"For those with the mind to learn and ears to hear, the War of the Beast provided us with valuable lessons. Lessons doomed to go unheard. The Xenarites have long believed that their salvation from the traitorous Mechanicum by the Eldar was a sign. Those Xenos were rewarded for remembering their place in the Ommnissiah's plans with a swift merciful death. As is the most a Xenos can hope for. The rest of their race is not as receptive to the truth of their destiny. In a way, we are alike. We too flee destiny to the comfort of the eternal slumber of ignorance."
From, De rebus machinis et xenaritis. Written by Archmagos Battista Albrecht Ghetaldi, 348.M36
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Praeco Voltaic's spirit was belligerent today. Quill noted the difficulty with which the adepts and Magi worked the ship's inner machinery. This only happened when the blessed ship had been disrespected or they'd failed a proper routine maintenance ritual. Neither of those had happened, as far as he knew. Discerning exactly what a Machine Spirit was trying to tell you was always a challenge, let alone one of this size, power, and age. Quill had grown adept at working to calm such a temperamental spirit, the rapport built between Praeco Voltaic and Quill was a distinct note of pride for him.
"Magos, historical data suggests this vessel is in need of supplication measures. I will prepare-." Quill raised a metal hand and shook his head, "No, I need you to assemble and debrief the Skitarii, plus see if Vetra is right for our band of elites. I believe anyone who survives that many Flayed Ones is worth at least a chance."
Epsilon nodded, and with clockwork timing all present Skitarii turned abruptly to their left and marched down a different hallway. Vetra and Epsilon included. Quill continued down the main hall to his personal sanctum, gazing into the data clouds of infuriated and confused machine language. He could almost make out the meaning, but this would require a deep communion with the holy vessel. Possibly even a journey into its datascape, that put a knot in what was once his stomach. Such rituals were dangerous even to the most dedicated Machine Priests, some spirits hated the intrusion into their most guarded places.
"Magos. Something is wrong."
Quill was careful to not look too conspicuous, though the sudden intrusion into his mind by the spirit trapped in the relic caught him off guard. "Blessed one? How so?" The relic hung heavy off his belt, just underneath his martian red robes.
"They are here. Their foul presence is a blasphemy. The Aeldari, one corrupted one primitive."
A line of enraged machine code poured into the Noosphere, the interloping aliens were here? In his blessed ship? They dared invade this sanctified place, after they'd dared interfere with the holy work of the cohort. They were here for the relic and-. His head shot up, the soulstone. His spider limbs drove forward at triple time, the door servitor was electrocuted a bit more than normal. With a pained groan the servitor began to force the door open, at a faster rate than programming decreed.
A single protocol upload was delivered to the cyberhound at Quill's side, it stalked silently into the room illuminated only by the soft blue of the generator coil that hadn't been properly deactivated. Immediately Quill's mind was hit with emergency alerts and codes signifying immediate danger, against his better judgement he didn't mind-link the cyberhound. He didn't call in visual data uploads, he didn't even spend time reviewing the reports. He simply barged in, hefting his axe prepared for a fight. Weapons spun up, raised, and ready to cut down any Eldar scum that he saw. He saw no enemies, only allies. In various states of butchery.
Bodies strewn about, sliced in half down the middle or riddled with horrid slicing wounds from an Eldar Shuriken Pistol. Their innards were withered and in states of early decay from both the occasional electrocutions and their endless use of the Motive Force. Though the Electro-priests were enthusiastic acolytes, they clung to the flesh in a way uncommon to the rest of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Quill's emotion vaults struggled to hold back the flood of foul humanity that invaded the tech-priest's machinelike mind. Fear, rage, disgust, all in equal measures coming in waves separate from each other. Every time his fear dissipated into rage, he saw another body in an even worse state than the last. That turned his rage to disgust, and back to fear as he scanned the dark corners of the room for the faintest hint of movement.
Yet there was none. He sped up a winding stairwell towards a hidden compartment, and there he saw the metal bent out of shape. A hinged door designed to blend into the wall was forced open and the blue soulstone was gone. He released a tirade of machine curses into the local network.
"Foul Xenos rats! They'll pay for this unholy crime against the Omnissiah's servants." Quill snarled with his flesh voice as he produced the relic box, holding it before himself with a mechadendrite. "What must I do to find them before they can escape retribution?"
