Chapter-IV
"Great holes secretly are dug where earth's pores ought to suffice, and things have learnt to walk that ought to crawl."
NEW PLANET, NOVA ARCADIA
GULLIMANN-Quadrant, Northern Hemisphere,
THE NEWLY CHRISTENED NOVA ARCADIA SYSTEM
It was nighttime, but that mattered little to Brother Librarian Voxel – he had considerable control in the energies of the Warp granting him almost precognitive abilities. The good news was that there were no hostiles in the immediate landing zone. The bad news was that this meant wherever they were, they had drifted far off-course, due to the strange weaponry the humans of this planet wielded. Voxel could feel… nothing? That didn't
He closed his eyes again and concentrated. Something was very strange…he could not feel the warp. Instead, he felt a dark pulsating mass of…nothing?
He focused harder. It couldn't be possible. Nothing could possibly fully block a fully trained Astartes Librarian. He had heard of the strange demise of the Grey Bulls, the fact that no Machine Spirits existed here…and now no Warp! He focused even harder as the squad around him prepared a campsite. He felt something and reached out before all of a sudden, his conscience was grabbed and flung into the pulsating darkness. Voxel did not know how many days he had traveled through this dark mass that had now grabbed him or how much time had passed, it had been instant, and yet at the same time it felt like centuries.
Brother Librarian Voxel stared at the strange apparition before him in the void. The figure's outfit was bizarre - an ancient style of Terran formalwear including a black suit, white shirt, black fedora hat, and gleaming leather shoes. His features were pale and delicate, almost effeminate, with platinum blonde hair peeking out from under the hat.
But most striking were the eyes concealed behind circular sunglasses with mirrored lenses. Voxel could not see the figure's actual eyes but had an uncanny sense of being watched closely, weighed, and measured.
The apparition carried an equally archaic-style black briefcase, holding it loosely in one hand while standing casually as if waiting for something. Its posture conveyed a sense of calm confidence and restrained power.
Overall, the bizarre anachronistic look combined with the strange void surroundings made for an extremely disorienting sight. Voxel had no context for making sense of what he was seeing. The figure seemed human, and yet...not. There was something eldritch and unnatural here, he could feel it.
Unsure whether he faced a potential foe or ally, Voxel kept his guard up. He would wait to see what move this odd entity made next.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here" In a flash, the entity was sitting on a rather comfortable futon.
"Who are you" Voxel growled. This creature certainly was not human, even though it took the shape of one, probably a daemon, but no chaos spawn could have executed the perfect human look.
"I am everything, and nothing" the entity flippantly drawled as it casually began to…smoke.
Voxel's eyes narrowed as the strange figure casually lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Its posture was relaxed, almost insolently so. As if chatting with an Astartes Librarian in the depths of the void was perfectly normal.
"I ask again, identify yourself," Voxel growled. "Are you a warp entity or Xenos creature?"
The apparition smiled languidly. "Oh, I'm far too complex for such labels." It gestured expansively with the cigarette. "Think of me more as...the welcoming committee."
Voxel did not like the sound of that. "Welcoming us to what?" he asked warily.
"To the neighborhood of course!" Another nonchalant puff. "We don't get many visitors dropping by. I thought I'd stop in, and say hi."
Voxel struggled to glean anything concrete from the figure's flippant answers. It seemed intent on keeping him off-balance and confused.
"Enough games," Voxel rumbled. "Explain what manner of being you are, and your purpose here." He imbued his voice with psychic compulsion.
The apparition simply smiled wider. "Straight to business, I see. I think we may have a very interesting chat, you and I." It ground out the cigarette beneath one shiny shoe. "Yes, interesting indeed."
Voxel suppressed a shiver. This encounter was veering in unpredictable directions.
"I AM A SERVANT OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY THE GOD EMPEROR OF MANKIND, IDENTIFY YOURSELF OR YOU WILL BE SQUASHED LIKE THE INSIGNIFICANT BUG YOU ARE!" Voxel screamed.
In a flash the entity was in front of him, mere inches from his face, his sunglasses were whipped off, allowing Voxel to see the eyes, they were terrifying. The entity's eyes were the darkest obsidian, within them, Voxel saw the planet they were invading for the imperium as it went farther and farther away as it panned out, revealing countless stars, lifeless planets, everything. There was no life here except on this planet. And no Astronomicon, no light, no warp, no Chaos. They weren't in the Milky Way or the 42nd Millennium.
Voxel didn't know what had overcome him, but he began to cry. But instead of his deep rumbling voice, it came out more akin to a baby. He did not realize it but he was now an infant, and the entity had changed. Instead of a blonde man, a buxom young woman stood clad in an anachronistic jeans and maroon sweater combo. The entity gathered the now infant voxel into her arms.
"Oh did the poor naughty whittle baby see something he wasn't supposed to?" it crooned like a mother playfully scolding her young child.
Instead of trying to fight, Voxel wanted to be, held, and comforted, all the things a baby wanted.
"You came to my backyard; you kill people who have nothing to do with this...Imperium of Man."
Voxel gave a confused coo.
"I could really end this little shitshow, destroy your fleet, your forces with just a flick...but it's been too long, and I haven't had much fun" she purred.
Another confused babble.
