Eclipsis - IC

[Lord General Armstrong]

"I wouldn't worry, corporal." Pilgrim grunted, without humour. He clapped a hand on the grenadier's shoulder pad as he squeezed past him to go and meet Mercurius. "They design this stuff with ignorant squaddies like you and me in mind. Just follow whatever ritual the cogboys told you when they gave you it and you should be alright."

"Riiiiiiiight, roger sir." Klemens, giving the Colour a brief nod as he left. His 'assurance' or insult, he wasn't entirely sure how to take it. Still it gave him some comfort, but he'd be frakked if he could remember the machine rites. "Umm, ..... blessed machine, a ... umm ... a thousand pardons for my unworthy hands. Umm, err, ahh, deus in Machina."

"Damnation....." He whispered, he had hoped that was the correct utterance, "Vox, please don't hurt me and I'll oil you later. How about that? .... You like that?" He promised and joked not really caring if anyone else heard him.

* * * * *

"Fitz here." came a familiar voice across the vox. It was clear enough, but for some reason it sounded very far away. "Is that you corp? Where are you guys now?"

"Yes, it's Corporal Klemens, we are currently in one of the water reservoirs. I want to request routine radio reports, every 10 minutes. Update your situation and tell me if Liv receives anything." Though he wasn't sure if 'receive' was the correct word.

[Hechman]

"Yes, by all means... please leave me here after compromising my location and making all that noise. That'd be nice of you." Flutter her lashes for maximum sarcastic effect, the woman focused finally on the man apparently having a romance with his weapon. Leaning forward slightly, she narrowed her eyes and blew him a kiss.

“Heh.” Gerald snorted after a momentary pause of surprise at the woman’s pithy comeback. He quickly rallied and offered his own overly toothy grin in response. “If that’d be your desire, darlin', far be it from me not to be obligin’ you.”

"One of yours?"

"This is corporal Holden Mercurius, of the 4th."

“Eh. Guess he’s Guard so that’ll do fer me.” Gerald shrugged as he slowly lowered ‘Beloved’ once the man identified himself. He was relieved to see the man’s carapace wasn’t shiny gold and there was a complete lack of bearskin shako to accompany. The large sword that Corporal Mercurius had did draw his attention, and a shake of the head, as Gerald noted it. “Looks like he ain’t a bloody Vostroyan, but that damned grox-sticker is lookin’ impractical enough fer him to be one.”

"Sir? You're sure it'll be safe for me to swim with this Vox unit? I don't know if this things waterproof and it's sure not going to help my fatigue along with my armour kit."

“Grox gak.” Gerald muttered as he slung the grenade launcher across his chest. He double checked his pockets and kit pouches to make sure everything was snapped and secured. They were low on supplies and gear, so losing any more unnecessarily was not an acceptable option.

"I wouldn't worry, corporal." Pilgrim grunted, without humour. He clapped a hand on the grenadier's shoulder pad as he squeezed past him to go and meet Mercurius. "They design this stuff with ignorant squaddies like you and me in mind. Just follow whatever ritual the cogboys told you when they gave you it and you should be alright."

"Not just trying to get out of it sir. I'm generally concerned for my own safety. You know, could be like throwing an oversized toaster oven into a bathing unit."

“That’d be bad fer anythin’ livin’ in the water. Which’d shortly be includin’ us.” Gerald said as he pulled off his helmet and un-pouched the rebreather. He didn’t look at Klemens while he fiddled with the straps and spoke in a tone that never even grazed neutral. “Damned relieved you’re thinkin’ about the unit’s safety first. Sir.”

"If Crewman Tellaris is willing to follow us, let her. She pulls her own weight just like the rest of us."

“So long as she ain’t fatiguin’ herself too much.” Gerald shrugged and said with a humored grin while he strapped on his own rebreather and adjusted it. He arched an eyebrow behind the clear plastic lenses in the new woman’s direction. “If you’re comin’ then you’d best be findin’ yourself a rebreather, an’ quick like, m’dear. Unless you’ve got yourself a knack fer holdin’ your breath.”

"Trust me, it will be darker than deep space down there. All too easy to get lost and turned around."

Wouldn’t be wantin’ that. Gerald thought before he glanced askance at Klemens and raised his voice to make a suggestion. “Corporal Klemens here’s lit himself up like an Emperor’s Day candle. Glory boy’s to be leadin’ the way again, Colour?”

[FarseerMatt]

"Yes, it's corporal Klemens, we are currently in one of the water reservoirs. I want to request routine radio reports, every 10 minutes. Update your situation and tell me if Liv receives anything." Though he wasn't sure if 'receive' was the correct word.

"Say again, corp? The line's breaking up."

Klemens repeated himself.

"Copy." was the answer this time, "Will do, corp."

"Yes, by all means...please leave me here after compromising my location and making all that noise. That'd be nice of you." Martiya fluttered her eyelashes sarcastically, and blew an equally sarcastic kiss at Gerald.

"Sorry, miss." private DuGrae said, looking slightly uncomfortable, "We don't normally take civvies along with us. Usually puts them in more danger than leaving them behind. That said, Colour Pilgrim gets to make the final call - you'll need to ask him."

"If crewman Tellaris is willing to follow us, let her." said Lehner, "She pulls her own weight just like the rest of us."

"Aye, give the girl a spare rebreather." agreed Pilgrim as he returned to the group with Mercurius in tow. "If we do end up having to drain the tanks or anything, I'd rather have someone along who knew what they were doing."

"One of yours?" Martiya asked, indicating Mercurius.

Pilgrim nodded curtly. "Everybody, this is corporal Mercurius, 4th. Corporal, this is everybody. We can work out the proper introductions over tanna once we've broken the rest of our company out of the briefing hall."

The various Guardsmen and crewmen exchanged nods.

"One of us should go first with a secured line, find the exit pipe. They can get out the other side, tie off the line and everyone else can hand over hand it through the dark. Trust me, it will be darker than deep space down there. All too easy to get lost and turned around."

"Good thinking, Lehner." Pilgrim nodded, as one of the Triarii passed Martiya a bulky rebreather mask and the rest started pulling lengths of survival cable out of their webbing. "Corbec?"

"Aye, Colour?"

"I heard you say you wanted to go fishing. Go make us a line."

If Rueben Corbec was nervous about swimming 20 metres down and 80 across in a dark, recently bombed-out water tank, he didn't show it. "Aye, Colour. Corp, pass me the vox - I'll test your toaster-in-the-bathtub theory. And if I don't die I'll let you know when I get to the other side."

"Watch yourself, Rueben." said Martos seriously.

"Course I will. I'm just about to get me some of that cardio you were talking about earlier."

Borrowing Klemens' vox unit and securing it in a pocket of his webbing, Corbec swung himself over the gantry onto the ladder and began climbing down into the water.

"Test vox." said Pilgrim, flicking his own unit on. Thankfully, this time there wasn't an immediate cacophony of screaming and gibbering voices from the device. Corbec flicked Klemens' vox on and off, generating a pip from Pilgrim's receiver.

"Those pumps aren't suddenly going to start up at any point, are they?" he said to Martiya as he dropped into the dark pool and started treading water, "Horus, that's cold! I don't want to get sucked up a damn pipe while I'm down there." He grinned beneath his rebreather, winked at Martos, and caught the line that Lehner threw down to him before turning round and diving under the surface. The others busied themselves with tying together their survival cables and paying it out as Corbec slowly dragged it into the water after him.

The ladder ran all the way down to the bottom of the tank. Corbec used it to climb down hand-over-hand, stopping every few metres to hold his breath and blow, easing the pain in his ears from the water pressure. Eventually he felt his feet touch the bottom of the tank, and after looping the line around one of the rungs, he struck out across the tank. He quickly realised that corporal nasty-bastard Lehner had been right about the conditions underwater. His lasgun and kit weighed him down and made it easier to stay near the bottom, but it also made it harder to swim. The dark was of course the biggest obstacle - even with his torch, the gloom and his lack of a visor or goggles meant he couldn't see more than a few metres, and after a while even the clean water started to make his eyes sting. With the pumps off and no current flowing, it was eerily quiet - the only sound that of his own laboured breathing. Eventually he found the bottom of the opposite wall, and it took him another two minutes to locate the airlock hatch. It was about a metre high and just off the bottom of the tank - clearly designed to be used for moving between the tanks when they were empty rather than full. Corbec spooled the line around his wrist and tucked his torch into his webbing to free up his hands, putting his boots against the door for leverage and pulling on the wheel lock. It was stiff as hell, but eventually it turned and he was able to push the hatch open, clearing the way into another dark tank.

Pushing the hatch back against the wall, Corbec squeezed through. He was breathing heavily from exertion, which was made more unpleasant by the now-hot air circulating in his rebreather, but the second tank was easier than the first - he reasoned that the next hatch would be directly opposite the first and so all he would have to do would be keep swimming in a straight line. This assumption proved to be correct - five minutes later he had prised open the second hatch with hands that he could no longer feel, and this time instead of swimming along the bottom he just went straight up, wanting to be out of the cold, the silence and the claustrophobic darkness as soon as possible. He breached the surface with a wonderful feeling of relief, and tore off the Emperor-damn respirator with numb fingers, the lifeline still looped around his other wrist. Shivering, coughing and cursing, he rubbed the water out of his eyes and located the nearest ladder up to the gantry. As near as he could tell, this tank was identical to the one he had left - same gantry, same pumping station, same damnable lack of lighting - apart from the fact that the corroded sign on the wall read '1' rather than '3'. Coughing again, the sound echoing in the empty chamber, he began to swim the home stretch towards the ladder.

