Infinite space. The kind that swallows up the largest object as if it were
a speck of dust, caring none for the supposed importance of any of those
that dared to travel it's boundless reaches. The step into the Universe
could be your very last.
The Space-Hulk "Emperor's Glory" emerged from Warp Space into Segmentum
Tempestus. The blur of light that was indicative of the rend in reality
that came with all warp travel had stars and colourful gas clouds bend it's
spectrum until reality pulled back into itself and repaired the rend in the
fabric of Space. Warp travel was fast. *Real* fast. Jumping through
points of the Universe was made on the basis of Advanced mathematic
principles and the controls of the Navigator Psykers on board. But for the
most part, sheer luck played the biggest part. You could get to where you
wanted in a short amount of time, but arriving in the "same" time, that was
something else indeed. If something went wrong during the travel, the best
you could hope for was to arrive in the midst of a galaxy containing a star
going nova. At worst, well, there were always the rumours about the souls
who had been unfortunate to be sucked into the Eye of Terror and beyond...
Stories that gave even the hardest of the Inquistorial ranks a shiver down
their backs.
Still... The "Emperor's Glory" had made it through the Warp, as well as
making the right coordinates, and more importantly, the Astro-Chronometer
read that they had not arrived outside of their pre-existing timeframe. The
travel of hundreds of light years between the start and end of the journey
had taken mere hours.
Astro-Navigator Kritchen moved down the immense hallway, his silken purple
robes making no sound as they slithered down stairs and across the surface
of the floor as if they were a living entity themselves. He made an
imposing figure. Silken robes, a colour like it had been taken from the gas
clouds of the universe itself, flowed across his body. The edges were
embroided in gold thread, all a vignette of the Adeptus Astronomicon. If
looked at well enough, it seemed as if the small figures were moving,
playing out their roles on his dress. The purple robes peaked to a high
collar that moved straight upwards from about his neck and circled around
the back of his head. His head was bald and unmarked except for the psychic
enhancing implants that marred his otherwise unblemished brow. His face was
plain as any other, but to look into his eyes was like plumbing the very
depths of space itself. He moved at a regular pace along the hallway,
neither hurrying nor being too slow. The hallway to the ships main bridge
was made out of highly polished alloy, smooth and bright, with archaic
arches curving upwards from the sides of the hall. They depicted scenes of
the Emperor and his deeds, and were mirrored on the floor below.
Kritchen marvelled at it...
Everywhere you looked you were reminded of the Emperor, and how it was
through him alone that you were alive right now. Kritchen whispered a
silent prayer in reverence to the Hero of Humanity. About him servitors and
subserviants ran from here to their, scrabbling over sensory equipment,
gaining new information and analyzing it continuously. Kritchen mused to
himself. The SpaceHulk was more a living entity than a large chunk of metal
forced through the Universe via reactor fed thrusters and the force of will
of the Imperial Navigators. He watched as a servitor and tech priest
chanted a litany as they replaced one of the immense number of components.
They held the new part with care, making sure that it was aligned perfectly
before slotting it into the receptical. Chanting once more, they began the
prayer of "Righteous function" to the Machine God. Yes Kritchen thought...
Even less a metal container, more a living thing, more an embodiment of the
Imperium, more a God to others. To Kritchen it was the embodiment of the
Emperor, his Glory, and the reason why Humans were destined to rule the
Galaxy.
A slight whoosh heralded the opening of the main doors which gave entrance
to the bridge. Kritchen moved into the hallway beyond and proceeded down
the hallway to the doorway at the end. The closing of the doors behind him
removed the sounds of the workers behind him. The hallway was silent apart
from the thrum of the engines of the SpaceHulk that reverberated through the
ship. The Hulk always gave indication of it's life to those it carried
onwards.
Kritchen felt the probes of his mind and body slip through him as he made
his way down the corridor. No chances could be ever taken. Chances led to
possibilities, and possibilities lent itself towards problems. And problems
became Heretics. Best to eliminate the chance from the beginning.
As he reached the end of the short hall he took notice of the door leading
into the bridge. All along the hall the walls were bare and unmarred,
perfectly smooth. The entry door was different though. Ornate beyond
comprehension, it depicted a complete battle scene laid out in four
different sections, divided by an Imperial Cross. The scroll work on the
cross itself was just as exquisite, and bore in the Imperial Script the
words that had etched itself into the mind of Kritchen since he had first
began his service on the SpaceHulk "Emperor's Glory".
"In Service to the Emperor with the sacrifice of mind, body and soul, do we
keep his Sacred Legacy alive, and the Hope of all Humanity thus sustained."