"Feed me more. Magos, always, always more."
Invisible stop codes signalled the small band of Skitarii to halt, and as soon as they did the mind-locks released their hold. Immediately their postures became more human, and the black robed Skitarii, Vetra's final two survivors, and Xor all left to attend to other assigned duties. Vetra turned to follow them while awaiting the redistribution of what remained of her squad, but Epsilon's voice cut through the idle ambience of hammering metal and whirring servos.
"Alpha Unit, you are not dismissed." Vetra stopped, and returned to attention though without the precision that a programmed order would give her. Epsilon paced while reviewing the encoded data that floated between them. In glimmering spots of light, faint strings of data, and curtains of machine language Vetra's entire engagement record was there for him to inspect. It wasn't flawless, no record was, but she had an exceptional mission success rate. Epsilon noted Vetra was adept at maintaining above average mission efficiency while working in unknown situations. Even the way she handled the Flayed Ones spoke to on the fly decision making skills. A rarity in the Legions of Skitarii, and for many cohorts that was seen as a negative. Something to be surgically eradicated from any priest's retinue, a flaw in how unlike the machine it was. To Magos Tahr'kull, it was a wild card he'd become adept at using to their advantage.
The High Marshal nodded, "Alpha Unit, you have an extensive record stretching into a career with other fleets or forge worlds. You are Martian in origin, protocols set by the Magos Dominus have given you a chance to join Magos Tahr'kull's personal cohort. Follow." Epsilon walked towards one of the many armories nearby, within the cathedral like room vehicles stood inactive in most cases, corralled in circles in one other case. Vetra felt a pull at her mind, a new protocol was distributed. The Skitarii nearby kept working, so it was targeted to her alone.
"Demonstrate your abilities, you are expected to know how to pilot every vehicle Skitarii can access. Begin with technical readouts of each, begin." Vetra didn't even have to think of it, she'd been a tanker for the Omnissiah's sake. Years before she'd been an Alpha she'd spent time behind the controls of Dunecrawlers, Archeopters, even Ironstriders. With practiced expertise Vetra's machine voice recited every detail one could know about these vehicles, how to operate them, their most efficient use. Until suddenly, a quieter, smaller data point slipped into the Noosphere. The High Marshal's machine voice was the mechanical equivalent of a near silent whisper.
"That is sufficient. Now… I must ask you the real question. Do you want to return to the legions?"
"High Marshal?"
"Life in the Magos' honor guard is different, you will see things deemed borderline unacceptable elsewhere. You will be asked to do things you'd previously thought unthinkable under any other Magi. I'm giving you the chance to choose, normalcy or higher station."
Vetra paused, she knew the rumors as did the other Skitarii. Employing Stygians was somewhat of a taboo to most Martians, Quill not only kept Stygians close to him but he also reinforced his cohorts with forces from Metalica and Lucius. Mixing the ways and cultures of this many forge worlds most often led to disaster at worst and infighting at best. And yet, Magos Tahr'kull somehow kept the peace while maintaining a high success rate on missions. In all ways, he'd proven that his methods were, if not superior, at least viable.
Though she couldn't deny, there was an odd sort of comfort in the idea of returning to her normal post. With another Martian vanguard, it was what she knew as normal for almost a decade now.
"High Marshal, request for information. Outcome predictions if Alpha Unit refuses promotion?"
"Then I'll tell the magos you failed your qualifications, but will prove useful in your old post." Vetra nodded, a very human motion but with her mind locks released she felt more human than machine at that moment. She had yet to breach the posthuman mark, and was less augmented than many others in the cult.
"Should you choose to accept the promotion, we will need to send you for upgrades immediately. The Magos has requested we progress as quickly as possible, I suspect we will be in another fight before too long. That seems to be a constant for us."
Vetra thought for a bit, and eventually nodded.
"Present unit would be honored, High Marshal."
"The surgical bays are prepared, I will send the code for your two remaining squad mates to meet us there for your upgrades. Be there in ten standard minutes, dismissed Alpha Unit." Vetra saluted, and left to find the others. Epsilon turned back to the vehicle bay, looking over the Skitarii as they worked. He noticed the battered Dunecrawler currently being repaired happened to be the same one that had just kept him alive. Were he more human, he may have acknowledged the humor in that.