Back in tank 3, with the steady tug on the tied-together line abruptly stopping, the others waited with baited breath. Martos, who was scanning back and forth across the tank, actually jumped slightly when Pilgrim's vox crackled.

"Colour? Corbec. Tank 1 seems clear. I've tied the line off to the ladder by the pumping station. Come on through."

"Copy that." Pilgrim grunted, permitting himself a discreet sigh of relief that he made sure the others didn't notice.

"And just for the record, boss, it's fokking freezing in there."

+ + + + + +

One by one, the group pulled themselves along the underwater line. Half way across the second tank and the smaller, lighter soldiers already found themselves shivering, their muscles seizing up in the freezing water. Even for those who were better able to retain their body heat it was difficult going - they couldn't communicate with each other, and they could barely see beyond the person in front of them. And that's why, at first, not all of them noticed the shadows.

They glided through the water, slithering like snakes, a darker shade against the gloom as they began to circle the swimming Triarii. Martos was one of the first to see them, and unable to call out a warning, she grabbed the ankle of Lehner in front of her and pointed. She shined her torch towards the shadow, but unlike the orb in the briefing hall it didn't shy away. Instead, it lunged at her. Martos' muffled yelp was audible to several of the other Triarii as she ducked to avoid it, losing her grip on the line.

Pilgrim, leading the way, turned round as the amplified crack of a lasgun sliced through the water. He swore loudly inside his rebreather and grabbed hold of Kylara's webbing to drag her past him towards the door. He couldn't see anything. There was a sudden roar, which he belatedly realised was his vox howling with static. He didn't have the time to turn the damn thing off as he frantically panned his torch and dragged the next swimmer past him.

DuGrae yelped as another shadow lunged past the man in front of him - Vicario? - causing the man to backpedal furiously. Strangely, he didn't feel any current from the shadow's passing, but he did feel the one from his fellow Guardsman as he flailed back into him, knocking the torch from his hand. DuGrae groped blindly for the dropped tool, his other hand trying to pull his lasgun off his shoulder.

Kerrigan, near the back of the line and still with ex-sergeant Fenix, just saw torch beams and lasbolts flashing through the water as the Guardsmen began to flail crazily. She couldn't even see what was attacking them.

[Dakkagor]

One by one, the group pulled themselves along the underwater line. Half way across the second tank and the smaller, lighter soldiers already found themselves shivering, their muscles seizing up in the freezing water. Even for those who were better able to retain their body heat it was difficult going - they couldn't communicate with each other, and they could barely see beyond the person in front of them. And that's why, at first, not all of them noticed the shadows.

Lehner focused on the swim. One hand over the other. At least he didn't have to worry about a patched together scuba tank, or raw sewage, or squigs.

They glided through the water, slithering like snakes, a darker shade against the gloom as they began to circle the swimming Triarii. Martos was one of the first to see them, and unable to call out a warning, she grabbed the ankle of Lehner in front of her and pointed. She shined her torch towards the shadow, but unlike the orb in the briefing hall it didn't shy away. Instead, it lunged at her. Martos' muffled yelp was audible to several of the other Triarii as she ducked to avoid it, losing her grip on the line.

Snarling behind his mask, he wrapped his left arm around wire and pulled out his sidearm. He aimed and fired twice, then spun in the water as he felt Martos lose her grip. He lunged out for her, his nearly numb hands clasping onto her rifle even as he dropped his pistol. Even as he pulled her back in, her discharging rifle scored a line across his leg, the water turning pink from the glancing wound.

For a second, their eyes met, and Lehner motioned her forward. She clambered over him and back onto the line. He turned his gaze back out to the water as the torch beams danced and the strangely muffled but amplified sounds of underwater firing reached him. This was going to turn into a slaughter if fire discipline broke down.

Pilgrim, leading the way, turned round as the amplified crack of a lasgun sliced through the water. He swore loudly inside his rebreather and grabbed hold of Kylara's webbing to drag her past him towards the door. He couldn't see anything. There was a sudden roar, which he belatedly realised was his vox howling with static. He didn't have the time to turn the damn thing off as he frantically panned his torch and dragged the next swimmer past him.

He had no way of communicating with Pilgrim or anyone else down here. A desperate plan was beginning to formulate in the back of his mind. He didn't think about how this abomination could have survived a demo blast. He turned and began crawling back along the line as quickly as he could, heading back the way he came. He just hoped Pilgrim was at the front of the line and getting people forward.

He had to get everyone out of the tanks as quickly as possible, and then he had to get ready to use the rest of his grenades.

[Lord General Armstrong]

"Good thinking, Lehner." Pilgrim nodded, as one of the Triarii passed Martiya a bulky rebreather mask.

"It's not that bad, Miss Tellaris. Old Klemens here, wears his all the time." The Corporal smiling and tilting his head slightly to the side. Holding back his laughter and biting his lower lip, as he regarded himself in third person. "Can't have anything or anyone seeing my gorgeous eyes. Or hurt my pretty face now could we?. Or, or maybe they just don't like my breath, hard to clean these pearly whites while wearing a dome twenty-four frakken seven."

Lowering his hand to his pistol holster, liberating his sidearm and turning it in his hand. Giving the weapon a twirl and catching it's grip. "Martiya? I trust you have been trained to use a service issue Lasweapon. Not particularly difficult to use or master." He stated flicking the weapon around in his hand and clasping the barrel with his fingers as he offered it to the shipsmen. "I think we all agree we could use another gun."

"And also think of this as a courtesy gift." Ferentinus continued reaching into his webbing and retrieving a spare lamp pack. "Tactical light for the pistol, mount it on the underside."

* * * * *

Borrowing Klemens' vox unit and securing it in a pocket of his webbing.

"Corbec, buddy. If you wanted to feel around in my pockets, you could have asked or bought me dinner first. Not even trying now days I see." Klemens teased, winking at the man and thankful his expressions were masked behind his faceplate.

* * * * *

"Colour? Corbec. Tank 1 seems clear. I've tied the line off to the ladder by the pumping station. Come on through."

Klemens, stood as always fiddling with his Vox Casters knobs and dials, listening in on the conversation. "So it's safe down there? Good to know. Well what the warp damned fornication's are we waiting for lets go."

"And just for the record, boss, it's fokking freezing in there."

"Ah, no faith Corbec. Put the jewels of the Emperor before the jewels of the family. Tisk, tisk."

* * * * *

“Corporal Klemens here’s lit himself up like an Emperor’s Day candle. Glory boy’s to be leadin’ the way again, Colour?”

"Agreed. Guess I'll jump too." Nodding his head to the man and throwing himself onto the ladders rungs.

"Sweet Emperor!" He exclaimed, "Corbec wasn't lying. It's frakking freezing in here!"

* * * * *

The water, so cold, so very cold. His hands were freezing to the bone, even despite the two layers of fatigues he wore, his full body armour kit, all seeming to be of little value now. His hands began to shake again, even as they clamped the guideline and he swam through the pitch blackness, Klemens numerous flashlights not helping him as much as he liked. But at least he could see the wire ahead of him.

"What the....?" Dropping a hand from the line to spin around, his actions slowed thanks to the water. The lasbolt, illuminating much more of the water than his own numerous beacons. "Snakes? ..... but how?" He nervously muttered, using his free hand to sling his lasgun over his shoulder. Checking the mechanism to make sure it was switched to fully auto. His dead fingers impacting against the trigger, bolts skirting across the water. Was he even hurting these things? His lamp lights, seemed to draw the things in, rather then repulse them as it did to the creature in the meeting hall.

He took a gamble, dropping his other hand from the wire and began to switch off his lamp lights. Grabbing the guideline once again and letting the darkness consume him.

[Hechman]

“Fraggin’ Guard. Fraggin’ Warp. Fraggin’ ship. Fraggin’ corporals. Fraggin’ water. Fraggin’ cold. Fraggin’ darkness.”

Gerald grumbled while he grunted with effort as he struggled to pull himself along the rope. Although his larger size somewhat helped against the cold it made maneuvering difficult. His hands were going numb through his gloves and his feet weren’t much better. ‘Beloved’ was not the greatest asset at the moment – but the weapon was always worth the extra effort. The repeated mantra of curses made him feel better even though nobody could hear them. It wasn’t until Gerald felt his helmet smack into someone’s back, and heard muffled yelps, that he guessed something was up. The distorted echo of weapon discharges confirmed that something was wrong. The water began to buffet him more than before while bodies frantically moved around. Only the faint dance of lamp packs and las bolts hinted at the distress ahead of him.

“What the cuss…” Gerald started before he noted something slither through the water by his face. It was briefly illuminated by the lamp pack he’d taped to the side of the helmet. She was right. That unbidden thought darted through his mind as he swore with spectacular violence. He spun one wrist around the rope to secure himself while he scrambled to draw his combat knife. The blade felt unwieldy in his numbed fingers before he even tried to slash at the thin shadows around him. But that didn’t stop him from trying his damndest to skewer one of the snake-like things. They had to get out of here – and now. Gerald shouted his rage and frustration into the darkness as he stabbed out at the shadows. He awkwardly tried to maneuver himself forward along the line.

[FarseerMatt]

For a second, their eyes met, and Lehner motioned her forward. She clambered over him and back onto the line. Martos dragged herself along as fast as her cold-stiffened arms would carry her, thrashing her feet in an attempt to add more speed. She had slung her lasgun - her naked eyes were of little use underwater, and she had already proved that by nearly taking Lehner's leg off. Emperor's teeth, the shadows were all around her! They were keeping close to the floor of the tank, hugging the metal and lunging at her ankles almost as if they were trying to force her upwards.