Kritchen waited for the door to open, and passed inside and into the bridge.
*****
Kritchen maintained his kneeling position before Navigator Lord Phareq. The
Navigator had not looked down upon him yet, or even acknowledged his
presence. The Lord sat upon a large ornate throne made out of adamantium,
input feeds coming from a myriad of cords and interfaces that were attached
to his body. He sat in the same style robes as Kritchen, but the fabric
itself gave the impression that one was looking directly into the Universe.
Stars glowed and winked, black-holes sucked light into it's inky blackness,
and cosmic dust swirled slowly in patterns of undescribable colour. Slowly
Phareq cast his eyes down onto Kritchen, who felt that his Superior was
looking upon him, and looked up. The gaze upon him felt like the whole core
of his being was under examination, and the eyes of Phareq seemed look into
Kritchen.... and somewhere beyond... to a future of himself....
"You come to give your report, Navigator Kritchen" said Phareq, voice in a
whisper like the caress of Solar winds.
"We have exited from the Warp, my Lord, with no negative effects of the
travel. Astro-Sextants indicate that we have arrived in the area projected
for in our calculations, and readings from the Astro-Chronometer show that
no time-flux has affected our entry into Segmentum Tempestus. Preliminary
scans of the local galaxy are being collated for analysis of life-sustaining
planets, or for signs of hostile activity that would warrant the use of
orbital supression. I await your futher command."
Phareq looked up from Kritchen, eyes focusing off into the distant. "Inform
the Commander of the Imperial Fleet to begin preparations to bring the
colonists out of cryogenic suspension, and for the Adeptus Ministorum to
begin preparations for preparing the Faithful for the work that lies before
them. The Emperor be praised."
"The Emperor be praised" whispered Kritchen.
*********
Navigator Kritchen watched from the observation deck. Below him transport
ships docked and departed, all on a cycle to supply the necessities of life
to those who would soon colonise the planet. He looked to the planet below.
Barren. The planet was one of 30 in this sytem, all of which circled one
sun or the other. This planet was different though. It looped on a large
orbit that took it past all three suns during it's travel. Indicators showed
that the planet was in a state of perpetual Summer conditions except for the
three months in which it passed out of the influence of the three suns.
What effects this would have on the planet, Kritchen was not sure.
But Kritchen didn't care. His was the highest honour, the mark of
acheivement upon the years of service he had given. The naming of the new
planet was his, as well as several others in this system. He looked down
onto the light brown and tan planet, storms and cyclones stirring vortex's
of dust and sand for hundreds of miles across the surface. His mind cast a
thought to what it might be like to live down on such a place, but it was
soon obscured by his own vain-glorious thoughts on what to name the planet
itself. His face frowned for a second. It wasn't a very attractive planet,
especially compared to the lush green planets that the "Emperor's Glory" had
seeded with colonists beforehand. Nevertheless, it was his naming and he
got to choose. He thought back to his initial training in Segmentum Solar
with the Adeptus Astronomicon. He remembered a planet, much like this. One
he had to spend some time after a raid by a misplaced Ork ship that had been
spat out of warp space and into the vicinity of the ship he was serving on.
An ugly, dull planet called Scorpio VII, with barely enough water to keep
those who were transferred to the planets surface while repairs were being
made. Kritchen gulped back the bile rising to his mouth as he relived the
memories of being stuck on the planet, and having to drink urine-recyc to
sustain himself... The memories of that brought the taste back to his mouth.
He looked down on the planet from the observation deck. The planet below...
Ugly, dull, barren. He gazed to the archive control in front of him, thin
fingers deftly punching in his search directive. The computer responded
with a slight beep, flashing a string of names in front of him. His eyes
narrowed for a second, before he began punching in more data. Hitting the
final key the computer beeped once again. The ugly, dull and barren planet
now had a name... Scorpio XII.
*****
Kasharam moved quietly amongst the rubble and scree of the now bone dry
river-bed. Water came down from the uninhabited mountain areas only once a
year, and then for only a week or so, before being dried up completely under
the tri-suns that the planet circled. He whispered a low silent prayer to
the spirits of the planet, thanking them for their once a year flooding and
the bounty that it brought. With the water came life, and with the life
came the "hakethal", the vision stones, the power source, the lifes blood of
the planet itself. The immense floods had the effect of bringing minerals
from the mountain ranges, as well as leeching others from the ground itself.
