From
the journal of Lord Commander Hasran Tarkar:
By
the Emperor’s grace, we located the foul traitors hiding in a maelstrom within
the Rift of Hecaton. The Tarkar’s Prejudice was sufficiently large to negotiate
the maelstrom unaffected, though the rest of my fleet were not so fortunate.
I
ordered the transports to hold position and had the Glory and the Ghost
circumnavigate the maelstrom in opposite directions, to cut off any attempts at
retreat by the vile enemy.
The
maelstrom was dense and made good on obfuscating our sensors. The Will of the
Emperor was with us, however, and guided our divinations into the abyssal dark.
A pair of cursed raiders lay dormant, running silent in their efforts to hide
from Imperial justice… A justice I refused to deny them. My voidmaster served
admirably, ensuring our lance struck true, cleaving one of the abominations in
twain, purging the foul influence of Chaos therein.
The
other vessel, alerted to our presence, sought to flee. True to my expectations,
it flew directly into the waiting Ghost. The Ghost unleashed its torpedoes and
disabled the fell foe.
I
assembled a boarding party – I led Voss, my archmilitant, Carrolus the
Missionary, the Tech-Priest Condus, and a dozen conscripts aboard the disabled
ship. The moment the shuttle doors opened aboard that stricken vessel, battle
was joined. The air was thick – smoke, bolts, las-fire – and neither side
sought nor offered quarter. This battle would end only in complete and total
annihilation. Fortunately, the fiends graciously accepted the annihilation we
offered them.
By
the time our beach-head was established in their hangar, half of our conscripts
had nobly sacrificed their lives for the Emperor. In contrast, we had purified
over two score of the feeble denizens of the ship. A good start, though our
casualties brought our zeal into question.
I
allowed Carrolus to provide some further motivation to our assembled forces.
His potent words, combined with the impromptu immolation of the most cowardly
conscript, were commendable, and fostered inspiration and a renewed vigour to
our efforts.
With
our devotions properly in order, we stationed Condus and some enslaved
servitors to hold the hanger, while we penetrated deeper into the ship.
The
corridors were dense with bodies and smoke. It became quickly apparent that the
damage from the Ghost’s torpedo volley was more extensive than we had initially
thought. Indeed, without voidsuits, half our remaining conscripts died before
reaching the Bridge – an ignoble death, to be sure. The others were
sufficiently blessed to think of stealing breathers from the fallen enemy. (I
would sacrifice them to spare them the ignominy of succumbing to chaos, once
the mission was complete.)
The
Bridge saw battle rejoined – numerous minions dressed in twisted and misshapen
approximations of Space Marine carapaces lay in wait for us. Once again in a
secure atmosphere, we were deafened by the roar of two dozen bolters and some
chainswords screaming life and death in the close quarters. I admit, in those
moments, my zeal to the Emperor overcame me. My own recollections did not fully
return until their had leader had been thoroughly dismembered by my thirsty
chainsword. The all-consuming rage blinded me to the casualties, and the patina
of blood that coated me. As the smoke cleared and our victory was confirmed, I
was able to tally the death toll. While Voss’s beloved pistol and sword claimed
many foes, he was also lost. Carrolus lay mortally wounded, both arms severed.
Of the conscripts, one remained. He too was daubed in red by the blood of the
fallen. It was only now I noticed both that he had discarded the corrupted
breather, and that he was wielding the enormous hammer that originally belonged
to one of the Champions of the foe. I reconsidered my initial plan; this one
may, with adequate training and devotions, serve as an adequate replacement for
Voss.
Having
taken the Bridge, it was a trifle to flush the rest of the ship. With that
done, we were free to appraise our prize. Obviously, the ship itself was only
suitable for destruction. However, its hold was laden with a variety of archaeotech
and cold trade that would yield a food measure of profit. There were also a
pair of items that warranted further investigation. Once we were safely
restored to the Prejudice, I assigned Condus to the task of more properly
considering these items.
While
he could not be sure without the aid of the Ministorium Archives, he was
reasonably confident that we had recovered the bolter of Saint Genevieve Almace
– truly a unique and divine relic without peer. Were this to be the case, we
stood to profit greatly from establishing a pilgrimage. This thought pleased
me; especially now Carrolus was in no position to demand that we restore the artefact
to the Ministorium. It also hinted that we might be able to find the Banestar
for ourselves.
The
other device was evidently Xeno and powerful, though Condus identified that
proper investigation would take significant time. He was confident in labelling
a Halo Device, however, so we instigated severe quarantine protocols upon it,
securing it in a hold on its own.
With
our fleet reassembled and our prizes stowed, I ordered the Navigator to return
us to Footfall, that we might sell our bounty and liaise with the Family about
a more fitting (and profitable) home for the Alamacian Artefact.
The
Navigator drew his divining circle in blood on his dais. He uttered his prayers
to the God-Emperor and kissed his Aquila, falling to his knees within the
circle. His third eye, though closed, glowed furiously as he sought out the distant
Astronomican to triangulate our passage.
As
always, a tense silence fell over the bridge as we waited for his calculations
and the subsequent manifestation of his powers.
A
warphole opened. While it seemed very fast, none of us thought anything of it;
we assumed it was the work of our navigator.
Which
meant that none of us were prepared for the counter attack. The minions of
Chaos fell upon us without mercy. Their opening salvo crippled our shields and
our Gellar fields. The Emperor clearly smiled on us that their fury was so
minimally effective. Further, in their misguided ways, they had focussed their
assault entirely on the Prejudice; the Ghost and the Glory remained unscathed
and able to deploy their fighters to intercept.
Our
response was swift and brutal; the Void filled with fighters and return salvos
from our macro-batteries.
We
tore their fleet to ribbons in short order.
In
our hubris, however, we did not notice the most sinister aspect of their
assault. In the heat of the battle, a psychic war had also been engaged,
leaving our Navigator twisted in a cruel mockery of humanity. He had turned his
pistol on himself rather than suffer the depredations of the foe. While brave
and honourable, his actions did mean we would need to abandon a ship of the
fleet.
Adjourning
to my Ready Room, I called an emergency meeting of my captains. At length we
discussed the merits of each ship to the fleet, to ascertain which would be the
most expedient to scuttle, so they may have the honour of providing the
Prejudice with a replacement Navigator.
As
we did so, I received an urgent notification from my Astropath, Ederan. The
House had sent an urgent, top priority communique to all holdings. I cut my
connection to the conclave and allowed Ederan to deliver his message.
As
the message took over, his pallid flesh went limp, vacant, as distant voices
manipulated the bare minimum of his body. The voice that spoke was distant and
full of echo, yet resonant and forceful.
“Lord
Commander! All is lost. The House stands accused of heinous crimes against the
glorious God-Emperor. We are betrayed.
“Commence
plan Alpha Zero Nine Omega.”
In
that instant, our squabbles about which ship would be abandoned became
irrelevant. Through Ederan I submitted a brief response – an affirmative, and
the location we would move the fleet to – local, but not so close the enemy
could fall upon us – in the ancient Tarkarian secret tongue.
Our
treasures, our glory, were lost. It is my hope that this villainy will be
promptly overturned and we can properly honour the Golden Throne. Until then,
we have secured the fleet as best as possible in the Rift and gone into hiding.
Lord
Commander Hasran Tarker
Ever
loyal servant to his majesty, the God-Emperor.
No comments:
Post a Comment