Eclipsis - IC

[FarseerMatt]

"Don't look, she is not herself. You hear me? What are you? What do we have to do?" he solemnly questioned.

“Don't you fokking patronise me, glory boy.” Fitz snarled at the grenadier. Normally she was a collected and disciplined soldier, but right now she didn't seem to care about the punishment talking back to an NCO would earn her.

Klemens repeated himself and waited for an answer, his hands holding her firm less she try to escape his hold.

“I'm a Delphic triarius, corporal.” Fitz spat at him through gritted teeth, but her eyes betrayed the fear behind her forceful words. “And with due respect, we have to help our people back in the briefing hall, not execute astropaths!”

Klemens shook his head, 'Sweet Emperor.' His entire body was shaking as he looked to Lehner. "You have the meltagun Lehner..." Pausing, the Corporal never thought he would have to say this. "Purge it with holy fire."

The astropath, realising they were talking about her, shrank back and began pleading with none of the guardsmen in particular.

“No!” she babbled in her thin voice, “Don't! I'm Olivia Fitzgerald, junior astropath, sanctioned psyker number 249572...”

Fitz' reaction was almost as strong. “What!?” she gasped, “I'm telling you, that's my sister!” For a second she looked like she was actually going to turn her gun on Klemens, but instead she turned desperately to Lehner for support. “Corp!”

“I would normally be inclined to agree...” said Lehner, directing his reply at Klemens, “However.” He reholstered his shotgun and pulled out his melta. He moved over to the figure lying on the ground, checking for a pulse or breathing. "Think Klemens. Green robes and blind? These are Astropaths. Mayhaps these are warding circles. And mayhaps the Emperor has seen fit, in his divine wisdom, to provide us a means of calling for aid. Though if this is foul sorcery or warp spawned trickery, we will enact justice, and I will not hesitate."

While he knelt at the body he turned to look at Fitz.

"Fitz, think carefully. I know they took her from you. Is this truly your sister? Is there anything only she would know?"

Fitz swallowed hard, but she seemed to understand that being rational would get her further than pleading. She swallowed again.

“Liv?” she said gently, looking like she wanted to kneel down beside the cringing astropath and take her hand rather than talk to her from across the room. “Do you remember the game we always used to play back in the old hab?”

The astropath turned her pale face up towards Fitz, blinking her blind eyes at her. “Anna? Is that you?”

“Liv, please. I need you to answer the question.”

The astropath put a hand to her mouth and chewed a nail nervously.

“Take Two.” she stammered at last, “You always used to cheat.”

Fitz laughed slightly, and cuffed self-consciously at her eyes. “That's her.”

But it wasn't quite her sister as she remembered her. She looked so tired and so...nervous. What the Horus had those inquisitors done to her?

+ + + + + +

Gerald clenched his ‘Beloved’ tighter as he watched and waited.

“Clear?” Pilgrim shouted through after a moment.

“Clear, Colour.” Corbec's voice came back a moment later. “But one of the ship's astropaths is still here.”

“Them ditherin’ in there ain’t helpin’ our lads and lasses.” Gerald spoke up again shortly as he spared the look to catch Pilgrim’s eye before he went back and scanned the corridor. “Shouldn’t we be takin’ what we’re needin’ and gettin’ back to the platoon, sir? After puttin’ down whatever they’re bloody talkin’ about in there, of course.”

Pilgrim frowned. “DuGrae, Martos, cover the corridor.” he said after a moment, and motioned the others to follow him into the living quarters to get a better idea of what was going on inside.

[Dakkagor]

Lehner looked at Fitz and nodded.

"Very well. I trust your judgement Ftiz. Her care is your responsibility trooper, keep her safe, and be ready to make the difficult calls if needed."

He stood up and dusted of his hands, turning to look as more of the Triari entered the room.

"We are done here. One survivor from the ships astropathic choir. Lets get the men together and get ready to move out."

[FarseerMatt]

"Very well. I trust your judgement Fitz."

"Thank you." the young guardswoman said feelingly. The astropath, her sister, merely continued to bite her nails fearfully.

"Her care is your responsibility trooper, keep her safe, and be ready to make the difficult calls if needed."

