Cold.
Snow covered his skull shaped visage of a gas mask as he tried to claw his way out of the snowy hole in the field of white he was burrowed in.
He was sure that he died. The Imperial Navy ship he was situated in was shattered to pieces like glass to concrete. He was supposed to fight in a crusade of conquest, doing his life's work on a planet that he'll never live on. Now he's here, and he does not know why.
But death has not taken him yet. For it would seem his atonement is yet to reach its final stages.
Struggling, he lifts himself from the suffocating and heavy snow, having no access to any tools, he uses his physical strength and arms to slowly dig, and raise himself out of his snowy predicament. Slowly, he lifts and pulls his entire torso out, then frees his left leg, but for some inexplicable reason, his right wouldn't budge for even a single inch.
Grunting, he displaces some of the snow and rock entrapping his remaining leg then uses both arms to clutch it, and tries to pull it with his utmost strength. He was strong, as all guardsmen were, even if they would never compare to a single breath of a Space Marine, men like him were bred for nothing but war, and so physical strength was trained into him, implanted in him, down to his very bones, even engraved into his DNA, and yet, the pile of earthly matter seemed to deny his claim of being a competent soldier.
Still struggling, he looked for some kind of tool equipped on his being that could help him win his debate with the equally stubborn snow. Unfortunately, nothing greeted his stagnant eyes. None of his iconic digging equipment was available to him, only a knife and the lasgun strapped to his shoulder. Left with no choice, he continued to try to remove and excavate more of the stone, snow and dirt entrapping his limb like a dog's jaw with his bare gloves until his auditory senses heard something walking, closer and closer.
Immediately turning into the direction of human-like footsteps, he saw a man with a similar skull shaped gas mask to his, wearing a deep dark black dress greatcoat uniform lined with small strands of intimidating red and commanding gold that ran through some of the edges that continued up to his collars and cuffs. A decorated breastplate was seen stuck to his chest, performing as armor and lastly, above the gas mask laid a peaked officer's cap, adorned with various decorations that followed the same theme as his uniform, with the most identifying part being a golden skull layered on the middle front of his cap.
"Guardsman! Can't get out on your own?"
The man bellowed with a disgusting, raspy voice, the type of voice you would associate to old veterans that undoubtedly fought longer than you were alive.
It was a foreigner, a Commissar.
"Sir Commissar! This terra-"
"Name?"
The Commissar said, interrupting him with his booming voice as he walked closer.
"1701-141404-C, Commissar Sir!"
The Commissar, who was now standing next to the small crater he dug out, crouched to meet his gaze. An eerie silence permeated in the air as The Commissar regarded his existence.
"Got any other name other than your ID?"
Finally, said The Commissar, breaking the Ice cold quiet that surrounded the both of them for a while. However, silence would once again return for a small bit as it took 1701-141404-C a quick moment to even remember his name.
"I can be called Gerald as well, Sir Commissar!"
"Good, then 1701-141404-C, let's get you out of there. I imagine dying, stuck in a hole, is not the type of death you are seeking for."
Gerald was completely indifferent to the Commissar's humor. Accepting his help, the strength of both finally managed to pull his leg out of the ground.
Standing up with both legs sound, satisfied once again by having the fortune of no broken bones or ruptured organs, the guardsman took time to observe his strange environment.
There was nothing but the mountains and the snow that fell on them like an eternal unceasing and unrelenting blizzard. There was nothing but the dry desert of white that inspired the dread of frozen solitude, and yet both the guardsman and the Commissar were calm. Both seemingly calculating, planning and observing their shared situation instead of wasteful panic.
"Sir, I do believe we are not located on the correct planet."
The Commissar looked at him, smiling behind his mask.
"How so? I don't think you guardsmen are even allowed to know which world you're jumping into, am I not wrong?"
The Commissar said, asking Gerald the specifics about his conjecture.
"Sir, It is true that I do not know which planet I am to serve in, but I believe we have been crashed off-course by the simple fact that-"
His face turned to observe his surroundings, then continued speaking.
"I don't see any xenos nor heretics here."
A quick laughter erupted inside The Commissar, sounding like muffled breaths inside his mask.
"Dont be in a rush to die, Gerald. Else you'll end up just strengthening the rumors."
"What rumors, Sir Commissar?"
"You don't need to know."
