User:LtSpiteful

The Refuge

As you enter the dark building your eyes take in the scene. You have seen hundreds just like it. The old rusty generator in the corner struggles against the dark, while volunteers hog their gasoline, unwilling to run out. The static from the transmitter is interrupted by calls from nearby safe houses, and occasionally the screams and maydays from assaulted malls and police stations. Most of the survivors keep to themselves, talking in small groups, or anxiously searching for more ammo for their weapons.

In the corner one individual stands out. He speaks quietly in a language you cannot quite place, but which sounds harsh and guttural. He seems to be worshipping some image, but you cannot make out what it is. In a strange gesture he places his hands across his chest and recites a final line.

Alarmed, you flick the safety off your weapon. You may not know what started the zombie plague, but you have heard rumours about witchcraft and at this point in time who are you to argue what is real and what isn't. After all, don't the dead stalk the land like some medieval nightmare?

When nothing seems to happen you relax a little. Remaining on guard you decide to maintain a close watch of this character. He straightens himself out and salutes before packing the item back into his bag and starting to clean his weapons. You gasp at the sheer number of them, for they could fulfill the crazed fantasies of Rambo or other third rate action heroes.

When he finishes he starts pouring over old charts and plans, and examines a device that looks archaic. It whines and hums in his hands and projects a blue light onto his face. The light throws sharp contrast on his fine feature. The face is narrow, every feature thin and defined, with features that wouldn't look out of place in an 18th century aristocrat. A single scar marks his forehead, long and thin, like an artist brushed a single white stroke above his eyes.

You play around with the idea that he got it in a fencing duel before laughing to yourself at the incredulity of the thought. No-one duels except in the black and white pirate movies they used to show in the theaters.

He looks up at you, notices your interest and smiles. He reaches for something in his bag...

Spiteful

Life in Malton has taken on a semblance of a routine. Life and Death are strangely linked and the Great Cycle has lost all meaning. Bounty Hunters, Mass Murderers and Spies all mingle with the ordinary citizenry. Suspicion is rife and the society has broken down into little feudal groups, all fighting for their own survival with little regard for the common humanity shared.

Within this collection of humans, all scrambling for their own place in the sun, this single figure seems surprisingly comfortable. Weapons and ammunition bulge out of every spare pocket and a single scar adorns the man's face. When asked what his name is, his only reply is a chuckle and "Ja, they used to call me Spiteful".

As you spend more time in this survivor group you learn a bit more about him. While he keeps mostly to himself he's willing to help out and is often noted for his youthful exhuberance. As with all survivors that still inhabit Malton, there's more to him the deeper you dig, and his true motives he keeps mainly to himself. One thing is apparent. He's here in Malton by his own free will and he's looking for something bigger than himself here.

The Quest

Every day he seems to plan out a march into the out reaches. When he comes back he consults old texts and strange mechanical devices. When you ask him what he's searching for he laughs deeply and joyfully.

"The Greatest Treasure in the Universe" he exclaims. Your puzzled expression only amuses him further.

"Aren't we all looking for the same thing?" he asks "a good night's rest and something to believe in"

You nearly choke at the incredulity. Surely this man isn't for real. To believe in something like that at a time like this? What a naive fool! You politely nod and answer:

"Not all of us are looking for God, and most don't use maps"

He smiles a wide smile: "Well, we may not be looking for him, but he's most definitely in Malton. And he's looking, my friend, most definitely looking..."

You stare at him "For what exactly?"

He smiles cryptically

"Braaaaainzzzz" he mumbles out, pulling a face. Laughing at his own joke he folds away his maps and turns to face you. He holds out a golden insignia. You realise it's of a double headed eagle, with it's wings outstretched.

"Be happy", he says, "for Malton has been blessed. Never before have we witnessed events as truly amazing as we have here. The immortality of humanity and the safety of our soul have been assured."

At this point you have heard enough. This young fool is most definitely insane. You pull yourself to your feet and storm off to do something else.

The Real Universe

Understanding the origins of the one called Spiteful requires at an indepth look at the deeper, oft unseen physics of the universe. While to many this may seem an extreme act of hyperbole, the very origins of Spiteful is tied up within these workings, and therefore and understanding of them is required to understand the motivations behind Spiteful's ongoing quest within the quarantined City of Malton.

Back in the 20th century mankind started reaching for the stars. This ongoing struggle remained slow due to the nature of Newtonian physics and the time dilation difficulties associated with the Relativistic attempts at travel. By the end of the 20th century mankind had explored much of his own solar system, but had yet to colonise any of the planets.

A deeper understanding of the universe's workings was needed. While scientists struggled with the mathematical proofs behind quantum physics, the examination of superstring theory yielded the most interesting result. Scientists had long speculated the existence of multiple dimensions, but It soon turned out that there was more interaction between these than at first apparent. The breakthrough came when scientists exploring the homologous composition of the universe discovered a link in dark matter and the presence of "mini-wormholes".

Soon it became obvious that these worm holes created more than merely a link between physical spots in the universe, but that it took a "shortcut" through a completely different dimension entirely. Exploitation of this knowledge turned out to be the gateway to the stars. At first all went well; ships with special drives phased along the boundry of the two dimentions, skimming along the edge of the two where time passed more slowly and travel was several times the speed of light. But the relationship between the two dimensions was not well understood, and pilots who captained their ships closer and closer to the edges of the second dimension experienced strange symptoms.

Dreams of the future, the past and even events that would never happen haunted them. Their emotions spilled over to other crew memebers and passing by the sites of past battles caused turbulence in the boundary for several parsecs.

After several ships went missing as they strove to cross the boundry and avoid this turbulance, it became apparent that the two dimensions were inexplicably linked.

Entropy

Throughout the ages mankind has recognised the presance of the soul. Socrates and Plato, forever inseparable in history, established its immortality through one simple equation. The world is divided into those things that decay and those that do not. Those that decay are the fleeting glimpses of reality our senses manage to encompass, worn away as time erodes at them, slowy burying them beneath the years. All material things that can be seen, heard or touched eventually bow down to the command of The Ages. Therefore our senses blind us to the reality of the universe.

However there are some things that do remain constant. No matter how much time passes, The Forms remain. Truth, Honour and Courage will remain. Barely glimpsed by our mortal selves, these elements remain eternal because they remain pure and whole. Our very soul is one such Form. Should we taint our soul with animal pleasures we would be bound to this planet as animals. Plato, of course, was not the only one to write of such seemingly fanciful notions. All cultures have spoken of the ghosts of ancestors, bound in the form of animals, haunting lands. Dark black dogs stalk cemetaries in Celtic lore, and in the furthest reaches of Africa, haeyenas taunt the living with their baying preseance.

But just as The Forms remain true and eternal, there are other Forms out there, twisted and evil. While they may not be as wholesome as concepts of Good, Justice and Valour, they are no less pure, yet seemingly corrupted. These Not-Forms are also ever present and present a dark mockery of the True Forms. Every Form has its anti-Form, a twisted antithesis that persists. Too easily are men swayed from their path, and more and more of their soul is stripped away to form part of these. Courageous men are overcome by anger and hate, cunning men stoop to trickery and honourable men become enamoured with pride. And of course, ever present is decay, as false hopes and human vanity give way to the reality of the ages.

In many ways Decay is the mightiest of forms, ever present, always represented by the other forms, as Grandfather time slowly corrupts and destroys. The very universe itself is doomed to be destroyed by this Form as stars and galaxies slowely, inevitably blink out to the death presented by this patient deciever.

And so Decay just keeps getting bigger, stronger as more and more of our souls feed this concept. Grandfather Time, twitches in his sleep, not yet ready to take his place as the greatest of all Forms. His nascent dreams stretching out to the universe as he spasms in his sleep. And a small town called Malton awakes screaming from his nightmare.

The Spark of Life

The weight of eternity is enough to shatter even the strongest of men. Age stoops us as gravity slowely wins against our inner strength. Yet there is still hope, for Order is build into the universe. The Spark of Life was sown on earth billions of years ago, and it has blossomed, spreading order as it went. Complex systems gave way to societies of creatures, ecosystems within and without, each exponentially spreading order in a universe of chaos. The Natural Order of things.

Evolution, that divinely inspired concept. It stands out alone in the universe against decay, ordering things into larger and more complex structures. Working over the eons, Evolution strives hard, using every once of inginuity to ensure every possible niche, each and every conceivable future has been fulfilled. After nearly a billion years of toil, evolution pulls out it's ace. Homo Sapiens. This unremarkable primate is laughable by the comparisons of other creatures. It's slower, less capable to defend itself and can't produce the numbers it needs to flourish. But Evolution knows better. It has put these humans, these hairless monkeys, into the most valuable niche of all.

It is not long before His patience is rewarded, for a mere ten thousand years later man has spread his particuar sense of order all over the planet. As he goes man is not content to merely spread, but he himself starts to order the world around him in his own image. And it is here, with Life's goal within reach, evolution's grasp extending to the stars, that Decay plays his ace.

The Universe of Man

On the eve of victory, Mankind's Great Ordering is sundered. Anarchy reigns in the universe and the once wholesome ideal become something more basic, something less than human. The Patient One is at work again. As human kind wages a war accross the galaxy, the final battle for our own humanity is fought within ourselves on our very planet of genesis.

Two powerful figures clash, representing opposite ends of the Forms. The battle is epic, the victory pyrric, and our soul is forever doomed to walk the fine line between salvation and damnation. But out of inevitable defeat a final victory is gained. A glimpse of hope for the future. The Greatest Hero, who was mortally wounded, transcends to a not-death, an undead state that has him live for all eternity. Representing a shinning Beacon of Guidance that shines through the entire universe, he steers a reordering of the Galaxy as the Anarchy is forced back.

A pact reached thousands of years ago with the Lord of Decay has ultimately saved humanity, but at a price. His vision is also corrupted, influenced by the Lord of Decay. While the Entropy is staved off, it will never be the Ordering that it was once planned. A miserable stalemate is reached until man is old enough to fulfill Evolution's inevitable plan. When this happens the Hero will regain enough strength to throw off his Death and return to Life. Mankind will transend mere mortality, but will become an eternal Form, The Eternal Form, more powerful than the others that will ultimately save the universe.

The Origin of Spiteful

The shadows lengthen as the sun begins its slow decent to the horizon, masking the approach of the figures moving through the dense foliage. As they approach the edge of the foliage they slow, spreading out to minimise the chance of contact. A figure stands, a lone sentry at the edges of the woods, silhouetted by the afternoon sun. The line halts as the order is passed silently down the line. The sentry stirs for a moment before making a muffled noise and crumpling to the ground.

The line continues the relentless advance, a sudden urgency gripping its maneuvering. Dividing into separate squads the individual units advance in echelon formation, searching the ground for signs of other recent activity. A cricket chirrups, and the movement stops dead. The soldiers grip their rifles tighter, their fingers playing along the triggers. Suddenly a bright light illuminates figures crouching around the fallen sentry. Three chirrups and the tension in the line eased. They had made their rendezvous.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A tall figure strides over to the small party crouched around the fallen sentry. The expensive cloak folds around the shoulders of the figure, the exquisite body armour doing nothing to mask the feline figure of the elegant woman. Taking in the scene with but a single glance a wry grin comes to her face. She motions over to the leader of the advancing party, a young Lieutenant with a serious face and a thin scar, running like a slash across his forehead.

"Do you always eliminate the greeting party, leftennant?" She asked, her tone even.

"Yes Ma'am, whenever the rendezvous is done in these particular circumstances" he replied, not batting an eyelid. The Inquisitor smiled. Either this soldier was too naive to realise the recklessness of his comment, or this was just some of the professional bluntness this unit was famous for. After all, she didn't order their assignment for their diplomatic skills, but rather for other, more practical, uses.