Fitz straightened noticeably. She knew how much of an exception to normal regs this was, and she looked determined not to give Lehner - or for that matter Pilgrim and his volatile ASL - a reason to countermand it by letting it affect her judgement.

"Yes lance corporal." she said. She glanced over at Klemens, and swallowing her pride she turned and saluted the jittery corporal. "I'm...sorry, sir. I was out of line."

With nothing of use to be found on the body of the second astropath apart from a felt sleeve containing a deck of apparently blank cards, Lehner stood up and dusted off his hands, turning to look as more of the Triari entered the room.

"We are done here. One survivor from the ships astropathic choir. Lets get the men together and get ready to move out."

"I can't." the astropath called Olivia said, so quietly that Lehner had to ask her to repeat it. "I can't leave the hexagram. He tried."

She pointed a twig-like finger at the corpse of the second astropath, whose blinded eyes appeared to have burned their way out of his skull.

[Hechman]

Gerald’s face distorted into a disgusted grimace as he entered into the Astropath’s chamber. To him the room stank of something awful beyond the dead body. Everything he’d ever been told, subsequently believed, or personally experienced said that these things were abominations. The contorted corpse that clutched the floor and stared out with scorched out eye sockets further confirmed that fact. Truly these things were beasts in the bodies of men and women. For the life of him he couldn’t comprehend why the Astropath still breathed, or why Fitz looked so damned emotional. While never one for regulation, when he could avoid it, even Gerald knew you followed the black ink on white paper when it came to psykers.

"We are done here. One survivor from the ships astropathic choir. Let’s get the men together and get ready to move out."

“Corporal,” Gerald said dubiously as he gestured towards the Astropath with his ‘Beloved’, “You ain’t suggestin’ that we’ll be takin’ the freak along, eh?”

"I can't leave the hexagram. He tried."

“Fraggin’ deserved that at the least.” Gerald muttered before he spat on the deck again and raised his voice enough to be heard by the psyker across the chamber. “Where’d the other freaks be gettin’ off to, witch? After killin’ or runnin’ off your minders, of course. No doubtin’ your kind is causin’ all this damned nonsense.”

[Lord General Armstrong]

"No, I don't like this.....it doesn't seem right. What would the Commissar do? Would he risk the lives of the men, ........for........for this?" Klemens looking around to each of them and releveling his lasrifle, his hands trembling, his eyes beginning to feel heavy.

"She's, ...... she's an Astropath......is that what you said......one of those with the ability to send messages?" Ferentinus questioned, he had never actually seen an Astropath this close before. The proximity to one with such powers was ill comforting. "Can you, can you communicate with the others across the ship? .......What's, what's going on? .... What do we do? ...... What of Command? ....... Orders do we have orders?"

[Dakkagor]

“Fraggin’ deserved that at the least.” Gerald muttered before he spat on the deck again and raised his voice enough to be heard by the psyker across the chamber. “Where’d the other freaks be gettin’ off to, witch? After killin’ or runnin’ off your minders, of course. No doubtin’ your kind is causin’ all this damned nonsense.”

"Watch your tone Trooper. Sanctionites have minders, Astropath's don't, thanks to the blessings of the Immortal God Emperor, may he watch over us in this time of trial. Its very likely they. . . "

"She's, ...... she's an Astropath......is that what you said......one of those with the ability to send messages?" Ferentinus questioned, he had never actually seen an Astropath this close before. The proximity to one with such powers was ill comforting. "Can you, can you communicate with the others across the ship? .......What's, what's going on? .... What do we do? ...... What of Command? ....... Orders do we have orders?"

"Quite so Ferentius, now lower your weapon and calm down, she's an astropath, not a vox set you can dial into a frequency. Me and Fitz will deal with this: we still need to get the rest of the Triari out of that damned muster hall. Start checking nearby quarters, we could do with a tech priest"

He turned his gaze on Gerald.

"You too trooper. Out unless you have something useful to contribute."

Once he was convinced he had made his point, he turned to 'Liv'

"I have men trapped in a room about 500m towards the stern, other Triari. You've seen more of the ship than me, or mayhaps more of its crew, we need a tech-priest to get them out. Can you find one, or tell me where one is."

