Chapter One
"General Acailus! von Kanun is dead!"
Johann Acailus stared at the wreck of Navigator Dymetri von Kanun with an expression somewhere between resignation and disgust on his face. His good eye, ice-blue in color, moved from the man's lolling head, still covered in its metal harness, down to the splinter of warp-spawned bone that had penetrated his ribcage and pinned him to his chair. Blood flowed freely over the deckplates, making footing treacherous in combination with the uncontrolled lurching of the ship, but Acailus stood firm, stoically balanced atop the observation deck. With a muttered curse he turned on his booted heel and addressed the man behind him. Though both were of roughly the same height, it was obvious who was in command; Acailus's sharp chin, short-cropped brown hair, and thin cheeks seemed at odds with his gently rounded nose, but every one of his features spoke of regal practicality and the expectation of swift obedience. The Medallion Crimson, given in recognition of great physical sacrifice in the Emperor's service, hung around his neck; his silver and black bionic eye made the reason for the award evident.
"Major Dismas! Rouse the regiment. We are now drifting in the warp, and an invasion of this vessel by fell entities may be imminent. Make haste!"
Major Cerunnos Dismas was less impressive, but dignified nonetheless. He cultivated a short blond beard that complimented his hair and grey-green eyes, all caressing his smooth facial features. He saluted and turned to leave, his walk showing both efficiency and respect as he headed off toward the cabins occupied by the Chau-Saran Fifth. Acailus saluted in kind, then turned as well. It looked as though the Fifth would not arrive on Armageddon as expected; they would either show up very late, or not at all. It was painfully apparent that the Gellar Fields of the Mana and Water were failing, and the vessel was deprived of a pilot thanks to the untimely death of the Navigator. No substitute Navigators were present, but Acailus was not one to give up easily. Though Navigators had special training, the General reasoned that any Psyker could use the Emperor's light to navigate; with this hope in mind, he set out for the quarters of the ship's Astropath, the only possible candidate to free a full Imperial Guard regiment from horrible deaths at the hands of Daemons.
The Gothic-class Cruiser that carried them was a recent construction from the regiment's home world, and a mechanical failure this early in its career indicated something was badly wrong. The Gellar Fields had passed their initial test; Acailus had overseen every stage of his ship's construction personally. Why, then, had they failed during the journey? The General could see tendrils of energy, constantly changing in shape and color, snaking through the hull and reaching toward the bunks of the sleeping crew. One of them prodded a doorway as a bright scarlet worm, then slipped through as a virulent green blob. Surprised shouts, then screams followed. Acailus drew his plasma pistol from its holster, aiming carefully, then pulled the trigger twice, adjusting for an instant between shots. Two tendrils, just beginning to slip upward to wind around his legs, recoiled and fell back through the deckplates as the bluish energy struck them. Drawing forth his finely-crafted sword with his free hand, the General proceeded down the hallway, never pausing as he moved, hacked, and shot his way onward.
The purpose of an Astropath was to maintain communication between vessels of a fleet, and to keep fleets and planets in contact, allowing close coordination of combat maneuvers without relying on fallible and dangerous technologies. They thus spent much of their time relaying messages through the warp, as their range varied due to the mercurial nature of the dimension upon which they called, but they, like anyone else, required rest. Acailus had requested the services of a specific Astropath, a man called Yenix who had been a rogue Delta-level Psyker before extensive "retraining" by the scientists of the Imperium, to be aboard his vessel. Yenix had always been the General's backup plan, a weapon that could be unleashed through his conditioning and surgical damage as a last resort; in other circumstances, he would have been pleased with himself for his foresight. As it was, he had too much on his mind. Blowing away a tendril shaping itself into a Human skeleton, Acailus kicked down the door of Yenix's chamber, weapons at the ready; it proved unnecessary. By some twist of fate, or perhaps subconscious manifestations of power, Yenix stood unharmed in the center of the small room.
The man was only about half again as tall as a Ratling at four feet eight inches, with a shaven head that seemed so large as to be grossly disproportionate with his body. He wore no shirt, exposing a hairy chest that was more flab than muscle, though relatively thin nevertheless. Mechanical implants could be seen across his face, and most of what remained was scar tissue or part of his yellow eyes; if his back had been visible, much the same sight would have greeted Acailus. The Psyker's simple trousers and bare feet, along with a complete lack of other clothing, provided an odd contrast to the fully uniformed and decorated senior officer before him, something that should have commanded respect, but he remained where he was, cross-legged on the floor, his eyes looking vacant but constantly shifting the direction of their gaze. At last he focused on the General, then lifted a finger to his lips. Tilting his head back, he cupped his other hand to his ear, then swayed in time with a tune only he could hear.
"Don't disturb the song, General. It's too beautiful to die."
