Venenum Filios Chapter 7

One cannot map the Warp. It was an adage as old as the Imperium itself, a self-evident truth obvious to all. There was no geography in those roiling depths of psychic horror, no constant amid the heaving tides of conscious and unconscious thought, save for the fixed point of the Emperor's Astronomicon on Terra. Even with that steady lighthouse the extra-dimensional plane was by its very nature mutable and unreliable, ever-shifting and liable to change from moment to moment.

The Imperium relied upon the Warp for faster-than-light travel but every starfarer swiftly learned the foolishness of expecting the Empyrean to conform to rational expectations. Nothing could be relied upon; nothing could be taken for granted. Even Navigators, those mutant bloodlines designed for the specific purpose of guiding human starships through the churning insanity, wept for any notion of accuracy or safety amid the living nightmare that was the Immaterium.

Ships could arrive hundreds of light years off course and centuries after they departed, crews could find themselves ageing decades overnight or turned into babes in arms. Worse than that there were terrible things living in those freakish seas, things that hungered for the warmth of living souls and were held at bay only by the gossamer veil of a starship's Gellar field. Armed men would stalk the decks, watchful for signs of incursion and fear clawed at the hearts of even the bravest. And there would be nightmares, constant nightmares, ever present even when awake.

This was the truth of that otherworldy dimension and yet, like everything to do with the Warp, it was also a lie. Despite all the heaving madness and crashing energies there were certain patterns that remained consistent, certain tides and currents that could tentatively be called, 'stable'. The Saint Karyl Trail was such a phenomenon, a cyclical flow amid the crashing energies that had endured for millennia. It was considered as stable as anything could be in those fickle depths and thusly had become a major route of trade, defence and pilgrimage for the Imperium of Man.

It was towards this current that the Thunderchild sailed, edging her way out of the harsh psychic reefs of the Serrati Stellas towards safer shallows. She avoided hazards comprised of a billion children's cries for their mothers and circumnavigated whirlpools birthed by the embrace of a parade of long-separated lovers. She had a narrow escape from an unexpected tidal surge, spawned by the murderous rage of a million jilted wives but managed to break free, none on aboard save the Navigator aware of how close they had come to disaster.

Eventually the Thunderchild left the Serrati Stellas behind and reached the nexus point surrounding Tectum, the confluence of several lesser currents. Here she had a choice, to ride the Saint Karyl Trail towards Segmentum Solar and distant Terra or head into Segmentum Tempestus. A third option was to break away and ride a lesser current towards the galactic core and the war-torn Heraculan Deeps. Yet she chose none of those options, instead tacking onto a tiny tributary that headed towards the galactic rim, this was the cause of no small amount of puzzlement for those observing it.

What the crew of the Thunderchild could not possibly know was that they were being followed, stalked by an implacable predator. This was a feat beyond any human Navigator, following another ship through the Warp was considered next to impossible, but this monster was far from human. It was a leviathan made from Plasteel and Adamantium, vastly eclipsing the Thunderchild in every way imaginable. It was a relic of a lost age, a dinosaur in an age of rodents, a Glorianna class battleship and its name was the 'Shadow of the Emperor'.

Aboard the Shadow's bridge her commander frowned and scratched his chin. His name was Beta, Sorcerer of Chaos, Alpha Legionnaire, commander of this ship and leader of his splinter-cell. Beta was stood within the vast amphitheatre that was the Shadow's bridge, examining a conjuration hanging before him. It was displayed upon a hide of tanned Daemon skin and it was showing the quarry's course, one Beta was most bemused by.

Beta pondered aloud, "Now where are you going?"

Behind him a voice said, "What's happened?"

In the corner of his eye Beta saw his three cell-Brothers standing together. Each one covered with writhing serpents and iconography of the Alpha Legion. Gamma, Delta and Epsilon, just about the only souls he trusted in this galaxy. In a Legion built upon subterfuge and deception there was nothing so valuable and precious as trust, thus it was reserved for the closest of comrades. Beta considered this as he explained, "When we set this trap we assumed the throne-worshipers would have two possible choices. The lapdogs could either run home crying for a cure or go find some big war to get killed in. But they've done neither; they are headed off into the middle of nowhere, rapidly and with great purpose."

Delta looked at the shimmering Daemon skin and asked, "What's down that route?"

Beta answered, "Not much, a few hard-scrabble worlds, the Forgeworld Crux Lapis and the nest of the Xeno Psybrids."

Epsilon muttered, "Psybrids… maybe the lapdogs intend to throw themselves into the jaws of the Xenos."

Beta disagreed, "No, they've been quiet for the last half-century and there are plenty of bigger wars to die in. You know Throne-worshippers, if they are going to die then they like to die as loudly as possible."

Suddenly Gamma spat, "This is a waste of time, we should have killed them when we had the chance."

Beta sighed, for Gamma was a fierce warrior but impatient and short-tempered. Beta explained, "I told you, we need to see the Bio-weapon's progress in action. The Harrowmaster wants data on how it matures in real-world conditions, how contagious it is, we need a field-trial if you will."

There was also another unspoken reason for the trap. It so happened that Beta was the only true son of Alpharius present; the others weren't from the XXth Legion at all. In fact they were genetically speaking Storm Heralds, whelped from stolen gene-seed, the same gene-seed that had made their new bio-weapon possible. Which meant it was as lethal to them as it was to the Throne-worshippers, there was no way these three could have risked entering the Starfort. Gamma wasn't appeased and was about to argue again but at that moment there was a commotion from the Bridge hatch. Beta looked over and saw three towering warriors entering the bridge, three warriors in baroque armour. Beta sighed to himself, recognising a necessary chore approaching.