[Hechman]

"No, I don't like this... it doesn't seem right. What would the Commissar do? Would he risk the lives of the men ...for...for this?" Klemens looking around to each of them and re-leveling his lasrifle. Gerald kept his own ‘Beloved’ at the Astropath while she cowered and whimpered. His hated to hear of the whiff of panic to Klemens’ voice and the freak’s pathetic sounds, as they echoed and magnified uncomfortably in the chamber. The sooner they got this farce over with would be the better.

“Any Commissar worth their salt wouldn’t be leavin’ freaks to their own devices, Lance, an’ that’s for damn sure.” Gerald nodded with conviction, and clenched his finger on the grenade launcher, while he spoke. “Course any hangman wouldn’t be breakin’ a sweat over riskin’ enlisted lives, either.”

"Watch your tone, Trooper. Sanctionites have minders, Astropath's don't, thanks to the blessings of the Immortal God Emperor, may he watch over us in this time of trial. It’s very likely they. . . "

“Astropath. Freak. Santionite. Wyrd. Psyker. Bolt Magnet.” Gerald kept his eyes on Lehner, completely oblivious of the Fitzgerald women and their reactions, as he recited the formal titles and crude nicknames. “All of ‘em beasts by any name, Corporal, an’ all in need of mindin’. Damned foolish, an’ dangerous, to be thinkin’ otherwise. Sir.”

“Navy had their reasonin’ by puttin’ an arms locker nearby, eh?” Gerald redirected before he looked over at Kerrigan, who had remained silent while the Guards argued, “Said so yourself, if I’m rememberin’ correctly, right lass?

"She’s ... she's an Astropath... is that what you said... one of those with the ability to send messages?" Ferentinus questioned, he had never actually seen an Astropath this close before. The proximity to one with such powers was ill comforting. "Can you, can you communicate with the others across the ship? ....... What’s what's going on? .... What do we do? ...... What of Command? ....... Orders do we have orders?"

"Quite so Ferentius, now lower your weapon and calm down, she's an astropath, not a vox set you can dial into a frequency. Me and Fitz will deal with this: we still need to get the rest of the Triari out of that damned muster hall. Start checking nearby quarters, we could do with a tech priest. You too, Trooper, Out unless you have something useful to contribute."

“I’ll be waitin’ for Colours to be makin’ that call, Corporal. Chain of command an’ all.” Gerald bluntly responded to Lehner’s order as he nodded sideways at Pilgrim, as his loose aim never wavered. The senior sergeant hadn’t formally broken them down into new fire teams, and the Corporal from First wasn’t his nominal Corporal. Even Gerald O’Rourke, from time to time, could appreciate the arbitrary complexity of the Imperial Guard.

[FarseerMatt]

“Fraggin’ deserved that at the least.” Gerald muttered before he spat on the deck again and raised his voice enough to be heard by the psyker across the chamber. “Where’d the other freaks be gettin’ off to, witch? After killin’ or runnin’ off your minders, of course. No doubtin’ your kind is causin’ all this damned nonsense.”

”Watch your tone Trooper.” said Lehner. “Sanctionites have minders, Astropath's don't, thanks to the blessings of the Immortal God Emperor, may he watch over us in this time of trial. It's very likely they..."

“Astropath. Freak. Santionite. Wyrd. Psyker. Bolt Magnet.” Gerald kept his eyes on Lehner, completely oblivious of the Fitzgerald women and their reactions, as he recited the formal titles and crude nicknames.

“That'll do, trooper.” growled Pilgrim warningly.

“All of ‘em beasts by any name, Corporal,” Gerald went on, though with a little less confrontation in his voice, “An’ all in need of mindin’. Damned foolish, an’ dangerous, to be thinkin’ otherwise. Sir.”

“Navy had their reasonin’ by puttin’ an arms locker nearby, eh?” Gerald redirected before he looked over at Kerrigan, who had remained silent while the Guardsmen argued, “Said so yourself, if I’m rememberin’ correctly, right lass?”

“That's right.” said Kerrigan. The dark-skinned armswoman was standing to one side, keeping close to the comforting bulk of ex-sergeant Fenix. “It's also their rally point. You've got a point though – where are all the other astropaths?”

“They...they were all on duty.” Fitz' sister said faintly from behind them, “Just me and Quintus left here.” Her blind eyes switched towards the dead body on the floor. “He had a powerful premonition that woke him just before the Gellar field flickered. He woke me too and drew the hexagrams just in time. And then there was screaming, so much screaming...”