"Apologies, Si-"
"I forgot, haven't introduced myself yet, haven't I?"
The Commissar said, staring directly into the Guardsman's eyes, and even if both their gas masks obscured their humanity, (If they even had some) the guardsman returned the same gaze.
Gerald, upon hearing his inquiry chose to speak but stopped himself as The Commissar didn't even wait for him to answer his question.
"Commissar Vailor Strevy. 67 years in the field. Was in another segmentum before being reassigned to support your siege on Sector 1752-AB. Well, until the cruiser we both were at, got blasted and torn into deep space, but I woke up here, in this chilling planet. I don't even think there's a single snowy planet with this geography in the system we're supposed to reconquer. So tell me about yourself, guardsman."
The Guardsman steadily recollected his memories, sharing a similar story to The Commissar about him simply waiting in an armory, sharpening his knife before being seemingly blasted by what he thinks was an unexpected and strange warp storm, a disgraceful way to die. Except of course, he didn't.
The Commissar laughed, a hearty type of laugh that seemed to be in thanks to the God-Emperor.
"It would seem to me that the God-Emperor blessed us by giving us another chance at life. We shall repay his kindness tenfold by spilling more of the blood of our enemies, don't you think?"
Gerald was about to reply to The Commissar, however that would not come. As once again, he was interrupted by the sound of a great rumbling coming from the frozen blue skies of the heaven above.
The sounds of monumental structures of steel with the weight of entire industrial cities grinding against each other in the clear high blues above as the noises of rumbling, continuous burning and air tearing due to the almost endless amount of metallic debris crashing all over the ice and snowy planet. It was the Imperial Cruiser they were both inside just moments before.
"The Emperor protects us all."
Vailor said with his hands behind his back, this time quietly. But make no mistake, he was happy they weren't alone.
Both guardsman and Commissar watch as the massive spacecraft, a Dictator Class Cruiser named the Hall of Annihilation, urgently performs an emergency landing near a perfectly sized valley about 8-9 kilometers away from their location.
It looked damaged, with some minor parts missing and scarred, but it didn't look like it was blasted apart, different from what they remember in their memories.
"Sir Commissar, I will establish vox communications with the cruiser."
"Go ahead."
Replied Vailor, continuing to observe the spacecraft hit the ground, sending shockwaves after shockwaves as each part of the vessel touched the earth of whatever planet they were at.
"This is 1701-141404-C, part of the 13th Shock Regiment, A Company. I'm with Commissar Vailor Strevy. We're stranded on a small hill, about 5 km away from your position-"
Gerald turned to The Commissar, noticing the guardsman's hint. He took the communicator from his hand and assumed communication.
"I'm Commissar Vailor Strevy. Fly a Valkyrie and some men on our way, would you?"
After a small bit of static, the communicator responded with a gruff voice.
"Ah! We hear you loud and clear! It's good to hear that you're alive my good friends! As of right now we're trying our best to manage what we can here, and to find out what even happened, but rest assured! We'll send a craft to get you back here as safely and as fast as possible!"
"What? Get me back?"
Vailor spat.
"Captain Haeman, I have no intentions to go back to a ruined ship!"
The vox communications erupted with laughter until the captain replied once more.
"Then, what do you need, Sir Commissar?"
A grin slowly curved in the lips of The Commissar, though covered by the still veil of the gas mask.
"You know what I'm like, give me a Valkyrie and some tough guardsmen, I plan to lead the first expedition of this planet."
"I understand, good friend! I shall ask the guard to prepare an expeditionary force and send it to you right away!"
"Many thanks, Captain."
Was all The Commissar said before cutting off communications, returning the mobile vox caster back to the guardsman.
The Commissar continues to stand and wait, while observing the space cruiser in the distance, leaving behind dark gusts of black cloud in the air while the metal continues to shriek and whine while it settles in the cold stone of the snowing planet. The Guardsman did not follow, tearing his attention away from the gigantic steel warship to survey his surroundings.
Snow.
Mountains, with snow. Forests, with snow. Meadows, with snow. But his eyes did not give up on trying to find something to kill.
Fortunately for him, he succeeded.