"God fokking Emperor!" Martos shrieked into her rebreather as one of the shadows swept by her face. She instinctively swiped at it, and for a moment she thought that her hand actually went right through the thing, but that was probably just a product of her blurry, water-refracted vision. A moment later she felt a strong hand seize her shoulder-pad, and a man who might have been Pilgrim hauled her through the hatch, and then she was through and frantically kicking her way to the surface of tank 1, fighting the weight of her armour and equipment. As she neared the top the water pressure lessened, and the air in her lungs became sufficient to bouy her the last few metres. She breached the surface between water and air like the galaxy's least graceful dolphin, thrashing and swearing.

Klemens took a gamble, dropped his other hand from the wire and began to switch off his lamp lights. Grabbing the guideline once again, he let the darkness consume him. It seemed to work, or as near as he could tell, since he could no longer see anything. But he didn't feel any alien eel-monsters washing past him or snapping at his heels as he crawled along the line, and that could only be a good thing. Unfortunately, he couldn't see Fenix fast-roping along the line behind him with Kerrigan on his back, nor they him until they crashed into him. Fenix snarled and lunged with his combat knife, which very luckily glanced off Klemen's carapace shin guard before the ex-sergeant realised that the dark mass he had just hit was a fellow guardsman. Kerrigan was screaming inside her rebreather.

"I can't see anything! What the feth are we shooting at!"

Fenix meanwhile grabbed Klemens' armour straps with one hand, and dragged both him and Kerrigan towards the hatch, where a dark shape was waiting. With his enclosed helmet, Klemens could see better underwater than most of the others, and when Fenix's torch beam swept over it he recognised the shape as Pilgrim. The colour sergeant pulled Fenix, Kerrigan and Klemens through the hatch into the comparitive safety of tank 1.

Gerald shouted his rage and frustration at the darkness as he stabbed out at the shadows. He awkwardly tried to manoeuvre himself forward along the line. The water resistance slowed his blow and the shadowy snake-thing easily weaved round it before whipping away along the bottom of the tank.

Colour sergeant Pilgrim watched from the hatch as the situation rapidly spiralled out of his control. His vox was still roaring with white noise, and in the confusion he had lost count of who had passed through the hatch and who hadn't, but a line of red laser light flickering in the dark told him that at least one of his men was still out there and in trouble. He tried to stay calm and objective: he had seen Lehner turn back to round up any stragglers, and he had to wait for them. If only he could see what was attacking them! His lasgun barrel twitched left and right, and then up towards the distant surface, seeking an invisible target.

In the gloom ahead of him Pilgrim saw the beam of O'Rourke's helmet light swing crazily as he tried to dodge something. Pilgrim immediately dived forward, kicking off the tank wall to give himself speed. His torch cut through the gloom to reveal Gerald slashing wildly at the water with his knife.

"O'Rourke!" Pilgrim shouted into his rebreather, hoping the muffled speech would carry through the water. He grabbed the guardsman and nearly lost his fingers to the flailing knife before he was able to drag his comrade forward to the hatch.

Lehner was crawling back along the line as quickly as he could, heading back the way he came. He just hoped that Pilgrim was at the front of the line and getting people forward. He had to get everyone out of the tanks as quickly as possible, and then he had to get ready to use the rest of his grenades. Lasguns strobed through the dark water ahead of him. They originated from Vicario and Nyl, though whether the two could actually see their targets or were just panic-firing after Klemens' wild fusilade was anyone's guess. Lehner grabbed them both and pushed them forward along the lifeline. Scanning frantically around, he couldn't see anyone else further back, and so he turned and began fast-roping back along the horizontal line. The shadow creatures writhed by around and below him, seemingly unconcerned by the bursts of Triarii lasfire as they flickered past. No matter how close they got, they didn't seem to ripple the water. They moved like quicksilver and lunged like striking cobras, trying to force him upwards and away from the line. Lehner clung on grimly and flailed forward, seeing the blurry shapes of Pilgrim and the others ahead of him. He could make out what he thought was Martiya disappearing through the hatch, Vicario and Nyl quickly following. He was last. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the shadows circling behind him. All sound was drowned out by the water-amplified howl coming from Pilgrim's vox. The colour sergeant had his lasgun in his hands, but he wasn't shooting. Either he couldn't see far enough past Lehner to make out the shadow-things or he was too scared of hitting the lance corporal.

Pilgrim reached out to help Lehner, but knowing that the damn snakes were right behind him, Lehner instead gave the colour sergeant a hard kick in the chest-plate that sent him flailing back through the hatch into tank 1. Before Pilgrim could recover, Lehner had grabbed the wheel of the hatch and pulled it closed. He turned to see that the shadows had swarmed together into a mass that was coming straight for him. With a mighty roar that carried into the water through his rebreather, Lehner pulled the frag grenades out of his webbing and ripped out the pins.

+ + + + + +

"It wasn't so bad, Anna." Olivia was telling Fitz, who had moved the other astropath's body outside as respectfully as possible before locking the cabin door and sitting down next to her sister in her lonely chalk hexagram. "But there was always the fear...that if we failed, we would be sacrificed to the Throne."

"The Throne?" Fitz repeated. "You mean, the Throne?" She was confused - she had always thought that the Emperor's Throne was a metaphor for the worship that held up the Emperor and, by extension, the Imperium.

Olivia nodded fervently. "The Masters never talked about it, but we heard rumours. Rumours of how the Emperor fed on the souls of the unworthy."

Fitz made the sign of the Aquila to ward off the blasphemy of what she was hearing. "Liv..." she said gently, "I don't underst-"

"Aargh!"

Fitz jumped back as her sister abruptly cried out and put one hand to her head. She asked the astropath if she was alright, but Olivia just pulled a sleeve of crystal-fronted cards from the pocket of her robes and began to spread five of them in front of her.

"Liv, what are you doing?"

Again the astropath ignored her, muttering to herself as she closed her eyes, passed a hand over the cards and then began to flip them over. To Fitz' surprise, the clear crystal faces on the other side now bore coloured images.

"The Knight of Mandatio, and the 10 of Discordia for ending." Olivia whispered. She opened her eyes and looked round at her sister. Her blind eyes shone with pale luminescence, backlit by an unnatural light. "A faithful servant of the Emperor is meeting his fate."

Fitz abruptly realised that her hand had curled around the grip of her lasgun. With a kind of horrified guilt she let it go, and went instead for Klemens' vox bead.

"Corp, Fitz! What's your status?"

+ + + + + +

From the other side of the hatch, Pilgrim heard a dull thump.

"Lehner!" he shouted into his rebreather, and then turned away with a curse. He balled his fists in impotent rage. Another one. He had lost another Triarius. For a long moment he just floated there, alone in the dark and the cold at the bottom of tank 1. But eventually, there was nothing for it but to swim for the surface. He felt his way along the wall to the nearest ladder and began to climb.

When he made it to the top and tore off his rebreather, he found several of his Triarii still bobbing in the water, while others were swimming for the ladders that dropped down from the gantry ringing the tank. Corbec was helping them.

"Where's the corp, boss?" Martos asked Pilgrim as she swam over to help the colour sergeant.

Pilgrim shook his head, clenching his jaw tightly. "He kicked me through the hatch and set off his grenades. What happened? What the Horus were you all shooting at?"

Martos didn't seem to hear him. She appeared to screw up, closing her eyes tight as she traced the Aquila across her chest. "Bastard!" she hissed through gritted teeth, "Stupid, stupid bastard!"

Looking at the young private and deciding to give her a moment, Pilgrim turned to Gerald and Klemens and barked at them for an explanation. Martos continued to curse fluently as she flopped onto the gantry and shook the wet hair angrily away from her face.

"A cluster-fok!" she snarled as she looked back at the men and women still in the water. "That's what it was, an Emperor-damned cluster-fok! How the Horus did those things get in there?" She stopped abruptly as she counted the survivors. The newcomer Mercurius had made it, as had Martiya, but besides Lehner there was one other familiar face that she couldn't see.

"Bastian." she said suddenly. "Where's Bastian!?"

+ + + + + +

Bastian DuGrae didn't know how long he had been insensible, or how far he had drifted across the bottom of the tank. All he remembered was a blinding, deafening explosion as he frantically swam for the hatch. He drifted there, in complete darkness without his torch, thin ribbons of blood drifting out of his ruptured ears and dispersing into the dark water. Unable to see or hear anything, only the bouyant weightlessness of his limbs, for a moment he thought that he was already dead. His skin had long ceased to feel anything, but then he choked on something ice cold, and became aware that water was leaking into his rebreather. That woke him up instantly, and brought the pain in his ears and chest into sharp focus. He remembered where he was - and as his mask began to fill up with water, the calm, rational part of his mind that had seen him through so many firefights told him that if he didn't make it to the surface, he was going to die.

Twenty metres of water was pressing down on him. His kit wasn't helping. Cursing his numb fingers, DuGrae dropped his lasgun and pulled at the straps of his armour and webbing. It wouldn't come off. He took a last breath as the water flooding his mask reached his nose, burning with the alkaline chemicals that had washed out of his rebreather unit. If he had panicked then, he would have been a dead man - but Bastian DuGrae was an Imperial Guardsman through and through, and he kept his head. Pulling off the stinging, useless mask, he finally succeeded in shrugging off his bulky flak vest with its attached shoulder pads. Dumping it on the floor of the tank, he unlaced his boots and kicked them off before striking out for the surface. At first the water weighed on him, pushing him back down, but as he ascended it became easier. He blew out some of the air in his lungs, resisting the now-screaming instinct to exhale and then breathe in because his rational mind told him that the water around him would give him none of the oxygen he desperately needed. He broke the surface just as instinct overcame consciousness, and sucked in the deepest breath he had ever taken in his life. He imagined it being loud enough to echo around the empty storage tank, but with his ruptured eardrums he couldn't hear any of it. Deaf and half blind, he flailed his way towards the nearest ladder. Coughing, his whole body a bright furnace of pain, he reached up to grab the ladder. A strong hand caught his numb fingers and hauled him upwards. DuGrae turned his head up gratefully towards his saviour.