She gripped her head, and then started beating her palms against it, as if trying to physically drive the memory out of her mind. Pilgrim and Corbec looked on with expressions of wary unease, while Fitz looked appalled.

“Then the crew were all running. The armsmen all ran for the armoury, they were going to fight something. Our guard left his post by the door and ran away screaming. There was a lot of noise, and then...quiet.” She shivered. “It was the same with the other astropaths. For a while we could hear them, calling for help, trying to send orders...but one by one they went silent. No screaming, no soul-shriek. Just...quiet. That's when Quintus tried to leave.”

She turned towards the dead body again, her blank eyes staring right through it, but her mind still somehow seeing.

“The screaming was bad, but the silence is worse. Please...don't leave me alone.”

“No,” said Klemens, “I don't like this...it doesn't seem right. What would the Commissar do? Would he risk the lives of the men...for...for this?" Klemens looking around to each of them and releveling his lasrifle, his hands trembling, his eyes beginning to feel heavy.

“Alright, son.” said colour sergeant Pilgrim, putting a weathered hand on the grenadier's shoulder, “Just calm down. I'm damned if I'm going to let any more of you end up like Kreuzmann.”

The senior NCO rubbed his chin, trying to think of the best and safest way forward. Yes, the astropath apparently couldn't leave her hexagram, but could they safely leave her alone?

“Any Commissar worth their salt wouldn’t be leavin’ freaks to their own devices, Lance, an’ that’s for damn sure.” Gerald nodded with conviction, and clenched his finger on the grenade launcher, while he spoke. “Course any hangman wouldn’t be breakin’ a sweat over riskin’ enlisted lives, either.”

"She's ...... she's an Astropath......is that what you said......one of those with the ability to send messages?" Ferentinus questioned. He had never actually seen an Astropath this close before. The proximity to one with such powers was ill comforting. "Can you, can you communicate with the others across the ship? .......What's, what's going on? .... What do we do? ...... What of Command? ....... Orders, do we have orders?"

"Quite so Ferentius, now lower your weapon and calm down, she's an astropath, not a vox set you can dial into a frequency. Me and Fitz will deal with this: we still need to get the rest of the Triarii out of that damned muster hall. Start checking nearby quarters, we could do with a tech priest."

He turned his gaze on Gerald.

"You too trooper. Out unless you have something useful to contribute."

“I’ll be waitin’ for Colours to be makin’ that call, Corporal. Chain of command an’ all.” Gerald bluntly responded to Lehner’s order as he nodded sideways at Pilgrim, as his loose aim never wavered. The senior sergeant hadn’t formally broken them down into new fire teams, and the corporal from First wasn’t his nominal corporal. Even Gerald O’Rourke, from time to time, could appreciate the arbitrary complexity of the Imperial Guard.

Pilgrim had obviously already spotted the same problem. Lehner wasn't Gerald's ASL, but Pilgrim backed him up to remove any ambiguity. He knew how psykers upset some people more than others and it would be prudent to keep his men off-edge. They had to be able to think clearly if they were going to survive this. More to the point, he wouldn't have infighting in his unit, no matter how little was left of it.

“Klemens, O'Rourke, recon as far as the next bulkhead,” he said gruffly, “And then report back. Corbec, you go with them.”

“Aye, colour.” said Corbec, clenching his chiselled jaw as he followed the other two.

“And O'Rourke.” Pilgrim added before Gerald was completely out of the door, “Lance corporal Lehner wears those stripes for a reason. If he gives you an order you obey it. Understood?”

Once he was convinced he had made his point, Lehner turned to 'Liv'.

"I have men trapped in a room about 500m towards the stern, other Triarii. You've seen more of the ship than me, or mayhaps more of its crew. We need a tech-priest to get them out. Can you find one, or tell me where one is?"

“Tech-priest?” Fitz' sister said, blinking her blind blue eyes at him, “No. No no no no no...”

“The main enginarium's your best bet.” offered Kerrigan, “But it's a deck down. And Nav and the Bridge are two decks up. They've got a small temple on this deck, forward, near the Navigator's quarters, but they're both off-limits to regular crewmen.”