"I have seen everything in this world. The first man, the Romulan Legions, the industrial revolution, the plague of 1726 which evened out this planet's male to female ratio, both great wars, the Gregureyo war, the Tonkin war. Trust me kiddo, you've got front-row seats to a big show. My gut tells me you guys have never seen napalm, agent orange, it's gonna be fun because your fleet, it ain't in the 42nd millennium or your dimension. You are in another dimension; I saw everything being created by the Dark Energy. I may not be a god, but I certainly am more powerful than your Chaos Gods, they couldn't hold a candle to what I am. My place, My rules. " She chortled before nuzzling him.
Voxel cooed in delight. he wanted her attention, her affection. A bottle came out of nowhere, and he drank contently from it.
The entity smiled down indulgently at the now infant-like Voxel cradled in her arms.
"That's right, drink up little guy. Can't have you getting cranky." She gently rocked him as he drank. "Now I know this is all kinds of confusing for you. Dropped into a strange new world, scary sights, your powers not working right."
Voxel babbled in infantile contentment.
"It's gotta be tough, I get it. But don't worry, we'll watch. And it may look like your friends are winning but just you wait. It's going to be explosive."
She booped his nose playfully, eliciting happy gurgles.
"This planet's got some wild times ahead now that your Imperium buddies have shown up. Gonna take some adjustment. But stick with me kiddo and you'll do just fine."
The entity grinned and manifested a toy for the infant Voxel to grasp at. "We're gonna have a fun ride together. And I'll make sure you fed and kept happy."
She tickled his belly. ", You'll never age, never grow tired. Won't that be nice?"
Voxel kicked his tiny feet happily at the attention. The future seemed bright now.
BACK IN REALSPACE.
Brother Tallaran was getting agitated. Librarian Voxel was sitting there, his eyes were strangely black. "Librarian?" he asked tentatively. Brother Tarion approached the motionless form of Librarian Voxel cautiously. The veteran psyker sat cross-legged, eyes jet black and empty. He had not moved or responded to external stimuli for some time now.
"Librarian Voxel?" Tarion questioned, laying a hand tentatively on the man's pauldron. Still no reaction. Voxel's body was present, but his mind seemed to be far away...or in peril.
Tarion waved over the squad's other battle brothers. "The Librarian is unresponsive, possibly his psyche is trapped in the warp."
The marines exchanged concerned glances. A librarian's mind being adrift like this did not bode well.
"We should attempt to retrieve him," Brother Kelos rumbled. "If his spirit remains intact, the focused ritual may call it back."
Tarion nodded. "Agreed. Form a circle around Voxel and join your psychic energies to mine. Focus on anchoring and reeling back his essence."
The marines complied, letting their minds link as they began the ritual chant. Psychic power built slowly, reaching out into the void, seeking their lost brother's presence.
Minutes passed with no results. Tarion redoubled his efforts, sweat beading his brow. "Voxel, hear us! We are here, brother. Follow our guide back from the shadows."
Still nothing. The librarian's body remained vacant; his spirit absent. Tarion feared the worst - they may have already lost him.
"Yooo" a young male voice suddenly called out from Voxel's body. "Well, more of you, what fun"
Brother Tarion froze as an unknown voice emanated from Librarian Voxel's body. The marine's form was still limp and vacant, yet someone - or something - was now speaking through his lips.
The squad instantly went on alert, weapons raised warily. "Reveal yourself, daemon," Tarion commanded. "Cease your possession of our brother's form."
The voice chuckled nonchalantly. "Daemon? Nah, nothing so messy or so crude and undisciplined. I'm just hitching a ride to chat since you were trying to call."
"What have you done to Librarian Voxel?" Tarion demanded. "Relinquish him at once."
"Chillax big guy, your pal's fine," the voice said casually. "He's just on an impromptu vacay as a baby. My friend will take care of him. Dude was wound way too tight."
Tarion frowned. The figure's strange manner of speaking was perplexing. "Speak plainly. Who and what are you?"
"Names are not important. Let's just say I'm the welcoming committee for you uninvited guests." A hint of steel entered the laidback tone. "We need to set some ground rules."
"You are in violation of the emperor's domain," Tarion accused. "Submit to judgment or be purged."
The voice laughed scornfully. "Buddy, you have no idea where you are. But you'll learn."
There was a burst of light and Voxel's body suddenly convulsed with a gasp. The psyker was gone, it was like his soul had left his body.
IMPERIAL BATTLE CRUISER SONG OF RETRIBUTAL GLORY.
NEWLY DISCOVERED SYSTEM
ORBIT ABOVE THE NEWLY CHRISTENED PLANET NOVA ARCADIA.
PRISON SECTOR.
Nel'oya or Shas'Ui Bork'an Nel'oya, as her full Tau name was known in the Tau Lexicon grunted angrily. A Tau Fire Caste Warrior, she had been captured by Battlefleet Scolaris on its way to its new crusade against the Y'he.
She did not know where they were now although she could tell they were fighting. The guards hated her in a crueler way because she was a Tau/human hybrid, she had a human face, but Tau-colored skin and eyes as well as red hair.
Currently, she could see the Imperials shuffle in prisoners with unfamiliar uniforms or sometimes civilians. Probably from the planet, she thought. The door opened, and one of her jailers came in, carrying an unconscious human male wearing some sort of flight suit. "Some company for you, half breed" he chortled cruelly.
