Eclipsis - IC

[FarseerMatt]

All he knew was that he had to get up to the Tech Priest. Solisto was either going to damn or save them all.

"Stay back!" Solisto shouted as soon as he rounded the bend of the ring room. The laspistol Lehner had given her was in her hand, and thanks to the implants running through her hands and arms to assist with fine manipulation work she was holding it steady despite the tremors that were quaking visibly through the rest of her body. Martiya had retreated against the far wall, her wrench and Klemens' pistol on the ground where Solisto had apparently demanded she drop them. Nyl was on the floor with his hands clamped over his damaged eye, in too much pain to interfere. Lehner noted that the control panel under Solisto's other hand was blinking, possibly with warning lights, but that the priestess' fingers remained frozen over the dials. She was confused, and clearly frightened. Even though she was pointing a gun at Lehner, her face seemed to be pleading for him to tell her what to do.

+ + + + + +

"Fitz get out of there! It's a manipulation, a manifestation of Chaos! She is not your sister, she was never your sister!"

The shout crackled through the vox bead in Fitz' ear, hard on the heels of the magos' message that had boomed through the deck-wide speakers. She turned to Olivia, her eyes wide.

"They're lying." the astropath whispered. Her own eyes, pale blue and blind, were glistening with tears. "The magos is lying! I'm here! Do I feel like an illusion?"

She reached out to try and touch Fitz, but the soldier shied away, shaking her head.

"Anna!" the astropath pleaded as Fitz stumbled backwards out of the hexagram circle, and out of her reach.

"Corp..." Fitz stuttered into the vox. "I..."

Ten seconds ago Olivia had told her to trust Klemens, but now Klemens and magos Sariel were telling her that Olivia wasn't real.

+ + + + + +

"Show yourself, you damned rotten traitor! Come out so I can kill you!"

"Call me a traitor one more time, private O'Rourke!" a familiar voice snarled. There was a metallic creaking as someone began climbing the ladder, and colour sergeant Pilgrim hauled himself up into the ring room. Sweat was beading on his creased forehead, but he looked as coldly determined as ever. In one hand he held a frag grenade with the pin removed, the safety lever held down with a white-knuckle grip, and he made sure it was the first thing that Gerald and Kerrigan saw as he climbed up. As they hesitated, he got to his feet and pulled out his combat knife. It was wet with a red sheen of blood, as was the flakweave cuff of the soldier's sleeve. Mercurius' blood.

"We can't leave this ship." he growled, addressing them both. "The Warp made us kill DuGrae, and Martos, and Corbec, and those two men near the Navigator's Quarters. What about Lehner? How could he have survived? And if you need more proof!"

He gestured with his knife at the nearest vox-servitor, which had just made the magos' damning revelation about Fitz and Olivia.

"The Warp's gotten into all our heads. We're corrupted, and there's no way back from that. Chaos only dies when you do. You can either give up..." He drew the knife across his own throat, a few centimetres from the skin. "Or give in. And I won't let that happen. Not to me. Not to you."

[Dakkagor]

"Stay back!" Solisto shouted as soon as he rounded the bend of the ring room. The laspistol Lehner had given her was in her hand, and thanks to the implants running through her hands and arms to assist with fine manipulation work she was holding it steady despite the tremors that were quaking visibly through the rest of her body. Martiya had retreated against the far wall, her wrench and Klemens' pistol on the ground where Solisto had apparently demanded she drop them. Nyl was on the floor with his hands clamped over his damaged eye, in too much pain to interfere. Lehner noted that the control panel under Solisto's other hand was blinking, possibly with warning lights, but that the priestess' fingers remained frozen over the dials. She was confused, and clearly frightened. Even though she was pointing a gun at Lehner, her face seemed to be pleading for him to tell her what to do.

"You know what you should be doing, Adept Solisto." He threw his shotgun to one side, letting it clatter to the floor as he took on step forward. "You, only you, can do the right thing." He met her gaze, unflinchingly, as he unhooked his unused melta gun from its strap and let it clatter away. He took another step forwards.

"I don't know enough about your secret arts to make the right decision for you. Here, now, your God is calling on you to do the right thing. If Olivia was some warp spawned phantom then we have seen through her lies now and we have all the facts. You have all the facts."

He took another step forwards. He was less than a meter from his own laspistol, and knew that at this range discharge would be instantly fatal. But he was willing to risk it.

"Look at the facts. Use your logic. Make the right choice. No one in this room can ask any more of you now than that. Our lives, the lives of everyone on this ship, are in your capable hands Solisto."

[Lord General Armstrong]

"Corp..." Fitz stuttered into the vox. "I..."

"Fitz, please just listen to me." Klemens almost whispered, running a hand across his forehead and closing his eyes. He was at a loss for words and trembling fingers pressed against the flesh of his temple. He wished, he prayed, he wanted to know the right words to get her out of that place. They left her there, he kicked himself for that. The trickery of the gods, the folly of the material senses but Olivia was helping them ...... wasn't she? A creature of divine or damnation, he assumed the worst.