“Restricted areas?” grunted Pilgrim, “I'd be more worried about all the locked bulkheads keeping us out.”

Kerrigan pressed her knuckles against her lips and thought for a moment. “Not so hot on the rest of the ship,” she said at last, “But I know this deck quite well. You might be able to bypass any closed bulkheads if you went through the water tanks.”

“Water tanks?” queried Fitz, who had slung her lasgun and was now kneeling beside her sister.

“Yeah, there's two on this level running the length of the ship. Had to accompany a tech-priest on maintenance a couple of times. The compartments are separated by airlocks, but they can all be opened manually. There's only gantries around the pumping stations at each end of a compartment, but each tank in between is only about 500 metres.”

Pilgrim realised that she meant 500 metres underwater. “Good thing we've all got rebreathers. But I think we'll try the dry route first.”

“We could do it.” Kerrigan nodded, “Only, what do we do about...erm...”

She glanced at the astropath. When Olivia realised that Kerrigan was talking about her, her mouth fell open.

“I told you I can't leave the hexagram.” she said, sounding almost panic-stricken, “Please don't leave me alone! Anna, please don't let them leave me alone...”

She pawed at her sister's fatigues.

Colour sergeant Pilgrim frowned. Thinking practically, he didn't want to have to leave one or more of his men behind to babysit the astropath. On the other hand, like everyone else in the team, he was wary of leaving a psyker unattended – even one that was apparently confined within a runic bubble. The effects of a flickering Gellar field were catastrophically worse for psykers than for normal humans. What if the wards failed, and there was no-one there to euthanise the astropath before something unthinkable happened? Gerald was right – it was dangerous to leave any psyker without a minder.

He turned to Fitz. Perhaps he could compromise.

“Fitz, if I left you to guard her, would you be able to administer the Emperor's Mercy if necessary?”

Fitz glanced at Lehner, and then back at Pilgrim. She swallowed. But when she spoke, her voice was steady. “Yes sir. If anyone has to do it...well, I'd want it to be me.”

“What?” said Olivia, her head switching back and forth in pitiable distress, but her sister just put a hand on her shoulder to soothe her.

Pilgrim nodded. “Alright. I'll leave you with Klemens' microbead so we can keep in contact. That's if the damn vox isn't still acting up.”

+ + + + + +

As O'Rourke, Klemens and Corbec proceeded along the corridor, they found only eerily empty rooms. They approached the next buttress in the corridor that marked the bulkhead, the heavy door standing open but seeming to hang menacingly, as if it was waiting for someone to step under it before it slammed down. They shook off the ridiculous notion as they advanced.

Just before the bulkhead, on the right-hand wall, a faded sign over a thick blast-door read “Armoury”. But whereas the corridor bulkhead door yawned ominously open, this blast-door was closed. For some reason, the white lights lining the floor had turned red in the vicinity of the door, underlighting it with a ruddy glow.

“Oh dear.” said Corbec as they approached. Something dark was oozing out from the bottom of the door, forming a wide pool that had spilled over several of the floor-level lights; that was what was causing the change in colour.

Now that he looked closer, Corbec could see that the blast door was not in fact completely closed. For whatever reason, it had stuck open about 6 inches off the floor. Not enough for even the smallest human to wriggle through, but enough for someone to shine a torch under and look through into the armoury – if they didn't mind lying down in what looked very much like a pool of blood.

[Dakkagor]

Lehner nodded. Water tanks, made sense. He didn't like the idea of swimming in the dark with lamp packs for company, but he realised its necessity. Quicker and safer than burning through a half dozen bulkheads aswell.

As they filed out, he approached Fitz.

"Fitz. Look after yourself. Remember that we are all servants of the emperor, and sometimes that service takes us down different paths."

He looked at Liv, then back at Fitz.

"I know you will do the right thing. I have faith in you trooper."

He forced a smile, slapped her on the shoulder, and with a respectful nod towards the Astropath, double timed it to catch up with Pilgrim.

"Thank you for the assistance earlier, that could have got messy."

[FarseerMatt]

"Thank you for the assistance earlier, that could have got messy."

"No worries, corp." Fitz replied, with the same awkward warmth.

Martos waited until the corporal was out the door before winking a chocolate-brown eye at Fitz. "Told you he wanted your ass, Anna."

"Fok you, Kenda."