"He's unconscious... you sadist bastards" she screeched.
The guard merely deposited his charge before locking the door. Nel'oya quickly reached his side. the flight suit was terribly simple. She quickly grabbed her last water ration of the day and tried to make him drink it. "Come on, come on, don't die on me." She begged. She watched him stir, then his eyes flickered open.
Lt Lucas Bairstow groaned. He was a Concordian Air Force pilot whose F-16 was shot by these Invaders. He was a young man, only 17.
Lucas' head was pounding as he regained consciousness. The last thing he remembered was his fighter jet taking fire from an alien craft and spiraling down in flames over the city. He fully expected to have died in the crash.
Instead, he found himself lying on a cold metal floor, staring up at a strange, blue-skinned girl looking down at him with concern. She looked human except for her skin tone and glowing red eyes.
"W-where am I?" Lucas stammered, trying to make sense of what was happening. "Who are you?"
The girl helped him sit up carefully. " Careful, you are pretty badly beat. My name is Nel'oya. We're prisoners aboard an enemy ship. And they seem to be getting prisoners planeside." Her voice was soft with an unusual lilting accent.
Lucas' eyes widened in alarm. "Prisoners? Of those alien bastards that shot me down?"
Nel'oya nodded. "Yes. We are captives of the Imperium of Man." She gestured around the small barred room.
Lucas struggled to his feet and gripped the bars, peering out. He saw armored guards and strange machinery but little else before being shoved back.
"Hey! Let us out you creeps!" he shouted angrily before sinking down in despair. Nel'oya sat beside him comfortingly.
"Listen," she said. "I got a plan, it's all ready, I just needed a pilot. We can escape, just trust me on this."
Despite his fear, her words gave Lucas hope. He would make it home again somehow, hell he might make it home just in time for the next combat missions.
"Alright, I trust you" he nodded at her. She gave him a grateful look. "Thanks a lot" she began.
"Don't sweat it" he grinned.
"OI" a jailer's cruel face appeared. "Having fun with your boyfriend? his people don't even know Gothic."
"What's he saying" Lucas whispered to Nel'oya.
Nel'oya frowned as the Imperial jailer taunted them in Gothic. Lucas looked confused, unable to understand the harsh language.
"He's mocking us," Nel'oya explained quietly to Lucas. "Claiming your people cannot even speak Gothic properly."
Lucas bristled at the insult. "Oh yeah? Well, you can tell that jerk in his own language that he's gonna be really sorry when we bust out of this place!"
Nel'oya smiled slightly and translated Lucas' bravado for the jailer, whose smug expression faded. He snarled something back before stalking off.
"What did he say?" Lucas asked eagerly.
"A crude insult implying we will...well its their equivalent of giving the bird," Nel'oya summarized tactfully. "Damn Imperial Navy types, not the most eloquent bunch."
Lucas thumped a fist against the bars. "You said it! We'll show him not to mess with a pilot-infantry dream team!"
His determination was endearing, Nel'oya thought. "Well, we best better be ready, because it seems we might be stuck together for a little while." She took a deep breath before asking him again.
"So… you are a pilot?" she asked.
"F-16 pilot. You?" he gave a boyish grin.
"Infantry, Tau Empire, please do NOT make dad jokes. Ground forces are important."
Nel'oya studied the angular Imperial aircraft known as a Valkyrie gunship. Then she glanced over at Lucas with his characteristic cocky grin. His confidence as a pilot seemed boundless.
"You believe you can operate this ship if required?" she asked.
"Abso-freaking-lately," Lucas said with bravado. "Just get me inside the cockpit and I'll figure it out. Can't be that different from jets."
Nel'oya nodded thoughtfully. If they could get access during flight preparations, Lucas may be able to enact an escape. But many factors had to align.
"We need to wait for the ideal moment," she cautioned. "I lack experience with their systems. And we will need a distraction."
"Don't worry, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve," Lucas said with a wink. "Just say when, and we'll be blowing this taco stand."
Nel'oya smiled at his irreverent humor. Perhaps his confidence was justified. The seeds of a plan took root in her mind. With Lucas' skills, they just might succeed.
She nodded briskly, "Okay…so when we get to Hanger duty, you get the craft, I'll get something from the armory."
Nel'oya kept her expression neutral as they were escorted to the hangar bay for duty, ignoring the muttered insults and glares from the Imperial crew. She was accustomed to such treatment due to her mixed Tau and human heritage, but it still stung.
Beside her, she noticed Lucas bristling angrily at the slurs, despite not understanding Gothic. His solidarity meant much to her.
"Stay calm, do NOT act the hero, got it," she murmured. "Their words cannot harm us."
"Yeah, but I can harm their ugly mugs," Lucas growled, glaring back at the guards.
Nel'oya shook her head with a hint of a smile. "Let's not blow our cover yet flyboy, we'll get payback, but it is not this day."
Lucas slowly relaxed his fists, though his jaw remained clenched. "You're right. But if any of them lay a hand on you, all bets are off."
She grinned, just as the guards were out of sight, they booked it, he to the Valkyrie and she to the armory.
