Hope Forlorn

General 40k Preface:

It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of His inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the vast Imperium of Man for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day so that He may never truly die.

Yet even in His deathless state, the Emperor continues His eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in His name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst His soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the Tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat to humanity from aliens, heretics, mutants – and far, far worse.

To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.

Prologue – A Dream from the Deep

Like the birth of the universe, only darkness and nothingness lay before me, I drifted into peace... but then, everything. Everything. An explosion of multicolour more vibrant than the greenest forests, the bluest oceans and the most majestic sunrises. Too much to possibly behold, to comprehend, as if I was walking within the borealis, surrounded by spokes of light, wave strings of pure being, so many around me like grains of the sand on the beach. Nothing here is permanent, space moves like waves on a sand dune caused by wind, shifting and turning. Some of the spokes of light, they are swept with the cosmic winds like plankton, others try and fight against surging currents, I wonder if they are lost, many I do not see for longer than a moment. Few are so impossibly large they seem to steer the tides that push and pull themselves.

A sudden thought - no, a primal feeling breaks into my mind; I am not alone. A creeping shadow falls around me, I feel it is here yet cannot find it. A malign presence, it circles like a predator, judging the prey before it strikes. I catch a glimpse of it as I see one of the great light spokes utterly destroyed, more than destroyed as there was truly nothing left of it. Devoured is a better word. I do not know how to describe what I saw, it was not a creature, a living thing like you and I, no it was un-existent, a being of unreality if such a thing – a concept – can exist. I knew this to be true, and the depth of terror that filled me as I felt it's invisible gaze truly notice me, I too cannot describe. I try to get away, but distance is not objective like the real world here, I flee and feel as if I am moving across entire realms, yet it is still coming for me, I feel too that it has always been coming for me, not in hunger or hate, but desire, and it is getting closer.

I see something else now before me, or had I always seen it? It's something extremely familiar and immediately recognisable, it was me. At least, something that by all definitions should be me, but couldn't be, because only I can exist. I am thinking after all. Regardless, I tried to reach myself, and it seemed he too also wanted to reach me, desperately. I and he are so close yet cannot come closer, like trying to reach your elbow without your other hand, it is still a part of your body and so close yet impossible to do. Only the shadow was the master of time and space within this nightmare. The shadow stands between us now, it's un-form obfuscating me from myself.

The last I hear is a cry from myself, "No!" The last I see is darkness lunging towards me.

Chapter 1 – From Slumber Disturbed

I jolt awake, breathing and gasping like a child from a nightmare, body twitching as I slowly recover from such a dream. The nightmare, it felt like eternity yet also just a moment. Reality sets in, I find the strength to pull myself off the cold and wet steel floor. I do not know where I am - before I can observe my surroundings and think - a supreme pain consumes my head, bringing me back to the floor. Recovering once more, I realise, I do not know who I am.

I also realise I am unclothed, and so very cold. But who am I? How can't I even recall my name? Shivering, I look around the room for any clues, hoping the memory will come back to me. It is a dimly lit, enclosed room. Comfort was a word that didn't exist here. The light in the room came from the wall, no doubt the source of the puddle I awoke in, a glass panel laid open in the middle. I noticed a blinking red light on a small panel next to the wall, it read: Cryonic Stasis Unit 01, Subject Halthorn Rynn, Status Awoken, Distress Signal Ready, Launch Beacon? "Halthorn Rynn," I said aloud a few times slowly, juggling the words in my mouth. The name felt comfortable, confident, if not a bit too formal, at last my name.

Another sting of pain into my mind, my vision blurred, and I felt the faintest whisper. I'm not sure what it said but it was no metallic groan of this building or facility. A hunch though, this I now had, while this room may seem plain and sterile, within it lay more secrets, and hopefully some clothes. Two doors are in the room, one with a hand shaped scan, a green line bouncing up and down within it's outline, the other door had a small slit, through which I could see a long hallway, though half the ceiling lights outside seemed busted. I placed my hand on the scanner, within a second and after the sharp snapping of hydraulics, the door opened. This facility knows me.