"I see that I have done well to request your assistance. Your reputation is well deserved. Vladmir has been one of my personal detachment for at least 5 years. Not many people get the drop on him." The bruised sentry scowled, his twisting features clearly visible despite the heavy-duty combat helmet and visor. The Lieutenant merely shrugged.

"We both went to Schola training. Sentries always have a harder time of it than ambushers"

The Inquisitor noted the nonchalant way that he discarded the complement. She reminded herself that this unit often served with other members of her establishment and that internal politics and flattery was not the way to win their trust. "So be it, leftennant. We have a lot of work to do"

She raised her hand and several heavily armoured troops materialised out of the bush. If the lieutenant was impressed he didn't show it.

"The matter at hand is of utmost importance and discretion is imperative. Your unit's particular skills would be of special benefit to my mission."

The Plague

The Terminus Est silhouetted the sun, the massive form of the five kilometer long ship cast an enormous shadow over Corinth, the capital of Laria. Orbital defences flung volleys of laser and heavy ordnance at the craft, but the rounds merely sunk deeply into the rotten hull and were consumed by its acid and bile. Slowly, as if unconcerned with the planet, the Terminus Est powered up its drive and slowly pushed itself out of the system, never to be seen again.

Millions of citizens rejoiced as the ship dissapeared. Their lives had been saved by the brave defenders. The Governor of Laria proclaimed a day of celebration when the System Defence ships reported it leaving the edges of detection range and dissapearing off of scanners during a space transition. That night the festivities were of epic proportions. People danced in the streets, joyous music was piped over the emergency broadcast channel and many parties overflowed and coalesced into a singular mass of drunk, celebrating humanity.

Inevitably things got out of hand and the local arbites were called in as disorderly people started breaking windows. Soon, the outter habs were awash in fire as the response by the law enforcement countered several parties that had gotten violant and riotous.

It is not known how the first of the Arbites got infected that night, but by dawn the city was in chaos. The Adeptus Arbites had turned upon itself and dead creatures stalked the streets, former partygoers infected with a new kind of virus. By lunchtime the military had evacuated the Governor from Corinth and a military cordon was flung around the city, only to be shattered as millions of undead charged headlong into their volleys. At 14:32 the situation was considered unsalvagable and the orbital guns were turned upon their own city. That night the sky was lit by the flames of 12 million people, their souls already lost to the Emperor.

Only by the sacrifice of these millions and another 50 000 soldiers of the Larian Planetary Defence force was the plague controlled. The Governor was declared a Hero of the Imperium for his prompt action and several holodramas were made of his personal defence of the people of Laria.

Over time urban legends told of a few of the undead living and feeding off of stray people in the sewers in the surrounding cities on Laria. To date these have never been proven.

One month later the Terminus Est was sighted off of the Imperial planet of Haspania. Constact with Haspania has subsequently ceased.

The Mission

The Lieutenant motioned for his men to lower their weapons. The surrounding soldiers were clearly members of some Imperial Guard Regiment, who had been absconded to assist in the upcoming mission. His words were again aimed at the Lady as she scrutinised his every action.

"I see that you are no stranger to taking precautions yourself. I assume that you will provide me with some form of identification now?" The lady gracefully extended her palm to face the lieutenant and a sigil electrically embedded in her palm tattood itself accross hir skin. The unmistakable "I" of a Holy Order of the Inquisition burned on her open palm and set off sensors in the Lieutenant's helmet as IFF systems kicked in. The Helmet's machine spirit growled softly in the lieutenant's ear. Scrolls of text appeared in his visor identifying that particular sigil and veryfiying its biological ID.

The Lady drew herself up to ther full height and adressed those assembled before her. "I am Inquisitor Circe of the Ordos Malleus, and these are my, "confidants"." She gestured to the three heavily armed men escorting her and then at the man trussed up a her feet "and they answer to Victor, whom you've met."

The Lieutenant motioned to one of the soldiers in his party. "Christina, untie the Inquisitor's man". He again addressed the Inquisitor. "Three squads of Battlefleet Ultima's 225th Storm Troopers, at you're service Milady. I see that we will be accompanied by your." The Lieutenant stopped and surveyed Victor who was restoring circulation to his unbound hands before continuing "confidants, and some inducted Guardsman?" The inquisitor smiled and answered "Two squads of the Cadian 342nd. They have accompanied me on some errands before." Someone amongst the 342nd sniggered and mentioned something under his breath.

The Lieutenant nodded. obviously these were veterans from that regiment selected as a kill team. Their job would either be to provide support to his Stormtroopers or if the Inquisitor decided that his services were surplus to requirements, ensure that his squad had an "accident" on some forsaken planet. One never knew with the Inquisition. This was not much concern to him, as it was just one of those occupational hazards that you delt with in service of the Imperium. What did confuse him was that he was a naval storm trooper, attached to Ultima Segmentum's Fleets. Normally the Inquisition trained and maintained their own specially selected troops that had been mentally augmented to make them unshakably loyal. Clearly this operation was off the books if she was roping in him and a few Cadians.

Having developed survival intincts beyond that of a suicidal lemming he kept these thoughts to himself. His men would perform what was asked of them, even if they smelt a rat just like he did. It was part of being a Naval "Stormie". Instead he asked the Inquisitor for coordinates to her camp and set one of his squads on point and another on rearguard. His own squad would be close support for the Inquisitor as they made way to their encampment for the night.

Time

It is a well known dictum that time is relative. Few who quote this know what this means and even fewer understand the basic principles underlying the phrase. Time is as much part of the universe as energy or matter, and is written into the underlying rules that govern everything. It is for this reason that there is no such thing as instantaneuos travel between locations nor anything that travels faster than the speed of light. This universal speed limit isn't an absolute barrier to which you can creep up before colliding into, like lesser barriers such as that of sound. Instead it affects everything at all times, based upon their absolute speed. As they approach it their mass will increase exponentially, meaning that eventually more than an infinite ammount of power would be required to exceed the barrier. Physical dimensions are also affected as the accelerated stucture will appear to compress in the axis of acceleration. Finally, and most importantly, time itself is dilated to the accelerated frame of reference. This was used to great effect by those colonising the galaxy, as people could travel hundreds of light years with minimal aging as the time ticked more slowly for them than for the rest of the universe. This time dilation effect becomes more and more pronounced as you approach the barrier, with a proton of light itself experiencing everything simultaneously, a wave litterally being everywhere at once, a singularity in time.

Nothing can go faster than light. Nothing is instantaneous. Except for quantum effects. Except for gravity.

Nothing can go back in time. Except for...

What determines causality? The decay of the universe is written into its very existance, its very start part of the process of its death. The Laws of Thermodynamics require that everything decline into chaos, ensuring that the universe ticks forward step by step and never a second backwards. But clearly some processes are immune to this. Gravity acts on all things instantaneously. Scientists experimenting with colliders tally the products of collisions to find out where mass, is and what happens to it, but it remains elusive. In short, at the moment of being revealed it dissappears. Where does it go? To a place where the laws and limits of this physical universe doesn't matter, where light doesn't limit the speed one can go and where time ceases to have any meaning. It goes to eternity.

When mankind managed to unlock this realm, all possibilities opened to them. Cause and effect no longer had to apply and travel to the stars was as simple as immersing yourself in a new realm.

Unfortunately man didn't get there first.

The Enemy

The Lieutenant cast a wary eye over their new quarters. The large room contained dozens of bunks with their corrosponding footlockers, a small area where training could be done or meals could be had and an annex equiped with a holoprojector for briefings. All in all it was spacious by naval standards almost on the point of luxurious. Most naval personel were used to hotbunking, eating in the same mess and making do with the corridors for their personal training. Clearly this unasuming naval frigate had some hidden qualities. The Inquisitor must have ensured that the ship was outfitted with some extra luxuries for her missions.

These modification unsettled the Lieutenant. He had been a groomed to be a navy man practically from birth. At the age of thirteen he had been selected for stormtroopers training and every subsequent second had been spent performing the duties expected from a stormtrooper cadet, then a low ranking trooper and finally as the leader of hundreds of well trained and highly motivated soldiers. Now all of those years were imposing their weight upon him, telling him that things were not all as they seemed.

By all acounts the ship that they were on, The Spiteful, was an unassuming Navy Frigate, one of the new Sword class. It was well armed for such a small Imperial vessel, but its real strength lay in its incredible speed and maneuverability, one of the few ships that could go toe to toe with the archenemy's own ships. For the entirety of its service the Spiteful had patroled the outer fringes of imperial space, looking for pirates, raiders and reporting on any unrest on the verges of civilisation. It was a role that she was well suited to, and a function that kept the lifeblood of the Empire, her merchant fleet, flowing from planet to planet.

His first mission had been from just such a vessel, well, technically it had been from one of the redoubtable and legendary Cobra class destroyers, but the lone ship on patrol synergised well with small black-ops teams such as Stormtroopers. But clearly this ship wasn't that. If the ship had been modified in such a cavalier manner, what happened to its combat efficiency? The lieutenant found himself wondering what had been sacrificed from the balance of the ship's capabilities just so that his men could have a bit of legroom.

Less pressing, but no less concerning were his reservations about the ship's history. The recorded log of the ship listed no downtime for the modifications that had been made. The ship had not been retorfitted at a port, nor had it been off station any longer than it took her to deal with whatever problems a patrol vessel encountered. All battle damage the Spiteful had taken had been minor thanks to her speed and firepower, so all repairs were done while on cruise. At least the last sign pointed to a professional and well trained crew, not something that you could always expect on the fringes of wilderness space.

For their part his crew had taken to the new surroundings with enthusiasm, relishing the extra room with which to maintain themselves and their weapons. Shield squad was busy getting some sleep, the old hot-bunk system of sleep being deeply ingrained in his men. At least, he mused, that at any given time at least one of his squads would be awake and alert.

The second squad, Shadow, had grabbed the available tables and were taking the oportunity to socialise whilst maintaining their weapons. Dozens of weapons of every description was assembled and dissasembled on the table as the close-knit team got rid of every speck of dirt.

Compared to the other branches of the Imperial military, stormtroopers were heavily armed and armoured. The Imperial Guard were as varied as the planets that they came from, but at least their weapons and training had been standardised compared to the lowly Planetary Defence Forces that guarded these planets. Guardsman all used the same Imperial Lasgun, a weapon for every occasion, and were equiped with light, flak armour to protect them from, well not much really, probably just other Imperial Guard Lasguns. This was a lucky coincidence as the Lasgun and similar grade weapons were probably the most prolific weapon in the universe.

His own troops, the storm troopers wore bulky vacume suits and all-encompassing carapace armour that would be able to stop even the 20mm armour piercing shells fired by the standard weapons of the nigh invincible space marines. On a similar vein, the backpack-powered hellguns used by his soldiers were used by naval stormtroopers to punch through even the heaviest armour. While realy no more powerful than a lasgun, and operating on similar principles, the hellguns could put a hole through concrete, the soldier behind that and then the wall behind that soldier. Which was why stormtroopers were sent in when the Imperial Guard had a particularly tough nut to crack.

Which brought the Lieutenant's thoughts back to the mission on hand. The Terminus Est.

The ship was quiet litteraly made up of the stuff of nighmares. A normal ship of that size would be able to swat away twenty ships like the Spiteful, but the Terminus Est was special. The cursed vessel had spent too much time on the border between dimensions, even being submerged for centuries in the raw, corrupt powers unbound by regular physics. What remained of the Est was now actually a living, breathing creature, corrupted beyond recognition into one of the most powerful ships that the universe had ever seen. A fleet of the Empire's mightiest battleships would probably be able to destory the rotted, decaying vessel, but at great loss. For inside the Terminus Est were the parody of the final piece in the Empire's arsenal. Marines.