This coalesced in a large catchment basin in the southern part of the
planet. Once the water was gone, the vision stones were left, red crystals
that varied from small pebbles to large hand sized chunks. These stones
would dissolve once introduced back into water, and the number of uses this
special source had were yet to be fully discovered.
The dusty river bed began to narrow further ahead, and Kasharam stopped and
surveyed the slopes climbing ten to fifteen feet above him. Slinging his
lasgun, he carefully negotiated his way up the side of one, an area not as
steep or as loose, but difficult nonetheless. Reaching near to the top of
the hill, he quickly peered over to check his surroundings. Nothing. Small
dust storms were kicked up and then deposited on the plain below... but that
was it. Kasharam crouched for a second, and then scrambled the last few
feet of the dry river banks side and over the top, running down the other
side and to a large group of bolders that were part of a broken off chunk of
an overhanging cliff. Sprinting the last few feet he dove behind the
boulder cover and crawled around one of the corners. Waiting behind one was
a group of five Desert Scorpions, four of which had laspisols ready in their
hands, the other with his laspistol pointing straight towards Kasharam as he
entered. Kasharam called out "Eh-ah-kalim", and the lead member of the
group lowered his pistol, replacing it in his side holster like the others
in his group. On this planet you could never be too sure.
Kasharam looked at those gathered before him. They wore the usual Desert
Scorpion uniform, covering the body in swarthes of cloth to protect against
the sun and sand, these fighters were distinguished by a long cloak that
wrapped around from their back down the rest of the body. This was coloured
in such a way that they blended in subtley with their surroundings, masking
their presence. This may have said to many that they would be slow to move
to places, and would be hindered by their bulk. But that wasn't the Desert
Scorpion way... Each of these fighters could have themselves ready to run at
full pace from their position within 10 seconds. And that included the time
to gather their weapons and ammunition. The longer it took to move out, the
greater chance that you wouldn't have time to run.
Kasharam passed his lasgun to one of the fighters as he unslung his
backpack. Undoing the straps quickly he began distributing the contents to
the fighters before him. Though parched of thirst, each fighter took it in
turn to drink deeply from the large canteens available, the others keeping
an eye on their surroundings for possible threats. After supplies of
ammunition, rations and most importantly, water, were handed out, Kasharam
took a cloth from a small pouch at his side and opened it. Inside were 5
small red crystals, each only the size of a pebble. He passed them
carefully to the fighters, each of them taking one, touching it to their
forhead and then to their lips, before secreting it somewhere on their
person. After this small ritual had been performed, Kasharam began to
converse with the designated leader of the squad. No words were spoken
between them, but instead the silent language of the hand was used to convey
messages. No chances were taken in this place. Chances led to death for
the unwary. Kasharam questioned the squad leader at length, but to the
point, asking about movements in the area, status of local wells and mineral
sources, as well as possible conditions within the next few days. The
leader replied, placing his long barrelled sniper rifle down on his lap,
ready to be used quickly if needed as he replied. There had been little
enemy movement for the last few days, and the small scouting groups that had
been sent out were quickly diverted, ambushed, killed and hidden in the
rocky terrain. In this zone between the Desert Scorpions and their enemy,
both foes walked carefully, lest it be their last step. Wells in the area
were ok, with only the ones that were easy to be found being tampered with.
Kasharam noticed the anger in the fighters eyes. On this planet of long
drought and heat, poisoning a water supply was one of the greatest mis-deeds
that could be done. Kasharam signed back that for every drop of water
spoiled in this way, a warrior of the opposing foe would be elminated, until
they were all gone. Even though the fighters face was covered in a head
wrapping, Kasharam sensed he was smiling.
Fastening his pack once again, and gathering up his lasgun, Kasharam signed
back to the fighters, telling them that they should receive new orders
within the next week or so. Otherwise, to continue of their patrol and
reconnisance, as well as their attacks on lone groups of the enemy. The
leader nodded to Kasharam, before pulling his sniper rifle up to a ready
position once again, and beginning his watch on the local surroundings.
Kasharam raced up and over the hill, back into the riverway and to where his
mount was waiting to transport him back to the base. Casting his mind back
to the news about the poisoned supplys of water, Kasharam gritted his teeth
and thought of what kinds of punishments could be meeted out for such an
atrocity. That would have to wait though, as for the moment the Desert
Scorpions would wait and watch before delivering their lethal strike.
*****
The scorpion kept its senses wary at the entrance of its burrow. Though its
sight wasn't that great, it had other ways to detect its prey. Making its
way out of the burrow and into the dark night, the scorpion was unseen. It
moved in short bursts, bringing itself closer to its prey before stopping to
check any changes in its surroundings. It could feel the prey living and
breathing close to itself... Its pincers and venomous tail readying...