Acailus swore again; the one man who could help them seemed to have lost his mind entirely. He was not one to give up, however; he had not earned his Medallion Crimson by playing dead when an Eldar blade took his eye, but by gunning down the foul Xenos and fighting on through the stream of blood rolling over his face. Striding over to the little man he put his powerful arms to use, hoisting the Astropath to his feet and shoving him forward. When his last hope still refused to go anywhere, he sheathed his sword and picked him up over his shoulder like a bedroll, straining to carry him and still aim his pistol. As he reemerged into the corridor he noted with dismay that the tendrils had doubled in number, and he had only one weapon with which to fight them at the moment. Firing off several quick shots into the crowd of pulsing, shifting entities he dashed forward, shooting at anything that came too close. The observation deck was just ahead; if he got out of this one alive, he'd have quite the report to give to the First Lord General of Chau-Sara, who monitored and coordinated the first five regiments of that planet and was often bored enough to hear whatever tales his field Generals could tell him.
Just as Acailus was ready to duck through the last hatch, several tendrils formed a deadly wall of warp energy over it, preventing escape while others closed on him. Though he fired madly, he knew he could never hold them all off; his plasma pistol was empty after the first few shots anyway. Yet as the sinister cage descended red blasts and echoing retorts sounded throughout the corridor, scattering the tendrils just enough for the General to take a leap through the gap. He rolled, bashing his charge's head into the deck hard enough to daze him, then regained his feet to find himself facing Major Dismas and a small group of fully-outfitted guardsmen. Holstering his spent pistol and gripping the Astropath with both hands, he performed an awkward salute.
"Major, excellent timing. I may have a solution to our problem, if you and these men can hold the observation deck. Where is the Colonel?"
"He's with the rest of the men defending the aft section, sir; several minor daemons have managed to manifest there, but so far they have been successfully destroyed with Krak grenades. Nothing else to report, save that we are ready for duty. We'll watch your back, sir. Emperor be with you, and with us all."
Acailus nodded, then heaved his quarry up the stairs, the guardsmen following and pointing their lasguns every which way. A few solitary tendrils showed themselves and were blasted into oblivion, but otherwise it was quiet save for the breathing of the soldiers. Leaning Yenix against the console, the General drew his sword again and sliced through the spike holding von Kanun to the chair. Tapping half through the back of the chair, he then kicked the Navigator's corpse unceremoniously from its perch and hauled the sole remaining Psyker into the chair. With all the deftness he could muster he attached hoses and microchips to Yenix's implants, hoping that he was doing it right; one mistake, and the ship's last hope would be fried. But nothing disastrous happened; Yenix merely remained slumped in the chair, eyes rolling about in his head. Plucking the primary feed from the back of von Kanun's harness, Acailus shoved it into place, then leapt back with a grunt of pain as a shock ran up his right arm, rendering it numb. Yenix immediately sat up, his eyes focusing, his facial features contorting as he screamed with a sound no normal Human could hear or comprehend.
Points of light flared and emitted from the Psyker's fingertips, and he writhed in place, seemingly trying to pull something out of thin air. Though it would be impossible for him to guide the ship to its destination, he might yet pull it out of the warp and into relative safety. Blood began to drizzle from his mouth, eyes, and nose, mixing with flecks of spittle and falling into his lap. His shoulders and chest bulged strangely, then returned to normal the next second, his flesh seeming to leap and dance. But outside the viewport the domain of Chaos began to give way to normal stars; it was working. Tendrils began to erupt everywhere, a last gambit to keep the prey captive that just might succeed. They slashed down at the Astropath, only to be intercepted by the lasers and bayonets of the guardsmen and the sword of Acailus, now wielded in his left hand with slightly less strength and finesse. Yet there were far too many; one guardsman screamed and vanished entirely as a blob engulfed him, while another was cut into thirds before he could make a sound. The Major, chainsword clenched in both hands, did his best to hold the assault at bay, but the warp manifestations were becoming wise to his tactics, making counterattacks he was hard-pressed to avoid.
Yenix's scream became piercingly audible, and one guardsman covered his ears; it was the last mistake he ever made as energy ignited his head and cooked his brain in an instant. Something was clearly trying to force its way out of the Psyker's chest, and Acailus had no desire to find out what it was. Taking his attention off the tendrils for a moment he lifted a prayer to the Emperor, weighed his options, and lifted his blade. Without a second more of hesitation he drove it into Yenix up to the hilt, pinning him to the chair in an eerie reenactment of von Kanun's death. The Astropath's screams halted, and the sword slid free. With a horrible lurch the General could feel in something beyond his body, a part of him between his mind and soul, the tendrils vanished, leaving the corpses of their victims. Outside the viewport, endless stars were visible, as well as a single world, covered entirely by blue-white clouds. They were free of the warp; Acailus's gambit had paid off on two occasions. Cleaning blood from his sword, the General happened to look at Yenix again, and there beheld a strange sight: the Psyker was still breathing, despite the gaping wound in his chest.
"Major! Get a medic up here. And find someone who can tell me where in the Emperor's name we are. It's not where we're meant to be, as I expected, but we may yet be able to find some way to our destination. Send a probe down to the planet and find out if it's habitable; we may need to make repairs there. I have a feeling this is just the beginning..."