These were Corrupted, Decaying and Bloated Monstrosities, a hellish echo of the Empire's own Marines. The Imperial Space Marines, the Adeptus Astartes, are living legends. ASpirants are identified in youth if they are particulaly capable warriors and taken back to the fortress-monasteries of the marines. There they are genetically enhanced, trained night and day and finally become the most powerful fighting force in the universe. Equiped in armour that boosts their speed and strength, they are twice as fast as a normal human and four times as strong, each practically impervious to lasgun fire and capable of punching right through a human. The Astartes are the Golden Boys of the Imperium, respected and feared, their Chapter Masters like Kings of old. Yet the Empire has never quite trusted them wholely. They were always just a little too independant, a little too powerful. And they didn't always fight on your side.

The lieutenant winced as he remembered the chapter of Marines that had gone rogue in his sector. Three loyal chapters had fought them for decades before the renegade survivors fled beyond the reach of reality. For years stormtroopers had responded to colonies ravaged by the by now crazed monsters. His first command had him landing on a planet where a small group of these renegades had killed every man and woman, taking the children with them to be turned into new recruits.

His small team had tracked them twenty miles to their raiding camp where his carefully orchestrated attack had managed to kill two marines in the first bout of fire. The five remaining marines had then slaughtered every one of the children before turning their fire on the Stormtroopers. While Marine armour was think, the hellguns didn't even notice them, slicing through the armour again and again. But the marines didn't stop. They turned their own fire on the stormtroopers, killing two with their powerful bolters, weapons that fire bullets that borrowed into armour before exploding.

As they exchanged fire, the weight of the stormtroopers' fire slowly dragged down the marines, matching them man for man as their own armour eventually began to fail. With a roar the two last Marines had charged into his men, killing two in the blink of an eye. It was only a matter of luck that his own sword had found a weak spot in one of their armour and had slid in, severing the spinal cord.

The other marine died due to his own lethal proficiency. He had killed everyone in reach of his powerful axe, but the remaining stormtroopers had fallen back and fired on him until he was no more than a red pulp on the ground. Of the nine men that the Lietenant had led that day, only four returned to the ship.

No, the Lieutenant wasn't afraid of a Marine, his stormtroopers could face them one on one, but the Terminus Est was rumoured to have hundreds onboard, vicious overlords to thousands of slaves that they led into battle with whips and the threat of death. And every one of those would be as bloated and as corrupt as the ship, oozing puss and decay. Who knew what would kill one of them? Were they twice as powerful as normal marine? Fourtimes? He would find out, he would be prepared.

His own squad, Sword, was currently sparring, some with their hellguns, some with their bayonets, some even just with fists. When it time came to destroy the Est, his men would get it done.

Emotion

Emotion is a living, breathing thing. Not in the conventional sense such as plants, animals and humans, but more like a virus, breeding, spreading, and in large enough concentrations, hunting and killing.

Civilised life stands on the brink of anarchy at all times. Emotion held at bay through social rules and conventions. But it's always there, bubbling away at the surface, breading and spreading from person to person. Sometimes it bubbles over in a person and then society acts harshly, trying to restore order before more people are infected. Sometimes society is too late.

In the early twenty-first century dozens of countries erupted in violence as a wave of anger and discontent spread from nation to nation, infecting them all and upturning societies as it went. Some countries managed to restore order, other never did.

Mankind learned its first lesson.

Social Order, no matter how well contructed, was only ever a step from the brink of Choas when emotion was allowed free reign.

They did not learn the second lesson for thousands of years, and by then it was too late.

Emotion has a physical presence in the universe.

Childsplay

The Lieutenant had joined Sword in their repeated strikes, parrys and reposts, when the airlock to the rest of the ship opened. One of the Inquisitor's companions, or henchman as the lieutenant had had labeled them in the privacy of his mind, stepped into the quarters. Almost instantly a barely restrained look of contempt flashed across the henchmans face allowing the Lieutenant to easily recognize him as being Victor. The Lieutenant held up his hand and all the sparring soldiers stopped their training and followed his gaze. Victor sauntered across the deck towered his group, but hesitated as he passed by Shadow squad's table. Looking up he caught the Lieutenants gaze and grinned sardonically. He bent over the female seated stormtrooper facing away from him and brushed the back of his hand along her neck. Instantly benches crashed to the floor as the ten livid soldiers jumped to thier feet.

Victor smirked at the angry faces staring him down.

"Hey beautiful.", he breathed at her. "Are you here to see what it's like being with a real man?"

She replied slowly and evenly, her eyes not leaving his for a second.

"No, I'm here because the inquisitor needed someone less girly doing the man-work around here."

Victor's hand flashed at her cheek, but was arrested inches from her unflinching face. Christine, the corporal who had untied him at the rendezvous point had caught his hand firmly by the wrist and spun him around to face her. Victor's face flushed as he recognized the person who had trussed him up earlier and his eyes spat venom. The six foot corporal was silent and expressionless, her absolute stony contenance radiating a malice that no violence could.

The lieutenant's calm voice broke the icy silence.

"In the future you will pass on any information from her Ladyship to me and me alone. Otherwise, if I see you in our quarters I will throw you out personally."

With a last glance at Christine, Victor ripped his hand from her grasp and turned towards the voice. He was shocked to find the Lieutenant no more than a foot away, the grey eyes boring into Victor's face. Victor's voice dripped with contempt.

"Defending the useless, just like your traitor parents".

"I was forced to. If Christine had damaged you I would be up to my neck in paperwork."

Victor's eyes flashed, but he wasn't done yet.

"but what would that make you? not only are you a mutant from that rebel planet, but you are already tainted by your parent's betrayal. It's a wonder the Inquisitor hasn't had you executed yet."

"If the option arises I'm sure you'll be the first she informs."

"Cheek from a subhuman, that's rich. Don't you know when to shut up when your betters are speaking to you?"

"Victor, Illich Rachimov, juvenile member of the "Ice-Claws" gang from Valhalla, twice charged for distribution of unauthorised chems. Yes, I know who my superiors are. The term is abhuman by the way. The Inquisition has certified our mutation to be stable eight millenia ago, what's your excuse?"

"I won't reveal official secrets to a traitor" Victor spat the words.

"My parents were the traitors, they were tried for their crime by military tribunal and executed. My own record is so far above scrutiny that I doubt that even her ladyship would have given you clearence to most of it. The bits that you know are public record.

"Your parents would be so proud of you, denying them and their beliefs, hunting down the very people that they protected. Where I'm from there was such a thing as honour and loyalty."

"I'm sure that the murderors and rapists of the Ice-claws held these ideals in high oppinion, but don't presume to know a tenth of what I do. My name was stripped when my parents were executed and I was sent to the Imperial Schola where I was given a new name and a purpose. My instructors and drill-sergeants were my parents, just as they were for everyone of us here. These soldiers are my brothers and sisters, and if you ever try to lay a hand on them again, not even the might of the Holy Inquisition will be able to keep me from tearing you into little ribbons of flesh and bone."

Victor lunged at the lieutenant.

"HERESY!"

The Lieutenant stepped inside the reach of the arms, sliding the outsretched arm away with his right and bringing his left around the exposed neck. catching his own bicep behind victor's head he flexed his right arm, securing the lock in place. A switch appeared in Victor's free hand and the Lieutenant released his grip to control the hand. Victor's knee flashed at the lieutenant's midsection, but before it could reach him victor felt his remaining foot leave the ground as the lieutenant exploited his shifting weight and swept him to the ground. As the cold steel of the deck impacted his head he felt his right index finger snap and the knife pried from his grip.

"You heretic turd" he screamed in pain as he struggled to his knees, ready to resume his attack, but the authoritiv voice of the Inquisitor cut him off.

"Well, that was enlightening. Enough now. Victor, did you tell the Lieutenant that I wished to speak to him."

The lieutenant stepped in.

"Forgive me your ladyship, but our discussion had not progressed beyond preliminary introductions. What did you need from me?"

"I see. Well, I sent Victor to tell you that I have new orders for you. You are to perform a combat drop on Haspania and secure a specific section of the Governor's Palace for the rest of us to deploy to.

She proffered a dataslate to the lieutenant who threw the recovered switch out of the cabin before excepting it. He examined the data provided in the slate for several moments before addressing the Inquisitor.

"Is this data accurate?

"To the best of our knowledge. Unfortunately all we got from the colony was a hasty SOS before all contact ceased."

"That doesn't match the modus operandi or basic behaviour of our Target. Normally there would be significant battle for weeks or months after as the military responds."

"The sighting is confirmed, as you can see. You know as much as I do about it"

The Lieutenant seriously doubted that, but could read the unspoken words: 'don't ask questions I won't answer'.

"We need more information sooner rather than later. We're still three weeks behind the Est. Can you authorise the Captain to attempt a proximity transition? Time is our biggest enemy at this point."

It's a risk, but I'll see what he can do. We are just fifty light years away. If he can get can the Navigator to pull it off we'll be droppping in within hours of now. Will you be ready?"

"Yes."

The Inquisitor, examined his features carefully for a few moments before nodding and motioning to Victor who was nursing his broken finger. As the two of them swept out of the room Victor cast one more glance at the lieutenant. But the Lieutenant had missed it, he was smiling inwardly at what the discussion with the Inquisitor had revealed.

So, the Inquisitor was willing to risk everything to save a week or two of time. The Terminus Est was probably the second or third most wanted ship in the galaxy. Entire fleets were trying to find it and kill it. Hundreds of naval Stormtroopers were ready to assault the wetched vessel and half a dozen Astartes chapters were waiting to board it. And yet, the Terminus Est represented only a minor destabalising element to the Empire. It had rebelled millenia ago, so a few weeks would make no difference (except in Imperial lives of course), and a single frigate with a few squads really would not be of any use. No, the Inquisitor was after something else. Something that was so important that saving a week of transit time would be worth the risk of the Spiteful and everyone on board.

He turned to his command

"Gear up, be ready for a briefing in 45 minutes and a drop in two hours. Shadow, Meltas and demo charges, Sword, Plasma weapons and someone wakeup Shield and tell them to get the sniper rifles out, they are on overwatch".

He smiled at this. Even the brief scuffle hadn't shifted Shield's members from their slumber. Just another bunch of seasoned campaigners.

The Boundary Layer

Traveling beyond the veil of reality has inherent risks. For one one, laws of physics no longer apply and there is no reason for molecules to continue to function as they would in the material realm. At first this was not well understood. While ships skimmed the edges of the two dimensions they were in a "boundary layer state", which behaved like the froth on top of a wave. Neither in one dimension or the other they were protected from the worst of the effects by the insulating effects of reality. However, the very insulation of reality caused pockets of turbulence and reality that slowed journeys and prevented travel much beyond the limits of relativity. Captains who captained deeper into the boundary layer experienced less slowing effects, but were limited in how long they could stay before crews began experiencing symptoms caused by reality slowly leaching into the abyss. The first ships equiped with warp generators that could take ships completely beyond the boundary layer seldom returned, and if they did they returned changed and warped, often driving those who whitness them insane. Others became whisps, a mere echo of a memory that repeated a particular piece of space-time, but neither responded to nor interacted with the physical universe in any way. Eventually complex and powerful generators were equiped in ships allowing them to fully emerge themselves in the unreality, protecting the ship and crew from the effects of poorly understood realm.

However, mankind found that the new realm was much like the ancient oceans back on earth. Storms of raw energy erupted in these oceans throwing ships off course in both time and space, sometimes journeys could last for years to the sailors on the ships, only to arrive days after they left unharmed at their destination. Other times their shields failed from the pressure of the depths and the ships suffered the same fate of those earlier vessels. Billions have been lost to the warp, as the new realm was known, but every once in a while, the ship is still protected by the boundary region of space and either the ship can successfully transition back into reality or some of the crew members are washed onto the shores of reality by the frothy waves of the boundary. Of course 99.99% of reality is still empty space, but occasionally someone would be rescued to tell his story. Where or even when he would be washed ashore is a matter chance.

