"Perhaps one day, Epstein's marvels can lead us to the stars above. There we can meet new civilizations among the stars, lead Zemuria's people to a new age of peace and prosperity, and maybe even 'meet the Goddess herself' as my dear little Towa puts it. It's a shame I will not live to see it."
- Excerpt from the private journal of Alfred Herschel, renowned Erebonian astronomer (deceased)
Strategium, Ultramarines Battle Barge Righteous Contempt
"ATTENTION! ATTENTION! BRACE FOR IMPACT! MAY THE OMNISSIAH BE WITH YOU ALL!"
"Brother Frontius..." Lieutenant Demetrian Titus grunted, his patience clearly tested by the ongoing alarm. The emergency atmospheric re-entry had concluded two hours ago with a particularly violent splashdown in some body of water, but the ship's Machine Spirit seemed oblivious to the event. The alarm klaxons and flashing red lumens continued to perform their duties, having gone from helpful remainder to unbearable nuisance.
"Forgive This Unit, sir. The machine spirit is fickle and it is taking considerably longer..." The Techmarine trailed off when the alarms abruptly ceased. "Praise be to the Omnissiah! This Unit can finally reactivate his audio receptors!"
"Not all of us are blessed your ability to deactivate your hearing, Techmarine," Titus said impassively. He scanned around the Strategium, eyeing the seniormost Battle-Brothers and mortal overseers he had summoned. The Conclave was the highest administrative body of Strike Force Trajan, of which Titus held command. It handled the day-to-day running of the Force and the Battle-Barge hosting it, ensuring both would function at full efficiency. Although there was some overlap between the Conclave and the War Council's membership - the most notable of which being Titus chairing both - the two remained distinct bodies.
First of the Conclave to arrive was of course Frontius, the Battle-Barge's senior-most Techmarine which by extension made him the chief of the Engineerium. He was also the only Firstborn present. The Apothecarion had deemed him unable to cross the Rubicon Primaris due to his extensive augmentics - in other words, Frontius simply did not have sufficient flesh and blood left to attempt the surgery. Frontius had taken the news in stride, stating that the inability to cross the Rubicon Primaris was a worthwhile price to pay for being able to keep the True Flesh the Omnissiah had granted him. Perhaps it was an innate quirk in his soul, or perhaps his training with the Martian Priesthood had changed him, but Frontius shunned company and had a tendency to speak in third-person for as long as Titus knew him. Despite the Techmarine's bizarre mannerism and lonesome nature, not to mention Titus's own soured attitudes towards the Adeptus Mechanicus, he grew to trust Frontius with all matters related to the sacred machines. The Techmarine's was competent, resourceful, and he was equally masterful with an Omnissian Axe as he was with his tools. That, and any Battle-Brother who can wield several two-handed weapons at once - courtesy of his mechadendrites - was great boon in Titus's eyes.
Next was Apothecary Gessius, the senior medicae on board. Like Chairon, Gessius had borne witness to the full horrors of treachery and Chaos on Calth. Unlike Chairon, however, Gessius had actually directly taken part in the hostilities as part of the old Thirteenth Legion. The wizened Apothecary's bald head was a patchwork of scars, adorned by an augmentic left eye and lower jaw. It was said that the same wound which had cost Gessius his jaw had also taken away the use of his Betcher's Gland. Not that it was a major concern in battle unless the enemy were to somehow evade the punishing fire of his Brothers or his own Absolver Bolt Pistol. Despite his unnerving visage, Gessius was quite approachable and renowned for his capacity for mentorship. The Righteous Contempt's Apothecarion had become a place of healing and learning in equal parts under Gessius's guidance, with the more junior Apothecaries and even Imperial Guard medicae receiving personal guidance from him whenever they went about their work.
Then there was Epistolary Chaledus. If there was any Astartes onboard that rivaled Frontius in reclusiveness, it was him. Deliberate or not, the Librarian radiated an aura of wrongness, and only Titus himself could look the Librarian in the eye for longer than a minute. His close-cropped grey beard seemed to be perpetually covered in a thin layer of hoarfrost, adorned by the occasional icicle. Despite his connection to The Warp, he was a staunch son of Guilliman through and through, and his abilities had snatched many a victory from the jaws of defeat. For some reason, Chaledus was the only psyker on board to respond to Titus's summons. Neither the ship's Navigator nor the head of the Astropathic Choir had arrived, and that did not bode well in Titus's mind.