"Sorry, that's going to have to stay as your little fantasy." Martos smiled sweetly, before turning serious. "Take care, yeah?"

"Yeah." Fitz nodded, one hand still on her sister's shoulder as she attempted to return Martos' smile. "You too."

Martos turned and followed Lehner and DuGrae out of the astropaths' quarters, surreptitiously signing the Aquila as she went.

+ + + + + +

"Ah, Horus." Corbec cursed as he knelt down in the blood pool, the viscous liquid painting his chestplate and soaking through the legs of his armoured fatigues. Shining his lamp pack under the door revealed a number of ship's armsmen lying dead near the door. Their ashen faces were rendered stark by the chiaroscuro of shadows cast by his torch, and each man had a ragged exit wound in either the side or the back of his head.

"What in the warp happened to you, trooper?" Pilgrim asked as he arrived by the three scouts just in time to see the gore-streaked private stand up. "Oh fok me." he added as he caught sight of the blood pool filtering the light from the deck lumoglobes by the door.

"The armsmen are all dead, Colour." Corbec reported, chewing the inside of his cheek, "All with holes in the backs of their heads."

"Like they'd put their lasguns in their own mouths?" DuGrae put in uneasily.

"Or like they'd been executed." growled Pilgrim. Something was very, very wrong on this ship - above and beyond the fluctuation in the Gellar Field, and he wanted to find out who was responsible. First his own company, and now the armsmen; someone wanted the crew isolated and kept out of the way.

"So what now?" asked Kerrigan, her dark skin now an unhealthy grey as she learned the fate of her fellow armsmen.

"We find those tech-priests of yours up forward." said Pilgrim, "And get them to open the doors. Klemens?" He turned to the jittery grenadier sergeant. "Fitz is staying behind to mind the astropath. Go give her your helmet vox so we can at least try and keep in contact."

As Klemens jogged back to the astropath quarters for the last time, Pilgrim prayed that he had made the right decision to safeguard the lives of his men. Almost immediately, he chided himself for the thought. The moment a commander started doubting themself they failed as a leader.

Lieutenant Blake would not have doubted, but Blake was dead. Pilgrim sighed, and steeled his resolve.

+ + + + + +

Making their way to the small machine temple at the forward end of the deck was more easily said than done, however. Kerrigan did her best to lead them through the maze of corridors and sub-decks, but at every turn they eventually ran into another closed bulkhead. The isolation doors did not seemed to have been closed with any rhyme or reason - tunnels to important areas like the fire suppression control lay open, while seemingly innocuous areas like the secondary crew berths were closed off, preventing them from moving through. In a couple of areas, the Triarii could hear the muffled shouts of trapped crewmen, but they never actually met another soul.At least, they thought, they had not run into any more of those shadow-limbed orbs. Nor did they have to deal with any more fluctuations in the arti-grav.

"So what now?" Pilgrim asked, echoing Kerrigan's earlier question as they ran into yet another dead end.

Kerrigan stood with her hands laced behind her head, gazing at the closed bulkhead in helpless frustration. "I don't know. This was the last possible way through."

Pilgrim sighed. "I guess we're going swimming then. Where are the water tanks?"

Kerrigan pointed to a side corridor. It was dark, the emergency lights having failed yet again. "Watch your step. There's a ladder at the end that takes you straight down to pumping station B."

Pilgrim held the armswoman back as she made to lead the way. "DuGrae." he said, indicating with a downward slice of his hand, "Take point. Watch your step."

DuGrae's torch-beam danced along the rusted iron walls as he headed off down the sub-corridor. He found the recessed cylinder in the wall that indicated the ladder crawlspace, and paused to peer down with his muzzle-light before taking hold of the ladder and beginning to climb down one-handed, the lasgun in his other hand leading the way. Corbec and Martos stacked up by the ladder, waiting tensely as DuGrae disappeared into the section below.

"Clear." came the shout a few seconds later, sounding like it was echoing in a wide space. At a nod from Pilgrim, the team began to make their way down, emerging onto a gantry which spanned one side of a cavernous cubical room. From about two metres beneath their feet, clearly visible through the gantry grating, water lapped gently against the walls. As with the rest of the ship the main lights were off and the emergency lights were insufficient, leaving the water black and opaque. What the lights did illuminate was a corroded sign embossed on the far wall, reading "Starboard 3" in metre-high letters. Also lit up, and apparently still with power judging by the flickering blue lights coming from inside its windows, was a blocky pumping station set halfway along the gantry. Great pipes curved down from the front side of the control station into the water, and more pipes jutted from the roof, disappearing into a ceiling criss-crossed with piperacks.