He saw movement in the dark shaded forests of snow in the distance. It was not the movement of a simple animal. Slowly, two legs came staggering like some broken machination from out the veiling shade of the forest, one leg was covered in azure blue ice, stuck to its limb like some kind of unholy infection. Then in one more step, the monster revealed the rest of its abominable form in the eyes of the guardsman, it was no human, the clothes it wore was torn and ragged, its hands replaced with nothing but cold, chilling ice and an amalgamation of nothing but hard frost had replaced its head. Its entire being was a mockery of the human form.
The Guardsman did not waste any more time in raising his Lucius MK3 Lasgun and taking aim to vanquish the mutant, unworthy of anything but death and suffering, but his iron-like discipline kept him from pulling the trigger.
"Sir Commissar! I have sights on a corrupted human at the edge of the tall forest. What are your orders?"
The Commissar came to his side, also eyeing the strange abominable monster.
"A human, or at least something that was."
Vailor said, analyzing the monster.
"That means there are, or were humans here on this planet, how intriguing."
He took one last look at the thing of frost, before looking away.
"Kill it."
"Lady Bronya!"
"Ugh, I-Im sorry, W-What is it?"
Replied a weak female voice. Bronya Rand, as she was named, was the current Supreme Guardian of Belobog, the only breathing civilization left on this desolate, cold and freezing planet.
And lately, the stacks of documents, forms and the overall mountains of paper on her desk looked no different from the ice-capped, snow skinned mountains outside.
The reason for this, replica of the Zarathustrazapala mountain but in inked paper form was because of their recontact with outer space civilizations. She blamed the IPC for all this work, but she did not expect for another star-faring civilization, the Luofu, to also open relationships with them, which was good for the overall civilization of the planet, but bad for her barely existing sleep schedule.
"Lady Bronya! There's something you should see outside!"
Bronya sighed, weakly trying to get up from her desk, or more accurately her new bed. Well, actually, that would only be the case if she found these papers to be endless, and if that reality were to occur, then she might as well turn her office to her new bedroom.
Getting up from her exquisitely crafted chair, she fixed her hair and straightened her attire, hoping to hide the fact that she had slept at her desk again, but as for her tired face? She left it to the spirits of the past Supreme Guardians to hopefully help her hide the sleeplessness and dark circles on her eyes. She must not show any type of weakness to her people, not a single ounce. Opening the door, she was greeted by Silvermane Soldier, his composure cracked by all the shaking and shivering.
"What happened?"
"O-Outside! At the plaza!"
Bronya narrowed her eyes, the soldier's unusual attitude and weariness making sparks of anxiousness grow within Bronya's heart as well.
She swiftly nodded her head to the soldier, not wasting a single second to dash to the exit of the Qliphoth fort, the building she was at, and then she heard it.
Rumbling, heavenly rumbling.
With the tension at such a sky-high rate and with both curiosity and anxiety burning her mind and heart, she grabbed both door handles, and flung them open.
The Everwinter Monument was still there, the plaza was full, and all of them had their heads raised like statues, looking to the skies above. Her own eyes followed their sights, and her eyes widened as she gazed upon the heavens.
Her eyes met the steel of the dark and massive space-craft. The monumental construction of hardened yet scarred and damaged steel was every bit different from the spaceships of the IPC or the Luofu.
The clean, clear hulls of corporate efficiency contrasted greatly with this piece of architecture, also different from the verdant vessels of the recent visitors from the Xianzhou Luofu.
Yes, architecture it was. The blackened steel was sharp, it was shaped and crafted in a way that it transformed the entire spacecraft to something more; a work of art. Engraved in it was a variety of countless designs all chiseled to perfection, and at the top of the craft stood what looked like a decorated cathedral of some sort stuck unto the body of the rest of the ship. But all of these still failed to distract Bronya from the actual main attraction of the craft. She would have spent more time admiring the intricate artistry if it weren't for her brain calling into attention the more concerning parts of the ship.
"H-Hey, we're not getting invaded are we?"
Said a trembling observer.
Bronya frowned, one more look at the craft showed more than its design, it also revealed its purpose.
Thousands of dreadful guns lined every single part of the ship, countless gigantic cannons installed on each side ready to erupt, some exposed compartments revealed arrays of missiles that were so massive that it made Svarog's missiles look like unremarkable, like pitiful children's toys in comparison and all of that still didn't accurately describe just how many weapons of war were installed in steel body of the beast.