Somehow, he got into the cockpit. "Okay, okay… how to do this". He jumped into the cockpit of the Valkyrie and quickly scanned over the controls. Rows of flashing buttons, levers, and display screens covered every surface. It was a far cry from the smooth ergonomics of his F-16. From the back, Nel screamed. "What's taking so long?" She appeared in the cockpit, now clad in a rather sleek samurai-looking armor, helmet under her arm. In her other hand, a rather long, rifle was held.
"Uh, slight problem, this thing's got a million controls and they're all labeled in alien gibberish!" he said to Nel'oya.
"Just hurry up and get it powered on!" she shouted as she ran to the hold. "The guards will be back any minute!"
"Working on it!" Lucas grabbed what looked like the master ignition switch and toggled it. With a whine of engines, the gunship roared to life.
"Alright, making progress here!" He grasped the control yoke, feeling the thrum of raw power. Now to figure out navigation.
Footsteps echoed through the hangar - the guards returning. No more time.
Lucas slammed the throttle forward. "Hang on Nel, we're winging this!"
The Valkyrie lifted off with a lurch, scattering cargo and personnel. Lucas wrestled the controls, guiding them shakily toward the hangar forcefield.
"C'mon baby, don't fail me now..."
The gunship shot forward and burst out into open space. They were free.
LT LUCIUS KUDER.
1032nd Imperial Navy Fighter Wing, Black Tail Squadron.
IMPERIAL BATTLE CRUISER HAMMER OF THE BELOVED DAWN
Lt Lucius Kuder Strapped himself into his Lightning Fighter. A veteran ace of the Imperial Navy's Aeronautica Imperialis, he had fought Ork WAAGH! hordes, Tau Air Caste, Chaos, you name it. And he was angry. "How did this prisoner manage to take a Valkyrie anyway, and you said the Machine Spirit was reliable" he radioed the Techpriest in the bridge. as he and his squadron swooped out of the hanger into space.
Kuder gritted his teeth as his Lightning fighter streaked out of the hangar in pursuit of the stolen Valkyrie. This absurd security breach was unacceptable, and the incompetent guards would pay dearly once he reclaimed the errant gunship. The Lord Admiral was going to have a fit.
"Black Tail Squadron, form up on me," he commanded over the vox. "We end this impudence now."
His pilots acknowledged crisply, falling in around him in attack formation. Lucius quickly spotted the Valkyrie, weaving awkwardly through the Imperial fleet's outer perimeter. Whoever had commandeered it clearly lacked skill, but desperation could spur phenomenal feats.
"Target their engines only," Lucius ordered. "Cripple but do not destroy. I want prisoners to interrogate." And punish most harshly, he added mentally.
At his signal, the Lightnings broke formation, swarming the lumbering gunship and raking its thrusters with precision lasfire. The Valkyrie jolted hard under the barrage, shields flaring.
"Cut power and surrender, in the name of the Emperor," Lucius voxed them coldly. "You have nowhere left to flee."
He would see the thieves properly disciplined for this insult. The prisoner ringleader especially would learn the price of defying the Imperial Navy. None escaped the Emperor's justice.
In the cockpit of the Valkyrie, however, Lucas merely smirked. He had no idea what the voice on the radio said, but he was not going to follow the instructions. "Nel…on my mark… start firing that turret."
From the defense turret, Nel'oya gulped, she did not know what Lucas had planned and his voice sounded a tad bit mischievous. The gunship gave a groan of protest before Nel'oya felt her stomach churn. They were diving!
Lucas gritted his teeth as the Valkyrie plunged toward Earth's atmosphere, warning klaxons blaring in the cockpit. Behind them, the Imperial fighters gave chase, unleashing salvos of laser fire.
"C'mon baby, hold together!" Lucas urged, wrestling the controls to keep their heading steady. The gunship shuddered violently as bits of the hull were blasted away.
In the rear turret, Nel'oya swung the heavy guns around, aligning the biggest fighter in her sights. She squeezed the triggers and was rewarded with a direct hit as the fighter peeled away, trailing smoke.
"Got one!" she radioed Lucas triumphantly. "Let's see if I can discourage the others!"
She continued firing controlled bursts, forcing the fighters to break formation and evade. Lucas whooped over the intercom.
"Thatta girl, keep it up!" More tremors rocked the ship as they punched through the upper atmosphere. "Almost there..."
The Valkyrie's nose glowed cherry red from the re-entry friction. Lucas poured everything into the engines, aiming for the largest landmass ahead. Sweat poured down his brow from the heat and tension.
"C'mon, give me just a little more speed," he pleaded with the groaning ship. They just had to make it to the ground intact.
Fiery trails marked the Imperial fighters still dogging them, though at a more cautious distance as Nel'oya kept up her barrage. Lucas breathed deep as the ground rushed up to meet them. They could make it. Failure was not an option.
Kuder grunted. Black Tails 5, 6, 7, and 3 were gone. He watched as his last two pilots were killed as their damaged fighters entered the atmosphere. With a cry of rage he followed, watching as the black sky turned light blue. "YOU...ARE SO...!" he seethed as he got it in his gunsight and fired. He did not realize that his anger was disrupting his focus, he could barely get a lead on the Valkyrie.
Inside the Valkyrie, Nel screamed, "He's pissed Lucas."
Lucas gritted his teeth as the Valkyrie shuddered under another barrage from the sole remaining fighter. The pilot, probably the leader was clearly enraged at the losses they'd inflicted on his squadron, compromising his aim but not his persistence.