"Fitz." He paused, "do you trust me? Olivia," the corporal still hitting realization, she played them, wanted them to succeed. Wanted them to find Solisto, he hated to admit it but the Colour was right to some degree. They were driven to this, unbeknownst servants to the unholy powers. The priests, the members of the Mechanicus doing the Emperors work as they saw fit, however cold he thought it.

"Fitz, just get some distance from her. That's all I want okay, to be safe. Get out of there, close the door, find somewhere to hold up and stay on the line. We'll get you, when all this is over we'll get you alright." He gave her his word, he doubted it would be enough. He watched the others, he could see them through the glass shielding of the control station. How could he stop this?

"I'm sorry Fitz." He said softly, he wasn't proud of what he was going to do. Effectively abandoning her to solitude as he fiddled with his vox's dials, changing frequencies in an attempt to commune with the other priests. The crackling of any further replies dieing out and replaced with miscellaneous comm bursts or static from across the ship.

"This is Ferentinus Klemens across all channels, attempting to commune with head of Mechanicus personal. We heard your comm blast across the loudhailers, I plea for your assistance. How do we fix this translation? How can we do it so we all may live?"

[Hechman]

"Call me a traitor one more time, private O'Rourke!"

“What?” Gerald started as he shared a surprised look with Kerrigan at the sound of a familiar voice. The momentary distraction cost them both as Pilgrim revealed himself on the level. He immediately understood why Klemens and Lehner drew down on him for his earlier threat when he saw the armed grenade in Colour’s hand. But the difference was that was a calculated, if risky, bluff and this was lethal intent. One false move by any of them and fatalities were guaranteed. He aimed squarely at Pilgrim’s head with a two handed grip and tried to quell his surprise and unease with this situation.

"We can't leave this ship. The Warp made us kill DuGrae, and Martos, and Corbec, and those two men near the Navigator's Quarters. What about Lehner? How could he have survived? And if you need more proof!"

Gerald felt his brow furrow with consternation as the Colour Sergeant reeled off the names. Were they really dead? Dependable, if overly starched, Bast DuGrae. The mighty fine and mighty foul Kenda Martos. Benny Corbec, that fraggin’ funny man. His jaw clenched at the two unman they killed by the Navigator’s Quarters had been untainted. That didn’t square with what he’d seen in the corridor. They’d so clearly been tainted by their own weakness. One of them had shot their pint-sized spitfire of a command ASL in the head. Surely it’d been either us or them – they had no choice.

"The Warp's gotten into all our heads. We're corrupted, and there's no way back from that. Chaos only dies when you do. You can either give up..." He drew the knife across his own throat, a few centimetres from the skin. Gerald saw blood splattered up the man’s sleeve and smeared along the blade. With a twinge of his cheek Gerald remembered that Mercurius hadn’t been with them on the gantry. Kerrigan’s face had to be bloody for a reason and he could guess why that was. His grip shifted and tightened on the revolver’s grip as he exhaled with some tension and started to advance on Pilgrim. "Or give in. And I won't let that happen. Not to me. Not to you."

“Out you get now, sailor. Strictly personal Guard business between him an’ me.” Gerald commented with checked anger as he spared an arm to hook Kerrigan around the waist. He pulled her back around behind him and gave her a firm press in the back to encourage her movement elsewhere. Immediately Gerald resumed his double handed grip and took one last step towards Pilgrim. The man was clearly not himself right now. But the Colour had killed several loyal Guardsmen and shot him. Gerald couldn’t abide that no matter what Pilgrim’s malfunction was. He took the Senior NCO at his word that he’d try to kill him and everyone else. No doubt either one of them or both of them were going to die shortly.

“Do it.” Gerald bluntly stated as he nodded towards the knife, his aim resolutely fixed on Pilgrim. His eyes were darkly intense without any shred of reluctance towards potentially shooting a superior officer. “Cut your own damned throat, you cowardly fok.”

“Kenda. Benny. Fenix. Holden. Ky.” Gerald started to snarl as he reeled off the Guardsmen and Guardswomen that Pilgrim had murdered. His anger started to build up again as the accusations came out in a torrent at the man who used to be the Colour. The further he got into the rant louder he yelled at the broken man. “You killed ‘em, your own bloody men an’ women, ‘cause you broke an’ lost your faith. You couldn’t keep your fraggin’ word to yourself, your troops, an’ most of all His Imperial Majesty. You failed. Every. Single. One. Of. Us. You tainted yourself fer the bonus, you fok! You killed all of ‘em, an’ want to kill the rest of us, ‘cause you are weak! You don’t deserve to be wearin’ those stripes, or that uniform! You are a damned disgrace, you gak!

[FarseerMatt]

"Fitz, just get some distance from her. That's all I want okay, to be safe. Get out of there, close the door, find somewhere to hold up and stay on the line. We'll get you, whan all this is over we'll get you alright."

"U-understood." Fitz replied. She was standing a metre or so outside Olivia's hexagram, staring wide-eyed down at her sister, and now she took another step backwards. The astropath either heard the footstep or sensed her movement, and she turned her tear-stained face up towards Fitz.

"Anna!" she wailed.

"Liv..." Fitz said as she took another step backwards, "It'll be okay. Just stay there...I'll be back."

