Chapter XV
It was dark. That was the first thing he realized.
His mind only worked sluggishly, as if he was waking from a long and deep sleep. His limbs were heavy, but at least he was feeling them again. And he was still so tired. How fortunate that he was resting on something soft and comfortable. Noises reached his ears, dull and they seemed to come from far away at first, but slowly they grew clearer.
It was then that he noticed that there were needles in his arms and that a bandage covered his right side. Carefully he opened his eyes just a little, the light blinding at first. He grimaced and quickly closed them again, pain spreading into his head.
Waiting for the ache to disappear, he only listened for a while, the buzzing of machines being the most distinct. He became fairly certain that he was back at the Adrastos, its sick-bay. He let his eyes recover from the initial shock and tried again to open them, even slower than the first time. It worked better and he opened them wider, until he found himself rapidly blinking as he grew accustomed to the light and finally he could look about in the white painted and ever clean sick-bay.
He was not alone. Bed after bed was strung together along the wall of the oblong room, most occupied by men and women of the Adrastos' crew. The majority of them was sleeping and Nicomedo noticed that he was at the end, the beds right to him all empty aside from one at the far side of the room, where he saw two of the Astartes. It would seem that Apothecary Seneca was treating his brother from the Salamanders.
Footsteps caught his attention and he turned his head again. With a friendly, if tired smile on her lips, medicae Jane Pravin approached him, her armour exchanged for a long white coat. "Nicomedo; it is good to see you finally awake." She greeted him with a hushed voice, as her other patients seemed asleep or at least in need of rest.
"I'm quite glad to be among the living again, Jane." He admitted and very slowly sat up, his body feeling stiff. "How long was I unconscious?"
The medicae sat down at the edge of his bed. "About a day, though it was not because of your physical injuries."
He had guessed as much. The extensive use of his psychic powers had taken its toll; he wouldn't probably feel weak for days. "What happened after I was knocked out?"
She sighed and gathered her thoughts for a moment before she started. "The Liberation Fleet arrived and began bombarding the planet, ever moving closer to the citadel. Due to the Tyranid infestation, it had been decided to destroy Seraphim Citadel as well. The upper levels were to be evacuated, the lower ones to be abandoned as they were caught up in battle."
"How many died?" He asked soberly, though he already knew that it had been too many.
"I do not know, but thousands to be sure; more than half of those, who sought refuge in the citadel." Jane paused for a moment, clearly still in low spirits. "We heard about those intentions, when we returned from the forest. Lord Cyrus went to see the General and Captain Militant and well… 'advised' them to send shuttles to at least evacuate the central hub. He ordered Mandrake to distract the Tyranids by distributing glands from Lictors and had him leave with you once the first shuttle from the Adrastos arrived. Lord Cyrus, Taylor and Pericles went to the hub themselves and helped with the evacuation until the bombardment reached the facility."
"Then at least some were saved." A small blessing, but a blessing nonetheless. "How went your mission? We've seen the Tyranids fall into disarray, but how did the fight against the Tyrant fare?"
"We were hit by a spore upon approach, but thankfully landed on the right mountain top. When we found it, Lord Cyrus distracted and killed the Tyrant Guards, while Taylor's aura defeated the Zoanthropes and severally harmed the Tyrant, which the other Astartes then engaged. Lord Nadim finished it off in the end, but Apothecary Seneca lost his right arm in the fight."
"But he lives." He briefly looked over his shoulder to the Apothecary.
She smiled. "Yes. With no transportation, Pericles led us through the forest to a relatively nearby villa. On the way we were engaged by Venomthropes, but we survived them as well. In the villa itself Gaunts that attacked us were quickly dealt with, but as we went to prepare a shuttle the Astartes had found in the hangar, a Trygon came out of nowhere."
Nicomedo was somewhat surprised to hear this. "Did Taylor's aura not compel it?"
"We assume that it actually enraged the Tyranid; after all, they are not as…psychic as other Tyranids." The medicae attempted to explain.
The Inquisitor considered her words. It was true that Trygons were not as directly controlled by the Hive Mind as other Tyranid creatures; mostly they were simply left to their own devices and they didn't pass on commands. It was thus not unreasonable to assume that their psychic potential was not as developed and that they were therefore not as sensitive to an Untouchable's aura as a Genestealer or Warrior would be. "True enough. What happened then?"
Once again she sighed. "The Astartes fought it; Lord Quintus was slain, Lord Nadim heavily injured and Lord Cyrus wounded. We did not linger long after the battle and left for the citadel." Jane told him, ending her tale.
Slowly Nicomedo began to nod. "At least most of you have made it out fine; such is rare blessing." He noted, his tone sounding somewhat encouraging.
It was then that he saw someone else entering the sick-bay. His Interrogator Nathan Mandrake walked past all beds until he reached his mentor and the medicae, looking almost as tired as Jane.
"Jane notified me about your awakening, sir. It is good to see you well." Mandrake greeted him, his voice kept low.
"Likewise, Mandrake." Inquisitor Nicomedo assured him in turn and Jane rose from his bed.
"Nathan, would you like to take over for me? I still must see after a few of my patients."
The Interrogator nodded. "Of course."
Jane smiled and left them, Mandrake grabbing a nearby stool to sit at his mentor's bedside. Like her, he had removed his armour and exchanged it for simply black clothing, the Inquisition's sigil in silver upon his high collar.
Once his protégé had sat down, Nicomedo began to speak. "Jane already updated me on recent events. How is everyone?"
Mandrake leaned a little closer so he wouldn't need to speak too loudly. "You're operatives are all alive and well, minor injuries mostly. The crew took some losses, a few dozen, but minimal compared to the Imperial Guard and Victoria's PDF."
Nicomedo was truly glad that his Acolytes had survived; people he trusted and with whom he had been through much. The losses of the crew were unfortunate; he would later give Vivian his condolences. "Captain Pericles and his men?"
"The Captain is with us, but I fear the three Guards, who had joined us have fallen."
All three? "How?"
"When the evacuation order came they decided to stay in the hub to keep the Gaunts and Gants of the roof. If they have kept their word, they certainly were among the few to have not been saved before the bombardment reached the facility." His Interrogator explained, clearly somewhat glum about the men's sacrifice.
Nicomedo sighed. "It is most unfortunate, but it cannot be changed. In any case, no sensitive information was disclosed to them, so we can afford to let this matter rest."
Mandrake nodded and for a moment it was silent again. Somewhere a patient moved in his bed and Jane changed quietly the bandages around a man's arm. "We feared the worst as that Carnifex collapsed. When we found you, sir, you were clinging to life; thankfully a medicae was able to stop the bleeding and stabilized you."