Why the shields sometimes fail is unknown. Overdesigned to prevent just such an occurence, the shields are less reliable than theoretical and practical tests predict. Some have conjectured that the very denizens that inhabit the inverse existence of the warp physically attack the shields in an attempt to get at the living inside he ships. Indeed a wide range of creatures exist in the warp. Some are fairly harmless, being the metophorical equivalents of the fish in the see. Others are massive and dwarf the ships, attacking stray vessels like the kraken of ancient lore. Others are more malignant even than this. Sailors say that the souls of those lost in the warp insatiably hunger for the sould of the living and are constantly clawing at the shields, trying to find a weakness. Occasionally a newly commisioned ship's internal geometries would interact unpredictably with the ship's protective field and thousands of these denizens would swarm aboard and torment the living.

The final and most dangerous effect of the warp is that it is litterally the realm of nightmares. Raw emotion seeping in accross the boundary layer finds a physical manifestation in the unreality of the warp. When a critical mass of emotion builds up in the warp it is capable of applying pressure on reality, imposing its presence on those living in the normal universe. Often, the emotion builds up in a feedback loop, emotion in reality feeding this growing mass of emotional energy in the opposing dimension, which keeps applying more and more pressure on on the living.

Once in a while enough emotion builds up to form a sentient creature in the warp. When mankind spread accross the universe our demons came with us.

Returning back to reality was not without inherent risks either. The gravity of stars and planets, and the emotive presence of people living on the planets would change the behaviour of the warp, causing currents of energy that pulled ships towards population centres. The behavior of these currents, combined with the unpredictable nature of the boundary layer meant that the closer you are to the large gravity well of a star, its planets and people the more likely the chance was that you would transition into reality within a planet. The relationship between distance and risk was exponential, meaning that halving the distance increased your risk by a factor of four. Determining time in unreality is also incredibly difficult as it has no meaning in the warp, leaving one only with the warp echoes of planets to guide ships to port. For this reason ships tended to transition in real space millions of kilometers from planets and spend the neccessary weeks or months to make the slow sub-light journey to the planet where they would be intercepted by planetary defence ships, searched for contraband and directed to the appropriate space docks in orbit.

During war ships seldom attempted to transition near planets as the presence of the planets would throw off their calculations and ships would arrive in dissarray, scattered throughout the area and unable to maintain battle formations. In these situations fleets would emerge a week's worth of travel from a planet and engage in a battle with the planetary defence forces days before raching the planet's orbit.

Sometimes brave or suicidal captains would attempt to jump straight into orbit. Statistically the chance of this succeeding was about 20% with the chance of losing the ship being about 50% and materialising inside the planet being about 10%. However when they did manage to pull off this maneuver the defenders were always caught wrongfooted, and the captain would be able to manuever inside the defences as the PDF spent the next three days trying to return to their besieged planet.

Haspania

Sword, Shadow and Shield squads plumetted towards the sprawling expanse of New Hope, the capital of Haspania. Despite falling at a velocity much greater than the speed of sound there was little noise as at this altitude the airresistance was far too small to affect them. thirty feet above each soldier a tiny drogue parachute stabalised their decent and prevented them from tumbling in thte low air resistance. The lieutenant watched the world gradually float up towards him, the curvature of the planet clearly visible in the dark sky. The sky got gradually got lighter as he fell headfirst to the planet and the stars blinked out one by one. His helmet beeped approval at him and he released the drogue chute, relying on the aerodynamics of his body to maintain his stability now that he was lower. The other members of Sword angled down towards him, leading the main thrust at the Governor's palace.

The palace jutted out of the sprawling megacity, an enormous structure with manicured gardens, landing platforms and enormous walls screening it from the rest of the citizens. Imperial Governors represented the Holy Emperor on these planets, allowing them certain luxuries, hereditary titles and making them the most targeted people alive. Killing the Governor was akin to declaring war on the Empire and often the first step in any plan to topple the legitimate government of the planet. Often the Governor's palace had their own panic rooms, escape tunnels, bunkers and landing pads, not to mention a small army of PDF guarding them and often their own personal bodyguard, often a hereditry title passed from fathr to son. For their part, the governors tended to being fat, obnoxious and slightly inbred, and by all accounts wholely unpleasant to socialise with. The lieutenant had never met a Governor in person. In a manner of speaking.

Stormtroopers were the black-ops arm of Imperial military. Less conspicous than the Astartes, more capable than the guard and less political than the assasins. The lieutenant had killed several rogue Governors, fighting his way past the PDF and bodyguards to get to the overly ambitious leader. Other times he had been forced to protect or even rescue the unfortunate leaders from their own people, alien invaders or in one case the Governor's own daughter. Mostly these situations didn't leave much time to socialise and catch up on local events, since mostly it was the local events that were trying to catch up to them. On one particular ocasion the governer had turned out to be infested with an alien biological implant, and what the lieutenant had taken to be merely the traditional chronic obesity was actually several insanely sharp insectoid limbs hidden in the folds of his luxurient robes. The fact that this governor had an unprecedented popularity with the people had probably less to do with his leadership and social graces than their own implantation with the alien pods. After losing dozens of his men to the supernaturally fast hybrids he had managed to kill the Governor on his sword before making off with the Governor's shuttle and calling an orbital barrage down on the Palace. The intensly invasive medical exam that he recieved afterwards was nothing compared to seeing the ships obliterate every single inhabitant on the planet with orbital fire. Even the Governor's shuttle was destroyed, the oppulent craft being deemed a safety risk. Billions of loyal, uninfected citizens had died that day because there was no was to screen that many people for the implant.

But on Haspania, no such infestation had occured. Unlike Laria and the other dozen or so planets in the path of the Terminus Est, Haspania had fallen completely and without as much as a whimper. The Inquisitor believed that the reason would be revealed in the Governor's palace, or the military command bunkers located underneath it. Privately the lieutenant agreed. The Arbites and the Governor's Palace would have the heaviest defences on the planet, often more than traditionally more valuable structures. On Haspania the very chain of command was centred on he Palace and any attempt to cut the planet off from the outside universe would be done in a strike much like his own. However, this thought chilled him. The creatures encountered on Laria would be unable to mount such a strike, and for that matter, it didnt fit the mindless violence he associated with the corrupted marines either. What was left was a mystery, and one couldn't plan for mysteries. He took solace in planning for trouble instead.

The three squads had sepperated in their decent, Shield having adopted a high drag position that seperated them from Sword and shadow by as much as a thousand feet. Unlike Sword and shadow, four members of Shield had re-entered in a tandem harness. Two of these members would be equiped with sniper rifles. Sword and Shadow would go in hot, releasing their chutes at the last possible moment, the noise of their chutes deploying probably alerting those nearby, but preventing any further away from tracking a slowly decending target. Their objective was capturing the two elevated landing pads extending from the higher reaches of the palace. Shield would deploy their shields at the same time, but being much higher would stear towards higher, hidden rooftops, the two snipers free to engage any targets since they wouldn't have to focus on steering their chutes. Hopefully this would clear out a landing area without alerting surrounding contacts. The last thing that they wanted was to deal with unending hordes of braindead creatures shuffling at them without any extraction possible.

As Sword dove in towards the ground at terminal velocity, the lieutenant's helmet began to growl urgently at him. Multiple threat indicators appeared on his visor and he groaned inwardly as he recognised their location. At ths range it was too far to tell just what they were, but they were in his way and he would b landing right on top of them. He keyed his mike

"Tangos at alpha, plan epsilon"

Three hundred feet above the pad he deployed his chute. The whipcrack of the chute opening under tension caused the targets directly beneath him to look up a second later he was amongst them. By the time that he landed he realised that the targets were already dead. And they were waiting for him. Rolling in the landing as per airborne training he came to his feet right against one of them. Using his momentum he thrust upwards with his hand, aiming to break the creature's neck. His strike hit home, but the vertebrae refused to fracture, sending the undead creature back wards over the edge of the balcony. Yanking his combat knife from his breastplate he swung around at a second creature that he had judged to be behind him. The creature was dressed in the opulant robes of the Palace Guard and the knife sheared through material and flesh like butter. The creature bayed loudly and took another step forward, hands flailing at the lieutenant's face. Ducking under the outstretched arms he grabbed the robes and pulled the creature towards him. As the dead eyes and extended jaws lunged at him he twisted aside and put his foot out against the lifeless creature's shin. As the creature overbalanced and fell to the ground the lieutenant brought his heavy jackboot to the base of the creature's head, killing it instantly. Ripping his hellgun from his camoflage smock he spun around to end whatever was left. A scene of calm order greated him. Four other members of the squad had followed him into the midst of the creatures and engaged them manually, but the other five members of his team had landed on the edge of the platform and systmatically begun clearing it with disciplined fire as per plan epsilon. with those in hand to hand combat distracting the dead creatures, the other fire team had quickly and quietly finished off the rest.

"Bravo clear" Came in on his helmet followed almost immediately by "Shield established"

Keying his own mic he reported

"Alpha clear, consolidating beach head"

Immediately the second fireteam from his squad took positions around the Palace's access to the Landing pad and in a coordinated maneuver blasted their way in. His own fireteam remained on the pad as One fireteam from Shadow and the one from Sword worked their way towards each other, ensuring that no more creatures were left standing between the two pads. Moments later, when the all clear was given he keyed his mic again.

"Spearhead confirms beachhead clear. Angels clear for approach."

Ten minutes later five gunships settled down on the pads and the squads of the Cadian Veterans set up a firing position on each pad to provide a fall-back point for the mission. If the pads were lost, they were all dead. Only when the position was deemed secure did the Inquisitor's own shuttle join them.

The lieutenant waited next to the shuttle as the hatch swung open. The Inquisitor, resplendant in silver and saphire powered armour stepped onto the pad. A massive bolt-casting weapon clasped in her glove as easily as if it were a delicate flower. With every motion tiny servoes whirred, augmenting her strength, moving the half-ton of armour as if she were dressed in the thinnest of silken garments. For all the money of the Governors, the armour was more exquisite than any of thier possesions, more valuable than any of their properties and tougher than all of their private armies. And for her part, the Inquisitor wore it with the grace of a queen, the comfort of years' use making each movement quiet and efficient.

"Well, Lieutenant, what do you think?" the Inquisitor's eye's glinted with humour, as if daring the lieutenant to say something and prompting another fine expression from Victor.

For his part the lieutenant allowed the comment to pass over his head.

"I think that you were right. The Est was most definately here," By way of explanation the lieutenant kicked at the body of a creature at his feet "but there is no way that they managed to cause the damage that we have noticed so far. Things are not adding up"

The inquisitor looked vaguely dissapointed, but something of the twinkle remained behind her eyes, as if recognising the lieutenant's obtuseness for what it was.

"Go on."

"There were no planetary defences when we emerged, not one lone ship, or a single station. There were debris corresponding to the Est's battle capability, but the level of destruction is unusual in its current doctrines. Similarly there are signs of sealing of all access points to the escape centres. It's almost as if someone was trying to prevent all signals and survivors from leaving this place. This is entirely against the Terminus Est's current use as an unstoppable psycological weapon. They benifit from survivors' stories, from people who are infected traveling to other planets, from the disruption of out trade routes. Yet, if they did want to completely destroy this planet, why infect it with the plague in the first place? No, I think that you are right, something here is not as it seems and the answer lies inside this mausoleum of a palace."

"My my, that must be the most that you've said at any one time since I've met you. And so expressive. Mausoleum? You're not spooked are you?"

Again the lieutenant ignored the playful barb. The Inquisitor's manner was begining to grate at his patience.