"Please," the emaciated astropath whispered, "Don't leave me alone."

To Fitz' horror her sister staggered to her feet, tottered unsteadily for a moment, and then put one foot outside the protective circle of the chalk hexagram.

"Liv!" she gasped, "What are you doing? You saw what happened to the other astropath, get back!"

"Please..." Olivia said, reaching out towards her, before gasping and falling to her knees. She forced herself upright and took another step, but this time something made her grab her head with both hands and double over.

"Liv!" Fitz said again, shouting now. She had taken another step back towards the door, but this one was smaller than the others. "Get back!"

Olivia raised her head. Blood was trickling from her tear ducts and somewhere underneath her hair line, and her eyes were burning flat white.

+ + + + + +

"Here, now, your god is calling on you to do the right thing. If Olivia was some warp-spawned phantom then we have seen through her lies now and we have all the facts. You have all the facts."

"If I'm wrong," Solisto stammered, "I doom this entire ship! And even if I don't I've already put it at an unacceptable risk! The machine spirits will want vengeance! The magos will have me servitored! Whatever I do I'm dead!"

Another shudder ran through the tech-priest's thin body, but the gun remained steady, and her hand above the controls didn't move.

+ + + + + +

"Do it." Gerald bluntly stated as he nodded towards the knife, his aim resolutely fixed on Pilgrim. His eyes were darkly intense without any shred of reluctance towards potentially shooting a superior officer. "Cut your own damned throat, you cowardly fok."

"What do you think," Pilgrim spat, as he took a step towards Gerald, "I'm planning on doing? But not before I make sure you can't kill anyone else."

He took another step forward, his shoulders hunched and his hands held away from his sides. The grenade was in his left, the knife in his right.

"You mean Kenda? Benny? Fenix? Holden? Ky?" Gerald started to snarl as he reeled off the Guardsmen and Guardswoman that Pilgrim had murdered. His anger started to build up again as the accusations came out in a torrent at the man who used to be the Colour. The further he got into the rant the louder he yelled at the broken man. "You killed 'em!"

"I tried to save them!" Pilgrim shouted back. He was trembling, though with anger or something else Gerald couldn't tell.

"You killed 'em," Gerald went on remorselessly. "Your own bloody men an' women, 'cause you broke and lost your faith!"

+ + + + + +

"I'm sorry Fitz." Klemens said softly. He wasn't proud of what he was going to do; effectively abandoning her to solitude as he fiddled with his vox's dials, changing frequencies in an attempt to commune with the other priests. The crackling of any further replies died out and was replaced by miscellaneous comm bursts or static from across the ship.

"Corp?" Fitz wavered, hearing the line go dead. "Corp!"

Hearing her sister's voice, Olivia lurched forward, flailing blindly with her thin arms. The skin around her eyes was beginning to char black as the white glow intensified, burning from the inside out.

"YOU'RE KILLING ME!" she shrieked.

+ + + + + +

"This is Ferentinus Klemens across all channels, attempting to commune with head of Mechanicus personnel. We heard your comm blast across the loudhailers, I plea for your assistance. How do we fix this translation? How can we do it so we all may live?"

Still connected to the suffering vox network of the entire ship, magos Sariel felt the message like a slight jolt running through the arm that was mind-linked to the machine. He immediately cut the transmission off, blocked it, and began throwing up additional machine wards across his personal augmetics. Maybe the Triarii were tainted, and maybe they were not, but he could not take the chance, and so he completed the adjustments and removed himself from the machine.

It was the only thing that he could do right now. So used to being in control, right now magos Sariel was essentially helpless. His priests might have been able to seize control of the power distribution systems in the minute and a half before translation, but not in the ten seconds now remaining before the overloading warp drive tore them out of the immaterium violently enough to collapse the Gellar field and bathe the entire ship in deadly, coruscating warp energy. Listening to the frantic reports of his tech-adepts and the alarms blaring from the servitors, magos Sariel began to do something he had not done in some time.

With no other way to alter the variables in his favour, he prayed to the Machine God for deliverance.

+ + + + + +

"You couldn't keep your fraggin' word to yourself, your troops, an' most of all His Imperial Majesty. You failed. Every. Single. One. Of. Us. You tainted yourself fer the bonus, you fok! You killed all of 'em, an' want to kill the rest of us, 'cause you are weak! You don't deserve to be wearin' those stripes, or that uniform! You are a damned disgrace, you gak!"

Pilgrim reeled slightly, as if Gerald's words were physical blows, battering him backwards. He seemed to catch himself, but then Gerald realised that the colour sergeant was drawing back his arm to throw the knife. He pulled the revolver's trigger.

+ + + + + +

Lehner took another step forwards. He was less than a metre from his own laspistol, and knew that at this range discharge would be instantly fatal. But he was willing to risk it.

"Look at the facts. Use your logic. Make the right choice. No one in this room can ask any more of you than that. Our lives, the lives of everyone on this ship, are in your capable hands Solisto."

His words seemed to calm the tech-priest. Only slightly, but it was enough. The laspistol pointing between Lehner's eyes dropped away as the priestess let her arm fall to her side. Turning to the control panel beside her, Solisto was confronted by a sea of red and amber lights, flashing angrily. She spread her hands over the dials.