The room was a closet, at last some clothes. Purple pants that were so dark it was almost indistinguishable to black, a brown tunic, buttoned through the middle, brown boots adorned with a metal skull underneath the cuff, and a great black coat lined with crimson red. I also sighted two dark green shoulder guards, strong and metallic, silver on the edges. They were awkward to put on by myself. Whoever I was, whoever I am, is clearly someone notable. Dressed warm, I went to the mirror to see myself, I was young, olive skinned, with hair so dark it appeared brown only under the bright light of the mirror, a surprise to me, brown eyes, a large-lipped mouth and an even larger nose, with long lashes and a pointed formed a strong silhouette when faced to my side. I was unsure what to do with my short slightly wavy hair. Another stab into my mind, placing my hand to my forehead and leaning against the wall in pain I steadied myself. A new hunch came with the pain too it seemed, like instinctual knowledge, I reached my hand into a specific pocket on the inside of my heavy coat, an old photograph. It was me, of course, but in far better health, damn, I look like shit right now, at least I knew what to do with my hair, swept to the sides save for a single curl that adorned the middle, a fishhook curl that anchored my appearance. At least I can get that right. Turning the photo around, I read aloud what was written, "Hal, last day at the Schola, never forget who you are." Were it any moment outside of this cold awakening, it would've been sweet. So, I was educated, that's good, maybe some of that knowledge will come back to me. I grabbed my belt and harness, slotted for a dagger, stab-light and pistol, though the pistol was unfortunately gone. With light and dagger in hand, I ventured outside.

The hallway was long, so very long, I couldn't see the end of it in either direction, the area in front of me was only lit up by the cold sterile light of the cryrowall behind the slit in the door. I turned my stab-light on, nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see. Hair crawled up my entire body, the ground before, previously hidden in darkness, now lay revealed. There was a message, written from smeared blood. Make Us Whole. A torn arm and hand, still clutching onto a laspistol, lay next to it, a paintbrush of horror. I freed the laspistol from the severed limb, I would have felt invincible with the weapon were it not for the fact that it clearly didn't protect this person enough. Another sting in my head, they seem to be getting easier, and only occur when I find something I'm familiar with. I guess I should be expecting them a lot more from now on. It must've been the laspistol, yes, every child from the Schola ought to know it inside and out. I pushed onwards into the half-lit hallway. Everything felt so confined. Save for a few small electronic lights and panels that occasionally featured on the walls, all was a plain grey. I tried to keep my footsteps light on the floorboards, I wanted to avoid seeing whatever tore that arm off, but only a person could have written such a message, I didn't want to think about it. All I knew was that stealth and silence would be my ally in this unknown world.

Walking wider, I saw my eighth decorative skull on the wall, I found it reassuring. This facility belongs to mankind and the Imperium, one and the same. Some might snicker at the iconography as crude and debase, they are fools. The skull is humanity at its purest; all are united by it's biologically defined shape. The Imperium, bound together by the oldest tenant of civilisation, common survival. Only the alien does not share in our divine shape, and therefore does not have the right to share our galaxy. I wonder if I recalled this learned passage now because I just remembered it, or if reciting texts was the way I kept my mind focused and it was this that I had just remembered.

Having travelled further I felt like calling out to see if anyone was here, it was so silent, I felt as if the shadows themselves were edging towards me. At last, an intersection, the path separated into four separate ways, there were no signs to indicate where each led to, no working ones anyway. I took the path on the left as it was the only one with still functioning lights. It was within these finally well-lit halls that my eye noticed something I wish it hadn't. For a hundred steps, mine was the only shadow on these walls, but just now there was the split-second existence of another. I kept moving. Perhaps it was a trick of my eyes, but then I saw it again. It appeared more often and with every appearance more of the wall would be painted in it's now midnight shadow. I should've been able to see it, a creature or machine causing a shadow that size. It was no man. Then the walls were no longer plain metal, but painted in strange glyphs and written in unknowable words that hurt to look at. The walls grew frosty with ice and my legs bolted. "Holy is the Emperor of Mankind, His is the salvation of humanity, His is the force that grants the righteous strength," I prayed to myself through exasperated breaths, "Through His love I protect humanity, through His fury I repel the darkness." The shadow of the wall stopped moving and instead howled, a deep shriek that no force of creation should ever require. It was here, and it was coming.