The last of Titus's Battle-Brothers to heed his summons was Reclusiarch Varnus, a veteran of the Imperium's campaign on the frozen killing fields of Lorn V. In contrast to the late Leandros - Emperor rest his soul -, Varnus was far more supportive of Titus's actions and decisions. The Reclusiarch's authority was second only to Titus's own as Force Commander, and in certain cases Varnus's word would even take precedence over Titus's. He had been a much-welcome addition to the Crusade, for he was equally versed in guiding Astartes and mortals alike as he was in caving in Xeno and Heretic skulls with his Crozius Arcanum. The reputation of him slaying a Bloodthirster in single combat had preceded him, but he would always downplay the deed.
With his Astartes advisors assembled, he turned his attention to the only mortals that had heeded his summons.
The first was Overseer Portia Villicus, the leader and representative of the Chapter Serfs staffing the Battle-Barge. Any matter not directly handled by Astartes specialists or the mortal shipmaster was under her purview, from the procurement of provisions to cleanliness of the ship's flats and bulkheads. She was a wizened woman seemingly in her late forties - her true age hidden by rejuvenant treatments - with deep sunken green eyes and graying brown hair tied up in a neat bun. Unlike the others present who were adorned in various martial regalia, Villicus wore a simple blue tunic and boots - popular everyday attire among Macragge's populace. The Overseer had originally come into the Chapter's service when some of Titus's Brothers had rescued her and a handful of refugees from a Tyranid invasion which had ultimately doomed their home world. Vilicus had begun her career as a Serf, but steadily worked her way up what passed for an informal rank structure among the Serfs which had eventually brought her to this point.
Next was Shipmaster Virgilia, adorned in a uniform that only somewhat resembled that of the Imperial Navy. She held the rank of Commodore in the Ultramar Defence Fleet, and Lord Calgar himself had hand picked her to assume command over the Battle-Barge due to her strategic acumen. The woman exuded an air of confident authority, even if it was eclipsed by that of the assembled Astartes. While others were engaged in idle chatter, she pored through her dataslate as if she was trying to commit every last detail from the readouts to memory.
Finally, there was Brigadier-General Maximus Lang, dressed in the unassuming beige uniform of the Cadian Shock Troops. He was the only member present that had no affiliation of any capacity with the Ultramarines. Brigadier-General Lang held charge over the Imperial Guard brigade that had been assigned to support his Astartes, with the General himself hailing from the 203rd Cadian - one of the four regiments that answered to him. While Titus would have preferred regiments from the Ultramar Auxilia, Lord Calgar had tasked them with consolidating the Ultramar home front instead. Still, the Guard was more than a welcome substitute. The 203rd in particular had been an old comrade of arms of Titus's during his time on Graia. Lang was distantly related to the late Lieutenant General Miranda Nero - old age had achieved what the fires of war could not - and he was more than an adequate inheritor of the regiment's command. Command aptitude aside, Lang did have his vices. His seat at the table was marked by an ashtray and a near-constant cloud of smoke, having lit up a lho stick as soon as he had sat down. It was a habit that he shared with his Colonels, which was why Chapter serfs had become rather reluctant to approach the sectors that had been alloted to the Cadians for social activities. Even some Astartes found their habit to be irritating and obnoxious, although they kept their opinions to themselves out of respect for the Cadians. It was telling that Villicus and Virgilia had chosen seats as far from the General as possible, with several Astartes blocking their view of him.
Titus glanced at the assembled council, and seeing that the others he had summoned will not arrive any time soon, he cleared his throat.
"I hereby call this emergency strategy meeting to order," Titus announced. "First order of business: Librarian Chaledus, can you provide insight on why Navigator Huygens and Chief Astropath Mercury failed to attend this meeting?"
"Certainly, My Lord. I'm deeply concerned the reason of their absence will have profound consequences on the strike force. The strain of the traitor ambush and emergency Warp jump were so great that they are the only surviving members of their respective offices," Chaledus said gravely. He paused for a moment before continuing, and the moment of hesitation was not lost to his fellow Astartes. "In addition, Navigator Huygens and Chief Atropath Mercury are...incapacitated. All three of us agree that upon our exit from The Immaterium, the Holy Astronomican simply disappeared."
Titus clenched his teeth. Battle-Brothers of the Adeptus Astartes knew no fear. If it ever existed, it had been thoroughly scrubbed from their psyches during the numerous arduous trials they had to endure as part of their ascension. But to be bereft of The Emperor's light and protection while marooned in uncharted territory? The revelation sent chills down Titus's spine, even if he kept up his stoic demeanor.