Turrets clustered in groups, artillery batteries with such massive barrels that even she couldn't imagine what kind of enemy they were even purposed to kill. Sophisticated looking weapon systems looked ready to wake and kill at any time, it's almost as if the entire ship was not a means of transportation or travel but a weapon of destruction made with the sole intent of war.
Bronya, The Supreme Guardian found herself frozen, not any different from all the common people. All of them stood still, gazing upon the crashing steel monolith with a mix of different emotions on their hearts. Fear, awe, admiration and anxiety. Though many more unexplainable feelings took residence in their hearts for the time that it lasted in the air. But eventually even the gigantic space arc too became hidden behind the high peaking mountain ranges from the great beyond, leaving behind nothing to the eyes except its lasting, blinding fog of dark smoke still present in the high skies.
They were part of the Indomitus Crusade.
Lord Guilliman's great galaxy-wide campaign of reconquest over the Imperial systems that were lost long ago.
Admiral Chevron Forves gripped the edges of the command desk. His eyes bulging out of his skull as he violently glared at the stacks and stacks of reports that he did not want to believe.
They were the Vanguards! The tip of the spear of one of the numerous crusader battlegroups sent to retake the once loyal planets and purge the Heretics! The Daemons! The Xenos!
So why did that happen to them?
The grand warship drifts in the endlessly vast space. Unfamiliar and unknown space.
A sudden, unexplainable, undetectable and unexpected warp storm with strength never recorded before suddenly engulfed the vanguard fleet, suddenly destroying his entire fleet, ship by ship torn apart to its smallest pieces until even the screws were dissected. All hope was gone in such a short amount of time.
But The Emperor never ignores the plea of his people.
Suddenly, they were transported here. Their ships were damaged, but still intact. This place, whatever this place was, everyone was clueless on.
The rest of the main fleet was uncontactable, and the rest of the vanguard fleet seemed to be scattered all across this unknown, undiscovered space, with only twenty five percent of the vanguard fleet able to contact and communicate with the Vanguard Flagship, and the rest was determined to be destroyed, lost or simply didn't come with them in the incomprehensible warp storm teleportation.
Chevron growled in anger, in complete total annoyance.
"Lossier! Any updates?"
The Admiral called out, his Commodore scurrying around the command deck, carrying some of the weight of responsibility, calling out orders here and there with her voice carrying the sense of authority and command he also had.
She then turned to Chevron, her deep amber locks waved in the air as she faced the Admiral.
"My Lord! We've managed to contact one more of our ships! They had reported to have crash landed on a planet, their position is currently the closest to us in comparison to our other ships, should we set that planet as the fleet's rally point?"
The Admiral hesitated, but only for a half second.
"We shall. Contact all our other ships with our position and tell them to rendezvous on the orbit of that planet!
"Consider it done, My Lord!"
After an hour later, an assembly of all the senior commanders present on the Vanguard Flagship engaged in a most needed meeting.
Chevron Forves, Captain of the Aeneid, an Adjudicator Class Battleship, and also
the Admiral of the 30 warships of the vanguard force of Battlefleet Venicidor, not including the accompanying auxiliary, Mechanicus and Astartes vessels. Massive in size as they were combined in a hurry and mixed with other forces in a desperate attempt to capitalize on the momentum of the crushing hammer of the Indomitus Crusade. Organized not as patrols, but as a crusading Force.
Blaise Harmore, a Death Korps of Krieg Colonel and assigned commanding officer of the vanguard fleet regiments, consisted mainly of Death Korps companies but other Regiments of the Guard were also present, albeit in smaller numbers. An unusually silent and calm commander, known for wearing a gas mask and an officer's hat at all times with both of them decorated with tokens of his victories and accomplishments to speak for themselves in response to any doubtful souls. He was also known as 1000-11099-S.
Zevas Hoxon, Archmagos of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Nearing four millenia old of an exact 3996 years, 7 months, 2 days and 17 seconds since his birth as a regular human. A faithful adept in all war-tech. Raised in the hands of the Genetors but separated in an unexpected rift, Zevas returned centuries later with a religious passion for destruction and creation, following the radical steps of Cawl. His body now replaced with steel and vat-grown perfected muscles from the schooling he received in his past, he now marches as an amalgamation of both organic and artificial, and was chosen representative for the AdMech forces on the vanguard fleet.