It wasn't a hand that had grabbed his arm.

It was a shadow-tentacle. Its matte black surface dragged DuGrae's gaze inexorably up to the shimmering iridescent orb at its end. The soldier's eyes widened, pupils dilating in sudden fear. Thin streams of black began to drain from the centre of his pupils, ribboning up towards the orb like a stream of dust particles drawn by an air current. As the twin streams reached the orb they began to darken and solidify, forming oily black threads that connected the man and the creature above. For a moment they settled taut, and then they lashed, a ripple travelling down the threads from the orb to DuGrae. The man's head burst apart as if a monofilament wire had swept through it.

+ + + + + +

"What did you say?" Corbec snapped, pulling back from Martos just as he was about to help her to her feet.

"I said where's..." Martos began, and then she realised what Corbec was talking about. The vox transmission.

Die, you warp-spawned frak! - Tech...priests... - No...it'll never be over! - Bastian? Where's Bastian!? - Fokking bugs! Aargh, get them off me!

"Oh sweet Emperor." she breathed. "Just like Varro..."

The two Triarii immediately began to run round the walkway towards Pilgrim.

"Colour? Colour!"

[Effigy_Cross]

“Heh.” Gerald snorted after a momentary pause of surprise at the woman’s pithy comeback. He quickly rallied and offered his own overly toothy grin in response. “If that’d be your desire, darlin', far be it from me not to be obligin’ you.”

"Such a gentleman.." the woman replied with an expressive roll of her eyes. Despite the large amount of sarcasm still dripping from her words, the corners of her lips began to twitch in faint amusement. It was nice to have a bit of normalcy again, even if it was in the form of slightly childish bickering.

DuGrae was given a fleeting smile before Martiya inclined her head respectfully towards first Lehner and then Pilgrim. Accepting the rebreather, she gave it a quick once over and murmured softly to herself while the others were coordinating.

"It's not that bad, Miss Tellaris. Old Klemens here, wears his all the time."

Casting her gaze towards the man for only a brief second before deciding that it might be best to only look indirectly at the rather (physically) bright guardsman. His height relative to her own made for an unfortunate amount of glare from all those lights. The cant of his head was so absurd that it was almost cute. Almost.

"Can't have anything or anyone seeing my gorgeous eyes. Or hurt my pretty face now could we?. Or, or maybe they just don't like my breath, hard to clean these pearly whites while wearing a dome twenty-four frakken seven."

Must not facepalm.. Must not facepalm.. Must not facepalm.. Must not hit guardsman with wrench.. Wait..was he still babbling? Oh, sweet Emperor..was he..flirting..? Maybe they wouldn't really mind too much if she just gave him one or two little swings..

"Martiya? I trust you have been trained to use a service issue Lasweapon. Not particularly difficult to use or master."

Maybe she had been too hasty in her desire to commit assault. The man certainly knew the way to her heart. Reaching out, she peered at his concealed face for a moment and finally flashed the man a smile. "Basic courses, but I think I can manage. Thank you." Just as the mechanic had with the rebreather, she gave the firearm a quick once over, her smile growing faintly.

"And also think of this as a courtesy gift." Ferentinus continued reaching into his webbing and retrieving a spare lamp pack. "Tactical light for the pistol, mount it on the underside."

"My, my..aren't you thoughtful.." Martiya said in a warmer tone than she had used thus far. Switching the light on and off just to test it, she mountied it on the weapon.

Her attention redirected by the mention of pumps, the woman glanced up and smirked at Corbec, "Hey, if they do then it'll be like an express elevator! Yanno, as long as you don't mind those filters and the like.." Stepping over towards the edge of the walkway and gazing down at the man, her expression turned into a grin as she added a clearly teasing, "You're flexible, right?"

Despite the bravado displayed, a light shudder went through the woman's form as she watched the water. Well, if she had to go further into the unknown..at least she had a proper weapon. Taking a steadying breath, she fixed the rebreather in place and took a moment to secure her tools for the trip. The back and forth occuring around her earned an arched brow, but the woman didn't comment and simply tugged her goggles out of a pocket to secure in place. Oh, she really did NOT want to go in that water.

Queueing up with the others, the tremors that ran through the woman's frame were not solely from the cold. Keeping her improvised weapon with her, slung across her back in a quickly improvised harness, Martiya actually found the weight and the pressure from the water comforting. It reminded her of the increased gravity back home. Days like this, the woman wondered why she had been so eager to leave. Situated between two of the guardsmen, she worked her way across the line.

Almost finding stability once more in the calm darkness, the chaos that soon sprang up caused her to momentarily freeze. Was that one of those orb things from earlier? She thought she saw a flicker of motion. Reaching for the sidearm she had been given, the woman found that her hands were shaking too badly to actually grip the weapon. Cursing to herself as shots illuminated the black all around them, she growled out "I damn well told you so!" If they weren't currently being assaulted but Emperor alone knew what, she might have danced a merry little jig. However, as the situation was somewhat more dire, she ducked down in the hopes of making herself seem less appealing and focused on simply getting through the hatch.

Something brushed past her, causing her to jump and curse softly behind her rebreather. If it had been a real creature or simply a phantom sensation brought on by a mixture of dread and anxiety was anyone's guess. Biting back a startled scream, the woman was jostled from behind and slammed into the person in front of her, lashing out in a slowed punch on reflex before realizing that it was a friendly. Muttering an apology that the other party surely couldn't hear, Martiya soon found herself grabbed and tugged into the other tank. Scrambling to surface, she clawed through the water as she finally breached the waterline.

Blinking rapidly in disorientation, she shook her head and continued up onto the gantry above. The pressure in her ears made everything around her sound warbly and distorted though she could clearly make out the shouts and distress that followed the vibration from what she could only assume had been another detonation earlier. Panting heavily behind the unit that masked her features, she bit down on her lip hard enough to abrase the skin. Reaching her hands up, she pressed against the edge of her ear canal and worked her jaw to clear her ears nd figure out exactly what had just happened. And how long before the running and screaming and dying was likely to commence.

[Hechman]

After being pulled through the hatch Gerald kicked and pulled himself upwards as quickly as he could. He breached the surface and tore the mask off his face with an emphatic curse. With as much delicacy as his numb fingers could manage he sheathed the combat knife. The weapon, much like its wielder, had been useless underwater. Gerald angrily smacked the water with both fists as the others rose from the water. This whole situation was fokked up beyond all reason. He felt the reassuring weight of ‘Beloved’ on his back, and it keenly reminded him that the weapon hadn’t been fired yet. The next shadows that acted up, orb or otherwise, were going to her the launchers roar all the way back to the Warp.

"Where's the corp, boss?" Martos asked Pilgrim as she swam over to help the colour sergeant. Gerald hadn’t noticed her arrival as he tried to stay above water, and rage futilely about their circumstances. It wasn’t until she mentioned someone missing that he snapped out to hear what was up.

Pilgrim shook his head, clenching his jaw tightly. "He kicked me through the hatch and set off his grenades. What happened? What the Horus were you all shooting at?"

“Throne…” Gerald oathed in stunned surprise while Martos cursed about Lehner’s demise. He might not have liked the corporal, but he couldn’t knock the man’s soldiering. Pilgrim’s barked demand for an explanation drew Gerald back into the real world. He shook his head in disbelief before responding. “Fraggin’ snakes came at us in the water, Colour. All shadowy an’ dartin’ around like at the briefin’. Either the lass were right, sir, or we’re all goin’ twitchy like her… an’ Varro.”

[Lord General Armstrong]

Those shadows, what in the Emperors divine right were those shadows? Snakes, serpents, damnation ....... that's what they were. Damnation's, creatures that shouldn't be. The corporal continued pulling himself along the wire, had he made it? He felt the press of hands against his fatigues and numb flesh, he hoped that they were of his peers and not these ....... these things.

"Corp, Fitz! What's your status?"

Her words, they had awoken him. A gift from the Emperor, a voice of an angel. His eyes opening wide and he immediately lunged for the ladder, looping an arm around it's rung. "Praise Him, thank Him."

He could have hung there for an eternity, he was cold, he was tired his armour doing more harm than good. Sighing and dropping a hand from the bar, Ferentinus began the process of reactivating his numerous lamp lights spread across his frame. One by one the illuminations began to trace the far walls and arc across the waters surface. Watching the shadows, ...... for several minutes he just watched those frakking shadows.

* * * * *

Pulling himself up, each movement of foot or hand drawing him closer to the catwalk, each one bringing him to relative safety. That last pull, always seemingly the hardest to make as his body protested every movement. Though he made it, almost waddling onto the gantry and holding onto the railings for support. "Sweet Emperor......"

Pilgrim shook his head, clenching his jaw tightly. "He kicked me through the hatch and set off his grenades. What happened? What the Horus were you all shooting at?"

Ferentinus turned, straightening his back and leaning on the support. "Literally shooting at shadows sir. I'm sure you felt them, that inhuman touch. They were attracted to our light sir, well that's what it seemed."

"Bastian." she said suddenly. "Where's Bastian!?"

"What did you say?" Corbec snapped, pulling back from Martos just as he was about to help her to her feet.

Klemens whirled on the spot, rapidly looking over the two troopers. Stunned, wonderment, realization, fear, he should have noticed it sooner. "Fokk...." He whispered, those damn words flying back to the forefront of his mind. He was the damn vox operator, he wasn't focusing, he didn't realize ....... he thought it coincidence. Reaching into his webbing and tumbling with his field kit as he withdrew a pencil and small notepad.