The Inquisitor let himself sink into his pillow. Admittedly he had been afraid, facing that beast, but after many and long years of service, Nicomedo had learned to act despite his fears. Hopefully, Emperor given, he would not have to face one like it again. "That Carnifex was surprisingly resilient." Nicomedo recalled thoughtfully after a while. "I've heard that only heavy weaponry could bring one of them down, but it wouldn't fall."
"Sir, as you approached the Carnifex, I watched it more closely. The wounds it had suffered by the heavy bolter." He paused and rubbed his chin. "I could watch them close by themselves."
The Inquisitor looked at him astonished and then sighed. "Ah; I admit I was more focused on keeping my head down and remain unnoticed by that beast. Regeneration; yes, I've read of it." Slowly he began to nod; it made sense. Even while still in combat, the Carnifex had recovered, always a little between the volleys, never completely healing itself, but just enough to keep fighting a while longer. No wonder it had taken so long to bring it down. "Thankfully not even it can recover from mere ashes."
"There are two more things." Mandrake noted a little hesitantly.
Nicomedo closed his eyes. "Ah, tell me."
"Lord-Admiral Darius of the Imperial Navy, in charge of Liberation Fleet, request to speak with you, as does Inquisitor Jeremias Lysander of the Ordo Xenos, who has arrived with the Fleet."
He had expected as much, though feeling as exhausted as he did, Nicomedo was not looking forward to speaking with them. "Of course. Anyone else of importance I should be aware of?"
For a moment Mandrake was in thought. "There are ships of the Disciples of Caliban chapter, under Captain Alcander, but he has not asked to speak with you."
That was fine with him. "Very well. What is the other thing?"
"All civilians and soldiers have been passed on to other ships already, however we've kept a young girl on-board." He looked over his shoulder briefly, seeing Jane approaching them again, apparently having finished her work for now. "She was saved from the hub and appears to be an orphan. Currently Taylor, Pericles and the Sammael are taking care of her."
"Is that so?" The medicae had almost reached them, looking as if she was somewhat confused by the Inquisitor's look of expectancy. "Jane, Mandrakes tells me that we have apparently adopted a child."
The medicae confusion disappeared, she smiled and stepped closer to the foot of the bed. "Well, we've taken her in for the time being. Lord Cyrus saved her." She chuckled, her eyes closed as she recalled something. "It was actually quite adorable; once we had reached the Adrastos, she followed him out of the shuttle, just ran after him." Her smile faded. "We don't believe she has a family, at least whenever we ask her she only shakes her head or crawls into a ball. We just couldn't send her away."
"There is nothing more touching than a victim of war." The Inquisitor remarked, but not without a smile.
"Half the crew is acting like newly parents around her." His medicae told him.
Nicomedo could only laugh quietly, though he stopped and flinched when the wound in his flank protested against the movement. "It seems you all have already made up your minds." He noted, sounding a little out of breath, his hand pressed against the bandage. "I will have to see her, but I'll think about keeping her."
Both Acolytes looked at him surprised. "Thank you, Nicomedo." Jane finally spoke, but before she could say anything more, one of her patients started moaning in pain, demanding her attention.
"You truly think about keeping the child, sir?" Mandrake asked once the medicae was gone, looking after her.
"If she has no parents, or has recently lost them, she will need a new place to live. And the Inquisition can always use new Acolytes."
He turned back to his mentor. "Train her?"
Nicomedo pondered his options for a moment, stroking his chin as he did. He felt stubbles as he did so; well, his last shave had been a while ago, due to more pressing issues like the Tyranid invasion. But he meant what he had said. He needed new operatives and now he had someone he could train from the beginning. Not to mention that adjusting to the life in service for the Inquisition was easier in a younger age, especially for an orphan with no place to go. "I would keep her on Ibelin at first, have her educated, but yes, eventually I would have her trained and partake in missions. Who would be more suitable than someone, who has been prepared for this line of work for most of her life?"
Mandrake nodded. "Certainly better than have her waste away in some orphanage or a life in the Underhive."
"Agreed, but this matter must wait for now." Once again Nicomedo sat up straight and began to move his shoulders and arms. They still felt stiff, but he could move them without pain. "First I must speak with the Lord Admiral and my esteemed colleague."
"I'll have someone bring you suitable clothes."
The Inquisitor looked down at himself. He was only wearing a simple white patient gown, open at his back and not quite reaching his knees. Perhaps not the most appropriate attire for meeting with Admirals and fellow Inquisitors and he smiled to himself. "Yes, I believe that would be for the best. Please tell Jane to remove these needles in my arm, when you see her."
There was something peaceful about the even and calm humming of the ship's engines. The light was dimmed, appropriate as it was evening on the Adrastos, peace having returned. Until recently soldiers and civilians had still been on-board, though eventually they all had been passed on to other ships. Crew, Acolytes and Kill-team were amongst themselves again.
And Cyrus was grateful for it. He admittedly felt somewhat weary now that things had calmed down again and he had only just retreated to his rooms, which he'd been given for his time on the Adrastos.
His shoulder-long hair was clinging to his skin as it was not yet dry, the dark-blonde having turned brown by the water. It had taken him some time to clean himself of the blood and soil, the wound at his flank now looking smaller without the crust surrounding it.
Cyrus sat down on his bed and gathered his thoughts. Frankly he didn't wish to think more of Victoria Primus, the burning planet below them. There was nothing left to be done. Not on this world.
His eyes wandered to his arms and the bright lines upon the skin. Each forearm had received three cuts from the sharp claws of a Genestealer, when they had saved the Governor. Whether they would disappear in time or remain scars was yet to be see. It was the same for the slash going down his right cheek from the Gaunt yesterday. A second time only the tip of the talon had hit him, but together they created something like an upside-down "Y" shape in his flesh.
At last there was the Trygon's mark along his left flank. It hadn't gone deep, but due to its location he felt it whenever he moved. It was just above a scar he'd received some years ago, which went aslant from his lower abdomen, up- and outwards to his left for about thirty centimetres; a bright grey line upon his Black Carapace.
At least that scar was a good reminder not to underestimate Eldar Outcasts; combat knife against sword had doubtlessly favoured the crimsoned-haired alien. Should he meet her again, he would certainly approach her more cautiously.
Still, he had fared better than most of his brothers. Had their Kill-team ever lost so many Astartes in a single mission? Granted, their usual hunts had never lasted this long, but four? His fists clenched.
He needed to see Nadim and Seneca, both still alive, resting in the ship's sick-bay. Fresh from the battlefield, the medicae had objected, if timidly, against him visiting, fearing for the other patients' health. Certainly that wasn't an issue anymore.
Cyrus took a black chiton, put it on and left his rooms just as he fastened the cloth belt attached to it.
…
The canteen was quiet an hour after supper and at the long tables only four people had gathered. Ship Mistress Sammael sat at one side of a table, Taylor and Pericles at the other with the young girl between them. The child had a bowl of soup in front of her, but wouldn't touch it; instead she only stared at it. She was very tense, her shoulder pulled up protectively.