"WHAT?" Overseer Villicus's exclamation was a showcase of the shock and dismay that the Astartes also shared but kept to themselves.
"Emperor preserve us..." Brigadier-General Lang muttered as every member the Conclave made signs of the Aquila.
As if sensing the growing unease, Varnus struck the shaft his Crozius on the Strategium's deck. The slow, firm thuds echoed throughout the chamber, drawing the gazes of everyone present to the Reclusiarch.
"This chamber will have order! If we allow fear and panic to fester among us, it will open the way to doubt and heresy among the men!" Varnus admonished the Conclave. "Even if He is hidden from Witch-Sight, the Emperor's hand still rests on our shoulders and He watches us still! It would behoove all off you to remember that. Carry on, Brother Titus."
"Thank you, Brother Reclusiarch. Based on Brother Chaledus's theoretical, we would be stumbling blind in The Immaterium should we resume our voyage - a sure death sentence," Titus said. "That is...if we still retain the ability to do head underway. Brother Frontius, Shipmaster, can you provide insight on this matter?"
"The Ship's Spirit is in unending agony, Brother. Her wings have been clipped, and even This Unit is unable to restore her flight. The Teleportarium has suffered catastrophic damage, and other aspects of the ship have also been affected. The Motive Force is unable to flow to fifty-seven percent of the ship. Ten percent of the vessel has been claimed by what is presumably this world's ocean. Furthermore, the traitor attack has neutralized a quarter of our batteries," Frontius began reading off what was most likely a display projected on the inside of his helmet. "Not all news is bad, however. The flooding has been stopped, and the ship still has considerable reserve buoyancy. After cross referencing reports on the ship's structure and on data gathered by her auspexes, This Unit determines this world's weather is unlikely to further jeapordize the ship. If anything, a storm could actually aid us by pushing the Righteous Contempt closer to shore. Strike Force Trajan's vehicles remain in good repair and the entire ground fleet can be restored to full working order within forty Terran hours while the aerial fleet remains untouched. The Forge is capable of supplying basic munitions effectively indefinitely. Furthermore, The Righteous Contempt is still capable of sustaining basic human life."
"Then we are effectively a floating Chapter Keep?" Titus asked impassively.
"That is indeed the case, Brother. The Strike Force can remain self-sufficient for months, if not years, should the need arise."
"I concur with Lord Frontius's assessment," Disappointment was clear in Virgilia's voice as she rubbed her temples. Titus understood her anguish. To be in command of a immobile crippled hulk was an insult to a seasoned voidsman of Virgilia's calibre. "Still, if my duty for now is to simply keep the ship afloat and keep the guns loaded, then I will execute it without hesitation."
Titus nodded at her before turning his attention to Gessius.
"And what of the Apothecarion? Is it in good working order? Any casualties."
"The Apothecarion is unscathed, and we have no need of it at full capacity just yet," A deep heavily modulated voice slowly reverberates from somewhere on Gessius's neck. "I have only received reports of broken bones and concussions for now and I have nothing further to report. Praise the Emperor for shielding us all."
Yet…Titus couldn't help become suspicious. Gessius would not have any reason to lie to him, and Titus did not expect such. Still, the fact that the crash-landing had not resulted in any fatalities roused Titus's suspicions. How did a battle within the Warp and a crash-landing result in precisely zero deaths? Was it truly The Emperor's protection? Or were more nefarious forces at work? Questions to be answered later. For now, Titus needed to know more.
"Do we know anything about this world? Anything at all?"
"Nothing at all, Brother. All we know is what we can see with the our Augurs and eyes," Varnus spoke up. "This world has an ocean, some large central landmass, possible signs of civilization, and an atmosphere that unaugmented humans can survive in."
"My Lord, some of my men who were duty at the ship's Vox Chapel reported picking up chatter," Brigadier-General Lang piped up. "However, they were unable to decipher its contents, but they said it did not match any known Imperial codes."
"This Unit believes an unknown encryption scheme was involved," Frontius spoke. "Given enough time, and the Omnissiah shall unravel this puzzle."
"But for now…" Titus piped up. "...we know nothing. Nothing aside from the fact this world is inhabited."