"I said where's..." Martos began, and then she realised what Corbec was talking about. The vox transmission.

"Oh sweet Emperor." she breathed. "Just like Varro..."

His hands were shaking again, writing down those words, those words that began to haunt him, those words he began to dread, what did they mean? Was, ..... was it them? He sure hoped it wasn't. He hoped they could avoid whatever fate had in store for them, he hoped they realized before it was to late.

..............Die, you warp-spawned frak! - Tech...priests... - No...it'll never be over! - Bastian? Where's Bastian!? - Fokking bugs! Aargh, get them off me!

Die, you warp-spawned frak! - Tech...priests... - No...it'll never be over! - Bastian? Where's Bastian!? - Fokking bugs! Aargh, get them off me!

Die, you warp-spawned frak! - Tech...priests... - No...it'll never be over! - Bastian? Where's Bastian!? - Fokking bugs! Aargh, get them off me!

Die, you warp-spawned frak! - Tech...priests... - No...it'll never be over! - Bastian? Where's Bastian!? - Fokking bugs! Aargh, get them off me!..............

Madly scribbling down those fokking words, ripping out pages, scrunching them and tossing them into the watery depths below. Who said it? Who was going to utter the next line!? Maybe, ........ maybe if he stopped them, maybe he could break this curse. Maybe, just such a small act could prevent their fate.

"Colour? Colour!"

Turning his attention to his officer, he watched fiddling with the dials of his vox caster, trying to find those phantom words. Those screams, the static.......was any of those words his? He couldn't remember, they sounded distorted, Fitz.......he hadn't contacted Fitz....

"Fitz, Klemens. What do you have for me?"

[FarseerMatt]

"Fitz, Klemens. What do you have for me?"

"Liv predicted something about a faithful servant of the Emperor meeting his fate. What's your status? Is everyone alright?"

"Lehner." said Ky in her characteristic blunt tone, having overheard the vox conversation as she passed. "It was Lehner. Probably DuGrae too."

The revalation precipitated a long silence from the other end of the vox.

+ + + + + +

"Either the lass were right, sir, or we're all goin' twitchy like her...an' Varro."

"Let's hope not." Pilgrim said, in an unusually quiet voice. "We need to keep it together. Keep the faith."

Gregor couldn't help wondering if the man was talking to him, or to himself.

For the first time, the strain was truly beginning to show on the colour sergeant's face. He had heard the stories of what happened on ships in the Warp that were no longer protected by the Gellar field. Impossible things manifesting. Men driven insane by nightmarish entities worming their way into their heads, twisting minds and bodies until finally clawing their way out through their victims' skull. His men were already losing their lives - he would not let them lose their souls.

"Colour! Colour!" Corbec and Martos shouted as they came running up. "The voices from the vox - it happened again. Just like Varro. Perhaps...perhaps we'd have a better chance if we-"

"No!" Pilgrim barked with surprising force. He wouldn't let his men become corrupted by whatever was speaking to them from beyond the veil through his vox. He tore the device out of its pocket in his webbing and hurled it into the water tank. There was a gentle splash before the communicator sank out of sight.

"No!" Pilgrim said again, "Whatever we heard, even if it seems true, it wasn't natural. I won't allow your souls to be corrupted!"

He fiercely stared down the men under his command. Do not doubt. Never doubt. But the voice at the back of his mind was getting stronger, hammering against the inside of his skull. After Kreuzmann had fallen to his death, he had promised not to let another man die. Now Lehner was dead too, and DuGrae missing. No matter his experience, no matter how hard he tried, he was failing his men. The water of the tank had returned to flat calm and his vox caster was gone, but the memory of the voices remained. They were mocking him, heralding every death that he had failed to prevent, and laughing at his helplessness to prevent more. Pilgrim was an Imperial Guardsmen; he fought the enemies of the Emperor, but he fought real, tangible foes - like Orks - not fokking shadows and whispered voices! If his men were dying on the battlefield, for the Emperor, where their deaths meant something and could save the lives of others, then he could have handled it. But this...to be helpless in the face of this - that was monstrous.

In an atypical display of uncontrolled anger, he slammed his fist against the gantry railing, causing the reverberating impact to echo through the tank. The colour sergeant stood for a long moment with his head bowed.

Behind him, regardless of who else could see, Corbec put an arm around Martos and hugged her tight. If the stress was even getting to Pilgrim, then they were really in trouble.

+ + + + + +

"The machine temple shouldn't be far now." Kerrigan said as the diminished squad of Triarii advanced along yet another long and empty corridor. "The Navigators' quarters are just ahead."

The guardsmen were strung out along the corridor, keeping combat separation distance, with sergeant Mainwering and private Vicario on point. It was they who first pulled up short as there was a loud crash ahead, followed by a fan of lasbolts ripping down the corridor. The Triarii cursed and threw themselves sideways against the walls. In the gloom ahead of them two figures stumbled into view, wreathed in smoke from the spread of lasbeams that had just vapourised great chunks out of the walls. Ostensibly they looked human, but they were ragged, hunched over. The emergency floor lights reflected up into their faces as they staggered against the corridor walls, and instead of eyes they had glowing pits of red fire. Something writhed visibly beneath the skin of their faces and necks.

"Fok!" Martos swore, "Are they ours?"

"If they are there's been a really stupid equal opportunities policy!" Corbec shot back as he ducked back behind the bulkhead he had just passed under, seeking cover behind the protruding doorframe.

Behind him, colour sergeant Pilgrim's eyes opened wide with horror. Standing before them was exactly what he had feared - Warp corruption.

"Triarii!" he roared, "Weapons free!"

The red-eyed thing with the lasgun had paused at the end of his last burst, fumbling with a new power cell, but at that moment he jammed it home and unleashed another volley of shots. Most of them were aimed at Klemens, the big target festooned with glowing lamp packs, and two of his shots hit private Nyl who was standing in front of the grenadier, shattering the ablative plates of his flak vest with enough force to hurl him backwards. He fell hard against the buttress of the bulkhead door, and at that moment, seemingly of its own accord, the door itself dropped like a guillotine. Kerrigan, who was standing with Fenix directly beneath it, screamed and threw herself backwards as it slammed shut. Fenix instead fell forwards, narrowly avoiding being crushed by the descending mass of steel.

Ahead of the suddenly divided squad, the creature with the lasgun fired off another volley, red laser beams flash-vapourising armour and scoring black marks on the closed blast door. The other thing beside him, armed with a thick rifle bayonet, opened his mouth and screamed. It was an inhuman noise, a monstrous sucking howl, and as he screamed his mouth distended, unhinging itself and gaping impossibly wide as he ran at full sprint straight towards the Triarii.

+ + + + + +

"Fenix!" Kerrigan yelled, slamming her fists uselessly against the unyielding bulkhead door. She could hear the screams and gunshots coming from behind it, muffled by six inches of steel. "FENIX!"

Trapped along with her were Mercurius, Martos, Corbec and Pilgrim, who were frantically searching the walls for some sort of terminal to override the bulkhead. They found none, and all four spun round as the emergency lights at the far end of the corridor violently blew out. Another set blew, and then another, a line of darkness marching up the corridor towards them. As each pair of lights blew out there was a bright flash, and in the momentary glare they saw...something jolting towards them, jumping closer and closer with each flash.

"Fok!" Corbec swore, and all four Triarii opened fire. Their las beams sliced down the corridor, hitting nothing. Another flash of light, as the something reappeared, lunging ever closer.

"This way!" Kerrigan yelled. Next to her Pilgrim seemed to have frozen up, and she grabbed the colour sergeant by the arm and began running. She ran forward, towards the advancing shadow, but at the last second her plan was revealed as she ducked left, dragging the four guardsmen into a side tunnel that led into a warren of sub-deck passageways. They had to loop round and find a way back to the others. Alone, hunted, they were as good as dead.

[Hechman]

"Let's hope not." Pilgrim said, in an unusually quiet voice. "We need to keep it together. Keep the faith."

“Aye... as you say, sir.” Gerald affirmed after a hesitant pause. He’d expected for the Colour Sergeant to round on him over mentioning Varro’s episode. Being chewed out would’ve been more welcome than being talked to in Pilgrim’s quiet tone. It was singularly more disquieting than the shadow snakes had been. He tried to distract himself by unlimbering and preparing ‘Beloved’ for action again.

"Colour! Colour!" Corbec and Martos shouted as they came running up. "The voices from the vox - it happened again. Just like Varro. Perhaps...perhaps we'd have a better chance if we-"

"No!" Pilgrim barked with surprising force. He tore the device out of its pocket in his webbing and hurled it into the water tank. There was a gentle splash before the communicator sank out of sight.

"No!" Pilgrim said again, "Whatever we heard, even if it seems true, it wasn't natural. I won't allow your souls to be corrupted!"

Fok. I need a drink. Gerald thought to himself in the aftermath of Pilgrim’s episode and viewed the squad. Corbec was openly comforting Martos while Pilgrim bowed his head. He watched the scene with a pensive expression as he chewed his cheek and thought. Colour showin’ that he’s human? Benny and Kenda openly comfortin’ one another? That ain’t a good sign, Gerry. Not at fraggin’ all. The canteen weighed heavier in his pocket than normal. Throne on Terra, he really needed a drink.

***

“Come the fok on already!” Gerald shouted in frustration as errant bolts smacked into the scant cover he wedged his bulk into. The corridor was a death trap, and that was before the bulkhead decided to slam down. It didn’t take more than a quick glance to see that not all of them had been on the correct side of the divide. It also didn’t take more than a quick glance to see that something was seriously not alright about the squad’s attackers. They used to be men… but now their eyes were literally flame… and their skin almost writhed like something lived underneath the skin. He knew he was was no medicae, or ecclesiarch for that matter, but he knew enough to know that was healthy or holy about their condition.

