Armorum Fidei Chapter 13

The planet Suna turned in space, blissfully unaware of hourglass ships drifting in from the outer darkness of the system. Scattered auspex arrays and roving fighter squadrons swept the approaches but failed to detect anything. The Imperium had become accustomed to small Psybrid raids and incursions but it had been millennia since a full-scale invasion had been seen and the Naval watchposts had forgotten what the Xenos were capable of. The hourglass ships covered themselves in sensor distortion, casting false images into the void. No mere jamming or energy dampening, the Psybrids took the background radiation of space and projected it ahead of them, hiding their energies emissions in the velvet song of the universe, they would not be seen until they were ready to strike.

Deep within one of the ships Chuqik was distracted. The Praecentor was well aware of the looming battle but gave it no heed, all preparations were made and the plan laid down. More than any other race the Psybrids moved in harmonious accord, his kindred were busy and he was not needed, he would know when the time was right for him to take command. Instead Chuqik spent his time examine artefacts gathered on their various raids. Effects brought to them by slaves in the first throes of thraldom, chance or instinct bringing them along.

Chuqik moved down a central aisle between strange items. Piled up on the floor were Glag etherspheres, Eldar glitterspines, Tau Honour Blades, Gykon planar discs and more. Chuqik examined them with his dark eyes but was more interested in the psychometric traces left on them, emotional fingerprints imprinted on the material. The propensity for lesser races to invest emotions into lifeless objects baffled the Psybrids, the Choir for Science had never been able to explain this bizarre behaviour. Strangely the most vibrant traces of all were those belonging to humans, somehow more primal and immediate than any other race. Most races were fleeting in passion compared to humans, the Eldar could challenge that claim but their long lives made them cool and disdainful. Only the humans clung to their trapping of permeance, only humans would cling to irrelevance in the face of danger. Chuqik thought there was a lesson in that, but he wasn't sure what it was.

He picked up a small effigy in his thin arms, dressed in cloth and with string hair. The tiny thing was utterly useless and yet invested with great emotional weight. Love, dependency, imagination and need were impressed but the reason baffled him. Curiosity peaked he picked up another item, a small bone encased in a crystal and gold-alloy casing. With a hiss he dropped the vile thing, drawing back in disgust. A sour note rang off this object, it was saturated in the same bitter tone the defiant alpha-beast owned, a noxious buzzing wafting off it in waves. The note grated in the Song, making his skin crawl and he angrily toppled a pile of trash over it, to bury the loathsome thing in junk.

Chuqik abandoned his musing and scurried away, leaving the soiled items behind. Vexation rang through him but it was not the only reason he left. The Song was changing, filling with eagerness and impatience. They were ready, the time to start their great work was upon them and Chuqik knew he was needed. Hastily he made his way to the heart of the vessel. Psybrids had no concept of bridges and command posts, instead directions were given via a far more elegant method.

Soon he reached his goal, a vast amphitheatre buried in the heart of their ship. Scores of Psybrids were here ahead of him, ranging from the Choirs of Building and Exploration, to Evolution, Industry, Science and Prosperity. Yet the greatest number was the Choir for War, and they filled the arena with their violent notes, making the Song a drumbeat for battle. At the heart of the space lay a large creature, a long worm like being with a yawning mouth and many thin tendrils lining its length. Dark eyes stared unblinkingly but its presence in the Song was a lodestone. A Gestalt, the embodiment of the Psybrid's culture and political will. The Gestalt had no voice of its own but through it the Song was given tempo and harmony, voices aligned into factions and directives teased from the multitude of competing voices. Every ship and city had a Gestalt, binding their race together across light-years and making them one. Gestalts brought order to chaos, conductors of an orchestra of millions, and without them the Psybrids would be nothing but clashing notes and feuding voices.

Chuqik took his place next to Mewek and called, "Are we ready?"

"As ready as we ever will be," Mewek sang back, "We must act now before..."