Ubervan Hallidex, Chapter Master of the Marines Invictus, which came in full chapter force as the spearhead of the vanguard fleet, was the assigned as the Astartes commander to command the other chapters that came with them which consisted of two companies of the Angels Encarmine, two companies of Dark Krakens, one company of The Raptors and one company of The Iron Hands.
There was an old adage of the Astartes, and it said : To take a town, send a legionary; to take a city, send a squad; to take a world, send a company; to take a culture, send a Chapter.
If that aphorism still held any weight, then the entire combination of the Astartes forces brought enough power to take a reality.
Jonather Gravensor, a Lord Commissar only alive because he was mortally injured in the last days of Cadia and was evacuated unconscious. Deemed important enough to be kept in cryostasis and healed. Only awakening a few months after Guiliman's announcement of the Crusade. He now bears with him a mechanical left eye and extreme bitterness.
Vani, an interrogator acolyte of the inquisition. Her face fully hidden in a pure white, featureless mask with only eyeholes carved holding a void-black visor hiding her eyes. Not much is known about her, but she claims that she is the representative and assistant of an accomplished Inquisitor hiding somewhere in the ship as a hidden overseer, watching over the fleet for any sign of heresy.
There were more people in the room, important enough to be included but not worthy enough to be named. Chevron was speaking.
"We are currently separated from the rest of the Vanguard Fleet, forget the main fleet, we don't even know where half of ours are!"
His voice was shaking.
"Admiral."
Ubervan stated. His raw voice masked by his helmet.
"In these moments it is important to remain calm. Tell me, how many of our ships could you contact?"
The Admiral laid his hand on his forehead as he looked through his data slate.
"We had 30 ships in the vanguard fleet, we had detected only eight after the storm, three are with us right now and we have determined that four of them are extremely far, with only one close to our position."
"And what of this one?"
The Lord Astartes asked.
"They crashed on some planet needing repairs, I have already set course for us to arrive to assist them. It will take about two weeks or more. Warp travel not included."
A cybernetic snort echoed in the room.
"Insufficient. A properly maintained ship would have had the speed to reach the planet in nine days. Vice Admiral, I will ask you a question. What happened to your ship?"
It was Zevas, staring with all his myriad eyes at the Vice Admiral. Ubervan simply nodded at the archmagos' words while Chevron chose to ignore Zevas' glowing eyes and piercing stare and instead focused on the astartes.
"How about you? Lord Ubervan? What of your vessels?"
The astartes chapter master silently sighed behind his helmet.
"Unfortunately, we have suffered a similar fate. Only 45 percent of my chapter's ships remained contactable while only four ships remained with us. The other chapters, on the other hand, their fates are unknown to us."
"Lord Ubervan, we should gather up our forces together back into one group, would you agree?"
"That is most sensible, my ships would follow your ship's journey to the planet while we assess."
Immediately replied the astartes.
Chevron nodded his head, before facing the archmagos. But before he could even speak, Zevas' mechanical voice already replied.
"Predictable. Unlike your lesser maintained ships, I have full connection to all of my fleets, albeit they too are separated, in varying distances. I will say this. I also find it a requirement for all of our forces to be combined."
"Wait."
Said Johnather, interrupting the conversation. The room looked at him.
"I think the Navigator finally arrived, let's see what she has to say."
"What do you mean you can't connect to the Astronomican!?"
Chevron shouted. His hoarse voice is a blend of rage and terror, echoing in the most secure meeting chamber of the Vanguard Flagship, with him and many more heads of the fleet in the room.
The Lead Navigator, a short and slender woman, covered head to toe with dark, regal robes with noble fuchsia linings and decorations that reached all the way down to the floor with a dark veil that shielded her face from sight, spoke. Her voice is clear and direct.
"It is as I have said. The God-Emperor's light does not extend here, wherever we are."
Even though her voice remained steady, she was as disgruntled as everyone else in the ship. On first look, she confidently held her golden staff with an eye shape on the top end, but a second glance revealed the fact that it was shaking. She was trembling.
The Admiral, as preposterous her claim was, could see the genuine unease in her form. Sighing, he chose to believe her, as all the other personnel on board, even the sanctioned psykers and astropaths agreed with her assessment.
"Then, where in The Golden Throne are we?"
The Navigator froze in place, her shaking ceasing the thought of the possibility.
"I took the time to seek the perspective of the psykers onboard before coming here."
She said, staring at Chevron.
