Presenting a teaser for an upcoming story: Indomitus Bellum

Somewhere, Somewhen

The ship's compartment was filled with darkness and cold. It was a close blackness, suffocating and tight, pressing in from all sides. The bare metals walls were lined with frost, where the atmosphere had frozen solid on the super-chilled surface and lines of thick pipes ran overhead, caked in ice. The darkness was everywhere; it oozed through the corridors and crawl-shafts. It squatted in the Enginarium, it ruled the bridge and it filled the holds end to end. Yet it was not total, for in that darkness, light moved.

Deep in the bilges a sharp beam of light erupted, an incandescent ray of pure white energy. It swept the hold with clinical precision, probing and examining each corner in minute detail. After a moment it seemed satisfied that there was nothing else present and it lowered slightly, revealing a shape behind it. It was roughly man-shaped but bulkier and much taller. It was clad head to toe in ceramite, with huge pauldrons and a long rifle in its hands. Had there been anyone present they could be forgiven for thinking that this was one of the Adeptus Astartes but they would have been quite wrong, this was something else: something new. The armour was subtly different, the weapons enhanced and the genic alterations within this being were of a different order. He was a Primaris Marine and his designation was Primaris Lieutenant Henrique Smyth.

Lieutenant Smyth looked around the bilge and was satisfied that there were no threats present. His Mark X Tacticus armour was easily capable of penetrating this gloomy darkness, the autosenses in his systems the fruits of Mar's most secret labours. In fact every part of his equipment was improved and enhanced, having been perfected over ten thousand years of refinement by that strange polymath Belisarius Cawl. Smyth could summon multi-spectrum scanners and microscopic vision with a mere neural-impulse, faster and more precise than anything seen before in the Imperium.

Smyth took one last look around and then voxed, "Clear!"

From the darkness came a chorus of cries, each calling "Clear!"

Smyth relaxed a hair, but still kept his auto bolt rifle with its boxed ammunition clip steady as five more figures emerged from the darkness. Like him they were clad in Mark X armour but their weapons were the more conventional Mark II Cawl pattern bolt rifles. These were Intercessors, the new paradigm of gene-enhanced troops and their sergeant called, "Compartment secure."

"Very good Sergeant Yones," Smyth replied then widened his vox frequency and called, "Clear Captain, you can proceed."

From behind them came heavy stomps, ringing in the dead air as more Primaris emerged, led by a heavier and broader warrior. This marine was fitted with reinforced plates and a golden halo over his head. His left hand was encased in a giant gauntlet, with a small bolter fitted in imitation of the legendary Hand of Dominion. This was the prototype Gravis Armour, the heaviest defence available to the Primaris armoury and its bearer was called Captain Kieva.

Kieva looked about and briskly asked, "Contacts?"

"Nothing Sir," Smyth responded, "No signs of life."

Kieva's helmed head turned to take in the bilge and he said, "Keep alert, something killed this pilgrim ship and I want to know what it was. Keep moving, I want this ship cleared in record time. The senior Astartes commanders are watching us from afar and I want those obsolete relics to see the superiority of the Primaris paradigm. The Black Templars boasted they could sweep a ship this size in three hours, but I expect the Unnumbered Sons to do better."

"As you command," Smyth complied smoothly, "For Terra and for Mars."

"For the Omnnissiah," Kieva replied distractedly, then moved on.

Smyth hurried to move out ahead of him, hastily ducking into the next passageway. As they walked his vox blinked a private link request and he opened it to hear the voice of Sergeant Yones proclaiming, "By the Red Sands, he's full of himself, isn't he?"

Smyth kept his eyes front but commented, "He's just eager, he wants to prove himself as much as we do."

"This is a mere Beta-test, he didn't have to come along," Yones griped, "One dead Pilgrim Ship drifting into the Indomitus Crusades' outer perimeter. Just like a hundred other derelicts we've swept. This will be no different."

"Careful," Smyth chided, "Don't let your guard down, anything could be on board, Xenos, Traitors or Warp entities. Remember what the old Astartes tell us, a moment of distraction could kill you."

Yones growled tetchily, "That's another thing, why are we dragging around those tired old fossils? The Indomitus Crusade has Primaris Marines; we don't need those relics looking over our shoulder. They will all be retired and replaced with superior Primaris Marines in a decade or two anyway."

Smyth privately agreed, all Primaris knew in their hearts that the days of the old Astartes were numbered but he still said, "The Lord Commander wants us to work with them, we need their armies… for now."

"Error-shunt-abort," Yones cursed, "Months we've been out of our stasis-tubes and I've yet to fire my bolt rifle in anger. It's insulting, when are we getting rotated to a front-line combat unit with the other Primaris?"

"When the Lord Commander thinks we are ready," Smyth responded, "Now focus on the mission or I'll send you back for retraining. See how you like fighting simulated wars against servitors on the Red Sands of Mars."

Silence fell as the Primaris closed upon a junction, yet nothing else emerged to challenge them. Smyth was about to declare the passageway clear but then one of the Intercessors held up a small auspex and called, "Picking up a Vox-beacon, it's weak but definitely there."

Smyth glanced over and saw it was Maral, one of the other breed of Primaris. Whereas as Smyth, Yones and Kieva claimed descent from Guilliman, Maral was a son of Corax. The Lord Commander had recently instituted a policy of mixing blood-lines in squads, to foster co-operation and the spread of skills. Smyth wasn't sure it was a good idea but it wasn't his place to question orders, he was far too lowly to have even set eyes upon the Lord Commander, all of them were. Besides they were Primaris Marines, they could handle anything.

Smyth voxed, "Captain, detecting vox-beacon, requesting permission to investigate."