"This is tank 3," Kerrigan said, something making her talk in a hushed whisper despite the deep thrumming of the water pumps and filters. "If we head forward to tank 1 we might find a clearer path to the cogboys' hideout."

Pilgrim nodded, looking from the rusty ladders that descended down into the water at regular intervals along the gantry to the gurgling pipes. He froze, his hand snapping into a raised fist in warning as he spotted something moving behind the control room windows.

"Movement!" he alerted his fellow Triarii, and dropped into a crouch, hugging the wall-side railing of the gantry. There was precious little space for the 12 soldiers on the walkway, and no cover.

"Imperial Guard!" Pilgrim challenged. "Identify!"

[Effigy_Cross]

"Imperial Guard!" Pilgrim challenged. "Identify!"

Voices. They could speak. The sounds approaching were human? But, then again, not all nightmares were silent. Gloved fingers curled tighter around the large industrial wrench that was held at the ready across her chest as she took a brief moment to consider the situation. First that eerie blackness, the horrific thing that had chased her down here to begin with and then whatever it was she may or may not have seen in the tank and now this?

"..What a funny sort of day.." The words were faintly murmured beneath the woman's breath, more of an unintentional sigh than anything else and easily drowned out by the ambient sounds of the machinery within the pumping station. Biting back a low curse, a shiver ran down her spine as the urge to light the entire place up tugged at her mind. Granted, she didn't have nearly enough torches and the sudden flare might draw unwanted attention from whatever was slithering about below. Light.. Light. They were beacons of light..

Head snapping about sharply as her focus shifted from the people outside to the water all around them, the woman made a sudden decision to disregard the voice of caution that had urged her to hole up in the dubious circle of protection cast by the faint illumination from the consoles.

"Watch the water!"

Not dropping the improvised weapon, she did lower it to a less aggressive stance as she stepped into clear view to offer a belated introduction, "Shipsmen 3889260, Martiya Tellaris, and there is something in that water!" Her voice was sharp and her tone urgent, her pale eyes lingering across the assembled guard for only a moment before dropping to warily scan the dark depths.

Her posture was rigid, tense and the simple maintenance attire she wore was torn in places from the exodus that had driven her here and a few of the stains that were typical of her profession seemed to be of a slightly different hue than the rest. The woman could only hope that the assembled group would somehow improve the situation she found herself in. Right now? They seemed more likely to draw danger to her.

[Lord General Armstrong]

"Ah, Horus." Corbec cursed as he knelt down in the blood pool, the viscous liquid painting his chestplate and soaking through the legs of his armoured fatigues. Shining his lamp pack under the door revealed a number of ship's armsmen lying dead near the door. Their ashen faces were rendered stark by the chiaroscuro of shadows cast by his torch, and each man had a ragged exit wound in either the side or the back of his head.

Klemens kneeing over the Private, lasgun slung over his shoulder and hands on his knees. "It's bad? ...... It's bad isn't it? Emperor guide me, what, what do you see?"

"The armsmen are all dead, all with holes in the backs of their heads."

"What? ............... Who? ...... Those orbs? No, they couldn't do that, could they? Demons, but no. Surely, Emperor please. Don't ......" Ferentinus began to silently mutter under his rebreather, taking a hand from his leg and placing it across his visor. Brushing his gloved palm over the polymer and turning his head to the side. "Corbec, any weapons or equipment you can reach? I'll take anything."

* * * * *

"Or like they'd been executed." Growled Pilgrim.

For some reason those words were comforting, at least in a sense that it was by his own men. Klemens shook his head, he was losing it......what of the men trapped, what of his squad. How could that have comforted him!? ............Maybe it was a mercy kill, maybe the ships commissariat stopped the monsters, ....... the fiends from getting them. But he hadn't seen anything after the Orb, why would they do it? There had to be a reason.

* * * * *

"We find those tech-priests of yours up forward." Said Pilgrim.