Caenryx stopped dead in his tracks, a horrid feeling washed over his mind. His very soul felt it, he had heard the sudden increase in noise so he knew the cohort had returned. However, he knew deeper within himself that the tech-priest had returned. More importantly, the return of that maniac priest meant the stone relic was here too. Caenryx shook Fiachyth by the shoulder, pulling her attention away from her watch.
"Cousin. We need to go back."
"Back? Are you mad?" Fiachyth shook her head, "We're nearly out of this wretched place, and you want to go back towards the danger?" Caenryx nodded casually, as if that was the most obvious thing anyone would do in this situation. "Sure, the priest that attacked us is here and he has the relic. This is our chance to get both and kill him."
Fiachyth looked forward, not necessarily at Caenryx but to a nebulous nothingness as the thought circled her mind. Revenge, the whole reason she was here. "Fine," she eventually said, "Let's go."
"Not the exact way, I have a plan to draw his attention. Come, let's spin our web elsewhere." The two maneuvered through the monolith once more, Caenryx had noted an isolated procession room on their way. Not too far from the factory, there he'd prepare a little surprise for the good magos. Caenryx couldn't help but smile wide at the anticipation. Soon, the two came through a maintenance tunnel to a darkened room with a soft light coming from the center. A team of rangers was there, guns ready. They were clearly there hunting for Eldar, though Caenryx wasn't sure why there weren't any alarms, no flood of soldiers came to flush them out.
"Cousin… I think the priest wants our presence to remain quiet"
"And that's a good thing?"
"For now, yes. It means we can proceed with the plan without interruption. On my mark… Ready your blade." Fiachyth held her sword at the ready, prepared to jump on these metal monsters. Caenryx leapt forward, in a fluid motion his blade cut down three Skitarii before they even had a chance to scream. He was a blur of speed and motion, the machine soldiers were taken completely off guard. A slash from Fiachyth caught the neck of another, her shuriken pistol dropped a second.
The execution of the attack was flawless, five searched for them. Five lay dead. Caenryx grabbed one of the bodies and chuckled softly. "What are you doing?" Fiachyth asked, Caenryx's chuckles became barely suppressed cackling. "What's the fun in an assassination without a little added drama? You keep watch, I'll prepare the next steps. It won't take me long, when we know he's coming you hide by the entrance while I distract him."
Quill stormed down the halls of the ship towards the foundry, the last known location of a small Skitarii team he'd dispatched to search the area the holy one said they'd be in. He decided it was best to leave the relic in a hidden location, somewhere even Epsilon didn't know about. Mere moments ago, their data-links sent him constant data. Updates on their search, then in a mere blink all the links were cut. No one remained.
"Ave Deus Mechanicus. Something is wrong here." Quill sent urgent machine code through the Noosphere to Epsilon, he needed reinforcements but for the moment he was blinded by ambition and seething hatred. He would deal with them himself, here he was in power. They would have no chance of beating him in a direct encounter while in his own ship. He passed through the blistering heat of the foundry, straight to a side room of the forge temple. The door was slightly ajar, a single thought sent his cyberhound in ahead of him. For a moment, the data was calm and quiet. Then the sound of a metal clang and skid echoed back out through the door. Quill snarled, and entered the temple door. Sparing a glance backwards towards the secutor preceding over the foundry.
It was vital the rest of the cohort remain unaware of why these Eldar were still pursuing them, knowledge of his relic would be disastrous. They simply didn't understand. "Zeta team, send acknowledgement codes. I need an update!"
It was quiet. There was an acrid smell in the air. At the far end of the room a single Skitarius stood. Their posture was lax, partially slumped even. Head slightly bowed, and their hands hung limp.
"... Skitarius. Respond."
The Skitarius' head looked up, its mask was cut off. Leaving the mangled remains of their face behind, partially ruined by years of service to the Mechanicus, partially ruined by the edge of a power blade. Fogged eyes and a mouth devoid of teeth faced forwards. Their lower jaw hung slack, and a thin line of blood flowed out of it.
"What in the Omnissiah's name?"
The Skitarius slumped forward and fell to the ground with a metal clang. More metal clangs followed as Skitarii bodies fell from their suspension in the ceiling. Some were missing heads, some were missing arms, some of the impacts were the heads or arms. Quill took a shaky step backwards, as two piercing white lights emerged from the shadows. A tall figure in Incubi armor stalked forward, stepping on the fallen Skitarius' body. Caenryx tsk'd sarcastically.