"They have admitted that their connection to the warp has weakened, by a massive amount."
Most if not all people in the room gasped, their eyes wide as plates.
The Navigator continued.
"I have similar experiences to them. But its strength and influence is steadily growing, but extremely slowly.The point of this is to make a guess about where we are."
She turned her head to look at the people around her, all in bated breath, then back to the Admiral.
"By The Golden Throne, I believe we are in a position, so far away from the Imperium that The Emperor's light does not reach us. So far away from our galaxy that even the warp, which lies behind all reality is considerably less influential. Whether we are trillions galaxies away, or even a universe away from the Imperium, I do not think we could ever come back."
The room was left silent. The implications of what she said dawned on them. Sweat slid off their backs as fear clawed its way into their psyche.
But as fear and total anxiety almost got to the better of them, something inexplicable happened.
A sudden understanding, a nirvana of some sorts unveiled itself to their very souls. Like a touch from a finger of the most divine being in all of existence. This touch, it came with a message. A message so beyond reality that it would erupt a normal person's mind, a message that would lead even the strongest psykers to an erratic suicide, but at this moment, they understood it perfectly. As if their own God was speaking to them directly.
And no one understood what He said.
The Emperor, in His shattered state, was far beyond human. He was either the purest human to exist, or the most inhuman human. He communicates not in words, for the brains of his subjects would have gone insane, He could not touch their soul, for the spirit of His people would collapse, so instead His message was sent out as a cryptic understanding. The type of feeling you achieve when you finally understand something you heard a long time ago. Unexpected, enlightening like lightning, but however, in this case, their brains already passed the info away. Only remembering the fact that He regarded them. Only that a great mission was entrusted to them. They would be well united in thought, if not for the fact that they all interpreted the message differently.
A large group of workers was huddled in the massive holographic map portraying the situation in the spaces outside the alliance.
"Something's happening."
Lin He, a worker under the Palace of Astrum of the Sky-Faring commission narrowed his eyes on the surveillance reports.
"Is the Helm Master here yet?"
He said, looking at his fellow workers, which in turn, looked at each other.
Lin He sighed.
"I thought I sent someone to look for her? Have you guys lost your speed?"
He looked back to the holographic map, but the sudden drops of footsteps made him turn his head and raise his eyes.
"I am here, Lin He."
Yukong said. Her arms crossed.
"You have called me in the middle of the night, so what do you have for me?"
Lin He nodded, greeting the Helm Master.
"Madam Yukong, it's about the fleets of The Abominations of Abundance."
Yukong's eyebrows raised in alarm.
"What of them?"
She said, closely looking at the holographic map.
"They- it's honestly hard to understand, but they're acting erratically?"
Yukong stayed silent, observing the holographic map. The Sky-Faring commission mainly concerns itself with aircrafts and the affairs of the sky and navigation, but they were also responsible for another, untold obligation. Surveillance.
"Lin He, these are the ships of the Borisin, am I correct?"
"You are correct, Madam Yukong. After the fall of Hoolay, Borisin fleets had been once again divided. Fighting each other for lack of leadership."
Yukong took control of the holographic map's console.
"Wait, some of them are just moving straight to us?"
Lin He nodded.
"Yes. But it's not what you'd expect."
"Explain."
Yukong said, her eyes now wide awake.
Lin He cleared his throat before speaking.
"There was a group of armed patrol starskiffs nearby who volunteered to investigate one of the ships, they tried to question the ship to no avail, then they threatened to blow them up if they wouldn't answer back. Only then did they realize, no one inside the ship was alive. Subsequent scans detected no life signatures onboard, but still their engines are on full course to the Luofu."
Yukong put her fingers on her chin, then went back to operating the console.
"There was a group of armed patrol starskiffs nearby who volunteered to investigate one of the ships, they tried to question the ship to no avail, then they threatened to blow them up if they wouldn't answer back. Only then did they realize, no one inside the ship was alive. Subsequent scans detected no life signatures onboard, but still their engines are on full course to the Luofu."
She looked at Lin He.
"You have observed this situation for a while now, what are your thoughts?"
Lin He's eyes closed in thought, before opening up again.
"Madam Yukong, this is obviously a trap. A ploy by the forces behind the strings of all that happened recently, I suspect something terrible is inside those ships. I suggest we destroy them immediately before they even see a single light coming from the Luofu."