Suddenly a loud voice thrust into the Song, "We should strike hard and fast, destroy the humans utterly and leave a wasteland behind!"

"Newak," Chuqik growled, "He's trying to usurp my place as Praecentor."

The Song rose into a babble of voice, teetering on the verge of discord but the Choir for War sang loud in support of Newak's words. Chuqik however stepped forth and sang, "The plan was clear and agreed upon. This disobedience risks all."

Protests arose in counterpoint, the accusation of disobedience biting hard, but Newak retorted, "The time for caution has passed. We are here, we have strength and numbers. This is the time to take what is ours and make the universe bend to our will!"

Chuqik sang in counterpoint, "That will lead to disaster. We cannot match the endless hordes infesting the galaxy. We must be above wanton slaughter!"

But Newak snapped, "We are the highest race in all creation. We should make them understand that, make them fear us. We will drink deep of blood and reign supreme!"

The Song was shifting in favour of the Choir for War, the Psybrids shifting their voices to join the dominant theme. Yet Chuqik implored, "And when the Songbreaker comes, what then? When he brings millions of Praetorians to our worlds the fires of his hate will burn us to ash. We must deny him, turn back the Songbreaker before he launches his campaign of vengeance. That is why we are here, that is why I am Praecentor!"

The words had their desired effect and the Song swung away from War, fear of the Songbreaker enough to dispel the violent urges and turn minds to survival. The call for battle was still dominant but now with purpose and direction. Newak slunk back in defeat, unable to disobey the will of his people and Chuqik was confident he'd learned his lesson.

Internal dissent crushed the Praecentor turned his mind to the wider universe. Through the Song his awareness grew, his mind encompassing local space in a way no surveyor could ever match. The hunting ground lay before them, ringed by small platforms. Orbital docks with small cargo scows, a few circular defence platforms and auspex buoys, that was all. Enough to turn back a minor raid perhaps, but not enough to withstand a full-scale invasion. A feeble defence left by a short-sighted race.

Excitement filled Chuqik as he saw their vessels placed to engulf the world, each silently waiting for the order to strike. He spent a moment checking all weapons and shields were in order, then with a triumphant surge commanded the Psybrids to reveal themselves. Camouflage fields winked out and the majesty of their race was exposed, seven vessels, each as long as the largest battleship, appeared from nowhere, hanging over the high orbits like hungry predators over a crippled prey-beast.

The effect on the humans was pronounced, alarm ringing from station to station as surprise swept through them. Attitude thrusters fired, bringing weapons to bear as gunports struggled to open and shields flickered in a desperate attempt to present some form of defiance. Chuqik wasn't ready to give them such a chance and commanded, "Clear our path."

The Psybrid vessels erupted with brilliant green beams, psychometric energies channelled through arcane mechanisms to become ravening streams of energy. They shot through space with the speed of thought and found the nearest defence platforms, smiting them before they could raise their shields. Four platforms were reduced to balls of flaming debris, torn asunder by converging blasts. A fifth was merely clipped, tearing off its keel, the circular platform vented its internal atmosphere in a torrent, internal hatches compromised beyond recovery. In moments it had vomited its crew into space, thousands of flailing victims left to choke in the vacuum of space.

A good start but Chuqik knew there were a dozen more platforms beyond weapons range and the humans had time to prepare a defence. Sure enough orbital dock began disgorging strike craft, waves of bombers and fighters spilling out of baya and forming up for an attack run. Chuqik saw a hundred tiny points approaching, each covered in wards to bar the Song from taking their pilots, and knew they were a threat, but one he was prepared for. The Psybrids boasted no pilots amongst them, the individuality required anathema to their minds, but they were far from defenceless.

At a mental command the hourglass ships rolled back hatches in their hulls and from the darkness within streamed forth thousands of Chrysaorus. A naturally space-dwelling species, taken by the Song. They were bags of minerals and chemicals, streaming long arms behind them like aquatic jellies. Almost mindless, barely more intelligent than the average Orkoid, but for Chuqik they had two advantages, the first was a natural skill at bending gravity to their will, the other was a rapacious hunger for metals and energy bursts.