"You really should keep better track of your puppets, priest." Quill hefted his Omnissian axe. "You vile xenos monsters!"
"Not so keen on butchery when it's your own, right human? How very Aeldari of you, Mon'keigh." Quill prepared to attack, swinging his axe up into an attacking stance. Fiachyth slammed into Quill's back, knocking him to the ground. With a flourish she sliced his guns from their servo arms. Caenryx quickly knocked the axe aside, and spun his blade idly. "Not this time Mon'keigh. No one's coming to your rescue. We're not so eager to give you the chance to fight back, not after last time. I don't think it would be wise to underestimate my foe twice, would it?"
"If I could spit on you unholy things, I would!" Caneryx sighed, "Was really hoping for a bit more of an engaging rejoinder but hey, if you want to die repeating yourself then I guess that's your final decision." Caenryx lifted his blade, but stopped. He didn't feel that presence, that tug on his soul. The relic… Wasn't on the priest's person. Caenryx kicked Quill aside with a metal clang, knocking him onto his back with a quick burst of binharic screeching.
"Where's the box, human?"
"As if I would so easily tell you. Seems you did in fact underestimate your opponent again." Caenryx snarled and quickly severed one of Quill's writhing mechadendrites. He knelt down to face the prone tech-priest.
"I swear by all the powers of the ancient ones, I will dismantle you, this ship, all of your allies, and everything else even tangentially related to you. I'll send this vessel crashing to the planet below, ensuring everyone on board dies in a blazing inferno… Or," Caenryx stood up, "You can take me to the relic, we kill you, and we let the other humans live."
Caenryx had no intention of letting anyone here survive, he was fully committed to destroying as much of this fleet as possible. Quill, however, suspected the same thing. But, he needed time. Invisible commands flooded into GR-37Δ. A command to shut off for exactly two minutes, then run an emergency search routine to find Epsilon and the other elites. He needed Xor, or Epsilon, at this point he'd even accept help from Pythagoras were he not still planetside. He had a greater chance of getting the help he needed were he to play along, and there was no telling how patient this alien was.
Quill stood slowly, and glared daggers at Caenryx, "Fine. Omnissiah damn you both, I'll give you the relic provided you promise the rest of the fleet will not be attacked. By any of your kind." Caenryx smiled warmly under his helmet, a snake's smile. "You have my word, priest." Caenryx's word, in his own mind, was as worthless as the human that stood before him. He was a killer, he'd told worse lies as an adolescent. These humans were too easy. Fiachyth kept her weapons trained on Quill, as the two Ynnari took their new hostage back into the maintenance tunnels.
For what felt like hours they marched, Quill had no idea if his emergency message had been received or if help was coming. But he couldn't stall forever. He had been able to slow their pace immensely by explaining the importance of staying hidden from the cohort. Should they be caught, all three of them would likely be executed. Caenryx was sure they could escape and leave Quill to his fate, but they wouldn't have the relic and they'd have a much harder time infiltrating the ship a second time if they were discovered.
"How much longer are we traveling, priest?" Asked Caenryx with an air of annoyance.
"You expected I would keep such an important item nearby?" Fiachyth shoved Quill forward, "Don't speak, monster."
Quill laughed a binharic scratching sound, "You I remember, still enraged at what we did to your planet? Why? We did you a service, returning your kin to the Omnissiah's embrace for holy judgement. They certainly seemed repentant for something while they burned to death." Fiachyth gripped her blade tighter, and almost failed to stop herself from striking down the Tech-priest right then and there. Caenryx put a hand on her wrist, stopping her anyways. "He's trying to get you to do something foolish, cousin. Ignore his barbarity, you'll get your revenge in time. We must get the relic first." The exodite nodded, but kept staring at Quill with murderous intent.
Epsilon stood just outside of the surgical bay, waiting on the medical personnel to finish Vetra and her mens' upgrades. It was always a tense wait for him, and he hated watching it. It was the holiest thing any servant of the Omnissiah could undergo, yet something about the sound of slicing flesh, grinding down extremities, and grafting the augmetics to the stumps turned what was left of his stomach. He never did figure out why.