One of them was hammering away at the squad with a las on auto. Nyl was already decked, condition unknown, but fortunately it looked like the shooter was fixated on Klemens instead. Gerald risked the lean to grab the lad by his collar and roughly haul him into the scant cover. The other started to make some Throne awful noise as it brandished a wicked looking grox-sticker and made a run at them. It had to be the most awful sound that he’d ever had the displeasure of hearing. That horrid noise had to stop – immediately. Without thinking, other than he had to make the abomination stop, Gerald swung up ‘Beloved’ and stepped out of cover.

“Outbound!” he called out in warning as while sighting down the barrel at the charging un-man. Those eyes burned as that maw widened with sickening unnaturalness. Gerald bellowed violently and wordlessly to drown out the thing as the distance closed. He squeezed the trigger and ‘Beloved’ finally roared, just like he’d silently vowed it would, as it violently projected the krak grenade he’d fully expected to use on Klemens.

[FarseerMatt]

Nyl was already decked, condition unknown, but fortunately it looked like the shooter was fixated on Klemens instead. Gerald risked the lean to grab the lad by his collar and roughly haul him into the scant cover. The boy was alright, though gasping from the impacts that had driven the breath from his lungs. The ablative thermoplas plates over his chest had fractured and blown away – hopefully the still-intact layers of armourweave underneath would keep him safe from any further impacts.

Gerald swung up ‘Beloved’ and stepped out of cover.

“Outbound!” he called out in warning as while sighting down the barrel at the charging un-man. Those eyes burned as that maw widened with sickening unnaturalness. Gerald bellowed violently and wordlessly to drown out the thing as the distance closed. He squeezed the trigger and ‘Beloved’ finally roared, just like he’d silently vowed it would, as it violently projected the krak grenade he’d fully expected to use on Klemens. The grenade was designed for taking down tanks rather than infantry, but by the Emperor it did the job. The shaped charge detonated on contact as it punched into the un-man's flak vest, and the creature simply vanished in a red flash. The force of the confined explosion was overpowering, constricting the ribcages of the Triarii and rendering all of them deaf for several seconds. As a fine pink mist showered over the walls and ceiling, the surviving un-man yelped and shied away, momentarily ceasing his assault on Gerald and the others.

[Lord General Armstrong]

The revalation precipitated a long silence from the other end of the vox.

"Fitz?" Klemens questioned softly, his voice surprising clear for once. "Are you there Fitz? It's okay, you tried to warn us. We need you, we need you and your sister to stay strong. Okay? We need you to keep us posted on any and all happenings. We are going to get out of this."

* * * * *

"No!" Pilgrim barked with surprising force.

"Sir?" The Corporal questioned as he turned to face the man. "Sir, I find it's advisable that we listen to them. This voice sir, it's us. Like it or not, we should listen to it."

"No!" Pilgrim said again, "Whatever we heard, even if it seems true, it wasn't natural. I won't allow your souls to be corrupted!"

In an atypical display of uncontrolled anger, he slammed his fist against the gantry railing, causing the reverberating impact to echo through the tank. The colour sergeant stood for a long moment with his head bowed.

"Sir?" Klemens questioned again, walking to the Colour and placing his hand upon his shoulder just as he had done to him. Patting his hand on his shoulder guard and leaning to whisper. "Sir, we are imperial guardsmen we are conditioned to obey orders without question or hesitation. Only by concentrating on our orders can we face the horrors of the galaxy. You most of all, must retain a clear and level head, don't let it get to you. You think if we could have done anything we would have?"

The corp taking a hand behind his back and tapping on the vox unit. "This sir, it could be a gift from the Emperor, it could be one of the regiments or the ships Psychic choir trying to aid us. We don't know, I say we listen to it again, even if it's just us. Maybe we can stop this, maybe we can prevent whatever fate has dealt us. If we are given the chance, shouldn't we take it? I will respect your decision sir and follow it to the letter, but just think about it."

* * * * *

Behind him, regardless of who else could see, Corbec put an arm around Martos and hugged her tight. If the stress was even getting to Pilgrim, then they were really in trouble.

Turning his head back to the Colour smiling. "Maybe we should hug? Better yet." Turning his head to Martiya, giving her a low whistle.

* * * * *

"The machine temple shouldn't be far now." Kerrigan said as the diminished squad of Triarii advanced along yet another long and empty corridor. "The Navigators' quarters are just ahead."

"Have you ever felt it? Those mechanical tendrils against bare skin? I, I .... h-have." Klemens mind began to wonder back, to his youth, somethings he never wanted to remember.

The guardsmen were strung out along the corridor, keeping combat separation distance, with sergeant Mainwering and private Vicario on point. It was they who first pulled up short as there was a loud crash ahead, followed by a fan of lasbolts ripping down the corridor.

"Cease fire! We're friendly! Cease fire dammit!"

* * * * *

"Triarii!" he roared, "Weapons free!"

"Rodger, sir!"

* * * * *

"Frak, frak, frak!" He yelled as he dove behind the nearest bulkhead, the sudden feeling of colliding into the wall snapped him out of it. Sighing for relief and clutching at his lasrifle.

Without thinking, other than he had to make the abomination stop, Gerald swung up ‘Beloved’.....

Klemens tilting his head watching the weapon unslung, gritting his teeth and giving Gerald a silent, slow nod, grasping his lasgun and checking its battery levels. "Right."

...... and they stepped out of cover.

The Corporal rolled from his press, his stock impacted against his shoulder and finger indenting in upon the trigger. "Suppressing fire!" He barked, himself now knelt on the floor of the deck tracing lasbolts across the narrow corridor. Toggle flipped to full auto as he fired upon these traitors, it was strange it kind of felt good fighting targets he could actually dispatch.

“Outbound!” he called out in warning as while sighting down the barrel at the charging un-man.

"Outbound!" Ferentinus repeated for those hard of hearing or needing of additional warning.

As a fine pink mist showered over the walls and ceiling, the surviving un-man yelped and shied away, momentarily ceasing his assault on Gerald and the others.

"Holy grox crap! That'll do it!" Klemens cheered, standing himself up and slapping Gerald on the shoulder. "Best to check, weapons and ammo." He suggested, letting his spent energy cell clamber to the floor and letting a fresh one slide home.

[FarseerMatt]

"I will respect your decision sir and follow it to the letter, but just think about it."

"You're right, corporal." the sergeant said through gritted teeth, "We're guardsmen; we obey orders. And you have mine. Triarii!" he barked suddenly, with his voice carrying something like its old steel. "We've wasted enough time. Move out!"

+ + + + + +

"Best to check weapons and ammo." he suggested, letting his spent energy cell clatter to the floor and letting a fresh one slide home.

Sergeant Kylara Mainwering took up Klemens' covering fire as he ducked back to reload, her heavy auto-las splashing bars of red light down the corridor and into the buttress their remaining antagonist was cowering behind. The shots vapourised chunks of steel from the walls, throwing up more dust and smoke to add to that left by Gerald's grenade. It looked like they had the target pinned down, until a sudden stream of las flashed out of the smoke. Kylara crumpled without a sound, and the squad belatedly realised that the un-man had gone prone, ducking under the oncoming fire. Crouching when leaning out of cover was a standard Guard tactic, because lesser trained men would usually be aiming at about chest height. Kylara had taken account of this with her well-aimed suppression fire, and so the un-man had gone even lower. It was a tactic of desperation, and Vicario and Nyl quickly showed him why it was a bad idea. Lying flat, he couldn't get back into cover quick enough. Vicario's shot hit the un-man's flak helmet, which absorbed the hit in a puff of vapourised armaplas, but the force of the impact jerked his head back, so that the second las pulse hit him in the face.

"Target down!" someone shouted, and all of a sudden there was silence.

+ + + + + +

Running through the maze of narrow corridors that formed the sub-deck, stumbling in the dark, private Corbec spun round to confront his pursuer and realised that there was nothing there. No shadow, and more worryingly, no Triarii. He had become separated in the confusion.

"Colour!" he shouted, pulling up short and turning round again. His muzzle light swept across the corridor, banishing the lesser shadows, but leaving darker pools in which anything might hide. "Kenda?" he called again.

A desperate scream coming from back the way he had come made Corbec snap round once more. The scream was female.

"Kenda!" he shouted, and began running as fast as he dared back up the twisting passageway, his lasgun snapping towards alcoves and closed doorways in search of an unseen assailant. At the next corner, he ran right into it.

It was slightly smaller than him; hunched over, with burning red eyes. Corbec yelped in shock, but his trained soldier's reflexes held, and he pumped the trigger of his lasgun to stitch a trio of lasbolts up the creature's chest and into its face. One of the blazing eyes snuffed out and the thing toppled. At that moment all the lights around Corbec, both lit and dead, exploded in a shower of broken glass. There was a violent crash, and his torch beam illuminated the wall ahead denting inwards. Corbec fired at nothing, spraying las beams in the hope of suppressing an opponent he couldn't see. Another crash, and another dent appeared in the wall, closer this time, as his invisible opponent thumped its way up the passageway towards him. Corbec took a step backwards.

"Kenda!" he yelled out, one last time.

At his feet, Martos tried to reply as her partner turned and fled. Her remaining eye blinked in silent shock as a pool of blood seeped out across the decking around her head.

