bid, thinking it is their own idea, then when you need the leash will take full control and their minds will crumble. An army, laying in wait for your command to strike."

"You still have to sneak these leashes in ahead of our assault," Mewak argued.

"A problem I can overcome," Chuqik cut in, "These are tools I can work with. Yeuek, I need you to start making as many leashes as you can, I want them ready before we reach the hunting ground."

Yeuek bowed and hurried away without another word. Mewak however argued, "This is unproven and dangerous, you risk much."

"It has to be chanced," Chuqik countered, "With this weapon we can take what we need, quickly and with minimal losses. We will need to swift victories, lest the Choir for War grow even louder and set us on a course for destruction. Time is against us and the Choir for Prosperity must use every tool at our disposal if we are to stop the calamity. Remember, he is coming. We have only one chance to cut him off, if the Psybrid race is to survive we must prevent the return of the Songbreaker."