On his left, cyberhound GR-37Δ sprinted down the hallway. Billowing warnings and emergency codes. Epsilon straightened up immediately, and processed the data. A message from the magos, written entirely in binharic. Incomprehensible to anyone outside of the Cult.
"To any that receive this. This is Magos Quill Tahr'kull, requesting immediate assistance. Alert High Marshal β that there are Xenos intruders who have already killed several members of the ship's forces. They have me hostage, I am guiding them to the bridge. Be there, and bring KM.438-XOR!"
Various curses filled the Noosphere as Epsilon sent rapid commands to his elites to find Xor and meet him at a nearby passageway. They'd rush the bridge and prepare an ambush of their own, Omnissiah willing they would beat the attackers there. He leapt atop the cyberhound, and sped off into the ship's depths. Soon, he came across the collected elites. All standing at attention and awaiting his next commands.
"Break with protocol, just go!" Epsilon shouted in his flesh voice, which momentarily surprised the Skitarii. Though it was short lived, and they all sprinted off. "Omnissiah's sake. Where is Xor?!"
Various commands and protocols flooded across the ship, as High Marshal Epsilon's commands needed to carry across large spaces. A ship like this was now in its entirety within his sphere of influence. Across the entirety of the ship, a subtle alert was called. Skitarii patrols all gazed towards the bridge's direction no matter where they were. Some continued their patrol on alert, ranger teams stalked towards the bridge quietly, and deep within the ship's meditation chambers a lone Ruststalker's eyes lit in a pale green as it received new orders. Stygian Transonic Blades hummed to life, as Xor climbed into a maintenance hatch and sped off into the hidden pathways of the Praeco Voltaic. All Sicarians knew the twisting pipes and vents of the ship, it was the best way for them to travel unseen.
In his mind, he received picts of two Eldar. The ones that had evaded elimination during that raid. Adrenal stims flooded Xor's system, driving him to both greater speed and excitement. This was a chance to properly eliminate prey that had evaded him before. That was one of the few emotions Sicarians had left, excitement. Longing and anticipation for the moment their blades met the necks of the cohort's enemies. He didn't need to meet up with the High Marshal, he simply sent an acknowledgement code and stalked deeper towards his quarry.
"You need not shove! We are almost there." Caenryx rolled his eyes, "Yes, so you've said for the past hour. If you don't get us there soon I'll kill you now and take my chances finding it myself." Caenryx could feel it. That influence was growing stronger, so they were heading the right way. He may have been able to get there himself now, but the danger the cult itself presented meant Caenryx liked the idea of having a hostage. It was safer and minimized the chance of one of their arquebus weapons punching a hole in either of their helmets from too far for them to notice before it was too late.
They stood before a door, which Quill began to open with a line of noospheric code. Caenryx heard something, a humming noise approaching them. When he turned around, he saw a Servo-skull floating after them from the same tunnels they just left. He cursed under his breath, as it flashed and blared a metal screeching noise. Then, came that skittering sound again. From the darkness behind them, green light pierced through. Five green lights, two eyes, three blades. Xor stalked out, the assassin's blades poised and ready. Its chittering voice was incomprehensible to Caenryx. What it had to say didn't matter, Caenryx readied his sword.
"Take our host and get the relic, cousin. Then I'll get us out of here, in the meantime I'll hold off this one." Fiachyth nodded and shoved Quill into the bridge. She stopped immediately, there were no living cult members here. Bodies they didn't create slumped over their positions, the control throne held a robed adept with a burnt hole through the middle of his head. The entirety of the bridge crew had been cut down, while five Skitarii in the wrong colors inspected the bridge. Stopping and looking up at the interruption. Their lenses were blue, and some cracked. Their robes were an incredibly dark grey, only a few steps removed from Stygian black, but not quite the same. They had no cog patterning, only deep red glyphs emblazoned on their robes.
Fiachyth forced Quill between herself and the worn out, ragged Skitarii. "What are you doing?!" Shouted Quill. She responded in more of a hiss than normal speech, "Stopping more of your soldiers from shooting me!" What Quill said next put a knot deep in the exodite's gut.
"Those… Those aren't mine."