"Shouldn't we give her something more substantial to eat?" Taylor asked after a while, his chin resting in the palm of his right hand, his arm on the table.
Sammael shook her head. "The girl hasn't eaten well in a long time. Her stomach must slowly get used to nourishment, or she'll get sick."
Pericles watched the girl, who had not moved a muscle during the short exchange. Even though hours had passed since her arrival on the Adrastos, she still looked so afraid and exhausted. He wondered what she had been through that she had affected like this. The slaughter in the Underhive, when Victoria's forces had searched for the last of the Genestealers, or the Tyranid invasion not long after? He knew there was no point in asking her, she had never spoken a word to them, but perhaps one day she would.
What she needed now was time, peace and yes, people who would take care of her. Perhaps the Inquisitor's operatives or the crew would; Pericles did not know what would happen to him, not until he could speak with the Lord Nicomedo.
"You have to eat at some point." He told her kindly and he saw her bite her lower lip. She gave no other response, though her treacherous stomach growled. For a moment Pericles pondered, before he looked to Taylor. "You know if you won't eat it, Taylor here certainly will." Now she looked asquint at him, while the Untouchable smiled.
"Well." The Acolyte began theatrically, grinning now mischievously. "I certainly wouldn't mind…" Slowly he reached out with one hand and pulled a little at the bowl. The girl's head wheeled around and quickly she grabbed the bowl, pulling it back to her, almost spilling the soup.
Sammael smiled, Pericles chuckled; at least this meant she wanted to eat.
Steps of someone approaching them caught their attention and the Captain was surprised to see Lord Cyrus. Even without his armour, which he had exchanged for a black chiton and pants, he stood a little over two meters tall. The girl looked at the Astartes and though she still looked timid, her body language relaxed.
Lord Cyrus did not speak at first, only sat down next to the Ship Mistress, who seemed surprisingly at ease with the Space Marine so close. Well, perhaps it wasn't too strange, considering her many years as a Rogue Trader and now her being a coadjutor to the Inquisitor.
The child watched the Space Marine attentively, who's neutral, if a little grim expression shifted. He smiled subtly and when he spoke his gruff voice was not loud, it was rather quiet but clear and his tone was friendly, more so than Pericles had ever heard it sound like before. "Are you not hungry, child?" Lord Cyrus asked her warmly. "No one here wishes to harm you and the soup is certainly not poisoned. Eat." He insisted, his voice remaining friendly nonetheless.
Slowly the girl nodded and hesitantly took the spoon.
Taylor had told Pericles about how the Astartes had appeared with the child on his arm at the shuttle. Apparently he had held her during the entire flight and after their arrival she had, not knowing where else to go, followed the Space Marine. Personally, Pericles would have liked to have seen it, the girl clinging to the Astartes' leg, clutching the pant leg's fabric, Jane trying to convince the child to come with her. At least Taylor had found it all very amusing.
The girl seemed to be somewhat attached to her saviour, or at least she trusted him.
Everyone watched her as she tasted the first spoon-full. She looked as if she was considering whether she liked it or not. After swallowing she remained still for a moment, before suddenly she began to eat the soup with unexpected haste. Briefly Pericles feared that she might choke on it. At the same time he was just glad that the girl finally ate.
Everyone seemed relieved, though the Astartes only lifted the corner of his mouth ever so slightly that one could have missed it easily. Apparently satisfied with the outcome, Lord Cyrus rose again and walked towards the exit, surprisingly silent for someone of his size. The girl was so busy eating that she didn't even realize that he had left.
After the first bowl was finished, she lifted it, looking at them sheepishly, briefly licking over her lips. Warmly Ship Mistress Sammael smiled at her, speaking softly. "Of course I'll get you another one."
It was the middle of the night when Nicomedo had finished his conversation with Lord-Admiral Darius. The Admiral had explained the execution of the bombardment and briefly told of the battle, how his fleet had surrounded the Tyranid bio-ships already fighting the remainders of Victoria's own fleet, which had only barely survived. Caught from all sides, the Imperial forces had eventually annihilated the xenos, with not a single ship escaping them.
Nicomedo was beyond a shadow of a doubt delighted and relieved by this news, though there was something that even afterwards he could not get out of his mind. It all had been…too easy.
So much had he heard and read about the Tyranids, reports of the large threat they represented, so that their defeat within days of their arrival just seemed contradictory. Perhaps his fellow Inquisitor, Jeremias Lysander, could shed light on the events.
While having never worked with him before, Nicomedo had met Lysander once and heard of a few of his deeds. Many xeno-worshipping cults and traitors trading with aliens had found their end through him.
Nicomedo had retreated to his study for these conversations and was currently waiting for Lysander to respond to his hail. Due to the close proximity of the ships, no Astropath was necessary, so the Inquisitor was alone, watching the black screen in front of him with a thoughtful expression, as he pondered about the most recent events.
Finally it came to life and a man wearing a black coat looked at Nicomedo. His hair was short and white, while his eyes were stern and grey, a scar going across his chin. He seemed to be in a room similar to Nicomedo's own study, a bookshelf and a golden Aquila above it in the background.
"Inquisitor Basil Nicomedo." Lysander began, his voice neutral but not unfriendly. "It is unexpected but good to see you alive."
"The pleasure is mine, Lord Lysander." Nicomedo replied, trying his best not to look too exhausted. "Is there so little confidence in me that you expected me to have died?"
His fellow Inquisitor chuckled briefly, his smile lasting for a second. "Not at all. But the Tyranids are a dangerous enemy and the Inquisition tends to expect the worst."
"And it is sadly, seldom wrong."
"Indeed." Jeremias Lysander agreed somewhat darkly. "You have been fortunate, Nicomedo."
The Inquisitor raised a brow. "Because of your timely arrival?"
"No, though certainly it helped." He conceded and then paused briefly. "No, you were fortunate that the Hive Fleet you've faced was already severely weakened before it reached the system."
"And who have I to thank for that, other than the Emperor?"
"The bio-ships which had made their way here were all what remained of a Gorgon Splinter Fleet. As you know the Hive Fleet itself was destroyed by combined forces of the Imperium and the Tau, but as it is too often the case, a few ships escaped our wrath."
Slowly Nicomedo nodded. He had heard of the temporary alliance between the two empires and their success against the xenos. "At least now this Fleet will never recover."
Lysander smiled grimly. "True. If the Fleet hadn't been so severely weakened they would have certainly overran the citadel before our arrival."
It also explained why Nicomedo had seen so few larger beasts; the Tyranids had not possessed the sufficient amount of biomass to produce them and had counted more on mass instead. Still, it would have been enough had it not been for the Navy and the Astartes. "Nonetheless it all was put to the torch. I fear I have failed in my mission to save Victoria Primus."