He let the silence hang, mostly because he needed time to gather his own thoughts. Demetrian Titus was a man of action and a proud son of Guilliman. Lurking in the shadows was more suited for the sons of Corax, and intelligence-gathering was more suitable for those crazed motherless bastards who bore the Inquisitorial Rosette. Yet here he was, forced to take after the Raven Guard and play Inquisitor…
"It appears we have gathered all the theoreticals we could," Titus spoke up once more, keeping his tone calm and measured even if he felt irritated at their current predicament. "We are unable to navigate the Warp. The ship is effectively immobilized. We have next to no information about our surroundings.
"All of this leads to one practical: we are blind and adrift, with no way to rejoin the main Crusade fleet. Make no mistake, I did not say this out of despair, for I have faith The Emperor will show a way forward. However, it does mean our course of action is very limited at present."
Demetrian Titus knew of his reputation as an unorthodox warrior and commander who moreso followed the spirit of the Codex Astartes rather than the letter. Yet even the loosest interpretation of the Codex's intent condemned reckless action and wasting Imperial resources. Titus sighed deeply, then with grit teeth and frustration in his voice, he gave his orders.
"For now, we shall wait for Macragge and we shall observe for Macragge," Titus proclaimed. "Once we have discovered a way forward, then we can finally march for Macragge."
"...and Cadia shall stand with Macragge no matter what, my lord." Lang said as the Conclave murmured in agreement.
The next half hour was spent providing detailed instructions to the Conclave. They ranged from restoring Astropathic communications to effecting repairs on the ship's structure and Motive Force distribution, and even included formulating work and training schedules to ensure the Battle-Barge's crew do not cross the fine line between leisurely rest and idleness. By sundown, the floating voidship was alive with activity. The Strike Force finally had purpose, even if it was only for the short term.
Of course, there was the matter of intelligence collection. For the time being, Titus opted for routine Thunderhawk and Stormhawk overflights, sending servo-skulls to the maximum extent of their operating range, and having Frontius using the Machine Spirits at his disposal to break the unknown Vox encryption.
Thus passed the first day.
The second day passed by without much incident. The Auspex detected an unidentified radiation field that seemed to saturate the world's atmosphere, but nobody in the Engineerium could make sense of the data. A Cadian on sentry duty observed an abundance of sea life in the surrounding waters. Once word was spread, enterprising Guardsmen got a little creative with surplus pipes and cabling. By day's end, tissue samples were delivered to the Apothecarion and deemed suitable for human consumption.
Thus the refectorum's selection expanded.
By the third day, Frontius's Machine Spirits had finally accomplished their duty. Decryption had been a more laborious affair than Frontius had initially anticipated. He had discovered that the world's Vox traffic had a patchwork of differing encryption schemes and that they changed regularly. A lot of that traffic had been military-grade, but overall none of their encryption schemes matched the sophistication of the Imperium's own Vox technology nor that of its enemies. Soon, Strike Force Trajan had full access to what Vox traffic they could pick up, albeit with minor but regular interruptions due to the constantly-switching cryptography. Not only that, but Frontius claimed that the world had its own version of something the Techmarine called a "Datascape". The implication was not clear to Titus, but it seemed to cause a stir among the Techmarines and mortal Tech-Priests. The Imperium force also had enough visual intelligence to begin cartography efforts. All in all, it was abundantly clear that they had landed on a populated world, with civilization and even industry. It was also clear that the various petty fiefdoms of this planet were at war with each other.
The new intelligence allowed Titus to initiate the next stage of his plan: the dispatching of two hand-picked Astartes long-range reconnaissance squads. Their Sergeants were Decimus and Scipius, alumni of Combat Squads Talasa and Veridian. The two defunct Kill-Teams had performed with distinction for as long as they had served under Titus, but he knew that it was not to last. Talasa and Veridian had been bursting at the seams with rising stars of the Chapter, and Lord Calgar had become increasingly convinced that keeping them together was actually doing their members a huge disservice. Thus the difficult decision to dissolve Talasa and Veridian had been made ten years prior, and their members promoted and transferred to where the Chapter needed them the most. The Battle-Brothers had taken the move in stride, and the two Sergeants had seemed quite pleased to be working together again. Thus, Decimus's Phobos Strike Team and Scipius's Eliminators jumped into the sea, setting off on a long hike that would take them across the sea floor. Later that evening, they would make landfall on the outskirts of a port city named Ruan.