The shadow beside me was gone, but I dared not look to see where it had gone. The air was overflowing with scents that had no right to exist within this soon to be steel coffin of a facility. A great crackle and a blast of light occurred somewhere behind me, the sight of my breath in the frozen corridor proved it was no dream, as deep purple and sickly pink highlighted the entire pathway. A gale of a wind blew me to my knees. Wind in here is impossible, but before I could make any sense of what was going on, the colours dissipated, and whatever it released was now here. Another shriek, this time a bellowing roar rather than the cacophony earlier, like it was triumphant. The floor began to tremble at its approach. Even with the overdrive of adrenaline and my body pushed to unsustainable limits I could tell it was coming nearer. I dared not look. I had come to another junction when a booming voice blasted from a loudspeaker somewhere above, "Go right!" So I did. Then I heard,

"Now left, and then forward until we see you!"

In panic I prayed once more, "Master of Mankind, deliver us from evil. Master of Mankind, deliver us from fear. Master of Mankind, deliv-"

"MAKE US WHOLE," demanded the sound of a hundred different voices into my mind.

I screamed without stopping for a moment, and if I had had any excess liquid in my body, I would have expelled it in this moment, "SOMEONE KARKING HELP ME!" I cried.

Then at last, a squad of at least a dozen armoured warriors, clad in red fatigues and black carapace armour trimmed with gold fell into my sight. A stern voice spoke into his helmet communicator, "Cargo Primus secured. Pursuer threat level unknown, how proceed?" An unintelligible gargle replied back through his vox. "My Lord, this way," spoke the trooper calmly and we and some others began to resume running. I heard the cracking of lasfire behind me, the sound was a miniaturised bellow of thunder, far stronger and louder than the average lasgun. These were stormtroopers. A sudden explosion broke my chain of thought and unthinkingly I looked back to form the picture of carnage in my mind created from the soundscape of battle.

A sickly grey abomination, four of limb and with a tail the length of it's whole body. Three times the size of a man, it must have been on all fours pursuing me. It's mouth had too many teeth to be biologically logical, a circular pit in a nightmare rendition of a sea Lamprey. Within it's ravenous maw was the torso of a stormtrooper. A bright blue bolt of plasma engulfed one of the creature's arms, burning it black and searing all of the black spines there clean off. It seemed to only anger the beast, as it in return shattered the carapace armour of the stormtrooper and all within it under it's fist and then leg, the sound of which causing a travelling force in my throat I had to actively suppress.

"My lord, we must keep moving," urged the trooper escorting me, stress cracking through his professional demeanour.

"What of the others?" I questioned absent mindedly, knowing nothing could be done now.

"They are doing their duty, just as according to the mission protocols you wrote," he answered coldly. He voxxed his superiors once more, "Threat Extremis, daemonic or xenos in nature, appropriate counter-measures required," then, again in that professional yet stressed manner, asked the stormtrooper with the bionic arm, "Lorraine, give me the maths."

"We aren't fast enough, that thing will catch us before we even see the ship," she replied fully professionally.

"Hicks, Weaver and Sigourn, buy us some time," he ordered plainly.

Without flinching, they turned and raised weapons. If ten of them couldn't kill that thing, then what could three hope to achieve? It was only Lorraine and the commander whose name I did not yet know who continued to escort me out of this nightmare. Another series of gunfire, beastly grunts and explosions followed. We were still close enough to hear the last stormtrooper scream before he fell, but we had made it to the hanger bay as indicated. Five Valkyrie gunships were docked, who knows what the other three squads were up to in this facility, if they still drew breath at all. The small hope I had gained from my rescuers was quickly crushed by their untimely ends. My mind was dark, envisioning all the ways this would be my end now that the spell of my sense of security was broken. We would board the Valkyrie and then the beast would rip it's hull open. Would we even make it inside at all? Maybe it can't break open the ship but what if the door malfunctions and it comes in? My pessimistic thoughts were stopped dead in their tracts by another hellish roar of the beast. It was charging towards us now, with nothing to stop it.