"Not quite so." His fellow Inquisitor began to correct him. "Before the Tyranid Fleet arrived millions fled the planet and yesterday thousands more were evacuated. And as I've said the Fleet was small." Suddenly he looked somewhat pleased, a corner of his mouth pulled up. "In fact they were even unable to uphold a planet-wide invasion."
Confused Nicomedo frowned. "What are you speaking of?"
"It would seem that the Tyranids have only attacked one of the two continents, the one inhabitant. The far smaller one on the other side of the planet appears to have remained mostly untouched." Nicomedo had learned about it before the mission; due to the natural resources, the only structures on the southern continent were mines, though thanks to their depletion they had all been abandoned a few years ago. Colonisation of that continent had been in planning for some time now, but construction of any kind had not yet begun, mostly thanks to political disputes among the noble houses of Victoria Primus. "Under inquisitorial supervision that continent will be inspected for any sign of Tyranid activity and in accordance to our findings burned or cleansed and eventually settled." Lysander explained and it was doubtlessly one of the reasons why he had been sent.
"Spores will have surely reached it; at least the plant life will have been tainted." Nicomedo added for consideration. The winds alone had certainly seen to that.
Once again there was that brief and subtle smile. "A much easier foe to deal with than a Tyranid monster, wouldn't you agree?"
The Inquisitor chuckled. "Aye." Nicomedo agreed. "Will I be needed here?"
Lord Lysander shook his head. "No; it was your task to destroy the cult and you have done so and yet you stayed to fight the Hive Fleet."
"Such was my duty."
Now he nodded. "Indeed, but it was not part of the original assignment. It is now my mission to see this world cured one way or the other. Return the Kill-team to the Watch Fortress and make your report; I imagine your own team will need some time to recover as well."
Nicomedo felt how his expression turned grimmer and his mood darkened. "The Tyranids have taken their toll." He spoke gravely.
"But they have paid in kind." Lysander stated, once more sounding more neutrally. "And Victoria Primus yet lives." He paused for a moment before he asked one more thing. "How fares the Kill-team Schiavona?"
The Inquisitor sighted. "It has taken significant losses." He admitted, heavy-heartedly. "Four Astartes were slain by Tyranid beasts, three yet live." Wounded, he added in his mind.
"Grave, but considering the circumstances, we should be glad that any of them are still alive. Still, you will have to explain their deaths in your report."
Nicomedo nodded. "Of course, though I doubt they will give me command of another Kill-team in the years to come."
"Unlikely; and there is another thing." Lysander paused and sighed. "Perhaps you should know that some of our colleagues consider you…soft."
"Do they now?" He shook his head but smiled. "I prefer the term 'diplomatic'. Fear is useful, but frightened people also do foolish things. When I was an Interrogator, I saw the fear of organisations like ours turn armies, even worlds against us, against the Holy Emperor. I decided then that I my demeanour should seem a little more…considered among our own people whenever circumstances allow it." And Nicomedo had promised that his mercy towards the Eldar Pathfinder, who had assisted him years ago, would remain an exception.
"And you have been successful so far, though that might be because your focus is on the xenos themselves, rather than traitors."
Nicomedo did not miss the slight defamation, but he didn't care. "I suppose my attitude is ill-suited for the cults you hunt, Lord Lysander." He noted calmly. "But both our labours serve the Emperor."
Lysander made the sign of the Aquila. "Of course, there is no doubt about that." He agreed. "Now I must make my excuses; the 'examination' of the southern continent is to be commenced as soon as possible to prevent any alien organism from taking a foothold." Another brief smile. "Even if it turns out to be just plants."
Truthfully Nicomedo was relieved; in his condition even these conversation felt straining and he wanted to talk with Tristan Pericles in the morning. "Naturally. Emperor be with you Lord Lysander."
His fellow Inquisitor nodded. "And with you, Lord Nicomedo. May he guide you safely through the warp."
The sick-bay was quiet, machines hummed peacefully and the blankets rustled when patients moved in their sleep. The light had been dimmed to allow the wounded restful slumber and just before he reached his brothers at the far side of the room, Cyrus walked past the sleeping medicae. It looked like she had simply let herself fall onto a bed, her white coat still on, her arms hugging the pillow. Only her boots rested carelessly discarded at the floor.
Cyrus headed a few beds further down the room, where Nadim was resting. His injured right leg had been amputated with only a stump remaining, but otherwise he looked remarkably well. He was sitting upright and speaking with Seneca, who sat on the next bed, a needle in one of the plugs along his remaining left arm, feeding him a fluid from a transfusion bag. Cyrus assumed it was something to help him combat the poison from the Venomthrope's gas.
The Apothecary looked up, when he noticed the Blood Raven and Nadim stopped talking, turning around now as well. "Cyrus, it is good to see you again." The Salamander welcomed him as he reached the bed, his voice low enough not to be heard by anyone other than his brothers. He looked tired, likely caused by both the fighting and the drugs Seneca had injected him with during treatment. "Pravin told us of the evacuation."
Briefly Cyrus looked over his shoulder to the still sleeping medicae. "I had little effect on the outcome." He admitted.
"But a few hundred more were saved." Seneca reminded him, clearly pleased with his brother's efforts. "So your deeds were not meaningless."
Nadim chuckled. "Indeed; it would seem our overly grim Blood Raven still has some humanity left in him; though he claims otherwise."
"What I have are remnants, brother." Cyrus noted. "I never denied having some."
"Perhaps you even gained some during your Long Watch." The Salamander suggested, to which Cyrus could only raise an eyebrow.
"If you are referring to my time as a Kill-Marine, you know that I cannot speak of my experiences." He paused, remembering his time with the Rogue Trader, who had ferried him across the void and the Imperial worlds they had visited on those journeys. "But that time has made me see certain things from a different perspective, even it weren't civilians with whom I travelled." The Blood Raven admitted finally.
"Are you not glad for it?"
"There are times, when some humanity is…appropriate." He told the Salamander. "And there are other times, when you best forget you ever had it."
Nadim smiled cordial if tired. "Preserve some of it, brother. There is more to it than weakness."
Cyrus found he could not disagree. Emotion had driven him yesterday; it had been sentiments, which had saved those people. Nonetheless he should remain mindful not to have them overrule reason, lest they would do more harm than good. "True, but only a little." He noted conciliatorily. "There are reasons why we've been changed. As I have told you Nadim, when you asked me about Cyrene, we see too many horrors in our lives; more than a normal man could bear." Cyrus sighed and paused, his voice lower and grimmer when he spoke again. "We abandon much of our humanity so we may bear it. I don't estrange from them because I'm indifferent to their fates, I do, because thereby I can better fulfil my duties. It is to their and my benefit in the end."