+ + + + + +

The deep, rapid thrumming of the ship's generators competed with Pilgrim's own heartbeat as he tried to keep up with Kerrigan. Fear must have got the better of the armswoman, because she seemed to have forgotten to wait for the Triarii who didn't know the sub-deck as well as she did. He cursed the crewman - had she been in the Guard, some of the less forgiving commissars would have had her shot for this. She was somewhere ahead of him, that much he knew, but he couldn't tell where since he had lost her in the dark. He didn't realise that he had taken a wrong turn three corridors ago.

"Corbec! Martos! Mercurius!" Pilgrim yelled as he ran, his lasgun tight against his chestplate. "Sound off! Where the Horus are you!?"

He skidded to a halt as the door in front of him suddenly slammed of its own accord, the wheel lock spinning shut. Nearly running straight into it, the colour sergeant swore and let his weapon hang free on its strap as he tugged at the wheel. It wouldn't budge. Pilgrim spun round as an unholy howl filled his ears, regripping his lasgun when he saw the dark shape rushing up behind him, filling the corridor.

"Die, you warp-spawned frak!" he screamed at it, firing indiscriminately into the shadowy mass.

He realised what he had just said at the same time that one of his las beams flayed open a ceiling panel, spilling out thick coils of spitting, sparking cable. There was a bright flash as the live ends earthed themselves against something, and the sudden illumination revealed Corbec tangled in the wires, his limbs wrenching as the cables fired massive pulses of electricity through his muscles.

It seemed to take a monstrously long time for the man to fall, leaving behind smoke and a hideous reek of burnt flesh and ozone as the emergency fuses on the power lines belatedly tripped. In the sudden stillness, Pilgrim's lasgun fell from his hands to hang slack across his chest. Very slowly, he stepped forward towards the body. Thin wisps of smoke were still rising from it.

Pilgrim stared at Corbec's charred remains for a long moment, then slid down against the wall, breaking the ringing silence with the sound of hysterical sobbing. He didn't seem to notice as the remaining lights in the corridor flickered, dimmed and died. In the darkness, the breathless sobbing echoing off the walls sounded almost like laughter.

+ + + + + +

"Hold your fire!" Kerrigan yelled as she stumbled out of a side corridor some distance ahead of the surviving Triarii. She looked around and registered the body of one of their antagonists, and the pink stain misted across the walls that had been the other. "What in the Warp happened here?"

+ + + + + +

"Adept, you have had one standard hour. What is the status of the lockdown?"

The cheif enginseer, adept Nesca noted, had finished his work on the dirigarium and was now projecting his dry rasp of a voice from the navigation hololith alongside the three lesser magi. The visualised telemetry from the Warp sensors meant nothing to Nesca's uninformed eyes, for he did not possess the Knowledge to decipher it, although it was possible that it simply required more advanced optical blessings than his own to make sense of.

"Honoured magos," Nesca began, "Internal auger sweeps suggest that 90% of the guardsmen and 80% of the primary crew have been successfully contained. However, there have been a number of equipment malfunctions in the past hour, presumably due to the weakened Gellar field."

"Clarify." said the female magos with the voice-distorting vox grille.

"There was an unexplained pipe rupture in starboard water tank 3. More importantly, the augers report several instances of machinery activating and deactivating without command...including some of the emergency isolation doors."

Nesca could almost feel the ripple of unease that surged through the senior magi. Failure of containment might lead to the human crew interfering, but these malfunctions spoke of a deeper problem - their ship's machine spirits were being increasingly disturbed by the increased pressure of the Warp around them. As far as the magi were concerned, that the crew would have to be sacrificed was merely unfortunate - it was a possibility realised, considered, and planned for, as much as Nesca himself privately hated it. But they were all in agreement about one thing: that for the soul of the very ship they served to meet the same fate was unthinkable.

Only chief enginseer Sariel appeared unaffected by the news. "Then time is demonstrably running out." he said, "The translation must begin immediately. Where is adept Solisto?"

As if on cue, the vox station beside one of the junior magi chimed. The tech priests' vox channel was one of the few on the ship that had not yet been corrupted by Warp-generated interference, albeit only by the effort of a team of enginseers who even now chanted near the back of the secondary nav gallery, constantly retuning and filtering the system.

"Command hub." said a female voice, projected from the vox caster at the magos' elbow. "This is adept Solisto, transmitting from deck 4."

"Magos Sariel receiving, Adept." the chief enginseer croaked, turning towards the vox. "Make your report."

"Honoured magos." said the voice, "I apologise for my delay. The target was not on the upper decks as originally predicted."

"Apologies are not relevant." Sariel said tonelessly, "Make your report."

There was a momentary pause, and adept Nesca wondered if it was because adept Solisto had been about to apologise again before catching herself.

"Magos, I have located the target in his quarters. My combat servitors and I are proceeding there immediately. The Navigator will be ours momentarily."

[Effigy_Cross]

The mechanic had absolutely no idea what was happening. Gathering her wits, she shifted off to the side and surveyed the damage and remaining force. This was starting to feel disturbingly familiar.. Physically shaking her head, she banished the dread that accompanied that thought.

“Fraggin’ snakes came at us in the water, Colour. All shadowy an’ dartin’ around like at the briefin’. Either the lass were right, sir, or we’re all goin’ twitchy like her… an’ Varro.”

Martiya bit her tongue. Hard. Wincing behind the rebreather, one eyes twitched faintly in pain despite her attempts at masking the action. She put everything she had into not screaming out an I told you so. While it would be cathartic on a certain level, it might end up earning her a shot between the eyes. And she rather liked the look of her feature without new modifications. Rolling her jaw slowly, she tried to massage the injured muscle as she simple let her hand rest over the gun she had been given, taking some fleeing comfort at its presence.

Turning his head back to the Colour smiling. "Maybe we should hug? Better yet." Turning his head to Martiya, giving her a low whistle.

The displays of affection were unsettling. She didn't usually see military types in full dress behaving that way and the breakdown in protocol was a bad sign. That was, until everyone's favorite Corporal spoke up. Leveling a flat gaze at the man, she didn't hold back from her first instinct this time, openly facepalming.

"Tell ya what," she said with a soft groan of exasperation. "We get out of this in roughly one piece..I'll hug ya. Hell, I'll give ya a damned kiss if parting from all that gear won't kill ya."

Though her tone was clearly sarcastic and faintly tense with apprehension for whatever was waiting ahead, the woman reached out and lightly patted him on the shoulder. Unable to help but smile faintly, she was secretly glad for the man's attempts at humor. Her focus was once more redirected as the group began to move.

"The machine temple shouldn't be far now." Kerrigan said as the diminished squad of Triarii advanced along yet another long and empty corridor. "The Navigators' quarters are just ahead."

"Have you ever felt it? Those mechanical tendrils against bare skin? I, I .... h-have." Klemens mind began to wonder back, to his youth, somethings he never wanted to remember.

Glad she had been given a rebreather, Martiya's lips curved into a decidedly unwholesome little grin behind the mechanical shield. That was information filed away for later along with the hope that she would be able to capitalize upon it at some point. Hopefully when the man was unarmed.

The guardsmen were strung out along the corridor, keeping combat separation distance, with sergeant Mainwering and private Vicario on point. It was they who first pulled up short as there was a loud crash ahead, followed by a fan of lasbolts ripping down the corridor.

Though she had denied his request earlier, the woman found herself more than happy to press against the nearest source of cover available. Though it lasted only a moment out of shock before she darted off to press against the wall and seek proper cover, Martiya found herself flush against the Corporal's back for an instant. Firing off three shots at the..what in the..what WERE they?! Another shot followed her shock before the double cry of warning that preceeded the explosion caused her to hitch one shoulder up on reflex to protect her hearing.

As a fine pink mist showered over the walls and ceiling, the surviving un-man yelped and shied away, momentarily ceasing his assault on Gerald and the others.

"Holy grox crap! That'll do it!" Klemens cheered, standing himself up and slapping Gerald on the shoulder. "Best to check, weapons and ammo." He suggested, letting his spent energy cell clamber to the floor and letting a fresh one slide home.

Wrinkling her nose at the gore that resulted, the woman could only shake her head and be thankful she was rarely on cleaning detail in this part off the ship. Glancing down at her weapon, she was fairly certain she would be good for at least one more encounter. The weight of her makeshift bludgeon still rested comfortingly upon her back, its presence briefly reminding her of the increased gravity of her home and making her long for a vacation. Suddenly, a quiet, boring life didn't seem like such a bad thing.

Wait..weren't there more people here before? Another string of obscenities were bitten back as the woman pulled all the pieces together post scirmish.

"Hold your fire!" Kerrigan yelled as she stumbled out of a side corridor some distance ahead of the surviving Triarii. She looked around and registered the body of one of their antagonists, and the pink stain misted across the walls that had been the other. "What in the Warp happened here?"

This time, it was too much. She didn't have the will to withhold her natural impulses any longer, "We thought the walls needed a touch of color so we decided to redecorate. Interior design has always been a passion of mine!" The woman's snark was delivered with in a mild tone with the sort of false sincerity that only a lifetime of sarcasm can achieve.

"Shall we press on? I'm sure the rest of the ship is just DYING for a makeover!"

[Hechman]

"Holy grox crap! That'll do it!" Klemens cheered, standing himself up and slapping Gerald on the shoulder.

“Quit crowin’ like a juve after his first tumble!” He snarled and aggressively shrugged to drive the man’s hand off him. Klemens’ excessively familiar gesture had interrupted his loading the next krak grenade. Furthermore, he couldn’t see what there was to celebrate right now. The other un-man was still alive and actively trying to kill them. Some of the unit had been cut off behind the bulkhead behind them. Second and the rest of the platoon were trapped. Yeah. No. Gerald saw no reason at all to be giddy.

"Best to check, weapons and ammo." He suggested, letting his spent energy cell clamber to the floor and letting a fresh one slide home.