"Fear is an illusion of the mind..." she said, whispering at first, but her voice gaining strength as she began to slam switches and levers into place. "Despair is a weakness of the flesh. I am an instrument of the Omnissiah - his will be done!"

+ + + + + +

"Power to the warp drive is falling back to normal levels!" a tech-priest near the Navigator's throne shouted, the vocalisation louder than was technically necessary to carry over the background noise. "The warp rift is stabilising accordingly!"

"Can the Gellar field take it?" magos Sariel snapped, similarly awed even if he did not allow the emotion to enter his voice.

"Yes, magos!"

"Navigator." the chief enginseer croaked urgently, addressing Keravnos who was still twitching and spasming behind the metal screens of his throne, "Take us through!"

A silent shriek echoed through the gulf between stars as an iris of purple lightning ripped open the void and the Governor Seydlitz clawed its way out, shreds of ectoplasm falling away from its hull like grasping fingers.

+ + + + + +

Fitz' last impression was of white fire boiling from the centre of her sister's face, and the piercing scream as she slammed the door to the astropaths' berths and slid down sobbing with her back to the cold metal. A moment later there was a violent crash and a lurch as if the ship was tearing itself apart, and then silence. This was joined by a similar sudden quiet beyond the closed door. For a minute, the young soldier just sat and shivered in the silence, listening to her own harsh breathing. Lying next to her, where she had dropped it, the body of the second astropath stared at the ceiling with his blackened, empty eye sockets.

+ + + + + +

The ring room pitched as the arti-grav compensators tried and failed to completely counteract the massive g-force of plunging from one dimension into another and hitting the brick wall of realspace physics. Gerald's bullet went wide, shooting a spiderweb of cracks through the reinforced windows, while the Guardsman himself and his opponent were sent staggering sideways against the outside wall. As he steadied himself, Gerald heard the metallic clatter of Pilgrim's knife dropping to the floor. It was followed by the heavy thump of the colour sergeant's knees as he slid down the wall. Gerald briefly glimpsed the man's eyes; they seemed clearer, and were even glistening slightly as if with tears, but he couldn't be sure because Pilgrim had bowed his head and he did not raise it again. He was holding the still-live grenade tight to his chest, his hands folded over it in the sign of the Aquila.

"Triarii." he said, in a shadow of his old commanding voice. "Run."

"We're out of the warp!" Gerald heard Solisto shout, her voice carrying round the wide curve of the control room. "It's over!"

Something black sprang away from Pilgrim's hands and skittered across the floor. It was the safety lever of the grenade.

"No." the colour sergeant whispered, too low for anyone else to hear. "It'll never be over."

The explosion echoed around the ring room, vibrating through the deck beneath the feet of the survivors. Alarm klaxons began to wail, and fire suppression systems jetted hissing streams of carbon dioxide across the control panels.

[Dakkagor]

The ship shuddered, shaking like a wounded animal. His gaze, his grim facade that had earned him the title of Corporal Nasty Bastard, not shifting from Solisto. He he had faith. Faith she would do the right thing.

His words seemed to calm the tech-priest. Only slightly, but it was enough. The laspistol pointing between Lehner's eyes dropped away as the priestess let her arm fall to her side. Turning to the control panel beside her, Solisto was confronted by a sea of red and amber lights, flashing angrily. She spread her hands over the dials.

"Fear is an illusion of the mind..." she said, whispering at first, but her voice gaining strength as she began to slam switches and levers into place. "Despair is a weakness of the flesh. I am an instrument of the Omnissiah - his will be done!"

"Ave Imperator, His will Be Done." Lehner quietly intoned. The chamber jumped again, but Lehner remained steady on the deck as the ship translated back to the materium.

He looked around briefly as the lights flickered, and came back on at full strength. As he went forward to congratulate Solisto, a deafening, rushing sound filled his ears as his balance fell away. He stumbled and Solisto turned in time to see him fall. Martiya jumped forwards to grab him, but Solisto was the one who caught the dying Corporal in her arms.

He coughed up blood and ice cold water. Blood started to trickle down his ears and from his eyes.

"He's dying!" Someone, Martiya, perhaps, shouted. Lehner couldn't tell from the muffled sound of the water and the booming of the grenades that had ruptured his ear drums. Nearby an explosion rocked the chamber, the last act of Colour Sergeant Pilgrim. He tried to talk, but the blood and water blocked his throat, drowning him.

Shakily he reached up and tapped the cog skull pendant that hang from Solisto's neck. His fingers where so cold, so numb, that he couldn't feel a thing. For a second his eyes met Solisto's, and she grimly nodded once.

Run, you fools, was Lehners last concious thought as his soul slipped free of his body and at last he died, drowning in cold water, battered and torn by his own grenades.

Solisto dropped the dead Corporal to the deck, then her and Martiya picked Nyl between them, and ran for the exit.

[Lord General Armstrong]

He immediately cut the transmission off, blocked it, and began throwing up additional machine wards across his personal augmetics.

