Her ears perked up at the faint noise of water droplets, falling from a high place and splattering onto a shallow puddle. She was familiar with that sort of noise. After all, before she ever became a scientist – or learned science, for that matter – Rosen was a prisoner, one of Udu Akkad's many bastard daughters. She was little more than a toddler when the Emperor conquered her supposed father's domain. Lost and forgotten, Rosen still had no idea how she ever ended up growing inside a prison complex, with only the remnants of her former father's former guards to watch over her – not even for very long. And every single day in that place, she'd hear the noise of water droplets, falling from the topmost parts and onto a stale puddle.
And so it wasn't much of a stretch to assume that she was now in a prison. After all, she was clearly still alive, which meant those... monsters deigned to keep her alive for a reason. She'd never really figured if they were gene-forged mutants, like the Astartes themselves, or if they were simply aliens. If they were the former, then this could only be an interrogation of some sort. And, if it was, then they'd be sorely disappointed, because she barely knew anything about the Imperium that most people weren't already aware of. That said, their survey ship likely held plenty of secrets. If it was the latter, however, then she was probably about to be served as a meal.
Rosen pushed herself off the cold, hard ground and glanced around her. Black. No lights. Pitch black. Her heart quickened and hammered in her chest, echoing in her very ears. She forced her breathing down. The floor at her feet was stable, at least, but navigating in complete darkness was a terrible idea. There was no way of knowing what she'd walk, bump, or fall into. She was safe – for now. So the best thing to do was to stay in place and wait for an opportunity to present itself.
Her skin felt numb, but not with cold. It was a strange sensation, almost as if she had been submerged in icy water, and now, the numbness was creeping up her limbs. She tried flexing her fingers, willing her muscles to respond, but there was only the faintest tingle of motion, like a ghost limb. Panic clawed at her throat, and she clenched her jaw to keep from screaming. It was probably some sedative they'd used on her. She'd read about such things in the medical files—drugs that could paralyze without dulling the senses. Cruel, but effective.
She closed her eyes, taking deep, steadying breaths, trying to bring her mind back to a place of calm. What could she hear? The dripping water, yes, but also something else—something faint and distant, like the hum of machinery. It wasn't the familiar thrumming of the ship's engines; this was more rhythmic, like a heartbeat, pulsing through the walls around her. It seemed to resonate within her own chest, a low, bass vibration that made her teeth chatter.
Her eyes snapped open. Light! Just a pinprick in the darkness, but it was there. Flickering at the edge of her vision, barely visible. She strained her eyes, willing the light to come closer, to break through the darkness. It pulsed in time with the strange hum, flickering in and out, like a firefly caught in a jar. Was it a malfunctioning bulb? Or something more sinister?
Rosen tried to stand, only to feel a sudden, sharp pain in her abdomen, a pulling sensation, like someone had jammed a knife into her gut and twisted. She doubled over, gasping, clutching at her middle. Her hands came away wet. She could smell blood, her blood, thick and coppery, filling her nostrils. The taste of metal coated her tongue, making her gag.
"No, no, no," she muttered under her breath, her voice a thin whine. "Stay calm. Stay calm."
But the pain was getting worse, spreading through her body like wildfire. Her nerves were on fire, and every breath was agony. She could feel her heart racing, the thudding against her ribs growing more erratic. She couldn't see it, but she knew she was bleeding out, knew that death was close.
What was happening to her?
She pressed her hands harder against her abdomen, trying to stem the flow of blood, but there was no relief. Her skin felt cold and clammy, slick with sweat, and her vision blurred, the darkness closing in. She was losing consciousness, she realized. The thought should have terrified her, but instead, there was a strange sense of detachment, a surreal calm that settled over her, like a heavy blanket. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe sleep would take her away from the pain.
The pulsing light flickered closer, almost directly in front of her now, and for a brief moment, it illuminated the space around her. She saw smooth walls, curved and organic, not like the angular bulkheads of the ship. The walls seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting in time with the hum. And on the floor in front of her, she saw her own shadow, stretched out in front of her.
But something was wrong. The shadow was wrong.
Rosen blinked, trying to clear her vision, focusing on the shadow. It was… wrong. Her shadow shouldn't have looked like that. There was no outline of her arms, no shape of her head or torso. Instead, the shadow was a strange, formless mass, amorphous and shifting.
Panic surged through her again, a jolt of adrenaline that snapped her out of her stupor. She tried to look down at herself, to see what was wrong, but her head wouldn't move. She tried to lift her hands to touch her face, but she felt nothing. No hands, no arms. She couldn't feel her legs.
A scream bubbled up in her throat, but it never escaped.
Her heart raced, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, as realization dawned. She was not in control of her body. She was not even in her body.