"Quick thinking with the suggestion of a decisive action. Your mind is sharp, Lin He."
Yukong said, a slight smile curved in her lips.
"T-Thank you, madam-"
"But."
Yukong interrupted. Her eyes went back to the holographic console.
"Decisive actions without decisive information fall flat."
She zoomed in on the 'empty' borisin ship.
"We do not know what the abominations of abundance nor what the Ravager Lord is thinking, but empty ships flying straight to the Luofu, quite vary from their past schemes, doesn't it?"
"I- I haven't thought of it that way."
Yukong simply smiled, before her face turned back to the seriousness of the situation.
"I'll inform the general, call the Cloud Knights and ready the starskiffs, we'll do a boarding operation immediately."
Something had dared to stop them. Something had the guts to keep the Aeneid from traveling.
"Lossier, is it still not working?"
"Admiral! The tech priests are looking into the matter, from what they have said, it's not an engine failure!"
"Then what is it!"
Chevron snapped, then another figure entered the room unbeknownst to the duo.
"May the Omnissiah guide us."
A heavily augmented voice, more akin to garbled radio static growled.
"Greetings, Archmagos."
Said both Lossier and Chevron.
The Archmagos walked quietly, making zero to no sound. It was something that Chevron fully never understood. How could such a massive abomination, an inch taller than any primaris with countless mechanical tentacles on his back only covered by that pure red robe, move so silently?
Zevas's mechanical and unintelligible voice shook in different frequencies, but to the people nearby, it felt more like a laugh.
"Amusing. I will answer your troubles, Admiral. Simply, I can manipulate the vibrations in the air. Sufficient?"
Chevron didn't know how the Archmagos knew his inner thoughts, he inwardly sighed as Lossier's eyes widened.
"The Omnissiah has blessed you greatly."
Chevron said.
"But you are here for another reason."
"Correct." Replied the Archmagos. He silently walked past both of them, straight to the central commands of the Aeneid, and displayed the space in front of the Aeneid. The seemingly unpassable space that keeps them from moving forward even in sub-light speed.
"Assessment. Our engines remain pure after my personal rituals, the machine spirit is ready and willing. Hypothesis. There is an invincible barrier preventing the ship from passage."
"Is that so?"
Chevron said, crossing his arms.
"Lossier! Prepare the Aeneid's guns! Let's see how such a barrier would fare against a nova cannon that can shatter stars!"
Lossier salutes.
"Yes, Admir-"
"Unwise."
Interrupted the Archmagos.
"Enlighten me, Archmagos."
Immediately replied Chevron.
"Answer. The nova cannon of the Aeneid is different. It is not built during the crusade, it was taken from a planet that had long lost it's name. It is a weapon that predates even Archmagos Belisarius Cawl. Conclusion. The Aeneid's cannon is as sacred as the temples of Mars itself. I will suggest this. Do not sully it's spirit by using it to break a mere barrier."
"Then, what other solution do you suggest, Archmagos?"
The Archmagos used his mechanical tentacles, also called mechandendrites, to manipulate the ship's console.
"Analysis. This barrier is dimensional in nature, it is not a shield. If it was, the Aenid's ram would've shattered it to a million pieces. Conclusion. Warp travel is suggested."
Chevron's eyebrows grew in an instant.
"Warp travel? We couldn't connect to the Astronomican! Without it, we would be lost and destroyed by the Warp in an instant!"
Zevas's mechanical voice pinged.
"Incorrect. You have interrupted my explanation, Admiral."
Lossier rolled her eyes as Zevas spoke.
"Explanation. We are in a new universe. The warp here vastly differs than ours. It is still small, like a tiny, calm stream coming from a massive raging river, but still separate and clean. I have confirmed this with some experiments. Conclusion. The warp here still remains untainted by the Archenemy."
Chevron, caressed his light beard in consideration. He remembers what had just happened a few moments before. The Emperor communicated to them. The Emperor did. Though he didn't understand what He meant, it was undoubtedly Him. So why would the Emperor leave them without the Astronomican, knowing it was their only safe way of Warp travel?
'No, The God-Emperor planned for this.'
Chevron thought. The Emperor had a plan for them. The Archmagos was right. The Emperor had sent them to this new universe, still clean from the presence of the Archenemy, for them to claim. Yes, that was it. He smiled.