"No, milady, just an accurate description. A house of the dead. But something else got here first. Whatever it was completely destroyed a planet's entire defence force of several million soldiers, knocked out all the communications from the planet faster than anyone could radio for help and then left the place to these monsters without a fight. It's a mystery ma'am, the answer to which is probably more frightening than not knowing. However, Shadow has placed breaching charges on the elevator shafts leading to the command bunkers and we are prepared to go in on your order. We already have rappelling gear set up."

"Good. I'm coming with. Let's go."

"Ma'am?"

"I'm no shirking violet, Lieutenant, this armour's not just for the social circles."

"Yes, Milady" He turned to Christine

" van Tonder, get Shadow moving, you have point." The tall soldier saluted and moved off to her squad. Another soldier stepped up, a short stockily build trooper from Shield

"Zuiderkruise, keep overwatch on alpha. Don't let the Inquisitor's shuttle fall to anything. If we come back hot we'll pick you up after we've gotten onboard, so keep the cover going."

He stepped closer to the sergeant and whispered so that none of the Cadians could hear.

"Remember what we talked about."

"Sir."

The Inquisitor smiled amusedly at the exchange, her eyes seeming to have read the lieutenant's thoughts. The Lieutenant gritted his teeth when he saw the smile. He had no time for this.

"Are you ready Milady?"

"Please, after you."

"Yes, Ma'am"

And without another word he turned on his heel and marched into hell.

Empathy

There is more to compassion than meets the eye.

We emerge into life a blank slate. Despite millions of genes affecting our every breath and heartbeat, essentially we learn all of our behaviours from the experience of life. Unlike bees we do not automatically become a drone in the hive with a place and a predetermined destiny. Rather all of life's experiences are available to us in our infancy. Much is made of those people who claw their way out of life's gutters and into the positions of influence and power, yet this is merely an example of the remarkable ammount of adaptation available to the young. We learn to recognise our parents, discover how to deal with life's many setbacks and how to relate to other people.

But here genetics does have its advantages. Some people are much more intune with the emotions of those around them. They learn faster, are more naturally able to relate and feel other people's pain and happiness. They are called compasionate, extroverts, "people" people and yet many of them have a secret gift that even they do not know about. They gain their power directly from the warp.

By some quirk of genetics these people are more sensitive to the flow of energies between the dimensions. As the human population expanded in the universe their genetic diversity both exploded and shrank. The vast number of planets and the size of populations allowed massive physical divergences from the genetics familiar to humans in the first three millenia. These differences were distilled and compounded by the small sizes of the original colonies and the limited genetic diversity found on these. Known to geneticists as bottleneck and the founders affects, it served to multiply the differences between the populations before warp travel became common place in the 18th millenia. But some persistant mutations lingered on. What might have been a merely emotionally intouch person in the twentieth century was able to physically manifest their emotions by the 18th millenia.

By the 31st millenia they were common place and had been classified based on the power level and control that they could draw from the warp. These classifications ranged from those merely being more lucky than normal, to those who could glimpse visions of the future or even communicate over vast distances. The most powerful of these, classed alpha, or even the ultra rare alpha plus, were considered so powerful that they could be a threat to the very fabric of the universe around them. They could draw so much power from the warp that they would be able to temporarily break down the boundary between the two dimensions. Naturally, their lifespans were kept short, either by their own actions or by intervention from the empire.

But during the early days of space travel there were relatively few. They were often hunted or persecuted as witches on the more backwards colonies but thier gift, hidden in their genes spread throughout the glaxy until a critical mass of people meant that the genes was common enough to start to appear in large numbers of people.

The emergence of large numbers of these so called psychers or wyrds directly caused the collapse of humanity as the dominant galactic power for ten thousand years until the rise of the Immortal Emperor, the most powerful psycher ever, reunited mankind under one flag and one god.

Questionable Motives

The two squads of Stormtroopers and the Inquisitor's retinue divided into small five man groups. Shadow took up the most exposed positions. Being armed with high-power close range weapons they took both point and rearguard, trusting in their intensew firepower to blast through any ambushes. Next came Sword's balanced firepower, providing an effective firebase for an extended engagement. The Inquisitor and her entourage took up the middle, protected as much as is possible by the Stormtroopers.

The building was eerily quiet. Someone had installed automatic lighting systems in the building in the distant past, destroying whatever element of stealth the group had. Whenever they moved into a dark corridor the building's motion detetion systems would recognise them and turn on the corridor's lights, instantly highlighting them for any hostile to see. Each time the lights came on they would cringe inwardly, expecting streams of energy to pour into them from all sides. What was worse was that their night vision was completely ruined, their sight unable to penetrate the gloom just beyond the furthest lights. To compound matters further the lights snapped off as they stepped out of the corridor, negating any advantage they had of having traversed the area successfully.

The Lieutenant tranmitted to the party, sub-vocalising and trusting that his helmet would prevent any noise escaping.

"We have to shut that system down."

"Affirm, it's going to get us killed" was Christine's response.

The inquisitor chipped in with her thoughts.

"Security systems have not engaged us, yet the lights are functioning?"

There was a moment's pause as everyone considered this.

"IFF codes." Came the Lieutenant's response "The lights aren't tied into the centralised command system, they are probably just a civil energy saving system. The automated defence systems most likely are either switched off or recognise the Inquisitor's electronic sig."

"That probably means that we can turn off the stupid lights at a mains somewhere. Probably individually per floor." Christne chimed in.

The Lieutenant brought the building's known schematics up in the corner of his helmet's display.

"Maintainance room on the right, two corridors down. We should try there."

"A thought occurs," the Inquisitor's tone was sombre. "The Inquisitorial codes are updated continously and broadcast by astropathic choir on a subfrequency."

"What does that have to do with the defences?" Victor cut in.

Christine responded before the inquisitor

"No life signals from the planet."

"No living astropaths to recieve the signal" The inquisitor added.

There was a pause

"oh.."

The group continued down the corridor. As they came to the end the light snapped off abruptly and their armour's machine spirits tried desperately to pierce the gloom with lowlight settings. A few more meters and the lights snapped back on just as abruptly.

"Only a few more meters." Victor sub-vocalised.

The bright light had temporarily confused the machine spirits which immediately polarised the helmets and applied a dark filter, stripping the room down to almost twilight levels for the stormtroopers.

The Lieutenant opened a second frequency to Shield who were still providing him with an outside view of the situation.

"Any developments?"

"No sir. However fireteam Bravo has detected a few unusual signs while setting up their firing nests."

"Yes?"

"Looks like all of the civilian circuitry is burned out in the area."

"Tau? Here?"

"Doesn't look like it sir. Too widespread for ion, probably area EMP."

"Atomics?"

"Can't say for sure, will have to confirm with the ship's sensors."

"Hm, keep me informed."

"Sir."

He switched back to the interior frequency and tranmit

"Civvy net's been fried by and EMP."

"Are you sure?"

The lieutenant reran the inquisitor's question through his head, scanning it for any sign of surprise. Nope, there was none. Typical.

"As sure as we can be with the Spiteful in Radio Silence."

"Grid in here seems fine"

"Perhaps it's on a backup system." Victor chimed in.

"Then the stupid lights would have changed to the emergency mode." Christine rebuffed.

The lights snapped off as they came to the end of the corridor.

"We'll find out soon enough." The Lieutenant said as they reached the maintainance room's door. Two members of Shadow flanked the door, one standing behind the door with his hand on the handle and the other, armed with a heavy thermal weapon, stood flush with the wall ready to trigger the weapon when his partner opened the door.

With a nod the door swung open and the lights flashed on a final time.

Janus

A planet in the fringe. Where people dabble in forbidden arts to survive.

When the psyker plague broke out accross the galaxy everything changed. But it didn't happen overnight. Humanity had never been a unified whole and different empires lasted for different periods of time before they fell. Several centuries passed between the first major emergence of wyrds and the civilisation ending plague they caused. On some planets they never emerged at all and on others they were persecuted and hunted into extinction. These planets tended to fare better at first, but the type of government that suppresses parts of its population is not flexible enough to adapt well to change or to grasp technical development fully. As such it was the larger, more powerful empires that were hit the hardest by the psyker's epidemic. Without these planets keeping the universe's many enemies at bay, the more traditional planets soon fell victim to alien attack and enslavement.

But it was mankind's biggest ally that did the most harm. Mankind had developed many technologies, but its greatest creation was the technology of creation itself. Having become masters in all fields, mankind slipped from the threshold of mortality and traversed the Olympian heights to godhood. What in many cultures was considered the mantle of the gods or of a creator, mankind took upon itself and theryby gave life to the lifeless.

Soon every aspect of humanity was accompanied by man's greatest children. Immortal machines accompanied man to the farthest corners of the galaxy, watched over him when he was young, took care of him when he was ill and stood by him every day until he died. And yet, despite the inteligence, sentience and compassion that these machines learned, there was still something inhuman about them. They were above all else logical. While they never tired and never experienced emotion in the way of man, they had free will in all that they did. Yet they willfully cleft themselves to humanity and its fate. For mankind was as father to them, inferior in many ways, much like man's own father in his old age. For there was a type of love between man and machine, greater than that between fellow men. Theirs was a partnership that extended back to the days when man first used primitive cudgels to murder their rivals.

And so, when the plague began to run rampant through humanity and thousands of worlds became portals to the ungodly abyss beyond our senses, machine made the only logical decision, the one that he would always be remembered for. But a father's wrath is always greatest when betrayed by his son.

Soon man was alone, his greatest partner beaten and bannished, lost in the abyss of time and space, while mankind struggled for survival in the dirt as his enemies circled all around him. For technology had held the alien at bay and had even saved man from himself in the hour of greatest need. So one by one the lights of humanity died out in the universe, a cultural empire cut off from itself and slowly bled and starved to its destruction.

But some empires managed to hold on. For mankind is plural, and some weathered the storm.

When man first reached out to the stars in the 3rd millenium, some visionaries had looked beyond the scope of Newtonian physics to the realm of Einstein. While superluminal travel was still tens of millenia away, they envisaged a way whereby they and their immediate children could colonise the stars in their own lifetimes.

A powerful consortium of companies ignored the race to colonise Earth's neighbours and set its sights on a new target, hoping that their decendants would be the heads of a vast economic empire that would dwarf anything built built after. Scientists in their employ examined the steady march of technology and identified a portion in space with the exact requirements. Time was the enemy, but distance was their ally. The scientist realised that if they chose an area too far away the steady advance of technology would catch up with them and that the people who left after them would get there first. Conversely if they chose a place too near they would still be competing with their rivals when they got there.

Five mighty ships were built, each holding only a thousand people, yet rivaling the size of ships designed for many times their number. Only the generation ships, designed to hold a hundred people and their thousands of decendants for the thousands of years of travels to distant stars were larger than these five vessels.

Powered to the very edge of subliminal physics these ships managed to reach their destination in fifty years and each settled near its own world, orbiting its own star. But time had moved on to the outside world, at a rate of 500 years to each one experienced by those onboard. The voyagers had left behind instructions in their trusts and firms to continue to transmit information to them at regular intervals, and the fifty years spent on board was a constant battle to keep up to date with the exceedingly complex information transmitted from Earth.

By their own reckoning they had a mere thousand years to establish their planets before other men would reach them from Earth.

But they were alone in the galaxy now, aware that the others existed, but unable to communicate due to the vast gulf of space between the planets. It took 8 years to communicate with each other and even longer to establish trade, yet automated ships ran the gulf, bringing trade and resources between the planets, as all the colonies were young and growing rapidly.

In time faster communication was possible, but travel remained slow until the arrival of the first warp-ships from Earth that superluminal travel became a reality. But by then the settlers had formed a powerful empire, versed in defeating more advanced aliens and named after the ancient god of beginings and endings, of transitions and seasons. The Janus Empire.

The new arrivals from earth were not unified, representing the millions of cultures and nations in human space. And so in 5 years Janus' own superluminal ship was built, the Rapture, the first of a mighty fleet of warp capable vessels.