When his cell had seized this ship from the late Chaos Lord Vorshaan, they had also inherited command of his army. Some three hundred Chaos Marines, as vicious and ruthless a band of honourless cutthroats as anyone could ever hope to meet. The various warriors were a mongrel mix of breeds and philosophies, united only by the promise of violence and plunder. They had sworn subservience to Beta and the Alpha Legion but such fealty was fleeting, lasting only as long as the spoils kept coming and he trusted them even less far than he could throw them. Beta plastered a false smile upon his face and welcomed them with a hail of greeting. The three ignored the greeting and the first called out, "Beta, we need to talk."

This was a strange hunch-backed creature, with large jump-exhausts on his spine. He paced forward upon long curved talons and swayed like a bird as he walked. This was Zhumo, former Night Lord and now leader of the Raptor Cult. As vicious, vain and self-centred a creature as ever stalked the stars, which was why Beta liked him.

Beta asked, "What do you require of me?"

The second was a giant in bulky Terminator plate and he grumbled, "An explanation of why we let the loyalist scum escape for starters."

That was Anurax, a brutal and unsophisticated warrior. A fellow Son of Alpharius, one who had once had a brilliant and devious mind. Sadly an undercover operation with the Iron Warriors had seen him infected with the Obliterator virus. Now he was a walking weapon, seemingly as subtle and refined as a sledgehammer, yet also greatly feared in the ranks. However Beta knew that this brutal display was but a cover, for Anurax was reporting directly to the Harrowmaster: a mole within the ranks.

Beta patiently explained, "We wanted the loyalists to capture the starfort. They are now all infected with the Bio-weapon, their doom is certain."

Zhumo countered, "A starfort, a hefty price to pay for bait."

Beta responded, "Outpost Kappa-23-Tango was used up, it was falling to bits. At best we could have eked out a couple more decades of use from it before we had to abandon it anyway. That's why we left it practically unguarded."

"Not completely unguarded," growled the third warrior accusingly, "You left some Brothers behind."

This was Talgor, an Ultramarine by blood. He was a recent turncoat from Guilliman's pompous martinets, now leader of the mongrel squads. The chance to subvert one of the hated XIIIth Legion was too good to be true, which was why Beta was more suspicious of him than anyone else. Talgor appeared to be honourable, stern and dedicated, all traits unbecoming a follower of Chaos. Yet Beta had seen him commit his fair share of atrocities and he refused to believe that anyone could perform such deeds and yet be honourable.

Beta deflected by stating, "We needed the threat to seem genuine, the loyalists would have been suspicious had we not left a few Chaos Marines behind. It was a necessary sacrifice, one the Alpha Legion would accept without hesitation."

Talgor growled, "Then why didn't you bait the trap with your own blood, why were the eighteen Brother chosen from my ranks?"

Ah of course, Beta thought, Talgor was irate because one of those left behind was his fellow blood-traitor, another turncoat Ultramarine. Beta responded by presenting a data-slate. Talgor took the slate and looked at it saying, "What is this?"

Beta replied, "Evidence that the cull was not arbitrary. I have been watching those so-called Brothers closely and seen their avarice in their eyes. They were plotting to usurp you all, to replace your positions and then mine. I singled them out long ago, so now was the perfect time to eliminate them and cripple the loyalists too. Killing two wastrels with one bolt-round."

Talgor sounded hurt as he thumbed the data-slate and said, "They were plotting against us?"

Beta's suspicions flared, that tone was far too easy to contrive… What was the turn-coat scheming?

Beta covered his suspicions by saying, "It hardly matters now, they are dead and the Bio-weapon is deployed. Some lapdogs will die fast, some slow but they will all die. Once this test is complete we will take this weapon to Lujan II and wipe out the rest of the Storm Heralds. Rest assured, history is on our side."

Zhumo interrupted to say, "Then we claim their spoils for ourselves."

Anurax spat, "Why stop at one, with this weapon we can wipe out any Astartes we choose, Loyal or Traitor. The Alpha Legion will be made supreme among the stars."

Talgor still looked angry but carelessly dropped the data-slate and stated, "Very well Beta, you have our support. Lead us to victory and we will follow."

Beta bowed in humility as they marched off and left the bridge, but inside his head his mind was spinning. Intrigues and deceptions were his meat and drink and these three were growing too confident, too smug for his liking. He decided to keep a much closer eye on them, lest they become a threat to his position. A shame, he rather liked Zhumo, but he wouldn't let that get in his way if they challenged him.

Delta meanwhile picked up the data-slate and scrolled through its contents. He paused it with an armoured digit and asked, "A plot within the ranks… was a single word of that actually true?"

Beta tilted his head and replied, "They will believe it, which should suffice for now."

Epsilon wasn't so sure and asked, "You're sure they will buy it?"

Beta smirked and said, "They will believe it because it is exactly what they would have done in the culled Marine's places."

Gamma snorted in disgust and asked, "Anyway, what are we going to do about the Throne-worshippers?"

Beta returned his attention to his display and he remarked, "I don't like this, their course is too direct, too certain… they are up to something. I think we need to follow them and see what they're planning, history may require a little nudge."