The Apothecary nodded and smiled. "And you still saved that girl." He remarked approvingly.
"As I've said, I am not yet utterly indifferent, but perhaps that will change in years to come." It was not something that proceeded because of one's own volition or decision to estrange and grow colder, but in great part it was a natural progression, thanks to countless wars. He then looked at Seneca. "How do you know of her?"
The Ultramarine smile turned into a grin. "When medicae Pravin assisted me I asked her about the evacuation." He looked past Cyrus to where the medicae was sleeping. "She wasn't too chary with details."
"Should I have left the child behind?" The Blood Raven asked with a raised brow. "There was no reason not to take her with me and my actions endangered no one."
"Ah, pure reason." Nadim interposed, looking very amused, his following words underlined with sarcasm. "I see; not even Nocturne's volcanos could warm your heart."
"Careful, Nadim." Cyrus warned him, but his tone was without any menace, his voice calm as ever. "I will not overlook your mockery, just because of your injury."
"I fear for as long as you are here you will have to bear it." Seneca noted mildly.
"If you wish me to leave you must only ask."
The Apothecary raised his hands. "No; stay brother." He told Cyrus. "But you will have to admit that we've come to know you reasonably well."
The Blood Raven frowned. "And what is it you believe to know?"
"That what you say is true." Seneca began to explain. "You are not indifferent, not yet and not as much as it perhaps seems at first glance. Usually you hide it well and perhaps the news of Cyrene has triggered certain…more human responses. Still, your duties to the Emperor, to your brothers, always come first. It's not that you do not care for the normal people, but they are of secondary importance. And I will admit that it is much the same for me."
There was a moment of silence between the three Astartes, until after a while Cyrus spoke again. "If there is a chance to save their lives, I will take it; but I wouldn't needlessly sacrifice the lives of my brothers for them, or risk a mission's outcome." Otherwise more harm than good could come from it. He looked at Nadim. "It is the sad truth that there are so rarely ideal solutions; all we can do is to choose the path with the most favourable outcome and accept that there are always losses that there is always a price to be paid. And it is in the nature of war that the innocent suffer as well, sometimes the most."
Nadim didn't reply; even the Salamander couldn't discount with Cyrus' assessment and Seneca as well remained quiet. Personally Cyrus disliked the truth as much as they did, well perhaps not as much as Nadim, but it could not be changed. Priorities had to be taken and it was…easier to take a step back from the people and to focus on one's duties, than to agonize over the fates of those who suffered and whose fate could so often not be influenced enough by them.
His words were followed yet again by silence. This time it lasted longer, several minutes, Cyrus and Seneca both in deep thought, a little staring into space. Nadim shifted in his bed, his stump twitching, as if his nerves and muscles still tried to move the limb, which had been removed. It was the Salamander, who eventually raised his voice. "So?" He asked, tearing his brothers from their thoughts. "What will happen to our team now?"
Cyrus sighed; frankly he had made the decision even before this mission had begun, after the message about the Aurelia Sector had reached him. "For me it is time to return to my chapter and it is a long journey from the Watch Fortress." He explained. The news about Cyrene had been part of a correspondence between two Inquisitors. One of them had been considerate enough to pass that one piece of information on to the Blood Raven, but it meant that it was probably years old. A short time for the Imperium itself, but Cyrus had realized how long he'd been gone and that he belonged with his chapter.
Neither of his battle-brothers argued, Seneca only nodded, smiling with sympathy. "Of course."
Nadim too nodded. "Then I suppose this is the end of Kill-team Schiavona." They had lost many; over the long years the Kill-team had changed time and time again, but never had so many died in a single mission. Cyrus knew that the three of them would remember their fallen brothers, not tonight, but they would soon pay their respects as it was customary. The sick-bay was just not an appropriate location, nor was it the time.
"This one, yes." The Ultramarine agreed with Nadim. "But there will be others." A new Kill-team Schiavona; perhaps this meant that Seneca too considered ending his Long Watch.
The Salamander smiled again. "Indeed, or they'll soon run out of weapon-themed names."
All three Space Marine chuckled amused, though they remembered to keep their voices low as to not disturbed the patients or draw too much attention. Cyrus knew that he would miss them; after so many years serving and living with them, how could he not and it didn't matter that they came from different chapters. They were his brothers all the same.
But he needed to return, to his own chapter and to his home sector. There was much knowledge that needed to be passed on, for the aliens would always threaten the Imperium and its people.
…
With a hand running over her face, Jane woke up from her nap. Of course she had a few nurses and two medical officers from Sammael's crew helping her, but currently there was more than enough work to go around and especially after the previous day on Victoria Primus, she simply felt exhausted. The nap had helped, a little at least.
Still lying on the bed, her head on the pillow, she found herself looking at the Space Marines, who had gathered around Lord Nadim's bed. Lord Cyrus had apparently joined them now, the three talking, though she could not make out the words spoken.
Along the Blood Raven's arms, Jane could see the same circular pugs as on his brothers and though she didn't know their exact function yet, she was certain that they had something to do with their power armour. While helping the Apothecary with treating Lord Nadim, she had noticed that those plugs apparently were distributed across the body. She had been tempted to asked, but in the end she had managed to keep her curiosity in check. On the one hand, the medicae was certain that she wasn't allowed to know and on the other, she had simply not dared.
Jane had encountered Space Marines before, the first time during her initial mission with Nicomedo, but she had never worked with them so closely or for such a long period of time before. And they were different from what she had expected.
Certainly some lived up to the stern, farouche and emotionless warriors many thought them to be. Others like the late Lord Quintus showed arrogance, even seemed to disdain normal people, liking to see themselves above them and claiming to have discarded their humanity. Jane could not help but smile. Was it not this very notion of being above all others that made them all the more human? Was it not the same attitude the noble and rich across the Imperium displayed, if for different reasons?
They were more human than they cared to admit. She'd heard Space Marines claiming that they were beyond such human failings as pride, fear, selfishness, yet when they went on the battlefield, how many sought there for glory? Was their insistence on being so much better than the common man not pride? Would someone truly humble, someone truly beyond pride be less contemptuous towards those he was sworn to protect?
And emotions? Anger, fury, contempt; they were just as much human emotions as were fear, pity and compassion. Space Marines were different, physically, mentally that much was indisputable, but in many respects they were still very much human. At least most of those Jane had seen and heard off.
She looked at the three Astartes again. They were different yet again.
Apothecary Seneca, the oldest of them was ever calm and though he expected to be respected, he was still friendly and patient. Whenever the Apothecary had spoken to her, Jane had felt like a little child listening to her grandfather with great reverence and though she'd always been slightly nervous around the Ultramarine, she'd never been uncomfortable, if not comfortable enough to ask him too many questions. When he had asked for her assistance throughout the mission after he'd lost his arm and later here in the sick-bay treating him, Jane had truly felt honoured.