“Go screw.” Gerald mouthed with an ugly sneer as while he went back to cycling onto the next krak grenade. No sooner had he sorted out the weapon than Sgt. Mainwering dropped heavily to the deck. His curse was drowned out by the heavy volley of bolts from Nyl and Vicario as they retaliated against their attacker. She better not have gone off and died leavin’ the corp in charge. He thought before actually offering a silent prayer to Him on Terra.

"Target down!" someone shouted, and all of a sudden there was silence. Gerald crouched and sidestepped out of cover as he aimed ‘Beloved’ down the corridor. It was well damaged with las impacts and halfway painted with dead un-men. The other was a facedown corpse that smoked and leaked from several wounds. He heard approaching footfalls from up ahead and redirected ‘Beloved’ in that direction.

"Hold your fire!" Kerrigan yelled as she stumbled out of a side corridor some distance ahead of the surviving Triarii. She looked around and registered the body of one of their antagonists, and the pink stain misted across the walls that had been the other. "What in the Warp happened here?"

“…The Warp.” Gerald said slowly, as if unsure why the question needed to be asked, while he lowered the weapon’s aim off Kerrigan. He gestured at what was left of the splattered man and the other corpse for Kerrigan’s benefit. “Warp spawned un-men abominations, lass. Don’t be gettin’ too close to what’s left of ‘em now. Somethin’ around ‘ere tainted them sorry sods rotten.”

"We thought the walls needed a touch of color so we decided to redecorate. Interior design has always been a passion of mine!" The woman's snark was delivered with in a mild tone with the sort of false sincerity that only a lifetime of sarcasm can achieve. "Shall we press on? I'm sure the rest of the ship is just DYING for a makeover!"

“Not before findin’ a way to be gettin’ or lads and lasses outta trouble.” Gerald quickly corrected the other woman while minding the corridor with ‘Beloved’. He spared the look over his shoulder to regard the downed Mainwering and the other soldiers behind him. “Julio!” he called out to his squad mate, “How’s the sergeant farin’?”

[FarseerMatt]

"Warp spawned un-men abominations, lass. Don't be gettin' too close to what's left of 'em now. Somethin' around 'ere tainted them sorry sods rotten."

Kerrigan marked out the Aquila across her chest with her free hand, and stepped away from the relatively intact corpse. The man's right eye socket was a blackened hole where the las beam had boiled away his eyeball, but other than that he looked almost peaceful.

"What did you...?" she stammered, still struggling to process the situation. Martiya quickly ran out of patience.

"We thought the walls needed a touch of colour so we decided to redecorate. Interior design has always been a passion of mine! Shall we press on? I'm sure the rest of the ship is just DYING for a makeover!"

"Not before findin' a way to be gettin' or lads and lasses outta trouble." Gerald quickly corrected the other woman. "Julio!" he called out to his squad mate, "How's the sergeant farin'?"

"Uh..." said Vicario, and looked to Fenix who was cradling the fallen woman. The un-man's lasbolt had hit her helmet and dented it inward with the explosion, and as Fenix tugged the armour off it revealed a mess of blood matting her ginger hair. Kylara was still breathing shallowly, but she was unconscious.

"She's alive, for now." the big ex-sergeant growled, "Hey Kerrigan, where's Pilgrim and the others?"

"I...I don't know." Kerrigan shrugged helplessly, looking back down the side corridor she had emerged from. Her ebony skin had turned slightly grey from shock. "Another one of those things came at us after the bulkhead slammed. I tried to lead them round. One minute they were right behind me, and the next they were gone. I...I heard screaming." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know."

"So." Vicario put in, "Do we wait for them or go looking for them or what? Who's in charge if Colour bought it?"

"Well." Fenix said in his gruff voice, "Matty said that if anything happened to him then Ky here was in charge, but she ain't commanding anything in this state."

"What about you?" Kerrigan asked hopefully.

"Me?" Fenix laughed. "I'm a private again now, remember? Besides, I'm staying here."

The others stared at him.

"We can't wait, you guys need to go ahead and find help." he said as he pulled out his medikit and began tying a gauze pad onto Kylara's wound. "I'll wait here for Pilgrim and the others and make sure the sergeant's alright. I owe Matty enough to look after his ASL even if she is a crazy bitch."

"I'll stay with you." said Kerrigan impulsively, but Fenix just laughed again.

"I know I said I'd look after you, girl, but right now you'll be safer with them."

"So who's in charge now?" the armswoman asked uncertainly, looking around the group.

Fenix pointed a thick finger at Klemens. "Rankwise? That'd be him."

Suddenly, a series of muffled bangs echoed down the arterial corridor. Every triarius immediately went for their weapons; they knew that sound. Gunfire. It wasn't the sharp snap-crack of lasguns, but a staccato of deeper cracks, each followed by a howling whistle. Hideously familiar to anyone who had ever seen a boltgun in action.

"That's coming from the Navigator's Sanctum!" Kerrigan hissed as she flattened herself against the metal wall.

[Lord General Armstrong]

"Tell ya what," she said with a soft groan of exasperation. "We get out of this in roughly one piece..I'll hug ya. Hell, I'll give ya a damned kiss if parting from all that gear won't kill ya."

"Kind of don't want to kick it now." Of course he was never planning on dieing here, "but I'm holding that to you." Klemens finished, feeling a mixture of pride and smug.

* * * * *

"What did you...?" she stammered, still struggling to process the situation. Martiya quickly ran out of patience.

"Two contacts miss, holding down the corridor. Heavy suppression, we did what we had to. Not pretty." Klemens pointing to the wall behind him, the blood stained walls giving the room an eerie contrast.

"Hey Kerrigan, where's Pilgrim and the others?"

"Yeah?" Klemens about to ask that very question.

"I'm sorry, I don't know."

"Frak, who's next ranking?"

"Matty said that if anything happened to him then Ky here was in charge, but she ain't commanding anything in this state."

The Corp slowly shook his head and bit his lip, "Will she be alright?"

"So who's in charge now?" the armswoman asked uncertainly, looking around the group.

Fenix pointed a thick finger at Klemens. "Rankwise? That'd be him."

'Damnation, well out of the standard Imperial issue heating unit and into the cooking fire.' Klemens thought, giving them a quick nod, guessing he better show them how he earned his rank.

* * * * *

Walking around in a small circle, stopping himself from throwing his hands around in the air. Looking around the hallway rapidly and walking slowly over to Martiya. "Well," he whispered, making his voice sound ever so melodramatic.

"Say rest in peace to poor old joker Klemens," Once again referencing himself in third person. "Guess you better be the comedian now, I can see. ........ Well hear that you already want the part."

* * * * *

"Alright, form up. I want two watching front, Gerald, Vicario." Pointing to the guardsmen with his index finger before doing the same to the other. "You pulled the short."

"Mercurius, you're on the rear." His head snapping to face the newcomer, before eying off the remaining group.

"The rest of you, middle. Now." He ordered, Emperor he hated to be serious but now the situation had called for him.

Walking around in a small circle, brushing his hand across his rebreather dome. His gaze slowly turning to Kerrigan, walking to her slowly and dropping to a kneel.

"Come on Miss." He said lightly, offering her one of his gauntleted hands.

[Effigy_Cross]

"Kind of don't want to kick it now." Of course he was never planning on dieing here, "but I'm holding that to you." Klemens finished, feeling a mixture of pride and smug.

Reaching up, the shorter woman drew her middle finger back and with the help of her thumb lightly flicked the digit at the entirely too pleased with himself man's masked face, right around the spot that would be between his eyes.

*****

"Not before findin' a way to be gettin' or lads and lasses outta trouble." Gerald quickly corrected the other woman. "Julio!" he called out to his squad mate, "How's the sergeant farin'?"

Finding the casual correction an improvement over the man's earlier demeanor, no further outbursts were offered on the topic. Turning to peer suspiciously at the bulkhead, a soft and nearly soundless sigh escaped her lips as she pondered the implications of machinery operating on its own. Almost on reflex, she began to mutter faint prayers beneath her breath, the verses long since committed to memory.

The exchange that followed made her feel out of place, but that was to be expected when one was an outsider. Remaining primarily silent, a pair of phrases caught the woman's attention and nearly caused a repeat of the earlier facepalming.

"Me?" Fenix laughed. "I'm a private again now, remember? Besides, I'm staying here."

"I'll stay with you." said Kerrigan impulsively, but Fenix just laughed again.

Titling her head at a slight angle for the sake of concealment, she indulged in a childish little display - fluttering her lashes and pursing her lips in a kissing gesture behind the rebreather. The finalization of the chain of command, however, pulled the action up short. Blinking rapidly, her head snapped up and she stared first at Fenix and then to Klemens.

Luckily for Martiya, no one could see the words that were silently mouthed behind her mask, 'We're all gonna die..'

Walking around in a small circle, stopping himself from throwing his hands around in the air. Looking around the hallway rapidly and walking slowly over to Martiya. "Well," he whispered, making his voice sound ever so melodramatic.

"Say rest in peace to poor old joker Klemens," Once again referencing himself in third person. "Guess you better be the comedian now, I can see. ........ Well hear that you already want the part."

"Sorry," she quipped in similar undertone. "I only know prayers for machine spirits, not fragment's of a psyche that, let's face it, had been ailing for a long, long time." Titling her head slightly as she gazed up at the man with a glint to her eyes that was clearly amusement. "Rest in peace..poor old joker Klemens. May the rest of your bits and pieces make it through else who'll I have to hold against me, hmm?"

Sure, she had her doubts about the man's ability to lead, but commenting them or outright mocking him over it probably wouldn't do anything useful. Better to provide some for of incentive, right? Right. However, the sounds that abruptly came from ahead only served to reinforce her earlier thought.