"You bastard! You grox frakken, warp ridden, son of Horus! Frak you! Frak you! You'll be the death of us all! You monstrous over statistical, over calculating, self centered, red robed fokker! I asked for one thing! One frakking thing! And what do you do!? No cut offs, no resets, nothing!" Klemens blared at the top of his lungs, his face going as red as the Priests robes themselves.

He slammed his gauntlet down hard upon the nearby railing, this was it. The end of it all, a life's worth of service in the eyes of the Imperator and he had nothing to show for it. No one to carry on his name, no achievements to be recorded in scripture, he had nothing. His name must have been cursed, he refused to believe his path was written in the warp, he refused to believe that this was to be his end. So, so .......... helpless in it all, it was not what he how he planned it.

He turned around and slid his back down the crossbar, weapon sitting on the lap of folded legs. One by one he slowly flicked off his lamp packs, their light no longer required. Klemens sighed softly to himself, steadily reaching a hand into his webbing and pulling out a ration pack. Cracking open the silver packaging with deft fingers and using them to scoop out the white protein paste. Tasted like ass but if he was going to die might as well do it on a full stomach.

"Emperor, hic eGO venire." He muttered off in high gothic, closing his eyes and waiting for the inevitable.

An end that seemingly never came.

* * * * *

The ring room pitched as the arti-grav compensators tried and failed to completely counteract the massive g-force of plunging from one dimension into another and hitting the brick wall of realspace physics. Klemens grasped onto the metal bars behind him with both hands, the force jolting him from his position and enough to make him release the contents of his brief meal over the gantry behind him.

"We did it?" He spoke in disbelief, running the back of his hand across his lips and spitting the refuse over the railings.

"We fokken did it!" He cheered, "Emperor be praised! I didn't doubt you for a second! Triarii!"

"He's dying!"

"Oh, *****......" Klemens snapped from his personal celebration, and the sudden detonation deterred him from simply racing into the control room. He made up his mind and scooped up his rifle from the grip, jogging into the access door.

"Lehner! No!" The corporal looked at the carnage across the room, he closed his eyes and placed his lent his rifle against the wall. Making the sign of the aquila across his chest and uttered them a soft prayer, but he could save one or fokking try.

"Don't you fokking die on me! You escaped death before and you will damn well do it again!" Klemens barked at him, he dropped to his knees unclipping the straps of the lances flakvest and relieving it from his form. The corporal placed his fingers on neck and double checking on the wrist for a pulse.

"Come on!" He hit the mans chest as he screamed, before moving a hand high on Lehner's forehead and the other to support the chin. Tilting the mans head back and lifting his jaw to open his mouth slightly, placing an ear across dead lips, listening, feeling for air but failing to get anything.

"Oh, you better not *********** die on me!" He took in a deep breath and placed his lips over Lehners own, giving him his air. He lifted his head and watched for any raises, quickly being followed by another curse to the dark gods. Klemens gave him another breath and began giving him a series of compressions, before the cycle started itself again.

[Hechman]

"Triarii." Pilgrim said, in a shadow of his old commanding voice. "Run."

Gerald kept the revolver aimed down at Pilgrim as he backed away. Even though the NCO had dropped to the deck, and crossed himself with the Aquila, the man still had a live grenade in his hands. Any last words he had the man, both petty and profound, failed to clear his throat. Gerald had respected the man but he’d lost his way when it truly mattered and gone too far. He found himself utterly incapable of sympathy for Pilgrim and his plight. He’d killed too many of his friends for that. Instead of speaking he continued to back away from the potential threat.

"We're out of the warp!" Gerald heard Solisto shout, her voice carrying round the wide curve of the control room. "It's over!"

Something black sprang away from Pilgrim's hands and skittered across the floor. It was the safety lever of the grenade. Fok! Gerald though as he spun around and flat out ran away. With a strained grunt he hurled himself bodily around the corner. Once again he bounced heavily off the wall and clattered onto the deck. It vibrated beneath him as the muffled explosion echoed and died. The noise only intensified as sirens blared and the fire suppression systems kicked on. He only mildly cursed and protested when Kerrigan help him back up onto his feet. The two of them almost ran into Solisto, Martyia, and Nyl as they made it towards the exit.

“Here!” Gerald snarled through clenched teeth as he holstered the revolver. He shrugged off Kerrigan’s support and moved the other two women aside. With a muted grunt he hefted the wounded soldier over his shoulder. When he realized that they were two short Gerald bellowed at the top of his lungs, as he goaded the women ahead of him out towards the exit. “Klemens! Lehner! Quit screwin’ around! Out! Now!”

[FarseerMatt]

“Klemens! Lehner! Quit screwin’ around! Out! Now!”

“Lehner's dead.” Solisto told him, straightening as the guardsman removed the burden of Nyl's weight.

“How...?” Kerrigan began.

“No time!”

+ + + + + +

The lumoglobes had snapped back on, bathing everything in migraine-bright light, but private Anna Fitzgerald didn't feel any more secure. She was still sitting with her back to the door, holding it shut despite the unbroken silence from the astropath's quarters beyond. Her eyes and the muzzle of her lasgun were fixed on the dead, grey-skinned astropath lying nearby, as if expecting him to also be an illusion that would spring to life and attack her if she took her eyes off him for a moment.