Lord Nadim had surprised her. His obsidian-black skin and red eyes had been unsettling at first, but the Salamander had proven to be the most kind and sociable of the team. No other had spoken so many times with the Acolytes, or had asked so many questions about them as Lord Nadim. She had heard that the chapter was apparently very close to the people of its recruiting-world and now Jane could believe that very easily. It was a pity he would leave soon again.
At last there was Lord Cyrus. Frankly she wasn't quite sure what to make of him. Like with most Astartes she was a little afraid of him. Perhaps it was his ever grim expression or his cool demeanour, perhaps it was both, but whenever he looked at her, she wanted to take a step back. It was a little strange to her, considering his actions in the past. First he had shielded her when a cruiser's nearby crash onto the planet's surface had destroyed spires, the resulting blast wave having thrown glass and fire at them; he had even asked her about her wellbeing, right after the wave had passed them. And now, just the other day, he had concerned himself with the evacuation and had taken that girl with him.
Jane had gotten the impression that he was not as cold as he made it seem, at least there was some protective instinct hidden beneath the surface. Maybe he just wanted to make the opposing impression, wanted or thought himself to be so cold and aloof. Perhaps one day he would be, but not yet.
The medicae sighed and closed her eyes again, snuggling her pillow lazily. She had not slept long enough yet; she could use a bit more. Even as she drifted back into sleep, Jane's thoughts lingered with the Space Marines.
They were all so different, but what else was to be expected? Thousands of chapters with recruits taken from even more worlds and cultures. How could they be all the same?
"The Inquisitor already awaits you."
Pericles merely nodded. He didn't know what to expect, but he was certain that he would not be leaving this ship again. Until Lord Nicomedo he had never before encountered the Inquisition and he had known none who had; in fact to most people it was merely a rumour, like the bogeyman of the Imperium, never encountered until the wicked needed punishment. He himself probably knew too much already, at least too much to walk away from this again.
From the corner of his eye, Pericles looked at Interrogator Mandrake, who had accompanied him to the Inquisitor's study. Hesitantly the Captain lifted his hand, held in for a moment and knocked.
"Come in." Lord Nicomedo's voice called from inside and the door slid open with barely a sound.
With cautious steps Pericles went inside and Mandrake left again, out of sight before the door had closed behind the Captain. He found himself in a library, bookshelves lining the walls, filled with hundreds of books and data slates. Dozens of candles illuminated the room, though they were covered by glass domes to protect the valuable paper, with just enough slits to let the flames breathe. Additionally there was an electric light at the ceiling, adding to the brightness, making the room seem more comfortable. At the far side, the Inquisitor stood at a desk made of dark wood, the legs carved into the shapes of eagles.
Inquisitor Nicomedo turned around. He still looked somewhat tired from the past few days, though his cybernetic, right eye was once more shimmering sliver, like the hair of his stubbly beard. He smiled kindly at the Captain and gestured towards a leather couch at the only space along the wall where no bookshelf was standing.
Once more Pericles hesitated, but then sat down, the leather squeaking a little as he did, while the Inquisitor took a seat in a leather armchair next to the couch. "First of all, I like to thank you for your service and all that you've done for us and by extension me, on Victoria Primus." His expression turned grimmer. "I do not know if the Kill-team and my Acolytes had made it back to the citadel in time, had you not guided them to the villa in the forest."
Pericles was a little surprised. "You don't need to thank me, sir."
"I do, but there is another, more important reason why I've sent for you." Lord Nicomedo sighted. "As you know the Inquisition is a secret organisation; most only know of the authority we hold and have heard stories…of an unsettling nature. Since you helped us rescue your Governor you have been closely involved with us, even more so in the past days, so certain actions must be taken. It is for this reason that you have been brought to my ship."
"I don't think I have many options left at this point." The Captain noted with a raised eyebrow.
"No; one, would be to have you killed, which I would like to avoid." He sounded sincere. "Personally, I would like to have you join us." Of course Pericles had among others considered this possibility, but he was still surprised to hear it and the Inquisitor continued to explain. "On Victoria Primus I swiftly realized that you and perhaps one or two of your men, could stand at this crossroad should we survive. From what I've seen you are certainly suited for this line of work."
It was then Pericles realized something. "That's why you wanted me to go with the Kill-team." He spoke quietly, as if he was only talking with himself.
Nicomedo nodded, having heard it nonetheless. "Yes, while I've seen that you can work with my operatives and that you work with a great amount of dedication, I thought the mission would be a good bounding opportunity. I don't want them to see you as merely a replacement for their friends, should you decide to join us."
He gave the Inquisitor a meaningful look, given the expression of someone quite disillusioned. "With all due respect, but there is no other choice."
"There are some options, even though only one is sensible. I've failed to mention the sterilisation along with encampment, but I believe they don't strike you as…tempting either."
"No." Pericles confirmed with a dry, humourless smile. "Then I gratefully accept your offer. I don't think I really had a future as the Captain of the Governor's Guard anyway."
"I believe the same." Lord Nicomedo noted, smiling almost sympathetically now. "Worry not, I'm sure you will grow accustomed soon enough. We'll be heading to my home on Ibelin, once we've parted with the Astartes. There, while we wait and prepare for our next assignment, you will certainly have some time to familiarise yourself with everything."
Pericles merely nodded, but before he could reply something, there was a knock at the door. "Ah, my second guest. Come on in!"
The door slid open and Pericles turned around. To his surprise he saw Mandrake again, but with him was the little girl Lord Cyrus had saved. She had been given new clothes, white and simple, doubtlessly tailored from some uniform the Ship Mistress' crew wore. Her hair had turned from dirty bronze into ginger after having been washed, but it had remained wavy. Nonetheless she still looked tired and timid, not yet daring to enter.
"Go on." Mandrake encouraged her, his voice friendly.
She scanned the room and finally she spotted Pericles on the couch. Her eyes widened a bit, but not in fright, if anything she seemed relieved. His assumption appeared confirmed, when she stepped into the room and headed straight to him, the Interrogator once more disappearing behind the closing door. The now former Captain smiled as she stopped next to him, clutching the cloth of his pant leg as she looked at Inquisitor Nicomedo, whom she had never seen before. As a comforting gesture Pericles put a hand on her back while Nicomedo rose from his seat only to get down on his knees in front of her to be on eye-level.
"Do you have a name, child?" The Inquisitor asked with a fatherly voice, smiling kindly. The girl only continued to stare at him.
"So far she has refused to speak." Pericles explained and pet her back with his hand a little.