"Just keep him occupied, I see a mountain range ahead," Lucas told Nel'oya over the intercom. "We're gonna use those peaks for cover!"
He banked the Valkyrie hard, darting between towering cliffsides and jagged ravines. The larger gunship was far less nimble than Kuder's fighter, but the terrain gave them a fighting chance.
Nel'oya swung her turret back and forth, snapping off shots whenever she got a glimpse of the fighter. Lucas yanked the controls left and right, juking through the mountain passes.
Kuder stayed doggedly on their tail, raging over the vox in his strange tongue. His shots went wide, detonating against rock walls in eruptions of fire and shrapnel.
"That's it, come to Mama," Nel muttered, tracking the fighter's engine flare. As Kuder swung in close, she let loose a sustained burst right into his thrusters.
With a trail of thick smoke, the fighter peeled away, spiraling toward the ground. Lucas whooped in victory.
"Splash one bad guy, nicely done Nel!" He leveled the Valkyrie off as they cleared the mountains, cruising over open plains. "Now let's see about finding some friendlies at these coordinates..."
CONFEDERATION OF CONCRDIA SHIP (CCS) LOS ANGLES. NUCLEAR POWERED FAST ATTACK SUB
CAPT Bartolomeo Vito "Bart" Mancuso.
"Attention, all hands, we are at DEFCON-2. This is not a drill."
The announcement made Bart Mancuso awaken. DEFCON-2? His boat had just come home from exercise SILENT RETORT. He had heard rumors about a worldwide "Alien Invasion" but just chalked it up to a couple of drunk spooks, his XO gave him the printed orders.
TO: ALL SUB-COMMANDERS
COMMENCE UNRESTRICTED WARFARE AGAINST HOSTILES
OFN NAVIES ARE HELPING AS WELL
WE ARE AT WAR
GODSPEED.
"Oh, come on, I was just getting ready for Christmas" A sailor, Jenna if he remembered correctly, grumbled as she went to her workstation.
Mancuso suppressed a weary sigh as he stared down at the DEFCON 2 orders. So much for holiday leave plans. The spooks' wild rumors were actually true - Earth was facing an alien invasion. And the Silent Service would be called upon to fight back with their sturdy boats.
"Alright team, vacation's postponed," he announced over the shipwide intercom. "We've got new orders to commence unrestricted submarine warfare against an extraterrestrial hostile force. I know it sounds crazy, but intel confirms we're at war."
He heard muffled swearing and complaints echo through the hull at the news. The crew had been eagerly anticipating shore leave after months underway. This came as an unwelcome shock.
"Stow the grousing and get to battlestations," Mancuso ordered firmly. "We have a planet to defend, so let's load tubes and get into the fight."
The seasoned submariner in him relished this chance to test them against a new, unknown foe. And he knew his crew would do their duty, grumbling or not.
"XO, plot an intercept course for these coordinates," Mancuso pointed at the intel report. "It's time to show our visitors what submariners can do."
The LA's diesels rumbled to life and propellers churned as she came about. Another tour began, but this time the stakes were far higher. Mancuso silently urged his boat onwards. Today, they would make history.
250 miles above Earth.
Karl fumbled his way through the ISS mid-deck, the bulky EVA suit making movement tricky in zero-g. Reaching the airlock, he met up with astronaut Morgan and they headed to the briefing room together.
Crammed inside were the rest of the ISS crew - 7 astronauts, 3 Vostokvakians, and 4 Ulraznavians. Everyone looked anxious as Alan spoke into the radio.
"Houston, we copy," Alan said. "What's the situation planetside?"
The reply was grim. Enemy forces had blitzed major cities worldwide, inflicting heavy casualties. DEFCON 1 across Earth's militaries.
"Jesus, this is insane," muttered Marc. "Are we talking about an alien invasion here?"
Before Houston could respond, a new message cut in. "ISS, we've got an unidentified craft approaching your location fast. Not one of ours. Intercept in under 2 minutes."
"Intercept?" Karl echoed in alarm. "You mean this thing is coming right at us?"
The astronauts looked at each other in dismay. They were sitting ducks in orbit. If the invaders could reach them up here...
Karl hurried to the nearest porthole, searching the star-speckled blackness for any sign of the encroaching contact. How the hell were they supposed to fight back in space?
He scrubbed a circle of frost from the thick glass, peering out desperately. They needed a miracle to survive up here now.
ORBIT OVER NEWLEY NAMED PLANET NOVA ARCADIA.
Inquisitor Fridmann frowned as he gazed out the Valkyrie's viewport at the planet below. Something felt off about this entire operation, and he couldn't quite place what.
He knew all the systems in the Orellis Segmentum like the back of his hand from studying it extensively en route. But the coastlines visible from orbit were all wrong somehow. This couldn't be Orallia IV unless he'd been deliberately misled.
And that wasn't the only discrepancy. Communications with the fleet had mysteriously cut out yet he could see ot casually orbiting the planet, though they could still reach ground forces fine. Then there was the freak warp anomaly the pilot reported hitting.
Fridmann clicked his headset. "Lieutenant, damage report?"
"Bad news, sir," came the reply. "Drives are fried from that warp storm. We're on maneuvering thrusters only."