Her strained heartbeat spiked again as she heard a voice drifting down the ribbed corridor towards her.

“What about the Umbra?” it said. Fitz thought she recognised it, but the distorting echoes made it hard to tell.

“The higher light levels will have either killed them or driven them out of the manned areas of the ship.” replied a woman's voice, “For now, we shouldn't have to worry about them.”

“Put him down, Klemens.” said the first voice. “An' tell me what in the Emperor's name killed him.”

At the name, Fitz rose to her feet. Wary of another illusion, she began to creep silently towards the voices.

“Bleeding from the nose and ears, consistent with pressure trauma.” said the woman's voice; soft and precise, but troubled. “Blood from the mouth suggests lung collapse or other internal damage. Everything suggests that pressure waves killed him, but he was nowhere near the grenade, and he has no shrapnel injuries. The only thing I can suggest is an extremely localised anomaly in the arti-grav during translation.”

“What about the water he threw up?” said another voice – also a woman, but much rougher and edged with sarcasm. “Care to explain that one, miss priestess?”

“Fluid from his lungs? I don't know, biology isn't my-”

Adept Solisto broke off as a flak-armoured figure peered cautiously round the bulkhead at the far end of the corridor. With the primary lights active again, they could finally see a meaningful distance. The face wasn't familiar to Solisto, but most of the others recognised the pointed face with its blue eyes and wispy blonde hair straggling from underneath the brim of its carbon-fibre helmet.

“Corp?” Fitz asked, looking at Klemens with her lasgun not quite lowered, “Is that you?”

As the others turned towards her Fitz advanced with cautious steps, her eyes flicking over the four still-standing figures.

"You must be Solisto." she said as she regarded the tech-priestess.

Her gaze dropped to private Nyl who Gerald had eased from his shoulder into a sitting position against the wall, and finally to the lifeless body of corporal Lehner. The young guardswoman's face tightened as she looked down at her former ASL.

“Are you all that's left?” she asked in a hollow voice.

“Your sister.” Kerrigan interrupted her, “Where is she?”

Fitz led them back to the door of the astropaths' quarters, still locked. While Solisto knelt by the dead psyker outside to let her visor augers make a closer analysis the corpse, the others stacked up by the door with raised weapons. At Klemens' signal, they forced it open.

And found the room beyond empty. The bunks were still there, in an unchanged state of disorder, but there was only one chalk hexagram on the floor – the one that had belonged to the dead astropath. There was no sign of Olivia, nor any indication that she had ever been there.

As the Triarii swept their gun-barrels warily across the room, they heard heavy footfalls behind them. Retreating from the room they were just in time to see Solisto leaping to her feet and a red-robed figure advancing down the corridor with the familiar hulking silhouettes of two combat servitors at its back. At a silent command from the priest, the servitors halted and lowered their heavy bolters, exoskeletons locking into a rest position with a low click-whir of servos. The red bars of their targetting visors continued to sweep back and forth across the Triarii, but did not snap and focus into a target lock.

“The Governor Seydlitz has successfully achieved concordance with realspace.” the priest said from beneath the shadow of its hood, its voice the androgynous electronic rasp of a vocabulator implant. “We are in deep space, 4.6 lightyears from the nearest star. Magos Sariel has decreed that we remain here until purity checks can be carried out on all systems and crew.”

“By who?” Kerrigan asked suspiciously, “Him?”

“Negative. By the authority of a qualified external organisation. Magos Sariel has commissioned the surviving astropaths to code their distress call with a specific request for the aid of the inquisition.”

[Lord General Armstrong]

“Corp?” Fitz asked, looking at Klemens with her lasgun not quite lowered, “Is that you?”

"Stay your arms guardsmen, it is I." Klemens assured, raising his free hand in front of him. The corpse of Lehner secured on the opposite shoulder, the corporal crouched and gently sat the lance against the bulkhead. "I'm sorry...."

* * * * *

“Are you all that's left?” she asked in a hollow voice.

"That we are...... but our mission, we... we did it. We saved them, the men, the crew.... everyone." Klemens slowly uttered, still coming to terms of their apparent success.

“Your sister.” Kerrigan interrupted her, “Where is she?”

* * * * *

“Negative. By the authority of a qualified external organisation. Magos Sariel has commissioned the surviving astropaths to code their distress call with a specific request for the aid of the inquisition.”

Klemens stood at attention, giving the man a brisk salute. "How many? How many did we save? Surely you can read the life signs across the ship, the men of the Guard, our platoon?"

[FarseerMatt]

The robed figure before them shifted slightly as if tilting its head beneath the shadow of the hood, the movement accompanied by a mechanical click.

“Reports for the whole ship are currently incomplete. The emergency lockdown is still in place, and while it limited Umbra spread and damage escalation, it is hindering our data gathering. Until full data is available, crew and passenger casualties from Umbra attacks or mishap are conservatively estimated at 15%. As for your platoon, no further Umbra incursions were detected in the briefing chapel, and the arti-grav for the muster decks was restored before the drop out of warp. Provided they have not succumbed to accident or warp-taint, your platoon should be unharmed.”