"You must leave!" yelled the commander at me, all facade of control gone, he was out of options and desperate.

"No Matthias, the Valkyrie won't take off in time!" shouted back Lorraine, now her voice was starting to show stress cracks.

It was do or die then.

The beast ignored the two stormtroopers in its single-minded pursuit of me. It ignored the barking of commander Matthias's bolt pistol, an equally remarkable and terrifying feat considering a single bolter round is more than suffice for any human. Then the barking of the bolt pistol stopped, and the sound of fury filled the air; the revving of a chainsword. For what it was worth I also began firing my laspistol, looking for anything that might have resembled an eye or other weak-spot, but it was futile. The beast's maw lunged at Matthias, him only narrowly escaping becoming its next meal in his dodge roll, and he slashed with his chainsword quickly as the beast recovered. What a dozen weapons couldn't achieve, the chainsword did. It made the creature bleed.

Dropping my laspistol in futility, I searched everywhere for anything that might be helpful, my coat must hold more than a measly photo of a life forgotten. Rummaging my hand through the coat I found old scrolls in hidden compartments but nothing else. I looked to see the wound Matthias had caused the beast that made it roar so, and it gave me a realisation, one that brought me to the floor in re-remembering anguish.

The beast, now enraged, slashed at Matthias with it's claws quickly. His chainsword met the strike in a perfect parry, giving the opening required to shoot a bolter round into the beast's wound. It shrieked once more, this time using it's tail to swipe the commander off his feet violently. It's plasma-burned arm was perfectly poised to crush the commander as it did to half a dozen stormtroopers. It's arm raising in the air to deliver the final blow, suddenly a great blue white blast of chemical flame ignited it's arm. The air boiled around the glowing green-violet hole that once connected the beast to it's left arm. Lorraine lifted her meltagun steadily, ready to point blank blast the beast once more and end it's trail of destruction. Before the weapon was ready for a second burst of incinerating rage, the beast performed in vengeful retaliation with it's remaining arm an uppercut so brutal it ripped through her bionic arm and sliced half of her helmet, throwing Lorraine into the air in the process. Where once was a dark green eye visor, now lay an exposed and red puddle.

Matthias was alone now, locking with the creature in a duel to the death, in the name of his fallen comrades and duty. Whatever vengeful cries and defiant boasts he yelled at the creature did not last long, for his chainsword grew heavier with each parry, his legs slower after each dodge-roll, his teeth becoming more in pain with every breath. He lifted his bolt pistol up, clumsily and forced, only to have it whipped out of his hand by the Daemon's tail, landing right within my grasp.

Yes, Daemon, that is what this beast of un-reality is. It's wounds did not bleed blood, but bled the very essence of the warp itself, eternally changing colours of chaotic greens and deep purples, burning constantly into nothingness as the unnatural makeup of the Daemon violently clashed with the laws of reality. Recognising this creature of the warp for the lesser Daemon it truly is, my hand instinctually reached into my coat, guided by my subconscious and provided me with 4 bolter rounds. Each round is master crafted and engraved in script that is anathema to the Daemon. Loading the Bolt pistol with all the rounds, I proudly took aim and scornfully announced, "Master of Mankind, destroy this Daemon!" I let the pistol bark in my hands and each round pierced the fel hide of the Daemon. Where each bolt struck, an expanding circle of warpflame incinerated the skin of the creature clean off, it wailed in unholy frenzy, producing sounds that were never meant be heard by mortal ears. It tried to stumble towards me, but collapsed as it's legs became nothing. Still, it continued to crawl using it's one arm, before at last the warpflame fully reduced the Daemon to the nothingness where it should have remained.

It is not dead of course, only banished back to unreality where it shall regather itself if it is strong enough. I do not know if I shall see it in the rest of my lifetime, but if I do, I will once more be the first and last of humanity it will see, and I am ready.