Fridmann grimaced. Limited flight options then. They'd need pickup from the fleet. Astropathic message maybe, if the psykers weren't being jammed too.
"Sir, disabled craft detected ahead with a few humanoid life signs," the pilot suddenly reported.
Now that was interesting, Fridmann mused. Survivors from the battle perhaps. A potentially valuable source of intel in this increasingly confusing situation.
"Bring us alongside and prepare to board," he ordered. "Set weapons to stun. I want prisoners for interrogation."
He turned to his retinue of Tempestus Scions clad in black carapace armor. "Stormtroopers, with me. Let's see what these stragglers know."
Boarding the unknown ship, they'd get answers. By force if needed. Fridmann would make sense of this mess. For the Emperor.
ISS.
Inside the ISS the crew waited in darkness, they could hear the sound of people floating through the airlock and entering the station. A voice was giving a terse order and then the shapes split up, heading to different sections of the station Then they saw their first boarder, an armoured man in a suit, in a flash, one of the Ulraznav's cut his oxygen.
Stormtrooper Jarek floated around in the dark place, the team had split up, and he saw movement before he felt something cut his oxygen pipe... He saw a human, with an unfamiliar garb. Jarek could not think now, lack of oxygen messing with his higher brain functions. He gave a strangled gasp as he noticed the attacker bring up a lighter...and set his tank alight.
Karl watched as the armored man burned alive in his own suit. The rest of the ISS Crew have dealt with them as well including a high-ranked member.
"This one…he seems to be their, Komandir" a Vostokvakian cosmonaut held an unconscious rather ornate-looking man and was telling Alan. "I jabbed him with a special drug, he will wake, feel pain from his own moving" he explained.
Karl floated motionlessly in the darkened corridor of the ISS watching helplessly as the armored boarders suffocated and burned before his eyes. It had all happened so fast - the ISS crew reacting on instinct when the invaders came aboard.
Now several floated lifelessly, including one who appeared to be a commander of some kind based on his more ornate armor. Karl hadn't even had time to process that he'd just killed a man, burning him alive in his own suit. That realization turned his stomach.
Over the radio, he heard Morgan breathlessly confirm the rest of the boarders were neutralized throughout the station. They had repelled the attack, but the violence left Karl deeply shaken.
"Grab their commander," came Alan's voice over the comm. "We need intel on who these guys are and why they hit us."
Karl steeled himself before tugging the charred corpse along through the zero-g. He tried not to look too closely at the blackened faceplate. Just get the body to the lab for examination.
One thing was certain - this encounter confirmed they were dealing with more than just an Earth invasion. The threat was far larger, and nowhere was truly safe.
Karl just prayed he wouldn't have to kill again. Seeing that armored figure burn was going to haunt him forever. But to survive out here, he feared that mercy might become a luxury none could afford.
TIMESKIP.
Inquisitor Fridmann groaned in horrific pain, one of the hostiles had jabbed him with something and now even the slightest touch was hellish pain.
"Milord...Inquisitor, are you alright?" his vox beeped. The pilot.
One of the hostiles pointed at the Vox on his arm before bringing her finger close to his leg. He got the message.
"Fridmann here...everything's alright...nothing to report."
Halder stopped. "Okay...Lord Admiral Vallin wished to talk but...alright, I'll vox you if anything new occurs. Halder out."
Halder signed off, though Fridmann detected a hint of suspicion in his voice. No doubt the Lord Admiral would be trying to reach him soon as well about this increasingly disastrous operation.
Suppressing a groan, he decided cooperation was currently his best chance of survival. He had utterly underestimated these enemies. Such lethal cunning against the Emperor's chosen was disturbing indeed.
For now, he could only endure the agony and watch helplessly as they picked over his downed retinue like carrion birds. He would need to rethink his approach, should he survive to fight another day. The enemies here were far from simple rebels.
VALKYRIE NO. 7734.
CURRENTLY DOCKED OUTSIDE UNKNOWN SPACE STATION.
Lieutenant Halder frowned as he closed the vox channel with Inquisitor Fridmann. Something in the man's tone had seemed off, despite his claims that everything was fine aboard the rebel vessel. Far too casual and upbeat given the situation.
Halder's gut told him Fridmann was under duress, forced to mask whatever was really happening over there. The inbound message from Lord Admiral Vallin only reinforced that suspicion.
If the Inquisitor had indeed been captured or compromised, it presented Halder with a grave dilemma. Did loyalty and duty compel him to stay on station awaiting further orders? Or take unilateral action to preserve the secrecy of their operation?
Perhaps a low-powered lance strike could cripple the rebel ship and buy time to sort this out. But if he acted rashly, Halder risked accidentally killing the Inquisitor and dooming them all. There were no good options.
Halder decided to stall and observe for now. He quietly charged the Valkyrie's weapons systems but held fire. Until he had clarity, blasting first and asking questions later was unwise. For all he knew, Fridmann did have matters in hand over there.
Still, he couldn't shake an ominous feeling that things were unraveling fast. Fridmann was the mission commander, but out here beyond the Astronomicon's light, Halder might need to take fate into his own hands.
Fillmont International Airport,
Fillmont, State of Friser.
Alex hustled across the tarmac as a Secret Service detail ushered him toward the waiting Air Force Two. The modified Boeing 707 may have been aging, but she still had some kick left to get him back to DC fast.