“Why's the lockdown still in effect?” Fitz ventured. “Like you said, we're out of the warp.”

“Crew and passengers, including non-essential Mechanicus staff, will remain isolated until purity checks can be completed.” the tech-priest said, in the same unhurried deadpan. “Additionally, communication with the captain leads us to believe that returning the ship to his control would lead to...confrontation.”

[Hechman]

“The Governor Seydlitz has successfully achieved concordance with realspace.” the priest said from beneath the shadow of its hood, its voice the androgynous electronic rasp of a vocabulator implant. Gerald merely remained silent and held ‘Beloved’ a bit tighter as he regarded the Priest and the two combat servitors. The unbidden image of Julio’s half-pulped skull flashed through his mine. He wasn’t at all thrilled that they had their cannons leveled at their group. “We are in deep space, 4.6 lightyears from the nearest star. Magos Sariel has decreed that we remain here until purity checks can be carried out on all systems and crew.”

“By who?” Kerrigan asked suspiciously, “Him?”

“Negative. By the authority of a qualified external organisation. Magos Sariel has commissioned the surviving astropaths to code their distress call with a specific request for the aid of the inquisition.”

“Oh.” Gerald said lamely at that unexpected revelation. Even though he knew he couldn’t be tainted, and that he was pure of faith, Gerald felt himself shudder with apprehension. Never in his life had he knowingly interacted with anyone from the Inquisition and, in all honesty, he’d been quite content to die without doing so. The barely whispered rumors of that institution were enough to put the fear of the Throne into braver men than him. He tried to comfort himself with the lie that those rumors were only rumors. It didn’t do much of any good for him.

“They’ll probably be wantin’ to see him,” Gerald commented to nobody in particular as he spared a glance and gesture down at Lehner’s battered body. Looking at the corporal’s corpse set his teeth on edge in a most unpleasant way. Something damned odd happened to the man in the water tank and had continued all the way until they left the Warp. That strangeness was right up there with the apparition of Olivia Fitzgerald and the prophetic vox blurt in freak-the-fok-out-ness for him. Gerald flat out refused to contemplate as to what had caused those events to happen. The answer to that question, regardless of origin, was too much of mind screw for him to even contemplate. Only madness would be found in that effort.

"How many? How many did we save? Surely you can read the life signs across the ship, the men of the Guard, our platoon?"

“Reports for the whole ship are currently incomplete. The emergency lockdown is still in place, and while it limited Umbra spread and damage escalation, it is hindering our data gathering. Until full data is available, crew and passenger casualties from Umbra attacks or mishap are conservatively estimated at 15%. As for your platoon, no further Umbra incursions were detected in the briefing chapel, and the arti-grav for the muster decks was restored before the drop out of warp. Provided they have not succumbed to accident or warp-taint, your platoon should be unharmed.”

Gerald exhaled with relief at the hopeful news about their platoon. Julio and Bast were dead, but there was still possible for Sgt. Cameron and the rest of his squad. He sincerely hoped their faith held up better than Pilgrim’s had. If they survived then those lads and lasses were all in for the hug of their lives. Part of him even considered planting one on Becca Barrack like he’d sometimes thought of. But quickly the headiness he felt was reined in by the Martian’s phrasing and Fitz’s question.

“Crew and passengers, including non-essential Mechanicus staff, will remain isolated until purity checks can be completed.” the tech-priest said, in the same unhurried deadpan. Gerald felt a muscle in his jaw twinge slightly at the thought of being penned up. He’d been in detention more than a few times in his military career and had never grown comfortable with the feeling. The last time a red priest had mentioned isolation she’d basically been trying to talk them into their deaths. “Additionally, communication with the captain leads us to believe that returning the ship to his control would lead to...confrontation.”

“You don’t fraggin’ say. Don’t you think that some anger an’ mistrust is a bit fokkin’ justified, eh?” Gerald asked with a sardonic bite as his initial deadpanned response fell away. “Your chief’s first an’ only plan was to lock up an’ kill everyone ‘non-essential’ on this Throne forsaken heap an’ make it his. Now we’re all still to be penned up while waitin’ about for who could bloody say how long until the Inquisition shows up. Never mind if anyone’s wounded like the kid here or stuck somewhere without any damned food an’ water.

“Hell, you yourself got those meat an’ metal puppets of yours pointin’ their big bastard cannons at us.” Gerald dryly noted as he nodded at the two hulked up servitors that flanked the priest. He made sure to keep ‘Beloved’ held downwards as to not provoke them. With his free hand Gerald pointed down at the astropath’s twisted remains as he almost absently said, “I mean, for all we fokkin’ know, the other twitchy witches onboard ended up like this one here.”

[FarseerMatt]

There was clearly no room for regret in the tech-priest's logical thinking, as it simply stared at Gerald as if not quite understanding his point. The silence continued for a moment, while the red lights of the servitors' visors continued to sweep the corridor – left to right, right to left.

“All actions taken have been both rational and necessary. We expect a response from the inquisition within the next ten to thirty standard days, depending on variables. Isolated sections are to be provided with sustenance delivered by skull drones. If you wish to assist with this or with extrication and treatment of the wounded, you may do so under servitor supervision.”