*****
The sentry stood silently in the night. The night held many secrets and not
enough warnings. In the pitch black darkness even its visor that helped
amplify the available light didn't help in illuminating the area all too
well. The ground was a dark grey colour, the amplified light through the
visor was a iridescent purple colour. The sentry wondered why this planet
was chosen. Out of so many places to attack, ones with so many more juicy
targets to exploit, why choose one where you could scarcely find a target to
mutilate in so many wonderful ways. The humans of this planet were not
normal....
The sentry turned left quickly, thinking something passed in the corner of
its view. Seeing nothing but rock and ground, the sentry chided himself on
his reaction to nothing... No humans were out here, otherwise their heat
signal would have shown up on his visor. Casting his mind to when his
rotation of sentry duty would be over, and the pleasures he could delve
into, the sentry cast the movement from his mind.
A small click behind him had the sentry spinning around quickly, arm
bringing his sidearm around to bear. It was a redundant move though, as he
felt his arm and his helmet clasped in a strong grip, lifting him up from
the ground. His right arm scrabbled for his blade, and drawing it he
desperately tried to stab the arms that lifted him into the air and covered
his helmet speaker, giving him a chance to sound a warning. His repeated
slashing and stabbing availed to naught, as the grip began to tighten on
him. His armour plates on his arm began to creak and give in under the
pressure, pinching the muscle and flesh on his arm. He stiffled a cry of
pain, and looked down to his attacker. Through the cloudy vision he could
see two small eyes, firey and glowing, staring at him. A large tail came up
from the back of the creatures chitenous body, waving and glowing in front
of his eyes. Suddenly, the creature spasmed its claw holding the sentries
arm, cleaving it off and letting blood splatter onto the ground in a dark
stream. The pressure around the sentries head became more extreme... The
helmet popping and fracturing under the pressure, the visor eyeparts
beginning to shatter and split... The sentry tried to manage a scream, but
it only came as a gargle as blood began to fill his mouth. All the while
the red eyes kept on burning, focusing on its victim, before the tail lashed
out... once, twice, three times... The red-hot barb puncturing through the
victims armour with ease and pulsing venom into the body of its hapless
prey. The sentries body began to jerk and kick as the poison went to work,
spreading and killing the sentry, beginning to start the process of melting
the innards into a thick goo.. The last thing the sentry saw before the claw
finally closed and crushed his head like a hollow egg was the burning eyes
of the Scorpion, and the knowledge that he had definately come to the wrong
planet.
The scorpion let the limp body flop to the ground, brains and bloos oozing
from the sentries helmet. It stood still for a few moments, waiting for any
others that may have sensed its quick attack. Minutes passed before the
black armoured scorpion lowered its claws and gently clasped the sentry and
its severed arm. Moving quickly and leaving few marks, the scorpion carried
the sentries limp body across the rocks and down into its camoflaged burrow.
The food it would provide would help greatly in feeding its young.
*****
One, two, three.... fourfivesix.... Moving in formation, the sniper though
to himself, and knowing the others in his squad were doing the same. Each
of the scouting squad hefted rifles, sidearms, bladed weapons and the form
of grenades these fighters used. These were the ones they spied sabotaging
one of the local wellsprings in the area. Fortunately they poisoned a small
spring, but all water available was sacred on this planet, no matter if it
were a large pool or a small drip down the wall of a cavern. The Desert
Scorpions knew all the available water to be had on the planet, and the
spirits which inhabited each of the flows. The Sha-Seers, the Spiritual
leaders of the Desert Scorpions, communed with the spirits of the water
through the use of hakethal, or the vision stones. Those who partook of the
stones, those who had earned their place in the Desert Scorpions through
their early initiation rites, used the power within the stones to focus
their visions and enhance their senses. The stones had also been found to
be a good source of clean energy for powering weapons and machinery. The
crystals were so valuable that they were only used in this manner on the
most worthy of occaisions. Checking water sources was one of them.
Inserting them in water would have them melt back into the water supply.
Anything foreign in the water would change the water colour to a crimson red
for a moment, indicating its inability to be drunk from. The Desert
Scorpions looked after the water, and the water spirits looked after them.
The squad rounded the cliff feature and made its way to the small alcove in
the wall where the spring pooled, shaded from the suns depleting rays. A
body was located sprawled near the small spring, lying facedown. The
scrawls in the dirt around the body had shown that the victim had died in
some pain, limbs thrashing about violently as the poison went to work.
