Journeys – Part 3

For once, Ahsael found himself awake at night without his body feeling the need to cry out and alert his captors. He was, however, still in a predicament of his body being nestled in the arm of the mortal woman who had claimed him as her young. He moved as carefully as his small, weak, and annoyingly clumsy body could manage. In truth, it must have been the will of the Changer of Ways that he escaped, because nothing else could explain why the mortal did not awaken to his struggles.

The bedding they slept atop of was, in truth, just a pair of mattresses that had been dragged in one day and the mortals all crowded together on top of. Ahsael didn't know from where they had come though from the sounds of things everyone in the hab block had received a few. They weren't very good mattresses, but it was better than rockrete and vines, and those who lived in the destitution of hab blocks seemed to think they were gifts from the God-Emperor, like the fruits and other changes that had been occurring. Ahsael suspected he knew the cause of these changes, though he couldn't say for sure why the Malum Entity hadn't been taking credit for them. From what he could tell, none present could see the creatures that sometimes stalked the halls except for him. He could only guess it was playing the long game and he had noticed that fewer people were attending the Ecclesiarchy's sermons than he expected was entirely appropriate or legal. Yet, no punishments had occurred.

Once he was freed of his captivity, he crawled across said bedding to reach his second obstacle: the floor.

More specifically, the gap between the floor and the top of the bedding. It was not so great a distance, less than four inches, but the issue laid once more in his body's clumsiness. There was the high likelihood that he would not be able to support his own weight while trying to descend the distance and would fall or otherwise stumble and end up hurting himself. For whatever reason, even minor pain caused his body to cry out as though he'd lost a limb, though even that would not have been enough to cause a space marine to scream. He was glad none of his brothers could see him now, he would not have been able to withstand their mockery.

After a moment's consideration, Ahsael decided to take another risk. He turned around and grabbed onto the shoe of the mortal man married to his adoptive 'mother', withholding his disgust at the factory soot that covered his tiny fingers from the slightest touch. Using it as an anchor, he slowly backed his legs over the edge, then onto the hard-vine covered ground, feeling a burst of confidence as his feet touched the floor.

That confidence was short-lived, as the mortal whose foot was his anchor suddenly snorted in his sleep and jerked, tearing his shoe from Ahsael's grasp. The Astartes-turned-baby struggled, fingers clawing against the top of the mattress as he began to tip backwards, drawn down by gravity, his legs in capable of supporting him.

Still unable to speak yet thinking countless curses in his mind, Ahsael fell onto his rear, but was able to prevent himself from falling fully through his struggles. He waited, expecting his tiny mouth to release impossibly loud screams… but none came and he sighed in relief.

Turning back onto his front so he could crawl again, Ahsael made his way across the room. If the floors had still be rockrete, his limbs would have gotten scratched up and he certainly would have cried from the pain, but fortunately, his enemy had given him the means of his escape. Unfortunately, that was about the only thing, for once he had crossed the room, he came to his final and greatest obstacle yet: the door.

The door lacked a knob and simply swung on hinges, closing with a simple latch, but it might as well have been made of adamantium and dead bolted from the other side. He stared up at it, trying to come up with a means of opening the obstruction.

He glanced around the room. There was a nearby broom that was also a recent addition to the hab unit, but it was too large for him to wield properly. Even if he managed to defy his body's clumsiness and stood to his full height, his small arms would be unable to reach the latch. And if he threw things at the door, not only would he undoubtedly miss, he'd be liable to wake up his captors and alert them to his escape attempt.

He sat on the floor, frustration building inside him. It wasn't fair. None of this was.

That was life, he supposed, but that didn't make him any less angry. He glared at the latch. If he'd had his sorcery, he could have blown up this entire hab unit, the whole block even! And yet, he had nothing but this useless body! The anger grew and grew and-!

Tk

Ahsael blinked. Had the… had the latch just moved a little bit? He'd heard metal clinking, but… Surely there was someone on the other side of the door, right? Except… that wouldn't have let them move the latch on this side. He… he hadn't moved it, had he?

He stared at the door. Cautiously, he tried to recall a basic spell of telekinesis, but nothing came to mind. He frowned, an adorable expression. He focused again on the door, this time just thinking, channeling his emotions as he did so.

Tk-k

The latch moved again, raising and then falling as if in an invisible wind. No sorcery… but his psychic abilities remained.

Ahsael had not been a powerful psyker, not compared to some within the Legion, but he had taken well to sorcery more than others had. However, he did have some training with his psychic abilities and though he was rusty, he called upon it now, focusing every iota of his being.

Tk-klk

The latch came undone and the door swung a little on its hinge. Ahsael could have hollered in joy, even as exhaustion filled him. He felt weaker than he had in a while, but he refused to let himself sleep, powering through the tiredness through force of will alone. Freedom was so tantalizingly close.

He crawled on, nudging the door out of the way enough for him to slip through. And, it was when he came out into the corridor that he froze.

He recognized, at the end of the corridor lit by swarms of glowflies, the familiar red-robes of the Mechanicus. Tech-Priestess Gamma stood at the end, sitting atop a large crate, several others identical to it resting nearby, their lids removed. Surrounding her were monsters, long-limbed creatures that walked on all-fours and carried small, metal devices in additional limbs.

Gamma saw him, her face glimmering with amusement and she waved. Ahsael drew on his rediscovered power once more… And stopped as he felt countless eyes boring into the back of his skull. Tendrils ensnared his soul, holding it like an ancient tome preserved for millennia, so close to crumbling away with the merest touch. It lasted only a moment, but it was enough to make him freeze in place.

Gamma rose, striding over, holding one of the devices in her hand. It was small, small enough to be held within the hands of even a child like his 'sister', and shaped something like a brick, with a small display and a few buttons on its face. She stood over him, crouching down, smiling down at him.

"He'd like you to know he's watching," Gamma said, one of her fingers coming down to tap Ahsael's small nose. "And if you try to harm anyone with your psychic powers, he'll be very upset."

She chuckled, then tussled the small sprouts of hair that had begun to grow out of Ahsael's scalp.

"Now, little 'Calba', lets get you back to bed," Gamma continued, picking him up. She brought him back inside and set him down back into the arms of the woman. Gamma turned to leave, only stopping to set the device down on the ground in front of the door.

She waved at him again before slipping out the door, which latched shut behind her. Then, exhaustion overwhelmed Calba.