Lord Nicomedo sighed. "She must have seen horrible things on Victoria Primus." He mused looking at her compassionately. "You must not say anything, my dear, but I will have to ask you a few things." His smile dissolved quickly again, his expression turning more sober. "Now then, as you have probably guessed, you cannot return home anymore. Do you know if your parents still live?" Timidly she shook her head. "Is there anyone, who can take care of you?" Another negation. "I hope it's alright that we give you a new name then. Pericles, perhaps you may have a suggestion."
Once again something he had not expected. "Why me, sir?"
"She's of Victoria Primus; I'm certain you know a few names, which were relatively common there." The Inquisitor reasoned, without taking his eyes of the girl, who was still wary. So many new and strange faces at once; the poor thing surely didn't even know what was going on around her.
There were countless names to choose from, but Pericles took his time; she could carry it for her entire life. "Lia." He finally said.
The Inquisitor looked thoughtful for but a moment before he tried the name. "Lee-ah?" Then he smiled again. "Yes, it will do. Would you know a surname as well?"
Perhaps. Pericles thought about it, going through the family names he had heard in all his years and which he could still recall. When he remembered one in particular, he could not help but smile. "Perhaps not one that is original, but one that may suit her well: Corvo."
Nicomedo laughed. "Aye, a name most befitting. Lia Corvo; yes, I believe it will do fine, or do you not like it, child?" She bit her lower lip. "Don't worry you don't need to say a thing, just shake your head if you dislike it and rather be called something else." Her head did not move.
"So, you like it?" A second of hesitation, then the head nodded.
Inquisitor Nicomedo clapped his hands together, looking rather satisfied. "Ah, one more problem solved. Then you shall stay with us, Lia and you have my word that we will take good care of you." The Inquisitor promised and Pericles was convinced that the older man meant it. "Do you believe me?"
"Yes."
Both men were briefly stunned, Pericles feeling his and seeing Lord Nicomedo's eyes widen in surprise. Lia's voice had been quiet, but she had finally spoken. Pericles wasn't sure why, but he felt a little proud, naturally happy, this time giving her a short squeeze with his hand.
"Well, I think we're on the right path." Lord Nicomedo noted, equally delighted. "I think we all have an interesting time ahead of us."
"We command their souls to our undying Lord, the Emperor of Mankind." The Acolytes, the Ship Mistress and the highest officers of her crew had gathered in the Adrastos' chapel the next afternoon, to remember those who had fallen against the Tyranids. A ceremony for the Adrastos' crewmembers would be held later by Sammael herself. This one however was held by Nicomedo himself, Jane remembering the first time she'd heard these words after the mission on Petra against the Necron and Eldar.
The chapel itself was rather small, the walls painted white, the high ceiling blue as the sky and on this occasion the room was only lit by candles. Their flames were reflected in stain glass windows, showing saints of the Imperium and just behind the altar one depicted the Emperor himself on the golden throne. The gold brought certain warmth to the room, a truly comforting light. All heads were lowered in silent commemoration, as the Inquisitor continued, he himself in front of the altar, facing both the double headed eagle standing upon it and the Emperor's image behind it. "May they find peace at His side, in eternity, as we shall never forget their deeds in life; never did they fail in their duties to Him."
"Never shall we fail Him." The gathering answered him as one.
"Honourable did they die in His service."
"As shall we die for Him." They answered.
"Only in death does duty end." Nicomedo reminded them all. "Lucien Brennan, Seth Nelson you have fulfilled yours, but we not ours yet."
"We shall join you once our duty is completed." It was a promise and a certainty and like the first time, it felt all too real in this moment.
"Our service continues yet; the Emperor protects."
"The Emperor protects." They spoke, making the sign of the Aquila, finishing the ceremony.
As they held in for a few minutes of silent commemoration, Jane wondered how the Astartes honored their brothers, but she was certain that they preferred to be amongst themselves. Her thoughts did not linger long with the Angles of Death, but turned to those she should be remembering. Lucien Brennan and Seth Nelson.
In part she still blamed herself for Brennan's death, for having left him behind in those tunnels, when Seth had wanted to go back. But then they all three would have died, still it was strange to think him gone.
No, it was strange to that they both would not be with them any longer. Watching Seth die had been horrible and had shocked her to the core. Had Pericles, or Tristan as he wanted to be called by her and Taylor now, not been there, she might had been slain by the Lictors as well.
Brennan and Seth. They had been there, when she'd been recruited, so for her there had never been a mission without them. Over the years they had become…family. She would miss them both; the quiet Bounty Hunter and the headstrong Strom Trooper. Jane took a deep breath, feeling tears gathering in her closed eyes. They were with the Emperor now.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked around to see Tristan smiling at her encouragingly. He'd never known Brennan and had only briefly encountered Seth on a few occasions, when they had fought against the Genestealers and when the Lictors had killed the Governor; he couldn't share the grief. She only nodded as a response, though she was grateful for his subtle gesture. Almost absentmindedly she placed one of her own hands on his to convey her appreciation.
The next years would be interesting: Tristan Pericles joining them, the girl Lia Corvo in the household of an Inquisitor. A very mild mannered one, but still an Inquisitor. They would move on and to the next mission.
…
It was some time after the ceremony and the ship was about to enter the warp, the crew making the final preparations, when Pericles wandered the corridors alone but not aimlessly. After a while he reached a room close to the mess hall, a lounge which he had heard was reserved for the operatives of the Inquisitor.
It looked surprisingly warm and comfortable compared to the gunmetal grey most areas were dominated by. Wood covered the rather high ceiling as well as the walls, some parts of the latter decorated with carvings of imperial iconography, while the floor was covered with a burgundy carpet. There were a handful of groups consisting of leather couches and armchairs, which were scattered across the room, around low tables. Quite a number of lamps spread pleasing light, well-trimmed shrubs and small trees lining the walls, adding more colour. To his right upon entering, Pericles spotted the bar, various bottles standing there side by side. And he found that he wasn't alone.
On a couch close to the bar sat the Untouchable, his long black hair bound together for once, who turned his head around when he heard to door opening behind him. "Tristan, good to see you." He spread his arms widely and smiled. "Glad you found this place, 'cause believe me, here you'll find the best seats for a warp-jump."
"Taylor." Pericles greeted him, but as he walked further he noticed something. "Why do you have a black eye?"
The Untouchable had indeed a bruise, surrounding his left eye in shades of purple and blue. "Because I'm an idiot." He simply stated with a shrug.
The former Captain raised a brow. "Yes, that already has been well established. It doesn't really answer my question though."
"I." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck and the collar-like limiter around it. "I tried to kiss Jane."
Not what he had expected; then again he didn't know how close they were. "I take it she didn't comply." He finally said.
Mirthlessly, Taylor smiled and rolled his eyes. "Thank you Captain Obvious for your valuable insight."
This time other man smiled. "Happy to serve." He noted and walked to the bar, searching for something there.
As Pericles was busy, Taylor leaned back and looked up to the ceiling. "So; I hear you are part of our little dis-functioning family now. Ah, thanks."