The incoming strike craft suddenly found themselves flying into a storm of pale bodies and lashing arms. Many of them burst on canopies but hundreds more were ready to take their place, swimming nearer to latch on and tear at metal plates with sharp beaks and drain power lines via leeching tendrils. The strike craft disappeared into that cloud and Chuqik was pleased, and yet his joy was short lived.

Around the hunting ground platforms were falling, orbital docks breaking up into flaming debris and cargo scows were exploding under the touch of green beams. Sporadic fire came back but rolled off psionic shields, not troubling the roaming vessels as they lay waste to all they found. Yet from the storm of destruction rose two slab-sided shiftships, covered by thick armour and bombardment cannons with yawning launch bays and blazing plasma drives. Praetorian vessels, charging headlong into the fray. Alarm rose through the Song at the sight, dismay that the enemy had anticipated their arrival and yet Chuqik impressed determination into his race's collective will as he commanded, "Concentrate all fire!"

Three hourglass vessels broke off their assault of the defences and brought weapons to bear. It would be close, Chuqik knew if they got into boarding range the Praetorians would show no mercy but lashing beams kissed the shield envelope of the lead craft and the protection burst with an electro-static bang. Ravenous beams followed, slicing deep into the hull and tearing out the innards of the vessel. The Praetorian vessel limped on, trying to close into point-blank range but Chuqik ordered, "More!"

A dozen beams struck as one and tore the guts out of the ship, exposing her decks to hard space. She stumbled in her charge, outgassing pushing her into a dead spin and then her reactor overloaded, blasting plasma and debris in all directions as she was reduced to atoms. One Praetorian ship was dealt with but one more remained and Chuqik braced for the inevitable counter-attack. To his astonishment the other ship emerged from the wake of destruction, shields torn apart by her sister's death throes, not with guns held ready to fire, but on a comet-tail of plasma wash. She was running, trying to break out of the cordon the Psybrids had thrown around the hunting ground, and flee into deep space. It was an unexpected move, Praetorians never ran, but Chuqik wasn't out of tricks himself.

"They think to flee and summon reinforcements, but they will not get away. Ready for translocation assault!" The Gestalt began to quiver and convulse, writhing as it channelled immense psychic forces. The Psybrid race had long since mastered the art of travelling via the Otherness, needing no crude shuttles and gunships to move from place to place. Far below his feet Warp portals would be yawning open, allowing slaves and Psybrids to step from their ship onto the Praetorian vessel in an instant. Far more refined and precise than crude teleportation, the enemy would find legions of boarders appearing inside their defences, to be overrun in minutes.

Satisfied Chuqik left the doomed vessel to her fate and turned his mind to the wider battle, but it was almost over. Barely a handful of platforms were left and they soon succumbed to the weight of fire, blown to pieces by superior Psybrid might. Triumph filled the Song as he called, "Take up your Exo-Cuirass and prepare for the ground assault. Gather slaves and stand by for translocation. Our first wave shall be Loxatl, they shall deliver our new leashes into the enemy warrens and pave the way for our assault."

Eagerness filled the Song and yet the Gestalt quivered and shook in alarm. Psybrids paused as they sought the source of its distress and Chuqik's awareness was taken to a small part of the hunting ground's surface. A sizeable force of Praetorians had been detected on the surface, marshalling for war. That was why the ships had run, he realised, the Praetorians hadn't been on board they'd already landed their army and stood ready to repel an invasion.

Dismay rang loud, tainting harmony with dread that the plan was undone before it had started, but Chuqik responded with calm authority, "The Praetorians seek to deny us but underestimate our strength. They brought too few to stand any chance against our numbers. We shall land in full strength and wipe them out in due course, but for now send a throng of slaves to harry them. Keep them busy while we deploy and then we shall claim the hunting grounds and every last slave it has to offer!"