Relations with the "Solites" (as people from Janus called those who came later) jumped between war and peaceful trade in the following centuries, but Janus always viewed any attempts to bring them into the fold as part of the "greater humanity" with suspicion.

And when mankind as a whole discovered its psychic awareness those on Janus were horrified. The Solites' powerful new machines and the new psykic powers possessed by a growing number of its peoples terrified the Janites that they might at last be forced into the new pan-human culture.

The Janites wasted no time in bringing its incredibly powerful industrial and economic power to the fore. Founded by some of the richest, smartest and most driven people of its time, the Janites had lost none of the drive or innovation of its Terran forbears. Technology was developed by corporations to shield company secrets from psykic espionage. The Janus militaries quickly jumped on this and developed their own defences, against the robot and the wyrd. It was not long before the population as a whole cried for a more permanent solution.

Janus had long stood alone in the galaxy against advanced alien threats. The slow travel between their planets had ingrained in them a "Bastion" approach to defence. Heavy automation and cunning defences surrounded their planets and the periods of interneccine warfare had forced them to eschew centralised automated defence networks as being too vulnerable to outside interference. Highly mobile in the tactical arena and well advanced in logistical warfare, they prefered a decentralised approach were they struck from many hidden bases with cunning strategems until massive reinforcements from surrounding planets arrived to their aid.

And so the thousands of hidden bastions built under the planets of the Janus Empire were slowly updated. With millions of man hours of research being poured into the psychic phenomena and a new-found, but growing understanding of the warp and warp-travel, they slowly build psychic wards into the millions of tunnels underground. Psychic insulators surrounded the walls of the tunnels with the warp-equivalent of lightning conductors hardwired into the planet, diffusing and releasing pent-up warp energy into space in controlled volumes.

But it was the field of genetics that would lead to their greatest breakthrough, forever safeguarding them from psykic harm, but forever cursing them into something less than human.

The Inquisition

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? - Juvenal

It's absurd that a guardian would need a guard. - Inquisitor Glaucon

The maintainance room's door was pulled open and the automatic lights flashed on. The bright light momentarily blinded them before the machine spirit overcorrected and applied the polarised filter. The combined effect was to leave the point man blind for a second or two. A moment later he was flung back from the door, dead, his chest crushed by a massive impact from within. His partner blasted the room with fire, shooting through the wall next to the door with the armorpiercing las-bolts, but the wall exploded out to meet him as a massive steel claw burst into his chest armour. He screamed in pain as the claw cut through his armour and eviscerated him. Seconds later he was dead as his blood pressure had dropped and his brain died.

The other stormtroopers hugged the walls of the corridor, finding what cover they could and firing at the unseen attacker as their eyes struggled to adjust between the loss of night vision and the sudden dark provided by their helmets. A second later a giant silhouette charged straight at them, impervious to the fire from a dozen hellguns.

"Shadow, hit the deck! Christine yelled as she threw herself to the ground."

Moments later bright blue blossoms of light floated over the squad's head, seemingly drifting through the air like bubbles in the wind. The bright bubbles of plasma burst against the enormous creature and washed over it like a wave crashing against a ship and parts of the creature spontaneously erupted into flame. It was carried forward for a few more steps by its massive momentum before it stumbled over and slammed into the ground.

Sword squad moved up to the still prone Shadow who were still desperately shielding themselves from the intense heat left by Sword's plasma weapons. The lights had gone off, only to be replaced by a dim red glow from the building's emergency lighting. As the survivors of Shadow picked themselves off the ground Sword had fanned out and covered the maintainance room and the access to the corridor. The rearguard and the Inquisitor caught up to them just as the Lieutenant began examining the charred heap on the floor.

A twisted mass of metal and man lay on the floor. A servitor. When mankind learned of its folly in creating artificial life and trusting to it for survivial, the new "Empire of Man" had banned it outright. However it still needed something to do all of the tasks that machines used to do. Despite the mass of people in the galaxy, there were some jobs that machines do better, no matter how many people there were. But life is just another commodity in the Empire and prisons a waste of resources. Death is the merciful gift bestowed on the forgiven criminal, but traitors and heretics got a far worse fate. Mankind refrained from creating artificial life, but instead corrupted life by bonding it to machine. This was the fate of his parents, an undead state, lobotomised and mutilated, their major organs and limbs replaced by tons of steel and machinery. Servicing the gears in the machinery of the Empire, well beyond the course of their natural lives.

The lieutenant became aware of someone close to his side.

"Well that explains the lights." Christine looked down at the maintainance servitor before turning to him. "Thanks for the assist."

"Sure."

"You okay?"

"Hmn?"

"Seeing that thing melted together and all."

He turned and looked up at her. She was taller than him by a good ten centimetres and all that he found in her expression was his reflection staring back at him in her visored face. Two machines of death struggling to understand what a human child would know instinctually.

He kicked at the servitor, only vaguely aware that he had done the same to the plague victims outside just an hour earlier.

"It was dead a long time ago."

Another voice joined in, reminding him of the Inquisitor's presence.

"Filthy, dirty things. Looks like a maintainance servitor, but it could be anything from how mangled and melted the thing is. Probably repaired the burnt out circuitry after the EMP came through here. That explains all of our questions."

"Yeah, like hell" thought the Lieutenant, and the subtle movement of the corporal's helmet indicated that she shared his thoughts. How had it survived the EMP that had wiped out the defences, where were the bodies from all the undead creatures it would have killed and how did it survive a virtually unlimited supply of them with absolutely no damage? Of course the last question relied heavily on the assumption that it was undamaged before the plasma rounds found it, but even the tough servitor would eventually have gone down to the sheer volume of undead. Speaking of undead, where the hell were they? No, it seemed as if there was only one solution. Whoever EMPed the hell out of the place did so after the Terminus Est attacked, relying on the pulse to sabotage the defenses and thus allowing the undead horde to overwhelm everyone on the planet. Subsequently, or perhaps concurrently attacking the command building for some unknown end and repairing the systems with the servitor.

He nodded imperceptively to himself. That seems to fit. Still leaves a few questions, but those probably would be answered in time. He could probably rule out finding many creatures inside then. Whoever had so expertly assaulted the place would have cleared out the parts of the building that they were trying to access. And since they would have most likely gone for the command bunker it was highly likely that the Stormtroopers were on their tail.

He glanced down at the servitor once more. Now he understood why his first reaction to the EMP was that that the Tau were behind all of this. This had all the hallmarks of one of those little grey aliens' stealth teams. But the servitor didn't fit with that. In fact he could only think of one faction in the universe who fit all the pieces. He turned to the Inquisitor.

"I guess it does. Christine, see to your wounded and get someone to police that meltagun. Sword will take point from here."

About an hour later they were standing infront of the hermetically sealed vault in the building's basement. The centre for the planet's defence was just behind the giant bunker door. Instinctively he knew that the reason the servitor was brought in was that without external power the door would remain shut until those inside entered the overide. With power however, an external force could enter the Inquisitorial codes in the building's computers and have access to every system in the building. He glanced again at the Inquisitor, wondering just what kind of trouble they were about to get into. Unfortunately for him, power was on the backup generators and it wasn't going to be that easy for them.

"Looks like blasting charges are going to be useless, we'll have to use the thermal Meltas to blast a hole through the door."

"Most bunkers are kept at positive pressure to protect from NBC contaminants. The heat from the meltas might wash back over us once we breach or autoincinerate everything inside due to the sudden increase in pressure." The Inquisitor warned.

"Our armour should be able to handle the secondary effects of the meltas, but we'll pull back beyond the focal range of the weapons once it looks like we're getting close. That should slow down the rate of the heat buildup sufficiently. Eitherway I'd pullback your escort to a safer distance. They're not quite as armoured as us."

"Why not just use the demolition charges you brought?"

"The door's of unknown thickness and possibly thicker than the charges can handle. We could try them first and see how we go, but if we don't blast right through, the shockwave will reflect off of the vault door and come right back at us."

"We could stand in the corridor at a safe distance while you did this." Victor put in.

"Unfortunately, no. The corridor connected to this chamber will act like a stethoscope, concentraing the pressure wave as it pushes past us. And the shockwave will just pass through this armour. Even the Inquisitor's. It's designed to deflect impact and energy, but won't do much good to a shockwave running through her."

"Fine" Victor spat. "Just get on with it. I'm sick of all of this waiting."

"Easy for you to say", thought the lieutenant. "Of course you'd be keen for action when we do all of the dying." He just nodded at Victor and gestured Shadow's specialists forward.

Victor and the rest of the Inquisitor's retinue withdrew up the corridor as the searing light from the meltas began their steady work. Five minutes later the vault door let out a high pop sound and spat some molten metal at the stormtroopers where it sparked and solidified against their armour. The Lieutenant smiled as he'd never seen the armour's defences in action against such a slow threat. Normally the molten penetrators from enemy armor piercing weapons moved several times faster than the speed of sound and the elecric plating of the armour would have a millionth of a second to neutralise them. The grumbling from the machine spirits at this minor threat was almost endearing. He broke some of the now-brittle metal off his armour and watched as Shadow team moved through the breach in the vault.

What greeted them was a scene of total distruction.

Nulls

The Void Stares Back

Just as there are those who can tap into, channel and control the forces from the dimension beyond, so too there are those on the other end of the spectrum, acting as a stabilising influence on the boundary membrane between the two realities. Evolutionary pressure has made those who are sensitive to the warp commonplace within the human race, with most humans sensitive to it to some degree. About ten percent of humans manifest enough psychic abbility in their genes to have an unconscious control over it, manifesting as luck in life threatening scenarios. People actually able to consciously use and control it are still common, being about one in a million.

However, despite selective pressure favouring psychic development, there exist a small number of people on the other end, as common ammongst psykers as psykers are amoungst the general population. Their very existance is a result of psychic powers, for without the constant threat from a psychic universe there would have not been enough selective pressure to overcome the strong pressure against their continued survival.

That's because those on the other end of the spectrum grate on the human soul. The very innate psychic sensitivity that most humans have finds the "souless" nature of those without abbilities uncomfortable and to psykers it is outright agony. However as always with human populations, it is not just a binary equation of psyker versus anti-psyker. There is an entire spectrum between, mediated by thousands of genes affecting the person like the distant gravity of a star might affect an ocean's tides. The Empire has many names for those with a sufficient level of anti-psychic abbility: blanks, pariahs, soulless, but most technically correctly they are refered to as nulls. Most of the people on the null scale only exhibit slight resistance to warp influences, but at increasingly rare measures they have more and more power at negating the affects of psykers.

Psykers, regular non-psychic humans and nulls are all classified by the level of their influence on a sliding scale from Alpha-plus to Omega-minus, with the average non psychic human placing at either Rho or Pi level of psychic attenuation. Upsilon-level nulls are considered immune to the effects of the warp. While people at this level are normally immune from psychic attack, they tend to have the social appeal of a diseased beggar, with people in even a wide proximity to them feeling an intense sense of unease. Less fortunate individuals, called Untouchables, come in at the Omega level of attenuation. These people are instantly recognisable as nulls, causing intense fear and loathing to all around them and even death to those who are psychically gifted. There are no Omega plus individuals recorded in the entire 10 thousand year history of the Empire, despite the roughly three million planets ruled by man. The very existance of this classification and the known existance of an Imperial-sanctioned anti-psyker assasin cult suggests a possibility as to why none has been seen to date.