Strapping in aboard the plane, Alex exchanged tense looks with his aide. The whole planet had gone insane in the span of an hour. And here he'd thought this was going to be just another campaign stop.
"So, we're staying put in DC for now?" Alex asked.
The aide nodded. "Morale play for the public. Can't look like we're bugging out to a bunker just yet."
Alex grimaced as the engines spooled up for takeoff. He'd been around the block enough times to know when things were truly screwed. And this crazy invasion situation felt miles out of their depth.
Staring out the window at the East Coast unfolding below, Alex placed a call to his son, urging him to get his family to safety out in Texas. He left unsaid the possibility of nukes being deployed if containment failed. Some options were too terrible to speak aloud.
The reality was sinking in that he'd likely be stuck managing a nightmare when they landed. Speeches and optics were for the President now. Alex just had to try keeping a lid on the chaos from the back room.
He rubbed his eyes wearily. No rest for the wicked. The papers and reports would be stacked high, demanding constant attention while others orated grandly for the cameras.
Well, time to get to work. This was sure to be the longest day of his life. And failure here could mean the end of Concordia.
La Palazia Restaurant, Borough Of Manhattan,
New York City, State Of New York. Confederation of Concordia
The waiter had just taken their orders at the fancy Palazia restaurant when Evan noticed her staring blankly past him. He waved trying to flag her down, but she seemed transfixed by something on the muted TV behind him.
"Yo, a little service here!" Evan called out impatiently. Still no response.
With an annoyed grunt, Evan turned to see what was so interesting. His blood ran cold.
The screen showed images of absolute chaos - wreckage and fires in the heart of a major city. The caption read "Concordia Under Attack."
Around him, other diners gasped and murmured. Someone turned up the volume.
"...massive destruction reported across Concordia's major cities, origins still unknown..."
"...casualties likely in the thousands, magnitude unlike anything seen before..."
Evan sat stunned, unable to process the scenes of devastation. He dimly registered his companions all scrambling to check cell phones and beepers.
"Shit, my girlfriends at UCLA," Chris was saying in a panic. "I can't reach her; lines must be jammed..."
Jordan was pale. "Market's crashing hard, this is really freaking bad..."
Nyla snorted another bump, hands shaking. "Stovies finally lost it huh? Just nuke 'em all back to the stone age."
Evan stared hollowly at the screen. Their carefree lunch felt like a lifetime ago now. He thought of his brother in the Army. Of all the things he'd left unsaid to his parents.
Amidst the chaos, he knew one thing for certain - their world would never be the same after this.
PRESIDENTIAL AIRCRAFT SUKHOI KR 860
SECOND DAY OF WAR
PRESIDENT OF THE SOCIALIST COALITION OF VOSTOKVAKIA.
In the grey skies above the biggest country on Earth, a large 4-engine aircraft resembling a Boeing-747 flew. Bedecked in a red and yellow livery, this was the socialist coalition's version of Concordia's "Air Force-1." The Vostokvakians had given it the apt callsign "Rodina." Inside, sat Andrey Illich Narmonov, President of the Socialist Coalition of Vostokvakia. That may well change in a matter of minutes he thought sardonically. Narmonov took over his position as the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. After Konstantin Chernenko died, it was he who was elected as leader of the Coalition, instead of Gorbachev.
However, he and Gorbachev agreed that the democratization and liberalization of Vostokvakia and its republics was needed. So, Gorbachev was kept as premier of the Coalition while Narmonov became the newly elected President. Glasnost and Perestroika were just bearing the fruits. For the first time, the proletariat was happy, well not that they ever were happy before after 1950, but we had better harvests, the collective farms were gone…and now these space invaders have fucked it all up. He thought again while grumbling. Concordia's economy was going down, and so was every other nation. Half the world was invader-controlled territory now. Only Oceania was untouched.
"Comrade president...the Politburo is waiting" an aide shook him out of his gloomy thoughts.
"Spasibo Nina" Narmonov went into the meeting room inside the aircraft. Gorbachev was already waiting for him. "Good news, Kosov and most of the KGB are confirmed missing, or dead," he whispered.
"And our Concordian friends, please tell me they are alive, we just opened up relations for them for god's sake." Narmonov entered the meeting room and sighed heavily as he entered the makeshift conference room aboard his presidential aircraft. Mere days ago, the future had seemed so bright for his nation. Glasnost and Perestroika were bearing fruit, the people tasted new freedoms, and relations with the West were thawing rapidly.
Now this damned invasion threatened to undo it all.
Taking his seat, Narmonov exchanged grave nods with Gorbachev and the others. At least there was a silver lining that hardliners like Kosov and the KGB old guard seemed to be among the attack's casualties. Small comfort given the chaos engulfing them.
"What news from our Concordian partners?" Narmonov asked hopefully. Securing ties with the Concordians had been a major diplomatic coup just recently. One he was loathe to lose.
Gorbachev's expression remained grim. "Little concrete yet. Their government is still reeling. But their ideals give them strength. I believe they will endure."
Narmonov scrubbed a weary hand over his face. "As shall we, though the costs mount hourly. But tell me, are our nuclear forces still secure?"
At that, Gorbachev managed a thin smile. "Yes, Comrade. The silos and submarines remain under our control. A small mercy."