She was floating, detached, a consciousness without a physical form. The pulsing hum grew louder, drowning out the sound of the dripping water, filling her mind with static. The flickering light intensified, blinding her, until all she could see was white.
And then the light faded, revealing a scene that made her blood run cold. Her body. Her own lifeless body, lying on a metal table, blood pooling on the floor beneath it. Wires and tubes snaked out from the back of her skull, leading into a complex array of machines. Her eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling, unseeing.
Rosen's mind reeled, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She was dead. No, not dead, not entirely. Her body was dead, but her consciousness—her mind—was still active, still aware. They had taken her brain, wired it into their machines, kept her alive, kept her thinking.
And now they were harvesting her memories, her knowledge. They didn't need her alive. They only needed her mind.
Terror gripped her, a silent scream echoing in the empty void of her thoughts. She was trapped, a prisoner in her own mind, unable to move, unable to escape. The hum grew louder, drowning out all thought, until there was nothing but darkness.
Nothing but the darkness, and the endless, relentless pulsing.
Argall stared at the extracted information and sighed, shaking his head. "Tsk. Looks like she didn't know much about the Imperium – nothing worth extracting, in any case."
The woman's memories yielded no usable results. Her research dealt with geological data and she was not at all privy to classified information. Hopefully, the other scientists would know more. But, for now, it was looking like the only source of information he had was their ship, a task that Argall left to his people as no one else apparently had the stomach to do what he was doing, which was strange since he was murdering or torturing anyone. As far as he was aware, the process was painless.
Argall shrugged.
He then turned to a nearby machine, one that was responsible for the control and manipulation of flesh, blood, bone, and sinew. He'd designed this thing quite some time ago, an inferior variant of the Genesis Chamber – more focused on immediate results, rather than fine results. As a result, Argall only ever used it on prisoners, of which there were none – not for many decades, at least, until now. That said, the device used to decipher and view memories came from the Necrons themselves, something Argall hadn't yet replicated. "Alright, put her brain and nervous system back in place, and bring me the next scientist."
The machine clicked and whirred, its pale green lights blinking as it processed Argall's command. Tendrils of bio-mechanical filaments slid from their recesses, weaving around the brain and spinal cord suspended in the nutrient solution. Argall watched with mild interest as the filaments coiled and tightened, connecting to the severed ends of the woman's nervous system, feeding artificial life back into dead flesh. He had always admired the elegance of the Necron technology, how it interfaced so seamlessly with organic matter, bridging the gap between life and death. The only problem was the instability of the connection. It would last for a few more hours, perhaps a day if he was fortunate, before the tissue began to degrade irreparably.
As the machine continued its work, Argall stepped back, folding his arms across his chest. He glanced at the woman's face, her vacant eyes staring at the ceiling. There was no expression, no sign of pain or discomfort. Argall had made sure of that. Whatever humanity the scientists had, it was lost the moment they were plugged into the machine. Their brains became little more than data storage units, holding onto memories that Argall sifted through like files in a library. No emotion, no fear, no awareness. Just knowledge.
He turned to a console nearby, tapping at the controls. A holographic interface flickered to life, displaying a stream of data.
Rosen Harthland's memories flashed by, cataloged and sorted, her entire life reduced to a series of binary codes. Argall scrolled through them, scanning for anything that might be of use. Childhood memories, early education, geological research… nothing of importance. He paused on an entry labeled 'Udu Akkad,' but it was a dead end, just a brief image of a crumbling fortress and a handful of guards. Nothing worth investigating further.
"Useless," he muttered to himself. "Just another pebble in a field of rocks."
He dismissed the data, returning to the central screen. The next scientist was already prepped, their brain suspended in the nutrient tank, ready for extraction. Argall sent a command to begin the process, the tendrils snaking out to make contact. As the machinery hummed to life, Argall glanced back at Rosen's body.
She had been one of the easier ones to work on. Some of the others, those more versed in the mysteries of the warp, showed resistance, mental fortitude that made the extraction difficult, even with the Necron device aiding him. He anticipated challenges from the more experienced researchers on the ship. The data could become distorted, fragmented by the remnants of a strong will. Argall considered implementing a new protocol for those cases, a more aggressive extraction technique, something to forcibly strip the data without risk of degradation.
Argall sighed, rubbing his temples. "There's never enough time."
The machine emitted a soft chime, signaling the completion of Rosen's reintegration. The tendrils retracted, leaving the brain and nervous system nestled within the hollow of the cranium. Argall walked over, inspecting the seams. Flawless. No sign of damage, no indication that anything had been done. He nodded in satisfaction, making a mental note to refine the reintegration process further. If he could replicate the Necron technology entirely, there would be no need for crude surgery. Everything could be done seamlessly, efficiently.
Rosen's unconscious form was brought out and another scientist brought in, ready to be cut open, like all the others.
AN: Chapter 44 is out on (Pat)reon!