The Massacre

The public weal requires that men should betray, and lie, and massacre. - Michel de Montaigne

While the inside of the buidling had been clean and unstained by any sign of battle, the bunker was different entirely. Clearly the building had been evacuated to the bunker in an orderly function when the Est appeared on the sensor grid and the infected that he had killed outside the building had probably been posted there as guards against any unwanted incursion before falling victim to the plague. The scene that met his eyes inside the bunker was one of extreme violence and bloodshed. Defensive checkpoints had been thrown aside with ease, the spent cartridges of the primitive automatic weapons used by the local PDF and Governor's guards littered the floor and the shredded remains of the soldiers plastered the walls and the floor in a reddish brown paste. The Lieutenant recognised the wounds of that caused by the explosive shells fired by bolters. These weapons were used by only a few factions in the Galaxy, mainly the Imperial Guard, the Space Marines and the Inquisition. However, the predominant weapon of the Imperial Guard was the common lasgun, a primitive version of his own weapon. The bodies here had exclusively been torn apart by bolter fire.

Cautiously they advanced through the red glare of the emergency lighting. After a while they came to a blasted door, obviously the remains of the CIC room. In a coordinated move the stormtroopers burst into the room, scanning it for anysign of hostiles. If there were any present, they would be in here.

"Clear left"

"Clear right"

"Upstairs Clear"

The Inquisitor listened patiently as all the reports came in as the stormtroopers quickly secured the building. When the last report came in she transmit new instructions to them and walked over to the tactical holograms from where the governor, or possibly his commander-in-chief would have controlled the battle from.

She brought up the hologram's display and cycled through the data, bringing up the video logs for the date of the distress transmission from Haspania.

From the gallery above the inquisitor the lieutenant discretely lowered the weapon so that the barrel would be facing the Inquisitor while he kept his back turned towards her retinue. Her henchman formed a protective screen between her and the stormtroopers, most of whom, aware that this was above their paygrade had turned their backs on the action and were busy securing the entryways towards the bunker incase they had to defend it from some unspecified attack. The imaging equipment strapped to the barrel of his rifle transmitted a partial image of what was occuring on the holoscreen as the Inquisitor scanned through the reports and videos. Clearly there was too much data for her to transfer to her suit's machine spirit for perusal at a later date, so she had to scan through whatever she found here. Scenes and words flashed inside the Lieutenant's visor.

• • • • Access denied*****

BC876-7fhf6-nfey8-H4ohg

• • • • Inquisitorial overide accepted****
      • File not found****
      • data corrupted****
      • recovering lost data****

An image of the planet made itself visible with the red contact icon of the Terminus Est visible engaging system defence ships. A moment later a massive explosion in the upper atmosphere destroyed the system defence ships and caused a flare on the systems. simultaneously several red warning lights came on including an omminious female voice droning "radiological warning, double pulse detonation detected, radiological warning" Seconds later several warning messages came on identifying several key defence networks going offline, including defensive batteries and several nearby sensor arrays, blinding the command centre to the area affected by the blast.

The Inquisitor sped through some footage as the system's diagnostics and backups did their hidden work. When the system came back on again she witnessed the Terminus Est, slowly drifting off into the distance. In the foreground a new contact had appeared, an Imperial-type cruiser, four to five times the size of the Spiteful which was currently in orbit.

A few more notifications came on the screen, but was obscured from the lieutenant's view by the Inquisitor's heavy armour, but he assumed that the governor had attempted to open a line of communication with the supposed liberator. Moments later the cruiser began bombarding the viewing stations and remaining orbital defences, cutting off the feed to the bunker.

The inquisitor opened up a new file highlighted with an unusual .erg file extention. The resultant footage showed the external doors to the building being blown open and the servitor rolling in, through the empty rooms to the maintainence room. Seconds after it got there power was reestablised to the building and the feed cut out abruptly.

The inquisitor tried a few more things, but nothing more appeared to happen so the lieutenant cradled his rifle in the crook of his elbow as if on watch and waited for what he knew would come next.

However, the expected order to move out never came. Instead the Inquisitor gave a terse expression of annoyance and several Klaxons began to sound.

"Time to get the hell out of here!" She yelled into the channel.

"Sitrep"

"I triped an electronic security measure. We've got hundreds of undead released from the governor's hidden chambers. It looks like they managed to lure and lock the plague sufferers in there!"

The Lieutenant keyed his mic. "You hear the lady, time to move!"

With that they began a race for their lives.

Rule #1

Cardio

Shadow bolted out in front of the group, the usual battle plan useless in these circumstances. Right now their only advantage would be speed and firepower, hoping to get past the point where the dead emerge from and then remaining ahead of them using the firepower until the made it back to the Cadians on the landing pad. Shadow nearly made it. A score of shambling creatures pushed out into the tunnel infront of them as they tried to make it out of the bunker. The two meltas spat streams of vaporising heat at them and several hellpistols joined in. But even so the five members crashed heavily into the remaining zombies, combat knives tearing at gangrenous flesh as they were clawed and pulled at by the creatures. Their armour deflected the bites and scratches of the dead, but the sheer weight of numbers dragged them off their feet, tearing and pulling at them from all angles.

Unable to fire into the swarm with shadow in the way sword piled into the melee right behind them, attemping to cut their comrades free. But even as more and more stormtroopers joined the fray ever more zombies began to pulling and tugging at them, frustrated at being unable to penetrate the impervious armour. After mere minutes of wrestling with the creatures at this level of exertion they stormtroopers were tired beyond reckoning. No matter how many they cut or punched or shot more would grab onto them. Only the arrival of the Inquisitor in her half-ton powered armour managed to break through the zombies, crushing several under the weight of her armour before throwing the zombies off like pieces of wood. Gradually the fight began to take the dynamics of a scum or a greek phalanx, the soldiers pushing and shoving against the thinning wall of zombies, trying to break clear as more zombies began pushing in from behind. The lieutenant saw one of the inquisitor's henchman's legs pulled from under him and watched as he dissappeared into the horde. He tried desperately shooting at the spot where he saw the unfortunate dissappear while still kicking and shoving his way forwards, but he knew there was no hope. Finally after what seemed like an age they managed to break through and started running. Somewhere behind them in the moaning, moving mass were those comrades that fell behind, but there was nothing that they could do for them. Opening fire as the fellback away from teh mass of swarming creatures, they hoped that they could thin the numbes down enough to give their friends a chance, but none emerged. Finally the the lieutenant threw some grenades into the wall of flesh, hoping that the concussive force would kill his men relatively painlessly. As they pulled back the one remaining plasma gun started firing into the crowd, unafraid of hitting its own men the zombie mass started to slow.

In between gasps for air the lieutenant made contact with Shield on the rooftops of the structure and found out that the Cadians were also heavily engaged in keeping the pad clear, blasting at the entrance with their heavy weapons. The group was caught between the hungrily advancing horde behind them and the group up ahead that was attacking the landing pad. The knife point of pain caught their breaths as they sprinted up the numerous flights of stairs, their rappelling gear in the elevator useless. Their knees screamed in agony as they went up, five flights, seven flights, ten flights, but with five more to go.

Finally they made it to the last corridor, but ahead of them they saw what must have been several hundred of the things clawing over their fallen comrades as the Cadians steadily fired into the wall of flesh with their heavy weapons. Each massive round from the heavy bolters probably killed three or four of the creatures, but there were always more. All it would take was one poorly timed reload or a single jam for the entire landing pad to be overun by the creaturs. Beyond the heavy thumping of the round the group could hear the straining engines of the dropships anxiously waiting for their precious cargo to make it back.

But some of the zombies ahead had seen the party coming down the corridor and started towards them, a wave of infected flesh and muscle swaying towards them. As the numbers ahead started thining in the doorway some of the massive rounds from the cadians' heavy bolters started wizzing by the advancing party. One stormtrooper took a round to the chest and exploded into a million pieces.

"hold fire, hold fire we're inbound"

As the rate of fire dropped the chances of the dead overunning the Cadians increased dramatically.

With a feral yell the party slammed into the wall of dead mass at full speed, by now the soldiers on their last legs, their strength failing and their muscles no longer giving what they demanded of them. The inquisitor hit the moving pile first with the weight and speed of a fully armoured knight on gallop. Half a dozen things splattered off of her as she pushed though, the others using her as a battering ram as the tried to push through. The zombies pushed back, stalling their momentum until it seemed that they could go no further.

Suddenly the dead collapsed in a heap at their feet. Shield had redeployed from the rooftops and these snipers and expert marksmen had opened up an incredibly accurate volley of fire into their own lines, but by skill or some miracle missing their brothers and sisters. With one final superhuman effort the survivors pulled themselves over the wall of fallen dead created by the Cadian's steady fire and collapsed onto the landing pad. The lieutenant managed to nod to Zuiderkruize as he collapsed over the dead. The leader of Shield squad pulled out a detonator and collapsed the roof into the entrance behind them. In the distance the Lieutenant heard the shooting from the other landing pad subside as the undead assault faltered there as well. With effort he pulled himself to his feet and turned to see who had made it. Of the twenty four who went down into the building with him, 13 had made it. He saw one of them, a tall trooper, covered in blood and viscera tear the mask from her face and vomit. Christine's eyes found his, hidden as they were by his mask and she smiled once, before she bent over and retched again.

The inquisitor laughed, a tired, humourless laugh of relief. "Adrenaline's a bitch sometimes"

After a moment's pause she went on.

"Okay, everyone in the ships, when we get back everyone gets a complete exam from the MO. The plague's contagious through means we don't understand yet, so no one's taking any chances today."

The Lieutenant nodded as he wiped bits of dead human off of his armour. Whatever happened, he foresaw a blistering shower in his immediate future.

The Pledge

Due to the incubation period associated with most infections the ship's Medical Officer was unable to tell if any of the party were infected. He did spend an inordinate ammount of time examining them all for the smallest cuts. One of the stormtroopers from Shadow had a dislocated shoulder and one from Sword had a minor concussion from the explosive shockwave of a Heavy Bolter round exploding near his head. However they had all been cleared as fit for duty, heavy bruising notwithstanding and the ships filtration system had been updated with detection gear for any sign of the pathogen's footprint. The Lieutenant was confident that there was no reason to fear. To some degree the virus was considered a "faith-virus", a psychically enhanced pathogen. That would certainly limit its effect on his command and be next to useless in a sanctified vessel such as the Spiteful. After the physical he had found his way to the vessel's chapel. He alway prefered the quiet offered by these areas to the hustle of the rest of the ship. He took a small bound book from out of his pocket and opened it, paging to a new page and wrote in it. Raising his head he took in the numerous icons of the Immortal Emperor built into the room, each recounting a tale taught from youth about the Emperor's Crusade accross the stars, his eventual downfall at the rebellion of his son, and his continued existance on Earth, the life support machines having sustained him for the last ten millenia as he watched over the universe from the cradle of mankind.

He bowed he head and crossed his arms infront of his chest, making the sign of the Imperial Eagle as he prayed. After a while he became conscious of something watching him and he started, moving to his feet with years of practice, but a hand gently lay itself upon his shoulder.

"I thought you might come" he said as he turned to face her, but it was not Christine. His confusion must have shown on his face for the Inquisitor smiled sweetly.

"She's still with her squad. They lost a lot of friends today and it will take time to heal."

The Lieutenant slipped the book into his pocket and nodded.

"She'll pull them through, they've been through worse together."

"And you'll pull her through, but what about yourself? Who looks after you?"

"The Emperor. By his Grace I live or die."

"That's something that I don't undestand about you."

A confused look crossed over his features for a seconds before his face reset itself into his usual expression.

"Why is that? Surely it is my priveledge to fight for...."

"Why the Emperor?"

"For His Will is...."

"Spare me that crap. You were born on Janus, an allied planet, yet not part of the Imperium. During the Age of Apostacy they fought against the Church, siding with the Mechanicus and their Machine-god instead. Your parents followed even a different religion, an ancient one from your planet where they worship a deceased cog-boy."

"Carpenter"

"Whatever. And then they were excecuted by the Empire for their actions on another planet where they saved the lives of hundreds of innocent woman and children who had merely had the misfortion of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. What's wrong with you that you follow the Emperor with such dogmatic loyalty?"