Caenryx paced in a circle around Xor, and Xor's stilt limbs carried him in the same way around Caenryx. The two were sizing each other up, Caenryx didn't know what this one was capable of. Xor, meanwhile, was almost too confident that he knew what Caenryx could do. When an ordered kill escaped the Princeps, he doggedly studied the target. Recordings, documents, anything he could find to learn more about the being he was ordered to eliminate. He'd inloaded Drukhari swordfighting into his mind, and had formulated attack patterns designed to confound their defenses while easily evading their counterattacks. Xor was confident he could kill any Drukhari he ran across.
However, Xor was of the Mechanicus. Doggedly attached to data and protocols. Caenryx was an experienced assassin who'd grown used to changing strategies when needed. A necessary talent when everyone in your city section knows your capabilities. Xor struck out first, his augments releasing combat stims into his blood. Speeding his strikes, making him attack ten times in a single moment. Lashing out with all three of his blades, and his infestus mechadendrite in a blur of lights and sounds. The attack was more than Caenryx had expected, he was forced to put everything into defense.
This enemy left no time for banter, no witty snark, no taunting. It was the fight of a predator against a predator. Caenryx leveraged his natural agility to bound off a wall, getting around Xor and knocking one of his razors aside. His Demiklaive spun and sent the mechadendrite spinning down a hallway in a shower of sparks. Xor stumbled back, the pain response coursing through his nervous system. His augmented injectors sent more stims coursing through his blood and he was back in a near instant.
The momentum had already shifted, Caenryx spun his blade again. Breaking it apart into two, then he leapt into the fight. A normal sword would be split apart with even the smallest impact from a Transonic Razor, but his sword was made of much stronger stuff than a normal Guardian's. Two blades matched against three was much easier for Caenryx to control, especially without the whip-like limb lashing across his armor leaving gashes and extra weak points.
The hallway was ablaze with the sounds of battle, two foes evenly matched. Caenryx by a lifetime of perfected skill, Xor by the power of machinery and data. For now they seemed at a standstill. Caenryx's attention was briefly interrupted by the cracking sounds of galvanic fire in the bridge. He feared the worst, but Xor didn't react. His elimination protocols had overwritten his bodyguard protocols, he was a being of singular focus now. Xor tagged Caenryx on the arm, leaving a clean slice in the bicep, drawing the Incubi's blood. Caenryx returned the favor by landing a blow with one of his pommels into Xor's gut, sending him clattering to the ground.
It bought him enough time to rush for the bridge, with the Ruststalker no more than moments behind him, chasing with the speed his unnatural gait lended him.
The foreign Skitarii were a battered group. Their augmetics were old, beaten up, and overall in bad condition. Their robes were tattered, their guns were dirty. Quill would never allow such disrespect towards the machine god in his retinue. Quill didn't recognize them as coming from any forge world he knew, especially none near here. The invaders raised their beaten galvanic rifles and sent a volley at the two. Fiachyth shoved Quill aside and ducked for cover. Barely making it down before a galvanic shell hit the wall behind her. Quill was knocked back by two of the bolts landing on his augments. The sound of ricocheting armaments preceded the clang of his machine form hitting the deck. He pulled himself behind cover before any additional rounds could be sent for him.
"If they're not yours, Mon'keigh then who's are they?!"
"I do not know! I only suspect they're from the traitorous Mechanicum." Fiachyth was about to ask what that meant, but she was interrupted by the sound of one of them slamming a lever forward. The ship lurched, as it began to turn. Shielding lowered over the viewport, as Fiachyth managed to kill one of the Dark Mechanicum Skitarii with her shuriken pistol. Caenryx burst onto the bridge moments later, trying to ask what was going on. He was cut off by the humming blades of Xor swinging towards him from three directions. Fiachyth shot at the Ruststalker, knocking one of his arms aside while Caenryx knocked the other two back. Caenryx slashed across Xor's right leg, sending the insect like limb aside and Xor to the ground.
The ruststalker writhed, and began to prop itself up on one of its blades. Looking more like a feral beast than an augmented human. Caenryx ran across the room, grabbing Fiachyth so the two could reposition together.
"Mind telling me what in the name of the lost god is going on here cousin?!"
"You ask as if I know. The ragged ones are apparently not of this cult." As the ship reached its programmed trajectory, the space around it began to distort. Caenryx cursed again.