The former Captain had just handed him a glass filled with ice cubes, which the Untouchable held against the bruised part of his face, while Pericles sat down in one of the armchairs. "Yes, your, or should I say our Inquisitor offered me to become part of his retinue. Given my other options, the decision was not difficult."
"No doubt. Don't worry; most of us are not entirely out of their own volition here."
Pericles frowned. "How so?"
"Well, I myself was pretty much drafted." Taylor began, turning the glass a little. "He came looking for me, since he had use for an Untouchable on his hunt for an Eldar Faseer and since he also needed someone for his sick-bay, he took Jane with him as well. Unfortunately for her, she was the medicae, who had treated me at the hospital I was recovering in at the time. He acted like she had a choice, but since he had already made his decision it was more of an act than anything else. Bit shrewd, if you ask me."
The former Captain snorted joylessly. "Charming, certainly. Are all Inquisitors like that?"
Taylor shrugged, looking rather indifferent. "Don't really know. I haven't even met a handful of them yet, but from what I've heard many are a bit more…uncomfortable to work with and crueller." He smiled encouragingly. "So all in all, I suppose we got lucky. Beside, as I've told you back in the villa, I'm kinda glad to have been recruited. There are certainly worse things than being here."
There was a moment of silence, before Pericles spoke again, his voice lower. "So what now?"
The Untouchable sat up straight. "Well, how about I get some amasec into this glass, get you one of your own and then we toast to a mission survived and a new start." He got on his feet and started walking, though he stopped for a moment before reaching the bar. "I'd invite Jane, but I have a feeling she's currently a bit ill-disposed towards me."
Pericles wondered if her refusal had something to do with Taylor's aura. They certainly knew each other for a long time, they doubtlessly were friends, but as the Untouchable had told him, even to a none-psyker the contact or even the close proximity to a Pariah was uncomfortable. The former Captain had felt the cool aura himself, seen how she had flinched had a mere patting on the shoulder on their way back to the Citadel; certainly a kiss had been even…worse. He truly pitied Taylor; his ability, his very nature was a curse. Perhaps that was why he always tried to be rather merry, to somehow, lighten his own mood at the same time. A distraction and self-treatment.
"Is this a thing around here?" Pericles asked as the Untouchable returned.
"Usually four of us would share a drink together before and after a mission, but now with both Brennan and Seth gone." He paused, looking saddened. "Maybe we keep up the tradition, maybe not." Taylor sighed and handed him a filled glass. "I suppose we'll see."
"Thanks."
"Then I guess this is to our friends and comrades; Emperor keep them." The Untouchable sat down on the couch again. "And to us; may we serve long and well. May we remain healthy as well as sound of mind." He lifted his glass.
Pericles lifted his as well. "I have one question though." He said, briefly hesitating. "What is a Farseer?"
Taylor grinned, clinked glasses and spoke jauntily. "And the learning begins."
*.*.*.*
The Armageddon was in Orbit around Typhon Primaris in the Aurelia Sub-Sector, a recruiting-world of the Blood Ravens chapter. A while ago the Astartes had returned from the surface, yet water was still dripping from their red armours, mud covering their boots. The sergeants had gathered to discuss the previous mission and to decide their next step, they all and their Force Commander standing around a tacticarium table, regarding the image of the planet below. Most of them were injured after fighting the Eldar, but as Space Marines such to be expected. Pain was just as much part of their lives as the wars they fought.
Moments ago the Commander had informed Captain Thule on Calderis about their success on Typhon and the Astropath awaited now the answer, the necessary rites having been performed. Finally the man in the deep red robes stirred and rose from his seat. Under the hood his eyes opened, glowing with a bright blue. His frail body swayed a little in trance as he opened his mouth and spoke.
"Well done, Commander." Even his voice sounded remarkably like the Captain's, even carrying the approving tone. It was fortunate that the transmission only had to reach the neighbouring system, allowing this accuracy. "Without Warp Spider stirring up the Orks, Typhon is far more secure. It still remains unclear what the Eldar hope to gain by provoking the Orks. Whatever their purpose, the Eldar are using all their trickery to disrupt communication outside the sector. We are uncertain how they are managing this, but our Astropaths describe their interference as a "shadow across the warp"."
Cyrus tore his gaze from the planet's hololithic image, feeling himself becoming tense. Even his voice sounded somewhat disquieted as he spoke. "A shadow across the warp." It had been so many years, but he had not forgotten. "Those were their exact words?"
The Astropath's eyes closed as he conveyed the message. Unseen from his brothers Cyrus clenched a fist, though otherwise he hid his concerns from them. He could not yet know for certain. It could have been a mistake in the transmission; such was a common problem with this kind of communication.
A few minutes of silence passed before the Astropath's could pass on Thule's reply. "Yes, those were their exact words, Cyrus." The Captain confirmed, but moved on. "We have more immediate problems however. Mek Badzappa is mounting another offensive on the capital and I need to see to our defences. Secure Typhon quickly; I could use you back here soon. Thule out."
The transmission ended and the Astropath sunk to his seat, body lax and eyes closed once again. It would probably be some time until this one could send another message again. Avitus turned to his fellow Sergeant, a brow raised as he frowned. "Why so concerned about the ratings of the Astropaths?"
"No reason." Cyrus lied, sounding calmer this time; he could be wrong, he wanted to be mistaken. "I just hope that casting a shadow across the warp is an ability the Eldar truly have, for all our sakes."
The Devastator Sergeant did not reply and his brother's turned their attention back to the situation on Typhon. Cyrus' attention however was divided. Despite his words he was deeply troubled. Tyranids.
Not since Victoria Primus had he encountered these vile aliens and for that he had been thankful. He did not fear them, not like normal men, but he knew better than to underestimate the threat and so he would be vigilant. If his suspicious were confirmed, his brothers would need all he'd learned, they would have to rely on his knowledge. As it was, Cyrus was the only one to have faced them, the only one who knew how to fight the Tyranids .
If he failed this time not just a planet would burn, but three worlds would be wiped out and with them his chapter. No, he would not let that happen. His homeworld had burned, his brothers and initiates had died on Kaurava; Cyrus would not allow such a tragedy again, not while he still drew breath.
…
It was only a few days later. Thule was wounded and in the Apothecaries' care, the blood of Tyranids and Orks covering the armour of every Astartes, who had fought on Calderis. Cyrus had just informed them about the Tyranids and it was then that Thaddeus asked a question the Scout Sergeant had hoped never to have to answer.
"Have you faced these things before, Cyrus?"
Still angered by Avitus' earlier remark, implying him to be a coward, Cyrus paused for a moment to calm himself before he answered, his voice sombre. "Once, a long time ago, when I served in the Deathwatch."
Experto crede
Trust in one experienced
...
THE END