Kerrigan in particular made a face at the idea of being 'supervised' by the priest's mind-wiped combat cyborgs, but she didn't say anything.

“I amend the previous statement.” the tech-priest said suddenly, “Adept Solisto, you will be coming with me. The chief enginseer wants to see you.”

The younger priestess swallowed visibly, and glanced sideways at the Triarii. Cautious optimism warred with foreboding on her features before she smoothed them back into an expressionless mask.

“What for?” she said hesitantly. The other tech-priest did not elaborate, and when she realised it wasn't going to, Solisto dropped her gaze and traced a circle over her chest with one hand – an older variant of the cog sign which had been modified during the unification with deliberate similarity to the Aquila in mind.

“The Omnissiah's will be done.” she murmured.

With a last look at Gerald and the others she allowed herself to be led away, one of the metal-clad servitors turning and following without any apparent command. The other stayed in place, watching the Triarii.

“Remain here.” the second tech-priest said without turning round. “I will return shortly.”

“So.” Kerrigan grimaced, after the two red-robed priests and their escort had disappeared down the intersection. The remaining servitor guard didn't react to her speech. “What now?”

“As soon as I get a chance,” Fitz answered, “I'm finding one of the real astropaths and asking them to send a message to my sister on Venatora.”

“Good luck with that.” said Kerrigan, though her face indicated more sincerity than her tone. “Don't think you'll get a chance to go see her though – don't you Guard types have to serve for ten years before you can muster out?”

“It'll give me time to save up for the transport.” Fitz shrugged, and then paused. “But we'll have to survive the inquisitors who are coming first.” she added quietly.

Kerrigan twisted her mouth. “And so I repeat: what now?”

“Easy.” said Fitz. She was looking not at the armswoman, but down at the body of corporal Lehner. “We do what Guardsmen spend the most time doing after training and fighting.”

“And that is?”

Fitz pulled a medikit from the nearest emergency locker. “Find something useful to do, and wait.”

+ + + + + +

ARCHIVIST'S NOTE:

Although less than a day short of its destination by Warp, the Governor Seydlitz remained at sublight on a constant-speed drift for 18 days before the rescue vessel arrived, under the command of inquisitor Theodore Rask. 13 days of deep-space repairs followed, with all personnel being subjected to rigorous purity checks. In all, 152 souls were judged to harbour residual Warp taint, and were subsequently euthanised. The Seydlitz was then released to its original destination of Schattenwelt, where the timely reinforcements of the 94th and 96th Triarii regiments proved pivotal to the counteroffensive against the Crawlers, shortening the eventual end of the campaign by several months. After the successful conclusion of the Schattenwelt intervention, the 94th Triarii remained on standby for 2 years, doing occasional urban pacification duty before being deployed to another crisis zone.

Corporal Ferentinus Klemens remained with the regiment's grenadier contingent and is noted to have been awarded the Iron Aquila for actions in the subsequent Arcus crusade, also retaining a brevet squad command after sergeant Miller was killed in action.

The body of corporal Nicolas Lehner was removed for analysis by inquisitor Rask. Although a thorough post-mortem was carried out under hexagrammic wards, and extensive interviews of all involved, an explanation for his apparent resurrection and eventual death was never found. Despite the uncertainty whether it was divine intervention or the work of a darker power, for his actions in helping to save the ship corporal Lehner has since been elevated to an unofficial patron saint of the 94th Triarii. This beatification, although never officially sanctioned, has persisted through subsequent foundings of the regiment.

Private Gerald O'Rourke served with distinction for his full term of service and eventually reached the rank of sergeant. His actions and ultimate destination following his eventual retirement are not recorded.

The daughter of sergeant Kylara Mainwering, also named Kylara and one year old at the time of her mother's death, was given into the care of a Schola Progenia orphanage. She is recorded as eventually serving in a stormtrooper contingent attached to the command of inquisitor lord Immanuel Sidonis.

Private Vincent Nyl, despite obvious post-traumatic psychological issues, remained with the Guard for as long as his service extensions would allow. His actions in the years following his discharge are not recorded, although it is known that he eventually moved to the planet Solomon and was recruited into the inquisition following the highly-classified Pembroke Incident.

Shortly after the end of the Schattenwelt campaign, private Anna Fitzgerald paid an astropath to send a message to her sister on Venatora. She received a reply and the two remained in intermittent contact until the 94th Triarii were remobilised for the Arcus campaign. Private Fitzgerald was killed during the second year of fighting, and never met Olivia in person.

Armswoman Kerrigan and crewman Martiya Tellaris continued to serve on the Governor Seydlitz. Tellaris was put forward for special privilege as a Mechanicus serf-assistant, possibly by direct request of Adept Solisto.

As a priestess of the independent Adeptus Mechanicus, the biography of tech-adept Mhairi Solisto has not been made available to the Administratum and so what happened to her in the aftermath of the incident is not recorded. However, a census in the Imperial archives dated some 40 years later lists a magos by her name overseeing a manufactorum on the planet Vost.

+ + + RECORD ENDS + + +