"What in the name of the Omnissiah are you doing?!" Quill shouted at the invading Skitarii. Xor began to stalk towards Caenryx again, but a wall of machine language slammed into the Princeps. Override codes redesignated these Mechanicum traitors as a priority target. So Xor prowled around from cover to cover to get closer.
Epsilon and the elite Skitarii burst in next, leveling guns at the Dark Mechanicum. The remaining four were shredded by volley fire of heavy weapons, radium carbines, and the hungering blades of the Ruststalker. They then trained their weapons on where the Eldar hid. Quill got up, "Praise the machine god you're here." Epsilon offered Quill his axe back.
"We have recovered your weaponry, it awaits you in the repair bay Magos."
Quill nodded, and turned back to the Eldar. "It appears you've failed, assassins. It is too late for you. Face your deaths with some dignity."
Caenryx looked at the viewing window. He seemed far more worried about that than he was the cultists encroaching on them.
"What do we do? We need the relic, surely we can fight them off." Fiachyth said.
"Oh, I have no doubts we could kill them all," Said Caenryx with a nod and a slight hint of exasperation, "That's not the most pressing issue we have right now. Those interloping cyborgs just started this ship's warp drive."
Fiachyth's sudden fear was evident, even through her helmet. "You mean… We."
"We have to leave, right now. We'll come back for the relic later, but if we stay here we're doomed to die for certain." A psychic signal left Caenryx's mind, and was received by the rest of the Cackling Squall back at their headquarters.
"Uroth, I swear if you say you need more time."
"I've had plenty of time, I've been waiting for you to tell me you're ready."
"We're about to be sent to the warp itself, get us out of here now!"
A webway portal opened almost immediately. The two leapt through it with a fear that could only come from She Who Thirsts. When it closed, the Mechanicus were left staring. First at where they'd escaped from, then at the encroaching warp around them.
"Magos… Where did they send us?" Epsilon asked while helping Xor up.
"Omnissiah only knows… Send an astropathic message to Lord Anaxagoris immediately, let him know we were attacked and our ship temporarily hijacked by the Dark Mechanicum."
Epsilon saluted and left to give the orders. Quill stayed on the bridge, looking over the dead. Gazing into the warp with a grim realization. There were greater forces at play.
The relics found in the crypt, the Dark Mechanicum's sudden appearance, things were connected somehow. He had to figure out the connections, and he felt he had limited time to do so.
Deception's Venom was firmly back in control of the Alpha Legion. Elatus, Telemateus, and Medon were preparing to leave in a shuttle with their battle brothers to help the rest of the fleet crush the traitors. They'd planned to, but the fact they were in the warp made that a very difficult plan to enact. Without any of their knowledge as to why or how, the ship had started to enter the warp seemingly on its own.
Elatus had sent Scylia and their human agents to find any remaining Mechanicum on board who hadn't participated in this betrayal, though he was beginning to think they wouldn't find any. They'd been in the warp for a while now, their destination was a complete mystery to them. They saw the warp begin to fade, seems they had arrived. Medon walked to the viewing window, and gazed upon the planet. A dead, blackened world devoid of life. The signs of industry were everywhere, space junk littered the atmosphere.
Sitting across the majority of the world's surface was a sprawling manufactorum, one step removed from being an entire forge world. Though not quite large enough to count as one.
"This makes no sense," Elatus said, "Why would the Mechanicum sabotage and attack us if we were already going to the location they wanted us at? Why destroy two of our ships?"
Telemateus put a boltgun shell through the head of one of the last Mechanicum they'd managed to subdue. "It's obvious they wanted us alone, and the fleet destroyed or too busy to follow us. The why behind that is what concerns me." A sultry, velvety voice interrupted the two. "These Mechanicum keep such delicious secrets. I humbly suggest I go down to the planet's surface and-." Telemateus put a hand up towards Vaelith, "You're staying with me. And that's all you will do." Vaelith sighed, a very over the top dramatic sigh.
"I do so hate you, Telemateus."
"The feeling is mutual, daemon scum. Come, we must board the shuttles." The Alpha Legionnaires prepared to leave, until warning sirens rang and alerted them to another source of warp distortion. Breaking through the warp into realspace on the other side of the planet was a large capital ship. Bearing the emblems of the Machine Cult of the Imperium. Her designators indicated her name was Praeco Voltaic.