By day four, it was abundantly clear something strange was going on with this world. Aircraft straying too far from the landmass had found themselves back at the Battle-Barge, and any attempts at Astropathic communications had ended on failure. Not only that, but the stars observed at night did not match any chart located in the Battle-Barge's database, and Chaledus said there was a strange shroud blanketing the world. Debates raged fiercely regarding the ramifications, with the most common theory being that the planet was located in the middle of some unknown Warp pocket that hid it from the Great Crusade, the Horus Heresy, and the ensuing unending war for the Imperium's survival. Idle speculation notwithstanding, it was clear that no help would be coming from the wider Imperium, which meant no way off this planet. Not without seeking aid from the locals and putting themselves at the mercy of local technology, anyhow. Another worrying development was that their arrival had not gone unnoticed by nearby polities. The warring local powers began to send seagoing vessels towards the Righteous Contempt, and their own aircraft began to chase after Titus's Thunderhawk's and Stormhawks. The latter was a fool's errand considering how Astartes aircraft were designed to reach escape velocity in the execution of their duties, while the former was quickly becoming an annoyance. By Titus's orders, Strike Force Trajan remained neutral and Vox-silent. There would be no outreach efforts, but rather passively monitoring the battles on land, on the sea, and in the air. Intelligence collected so far gave names to the warring powers, and the fact that the main belligerent - Erebonia - seemed to have the upper hand. Titus was no diplomat, but he began to considering sending overtures to this so-called Erebonian "Empire". Perhaps backing the winning side would make this planet's future integration go much more smoothly…
By day five, battle plans were drawn, and recce flights were canceled in favour of pre-combat readiness checks. There was an unease in the Strategium, a shared sentiment that this would be the calm before the storm and that the Imperium's neutrality would not last. The question was…who should the Imperium back, if anyone at all?
There was still no decision by the day's end.
"Find me."
His eyes snapped open, and darkness greeted him. A darkness so pervasive that not even his Occulobe-enhanced sight could pierce.
"Find me."
He made out the voice of a young girl. With no other guidepost, he strode towards the voice. He felt himself for any equipment, but found nothing. Not the reliable contour of a Boltgun, nor the stalwart pommel of a Chainsword, nor even a humble combat knife. In fact, he did not even feel power armour nor even bare skin. It was as if his body did not exist at all.
"Find me…please."
That final word had carried the hint of desperate pleas for salvation. Duty bade him forward, even if he felt nothing underfoot. It could have easily been a trap set by the Arch-Enemy, but his instincts told him that was not the case.
"They are almost here…find me."
He pushed forward as fast as he knew his enhanced musculature and skeleton would carry him forward. Yet the increasingly desperate voice simply did not get any closer.
"Find me…find me…Please, FIND ME!"
A brilliant flash of light erupted all around him, like the spotlights at a stage. But it was not the welcoming golden glow of sunshine, but rather the sinister crimson incandescence of Warpfire and brimstone. He was now in a city, not the congested soulless Hive Cities all too common through the Imperium, but a welcoming place of culture not unlike those on Macragge.
Or at least, it had been.
Now, it was desecrated. Corpses of the dead littered the streets, dressed in varying degrees of finery. The walls of what buildings that remained standing had corpses nailed to them and the foul sigils of Chaos etched on the brickwork. Daemons rushed down the streets outwards, marching towards unknown destinations. Yet they did not notice him. He tried to go against the Daemonic horde to trace it to its source.
Closer…closer…closer! If he could reach the source of the Daemonic host he could stem the tide!
Soon he arrived at a blood-belching fountain that was decorated with rune-etched bones arranged in blasphemous totems. Beyond it was a formerly grand palace but now sported an ugly tear in reality.
Astartes knew no fear, but he did not dare look inside.
Then the hellscape disappeared, replaced by a pale void that was broken only by a strange shape. The silhouette resembled some sort of landmass that was covered by a repulsive black miasma. Six pinpricks of light were scattered amidst the darkness, but one by one they were smothered out.
"Find me."
The impenetrable dark returned, and so did the child's voice. The panic in her tone was once more replaced by a calm but insistent pleading.
"Find me." / "FIND HER."
A second voice joined the child's. It was male, ancient, but somehow familiar.
"FIND HER."
Now only the man's voice remained. It stayed the same, but the closer he listened the more it seemed to subtly differ.
"SON OF GUILLIMAN."
That was when he noticed the countless other voices whispering with the man, adding to his own.
"BLOOD OF MY BLOOD."
He and they commanded, and dictated, and begged and pleaded and wept as one.
"FIND HER."