Spying this scene, the squad gave a slight cheer and raised their weapons in
the air, revelling in the death they had inflicted. It was hard to tell the
expressions of the squad, their long helmets and curved body armour not
obscuring the vision of the faces of their enemies. But from their weapons
waving and shouts, their joy at the infliction of pain and death was
apparent. The snipers zeroed in on their separate targets, each adjusting
for distance and other possible affects of wind and movement. The leader of
the squad passed his long rile-like weapon to one of the squad members to
hold while he unsheathed a long wickedly curved blade from his side. Moving
over to the body, the warrior knelt down beside it, arm moving it over with
the other holding the knife raised plunge the knife down on the bidy,
mutilating it further. As the leader rolled the body over onto its back,
the snipers locked on their targets and fired simultaneously. Five of the
six squad members dropped to the ground, holes in their helmets now spilling
their brains and dark, thick blood onto the ground. The leader, now turned
and stunned by the deaths of his squad members, didn't notice that the body
at his feet move slightly. As he looked back he was knocked back heavily
onto the ground as the now moving "corpse" was bearing down on him. A long
curved dagger was in one hand of the warrior, trying to bring it to bear on
the darkly armoured figure wrestling on the ground. The armoured figure
writhed and tossed with fury, one of its free arms being used to stop the
descent of the blade downwards towards the thin joining material between the
helmet and other armour plates. The warriors other arm scraped for its own
weapon laying nearby, having being dropped when he was taken of its feet by
the assault. The clawing and scratching for the blade had it nearly within
his grasp, before a well aimed sniper shot blasted through the glove on his
hand, taking off several fingers and ending his struggle for the weapon.
The dark armoured warrior cried out as the human on top of him took the
initiative and plunged the knife down closer.
"Eh-ashed el quarial menebt fahtel! Dektar alhehadar jutak!" swore the
human as his blade came closer and closer to the foe below him.
He couldn't
see the expression of the warrior through its helmet and darkened vision
slots. However, the humans eyes were alight and burning. The pent up fury
of the poisoning of the spring welling up inside of him, as his knife came
between the foul creatures armour plates, and began to cut through into the
flesh below. The warrior below, trying to push the blade away, began to
talk in a lithe but guttral tone, as if begging for his life. The human
continued to cut deeper into the warriors flesh... No words would be enough
to atone for the crime that was perpetrated.
The knife passed through the material and easily into the throat of the
humans victim. Driving it deeper and giving it a few short twists heralded
the final death movements of his foe, as blood ran freely from the wound.
Making sure that his foes passing was true, the Desert Scorpion warrior
stood up off the body, drew his pistol and fired a few bolts into the body.
Wiping the blood clean on the mane of hair that came from the back of his
foes helmet, he sheathed his knife and pistol. He looked to the position of
where the snipers were encamped, they themselves now standing and making
themselves visable by slinging their long rifles onto their backs and moving
down the side of the ravine. The human warrior stood over the fallen body
of his foe, and he leaned down, pulling at its helmet. Removing it and
tossing it to the side, he looked down at the features of the creature
beneath him. It had dark soul-less eyes, striking against the pale skin of
its face. Long pointed ears stood out on the sides of its head, with dark
hair cropped closely to it, but spilling out in long thin strands from the
top. The human looked down and into the face of his enemy, face slightly
smeared with dark blood, and he felt the rage inside of him peak slightly.
Signalling to the others, he began to pick up the body of his foe and sling
it over his shoulder. The others did as he, the victory felt for slaying
the destroyers of life a silent one felt in their hearts.
*****
It was several day before the bodies of the squad were found. They were
located a fair few miles from where they had been patrolling by a team of
fast moving flying bikes. Each member of the squad was removed of armour
and pinned through their hands and feet in the shape of an X to the sides of
a sheer rock wall, bodies bloated and festering under the hot sun. By the
time they were felt they had been there for some time. All of the bodies
showed the wound of the sniper rounds, each in the exact same spot on the
forehead. That was except for the one figure who was stuck to the wall
higher up than the others. The blade wound in the neck and the two entrance
wounds in the chest showed he was killed in a different way. His mouth was
open in a silent scream and the hollows in the skull where the eyes that he
had had been gouged out leaked a green ichor-like substance. Upon further
inspection it was found to be the same poison used to contaminate the water
supplies of their foes.
The two flying bikers looked at the body for some time, before turning back
towards their base and speeding off....
A lone scorpion crawled onto the face of one of the figures pinned to the
wall, and using its sharp pincers, began to cut and remove its flesh in
quick tearing motions.
To be continued? End.
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