Nodding, Narmonov faced his advisors. Outside, the engines droned on through an uncertain sky. Hard times were ahead.
He looked at the politburo members. There was Mikhail Eduardovich Sergetov, the energy minister and former non-voting member of the Politburo. His family was below them in one of the decks. For the past 3 days, he had been shuttling himself back and forth from Nizhnevartovsk to Moskvingrad with disaster control after the pipeline's sabotage by Invader saboteurs. Filip Moseyevich Artemov, the agricultural minister had ended the Collective farm system and divided plots of the collective farms into plots. Svetlana Baranova and Pyotor Bromkhovsky, the oldest members, a few other ministers and dignitaries, and finally the Minister of Technology and Industry, Dmitry Sergeyevich Sechenov.
A Coalition futurist, neurosurgeon, and roboticist, Sechenov was guided by the idea of creating fluid information carriers and combining the properties of heavy water and silicon. He discovered Polymer in 1936, a plastic electric storage device, hitherto unknown to world science. Three years later in 1939, Sechenov and Filimonenko, thanks to the electrochemical properties of the Polymer, created a compact cold fusion reactor, which opened up global prospects in robotics. By 1941, Sechenov's research was given the green light, and in a couple of years, Facility 3826 was created. Sechenov was placed as the head of the facility which oversaw a network of research and production complexes that were built in the country, each of these conducted developments in its fields. The Facility eventually mass-produced powerful combat equipment.
In 1948, to increase the effectiveness of robot control, a group of scientists led by Sechenov successfully launched the Kollektiv 1.0 system, combining robot assistants into a controlled network. Robotics of the Socialist Coalition achieved significant progress and amazing results, successfully replacing a human in the workplace, Soviet Robots were in high demand across the world to make up for the loss of millions of labor forces caused by the 2nd Great War.
In 1950, Sechenov discovered Polymer Assimilative Adaptation, the ability of a substance to take root in the human body. This makes it possible to connect and attach an interface device to the user, which in the future will allow users to join "Kollektiv 1.0" in order to remotely, read "mentally", control robots, and, if necessary, almost instantly study a lot of various information. Over the next few years, Sechenov became the Minister of Industry for the Coalition.
Polymer…our greatest bane and victory. Narmonov thought. It had changed the world so utterly and quickly, that even he wondered if it was all a dream. It was polymer that had used the race to find sources of technology in other nations, he had seen how the world had changed within years. Everyone now powered their technology and now the world was futuristic.
Polymer was created by Dr. Dmitry Sechenov in 1936, guided by the idea of combining the properties of heavy water and silicon. Three years later, he and Filimonenko created a compact cold fusion reactor, which opened global prospects in robotics. By 1941, Sechenov become the head of Facility 3826 and with the useful properties of polymer, the facility eventually mass-produced powerful combat robots used in the 2nd Great War, After the war, polymer became the backbone of all Soviet technologies and brought the Socialist Coalition to become the third Superpower after the shortage of labors all over the world due to the Brown Plague.
In the beginning, a very branched conductive polymer is created, forming something like a molecular skeleton. On this skeleton, by chemical synthesis, functional links are implanted, each of which is a simple molecular analog of a human neuron. This analog, of course, does not go with a real neuron in any comparison, but it is still able to perform its main function - the threshold summation of input signals. As a result of this process, a gigantic neural network is obtained, the maximum computing power of which is orders of magnitude higher than the power of a conventional network.
The structure of the neural network is uncontrollable – it is formed by chance. The fact is that the neural network is an exclusively plastic formation that remains operable under almost any modifications.
"Good afternoon…Comrades." Narmonov began.
Narmonov surveyed the somber faces around the table as he began the emergency meeting. The mood was grim, befitting their dire situation.
"Comrades, I won't mince words. The Motherland is on the brink of annihilation."
Murmurs rippled around the room. Artemov, the agriculture minister, shook his head bitterly. "Our grain stores are ash now. Millions face starvation if this continues."
"And winter fast approaches," added Bromkhovsky, the elderly industry minister. "Fuel supplies are dwindling rapidly."
Sergetov, energy minister, chimed in. "Pipeline and refinery damage has been catastrophic. We've already rationed electricity in major cities."
Narmonov absorbed their reports with a sinking heart. Production and supply chains were shattered across the board. Their hard-fought prosperity was slipping away.
"Comrades, what about our nuclear deterrent?" he asked gravely. "Can we still retaliate if required?"
Baranova, defense minister, answered. "Yes, we control our silos and subs still. But using them means the end of civilization itself."
Narmonov nodded solemnly. "Agreed. We must cling to the hope of victory by conventional means. But if annihilation is imminent..."
He left the consequences unspoken. Around the table, faces turned bleak with understanding. They governed a wounded nation now, on the edge of the abyss. And the hardest choices might still await them.
If you have any questions about the story, worldbuilding, or anything else, please do so in your reviews. Alright, so this chapter introduces the "Entities." These are the mysterious servants of this world's god (Yahewah). Note that these are non-canon in my actual timeline and it's story that I am currently working on. The void that I've described is sort of like the warp but at the same time isn't. The same goes for the "Entities" they are not gods, nor angels, but extremely powerful pseudo-demigods. Also in this chapter there were two of them.