"Inquisitor, if you are trying to trap me, it won't work. I was raised to obey the Emperor in the schola since I was orphaned there as a child. While I'm unable to explain why, he has protected me all these long years, through hundreds of warzones against just about every threat mankind faces in my segmentum. Why do you think that this is somehow unusual or wrong. I can assure you that my parent's sins are not mine."

"They were not sins! I was there, I saw what they did. They saved all of those people, not because the Emperor commanded it, not because it was their duty or that their honour was at stake, simply because it was the right thing to do. They refused to let those soldiers rape and murder the defenceless just because they were on the wrong side of a stupid war of seccession."

"Inquisitor, if you were there you would know why the planet was secceeding. It had been tainted by the vile lies of the Archenemy. The psyker spreading those lies, corrupting those people was executed days after my parents were apprehended. If the citizens on that rock had remained steadfast in their belief and rejected the teachings of that madman they would never have been placed in that possition. Whatever my parents believed is immaterial now. They don't believe anything anymore. They can't. The citezens of that planet are all dead now, it's been recolonised and hopefull the new colonists will have learnt something."

The Inquisitor struck him hard accross the face. As he stood there dazed, trying to understand what he had said to her that caused this reaction she struck him again, and stepping forward she tried to hit him another time, but he managed to catch her by the wrist.

"I was there! Not as an Inquisitor, but as a child! How dare you say that we were taught our lesson. How dare you say that we were put in our place. Who are you to say these things? We didn't care about the politics going on, we were just trying to survive as millions were dying around us. And when finally the Empire liberated our town the soldiers, they.. they murdered us, the lucky ones of us. And then your parents forced the soldiers away. Ordered them to stand down. Only the church didn't like that. They wanted us to be taught a lesson. So they brought those charges against your parents. Don't you see?"

By now he held both of her wrists as she leaned against him, her memories suddenly too heavy for her to bear any longer.

"I thought you'd understand. That your parent's son had the same sense that they had. But I find you as brainwashed as the rest of the Emperor-bothering fools."'

As he gently held her against him he noticed the gilt icon behind her. The image was of a radiant Emperor cutting through the chains that bound one of his sons. The irony that this was one of his sons that ended up siding with their older brother and betraying their father wasn't lost to him. As he held her there in the chapel and was aware of her irreverant speech in this holy place he considered his parents actions for the thousandth time since he was a child. No, the church had done the right thing in punishing them for their arrogance. Thier mistake was not in the God that they worshipped or in defying the Church in its actions against the villagers, but in leading their regiment into that forsaken town. Scouts had reported no enemy activity in the town, yet only a few kilometers further along was another village rumoured to be a hotbed of geurrilla activity. Their stupidity for giving their men a couple of hours break when logic dictated that there was work to be done had resulted in their deaths. Harsh? Perhaps, but for any soldier the punishment for making the wrong decision often was death. He knew that one day he'd make that mistake and probably die as a result.

His parents should have known their regiment better, understood the psychology, despite the genetics that handicapped them in this regard. Of course there were always rabble rousers in any regiment who would act like animals when given the chance, and of course they'd jump at any opportunity to vent the stresses of the constant attrition from an unseen foe against the first "enemy" they would get their hands on. The only logical thing to do would be to vent that stress in battle, force it out of their systems, and then to have the regimental commissar deal with any that stepped over the line. No his parents had been too soft and that is why they were now more machine than living beings. He was vaguely aware of his shirt being damp from where the Inquisitor was leaning against him. Unsure of how to respond in situations like this he held her awkwardly and just waited for her to resume speaking. He was vaguely aware that he probably was expected to do something, but he hadn't been bred for this. Recalling his training he was shocked by how little emphasis battle simulations put on this type of thing. He supposed his instructors expected them to find out for themselves, the best laid plans failing in the face of such an unpredictable adversary.

Movement caught his eye at the chapel door. Christine was standing there, her face a mask as she looked on the scene in front of her. As he made eye contact with her, her face tightened and she walked away, heading to some important task no doubt. Again he felt that somehow he had made a tactical error. He resolved that if he survived to one day teach at a schola he would investigate and lecture on this subject, clearly it was lacking in the official syllabus. But for now he was stuck, his shirt clinging to him where the Inquisitor's head lay. Years of action kicked in and his highly tactical mind began to assert itself.

Step one, restore troop morale. He wasn't sure how he was going to do this, but he gave it a shot anyways. He clasped his arms around her and held her to him, having seen a mother doing something similar to a child at one point. His repetoire of rousing speeches didn't have something for this situation, so he improvised something on the fly. It was short and rough, but he found those worked better in life and death moments anyways.

"We're here now, whatever paths brought us here. I think that it's time to draw on that and use it to move forward. One inch at a time."

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked him in the eye, her intensely blue eyes glistening. A weak smile appeared on her face as she looked up at him.

"You really don't know how to talk to women do you?"

"I talk to woman all the time."

"Oh comeone, the members in your squad aren't woman to you, they're just slightly shorter soldiers. I mean like this, personally"

He thought back to the look Christine had just given him and shook his heas slowely.

"No, I guess not."

She smiled a bit more brightly at him but still held on to him tightly.

He considered that the timing was right and moved on to step two: Reconaisence.

"So how did you find out about me?"

"When the Church came through the town to try and find out about the incident, they realised instantly that I had psychic potential. I was destined for the blackships when an Inquisitor onboard adopted me and began to groom me for a role in the Inquisition. And in my early twenties he considerd my apprenticeship over and a second Inquisitor concurred that I was suitable for the Inquisition. "

"And you then investigated what happened at your village?"

"No, he had given me access to some of the files while I was with him. He said the art of investigation must be crafted and that knowledge began with oneself. I found out about you much later when your name came up on classified documents relating to a lead that I was following."

"And you put two and two together?"

"Well, it's a pretty common name, so no, but it kept coming up in unusual places and I started to do some digging. Soon it became evident that you had a knack for solving problems that other units would tackle more directly, bringing back more of your men than they would have and for being more flexible in your thinking that one expects from the Navy. I thought you were different from the others, that something of your parents had rubbed off."

"And so you requested my unit?"

"No, not then and there. That was many years ago. You were still a young non-com. But I kept an eye on you. We share a past that defined us, made us special, better than the rest. In many ways I knew that Fate would bring us together."

"And did it?"

"Well we're here aren't we?"

"You didn't request my unit directly?"

"Well, its the only one that matches the mission at hand."

"The only unit that matches the mission at hand are the Grey Knights. My unit and this ship is next to useless against the Terminus Est."

"You still think that that's the mission. You dissapoint me, I thought that you would have figured it out by now."

"I might have. We're going after another Inquisitor. One who has been stalking the Terminus Est just like we have. One who is much better equiped than you are."

"Hey! Well, better connected maybe. What do you know about the Astronomicon?"

"It's the beacon powered by the mental power of the Emperor, guiding ships through the shapeless darkness of the warp."

"More like steered or guided by the Emperor, it's actually powered by the energy from the sacrifice of a thousand psykers everyday. But close enough. Did you know that it's loosing strength, it's loosing some of its coherence. No longer able to penetrate the bigger warp storms?"

"Its just a rumour. There's always scuttlebutt about these things on ships, but scuttlebutt is mostly rubbish anyways."

"It's true this time. The Emperor's strength is failing. He's the dessicated remains of a corpse sitting on that machine on Earth, kept alive only by his own immense will. But some of us in the Inquisition have made some remarkable discoveries."

"Linking these undead creatures to the Emperor? I mean that would explain a lot, but it's absolutely nuts."

"No, the link's not nuts. That part is established, we just don't know how, why or why the Emperor retains control while these creatures devolve into monsters. What's nuts is what some members of my Order propose to do about it."

"What? Undo the plague somehow?"

"No, that would be too rational. What do you know about the Thorian faith?"

"It's a branch of the church that believes that sometimes the Emperor blesses someone with a piece of his soul, empowering them to do great things. They believe that Sebastian Thor was one of these living "Saints". Its a fairly common belief in the Navy."

"And on your planet too, but that is just part of the belief. Some more drastic members of my Order believe that the entire soul of the Emperor can be reincarnated into a living body, rebirthing him as long as a suitable candidate could be found."

"Why, that's impossible. The greatest of all Heresies."

"Well, yes, but it's also Insane. The worse thing is that it might just be possible given our understanding of the warp and one's soul."

"What? Really?"

"Well, theoretically at least, but the attempt itself is likely to do more harm than good. Even if it is successfull. The Empire would probably tear itself apart at best and at worst we would have an immensely powerful supreme being walking around who would be corrupted by the process and by the warp."

"And how do these creatures fit in?"

"They seem to follow a single patterened thought. While no man could carry the essence of the Emperor it is possible that it could be spread over many creatures. Also the similarities between their condition and the Emperor's own suggest that there is already something going on."

"But it's spread by the Terminus Est, the Harbinger of Decay. How is it possible that any good could come from the disease."

"It's a faith-virus, don't forget that. People who cling to their faith sometimes resist it. Others can have it expelled from them by the church if they manage to hold on long enough to recognise the early stages. So far we haven't found a stable mutation of the virus, but I think that the Inquisitor that I'm pursueing might have. I think that he plans to use the malign influence of the Terminus Est to spread the stable mutation and summon the Emperor into the hosts."

"And so we're going to try stop him."

"We are going to stop him."

"And what about the rest of the Inquisition?"

"Some are working with me, but he's very well connected and much more senior than me. We are doing this discretely, trying to take him down without having to gather too much evidence for a tribunal. That would take too long and give him a chance to carry out his plans."

"I see. And why did we land on that planet just now? Surely we were just wasting time if we should be following him?"

"And how would we do that? We don't know the movements of the Est? He got lucky when Laria successfully stopped the spread of the disease. He managed to obtain the warp signature of the Est and determine its destination. We were weeks behind him. And then he went and sabotaged the defensive grid on Haspania and attempted to wipe their computers so that no one could track him or the Est, but I got lucky and managed to get a fragment of the warp signature. We can take a rough guess at their next destination. And when we do it will be up to you to stop him."

The Inquisitor pulled away from him and smiled again. "And I know you'll do it too. Like me you've never failed yet, and together we'll stop him dead."

"We have to." He said softly

"We will. Together. Promise me that you won't stop until we do!"

"I promise that I'll strive till my dying breath."

"Not good enough! We cannot fail. "

"I pledge that through the Authority of His Divine Majesty I won't let them succeed in their plans. Is that better?"

She smiled brightly again and leaned in, kissing him gently on his mouth. She dabbed her eyes against his shirt a few times, wiping away any remains of the tears and with a last smile walked out of the chapel.

His mind racing he sat in the chapel and looked up at the image of "The Emperor Residing in His Golden Throne".

"Give me guidance, for this path is an uncertain one, and your servants vie against each other in their hubris."

As he got up to leave he wondered how many more names he would be adding to the little book in his pocket before this was over. Would Christine add his name if he fell? He remembered the look that she had given him just twenty minutes ago and sighed.

"Step 1: Restore Morale." he muttered to himself as he walked back to their quarters.

The Last Flight of The Spiteful

Light and Fast, like a sabre. Straight and true, as an arrow.

Convergence

When fate is dead and luck has gone, all that is left is to trust to God and play for time.

The Prophecy

The future is just history without the dates.

Malton

A stroll down memory lane, only to get mugged.

The Emperor

No creed or country, but still a patriot.

Shattered

When the abyss stares back, the first to blink gets crushed.

Piece by piece

All past, present and future already exist. It's perception that is a one way road.

Finding Religion

mrh?

Religion Bites

brnhr

Castaway

Gods can be fickle

Red Coats

First rank fire, second rank fire... Fix,Bayonets.

The Camp

The angel and the demon.

America

Liberty, chained. Time, unshackled.

A new mission, a new life

A new empire, a new war.