"I understand, Archmagos. We will prepare for Warp travel to cross this invincible barrier. I shall inform the astropaths and navigators of the plan."
Zevas gave a buzz of acknowledgement.
"Response. I shall leave one of my Servo Skulls, he shall assist you in the reality that something happens. I shall go to the warp drive. Explanation. I will sanctify it's machine spirit. Omnissiah Protects."
Zevas's said, making the sign of the cog.
Chevron nodded. "Omnissiah Protects." He replied as the Archmagos leaves the command deck.
Ubervan Hallidex, Chapter Master of the Marines Invictus, had been having hallucinations ever since He appeared in his heart. The Emperor's grand yet incomprehensible message touched all of the hearts of those present in the conference room in that faithful moment.
He knew that everyone interpreted His great language in different ways. He could not say how the others understood it, for they kept it to themselves, as they also do not fully understand it. But he was different.
Every now and then, a hallucination troubles his mind.
It took the shape of his figure, and another. Then it disappears.
Ubervan made his way to the Chapel of the Aeneid. An unlikely act for someone like him. The Marines Invictus was an Ultramarine successor chapter, not religious like the Black Templars, yet still superstitious to the teachings of Guiliman. They believed and tried to revive the old, classical values of Ultramar, even if many of that was lost. And those values differ from the truth shared by the Ecclesiarchy. The Emperor was not a god, that he knew. But He was still the only Human worthy of reverence, and right now he needs His guidance.
He wore his armor, clad in ash silver colors, rustic golden trims and pure diamond blue decorations, as it was the colors of his chapter. The mark of a skull wearing an ornate crown with a sword, blade stabbed downwards implanted on his shoulder pads. It was the sign of the Marines Invictus. The word 'Invictus' was carved in his right shoulder pad and his left had the word 'Unconquered' implanted in ultramarine diamond. It was culture for the Marines Invictus, to have their armor garnished in various decorations and honor of their past deeds, there were a number of decorations, even compared to other glory seeking chapters.
He made his way to the very front of the chapel, it was empty for now. As everyone was making preparations for a very risky warp jump and he specifically asked to be left alone. He removed his helmet, embalmed in decorations that held a diamond laurel, different than those commonly sighted in Imperium, and placed it on his side as he knelt down in reverence.
He put his helmet back on and stood up from the ground. Someone entered while he prayed, but he had enough respect to not disturb his concentration.
"Lord Hallidex, it is rare seeing you in a place like this."
"Then it is. Do you remember the last time I prayed?"
The High Chaplain, known as the Vicar in the chapter walked closer, an imperial Aquila held in his hand.
"I remember, Lord Hallidex. I am sure you remember it better than me, so why do you ask?"
The Chapter Master stayed silent for a short moment, before speaking again.
"Tell me what happened that day, Vicar Blackwell. Do not hesitate, there is no one near."
The Vicar tilted his head, then stared into the ground as he clutched the aquila.
"Why? Why would you let me recall a past we try to hide?"
"There is meaning to this. Vicar."
The chapter master said, still head faced to the altars, not looking at the Vicar.
Blackwell clenched his hands, confused at the request, but the memories raged his emotions.
"That day, we were reduced to a measly three companies. Three companies!"
He repeated.
"Seven were lost, in a single day, dying in an honorless, inglorious, ugly death. Those liars."
His voice came out as a snarl.
"We call ourselves Invictus, the undefeatable sons of the 13th, and yet we bear a great embarrassment to the entire Imperium. It's only a miracle we somehow kept half of it secret. Shame. Shame."
Ubervan silently nodded, finally turning away from the altar and facing the Vicar.
"A great embarrassment, sent to crusade in an unknown universe by The Emperor Himself."
He placed his armored hands unto the shoulder pad of the Vicar.
"There is much for us to do while we still live, more victories to take, more glory to hold, and shame to forget."
Vicar Blackwell stayed silent.
"Vicar Blackwell, when is the warp jump occurring?"
"60 minutes, Lord Hallidex."
"Our ships?"
"They will join, as to limit the chance of being separated."
"I shall go back to our own vessels, make sure every brother on the Aeneid does so as well. You will be the last to leave."
"Your will be done, my Lord."
Hallidex walked behind the Vicar, but before he left, Blackwell spoke.
"Was that why you were praying?"
Hallidex then left without a word.
(11/2 fixed typos)