"Granted," Kieva replied, "Good hunting."

Quickly the Primaris moved into the adjacent passageway, tracking the weak vox-beacon. The Intercessors moved in crisp sweep and clear patterns, as described by the Lord Commander in his brilliant revisions to the stagnant tactical doctrines of yesteryear. Smyth was proud to be serving such a genius and it filled his hearts to think he took orders from such a virtuoso of strategy. How the old Astartes had coped for millennia without him baffled the Primaris Marine.

As they probed the darkness ahead one of the Intercessors, Arkias of the blood of Dorn, called, "Bodies!"

Smyth peered and saw that there was indeed piles of corpses laid out on the deck. They had fallen in limp piles, with no signs of conflict or strife evident. Smyth knelt to examine them and muttered, "No signs of struggle or violence, it looks like they just laid down to die."

From behind him Nabalai, of the blood of Ferrus Manus, pondered, "Life-support failure?"

Smyth disagreed, "There's too much decay here, they should be flash-frozen, but look at them they seem to have aged centuries."

Indeed the bodies appeared withered and mouldy, little more than scraps of cloth wrapped around mottled bones. There was a sense of immense age around them, like they had been here for aeons, yet the vessel around them was pristine, well as much as any dilapidated Pilgrim Ship ever was. Smyth reached out and picked up a bone but snarled when it crumbled in his grip, dust pouring out between his gauntlet's fingers.

He heard Sonatas, of the blood of Sanguinius hiss, "I smell the corruption of the Warp on this place."

Smyth hastily dropped the crumbling bone and wiped his gauntlet on a bulkhead saying, "Stay alert, I don't like this."

He straightened up and directed the Intercessors to move on to the next hold, ducking through a small hatch as they did so. They were alert and ready, yet as they entered Yones caught the elongated length of his bolt rifle on the jamb, causing him to recoil. Yones backed up then sheepishly stepped inside, but Smyth glared in indignation.

Not wanting to diminish a Sergeant in front of his squad the Lieutenant opened a private vox-link and said, "If the old Astartes saw that, they'd be laughing their heads off."

"Don't go on," Yones growled, "It won't happen again."

Smyth let the matter lie but inside he was fuming, mistakes that that offended the dignity of the Primaris. Their superiority was evident to any with eyes to see, yet the old Astartes pretended not to be impressed, they insisted they could match any feat. The idea was laughable and yet somehow, time and time again, the Primaris kept being eclipsed in battle by those they were supposed to be replacing.

It was galling.

Suddenly Maral hissed, "contact!" Instantly every weapon came up and shone focussed stab-lights into the dark hold, probing for threats. Smyth swept his auto-senses through their various vision modes and in seconds he made out shapes. He was surprised to see that they were somewhat similar to his own form, with thick ceramite and rounded pauldrons. Yet these warriors were also lesser, shorter and with more compact weapons that looked underpowered to his eye.

Smyth set his helm to external address and shouted, "Halt! In the name of the Lord Commander halt and lower your weapons!"

The coming shapes hesitated then a voice rang back, "Whom do you serve?"

Smyth proudly responded, "I am Primaris Lieutenant Smyth and we serve Roboute Guilliman!"

There were a few moments of stillness and Smyth heard the distinct clicking of vox's as the unknowns hurriedly talked among themselves. Then a voice called, "Hold your fire, we swear fealty to Him on Terra. We are coming out, with our weapons lowered."

After a moment Smyth saw the shapes emerge into the radiance of their stab-lights, there seemed to be half-a-dozen of them, all in the obsolete Mark VII armour. Their armour was blue, with grey pauldrons, chased with gold. Their shoulders bore an icon Smyth didn't recognise, a spiral in starburst and he assumed they were from one of the lesser, mongrel Chapters that had sprung up over the millennia.

Smyth was about to speak but then another figure stepped into the light, this one clad in black and adorned with decorative skulls. He had a skull-helm too and golden Crozius in his hand so that nobody could mistake his rank and role: a Chaplain.

Smyth kept his auto-bolt rifle trained but called, "Who are you? What Chapter are you from?"

The Chaplain paused and raised his hands then replied, "We are but humble warriors, driven from our home by foul Heretics and Traitors. We have no Chapter, no place to call home anymore."

Smyth's suspicions stirred and asked, "What happened to this ship?"

The Chaplain lowered his skull-helm sadly and answered, "Gellar field failure, the Immaterium broke in. It killed everybody and left us adrift; we don't even know where we are."

Smyth wasn't convinced and questioned, "Then how did you survive?"

The Chaplain explained, "Our faith in the Divine Emperor sustained us."

"Oh great," Yones hissed over the vox, "Emperor-worshippers, just like those fanatical Black Templars."

Smyth ignored that and barked, "How do I know you're not tainted?"

The Chaplain moved his hands apart, to indicate no threat and said, "Call forth your Librarians, scan our minds to ascertain the truth."

Smyth growled, "Oh, we will do more than that, the Lord Commander has Grey Knights at his disposal."

"The Grey Knights are real?" the Chaplain uttered in a surprised tone, "I thought they were a myth. Anyway do what you will; I must speak to the Primarch most urgently."

"The Primarch!" Smyth laughed, "You're not going within an astronomical unit of him."

"Then somebody else with authority," the Chaplain urged, "I bear dire news that must be heard."

"Captain Kieva can hear your plea," Smyth growled, "But only after you tell me it first and your name."

"Very well," the Chaplain stated, "I am Megaro, late of the Storm Heralds and I bring word of Heresy spreading in the Saint Karyl Trail. Tell Roboute Guilliman this: the Storm Heralds Chapter has turned renegade!"