'No, no, ........ cold, so cold ...... please, not them. Those Mechadendrite's, those unnatural replacements, those soulless machines.' He didn't know what he hated worse, the threat plaguing the ship or those red robed freaks.

"Klemens?" He turned to the jittery grenadier sergeant. "Fitz is staying behind to mind the astropath. Go give her your helmet vox so we can at least try and keep in contact."

"Thank you, sir." He whispered, his mind saved, his thoughts interrupted. He still heard those voices on the vox, even though the device itself was switched off. The screams, the begging, the howling. What was happening? Turning on the spot the Corporal placed his hands over his face plate. Taking off the protective mask for the first time since morning Mess, his fingers skillfully grasping and removing the communicator. Turning the device in his hand and placing it in his vests pocket before looking back to Pilgrim.

"Yes, sir it will be done." His tone much more confident, his training kicking in. Klemens, redonning his rebreather and giving the Colour a brief nod as he took off to met Fitz.

* * * * *

The room, still giving him slight shimmers but now he understood. She couldn't hurt him, she wasn't a monster. If Fitz and her sister could see his face, it would have been one of sorrow and regret. "I'm sorry, so very sorry. I didn't know......"

Taking a slow step forward he reached into his pocket, withdrawing the micro-bead. "Here, the Colour wanted me to give you this. To stay in contact with the men. If you need us, I'll pick you up on the vox, okay?" He informed her softly, handing the comm-bead out in the middle of an open palm.

"Again I'm sorry, for the Emperor."

* * * * *

"Movement!" he alerted his fellow Triarii, and dropped into a crouch, hugging the wall-side railing of the gantry. There was precious little space for the 12 soldiers on the walkway, and no cover.

"Rodger, sir!" Klemens acknowledged, stepping to the front to provide some form of protection to his peers behind him. At least his heavier armour gave him some comfort in this place, but he'd be frakked if he was going swimming. Dropping to one knee, rifle pressed against his shoulder and scanning across the walkways.

"Watch the water!"

The Corporals attention immediately shifting to the control room, "Who the frak are you?! Name, rank and serial!" Klemens ordered, his lasrifle now trained on this new 'contact.'

"Shipsmen 3889260, Martiya Tellaris."

"A shipsmen?" He had to question, their band was expanding. An armsmen, a psyker, a prisoner, what was next and he surely hoped it wasn't that techpriest.

"And there is something in that water!"

"What, what is it?" He beckoned, lowering his lasgun and peeking over the catwalks side rails. The murky depths, not helping his moral or vision for that matter. Even his numerous lamp lights could not pierce it's slow calm movements.

"Frak this! Sir, I'm not going in there!" He said with obvious hesitance, continuing down the pathway towards Martiya. "Miss Tellaris, please tell me this thing has some kind of reverse flow, drainage or transfer system."

[Dakkagor]

"And there is something in that water!"

"What, what is it?" He beckoned, lowering his lasgun and peeking over the catwalks side rails. The murky depths, not helping his moral or vision for that matter. Even his numerous lamp lights could not pierce it's slow calm movements.

"Frak this! Sir, I'm not going in there!" He said with obvious hesitance, continuing down the pathway towards Martiya. "Miss Tellaris, please tell me this thing has some kind of reverse flow, drainage or transfer system."

Lehner shot a look at the back of Klemens. He was getting mightily fed up with the guardsman and his inability to keep his cool. If he was this jittery in a high stress situation, how bad was he going to be when they actually made combat?

Lehner paused and checked his webbing. Frags, kraks, one melta. His demo charge (he smiled at the weight) was still intact as well. But no illum flares to toss into the pool. He hadn't been issued them as field kit, unfortunately.

He eyed the water and judged its depth and the width of the tank. Explosives where often tested in water, he knew. He could toss the demo charge into the tank on a long fuse and they should be relatively safe, the whole reservoir acting as a blast tank.

"Pilgrim, I could bomb out the tank. But only this one, after that, I'd be out."

He thought back to the armoury. Would have been nice to pick up a few more explosives, or a reload for his melta tank.

[FarseerMatt]

"Again, I'm sorry. For the Emperor."

"For the Emperor, corp." Fitz said, a little stiffly, but she clearly meant it. They had both been out of line after all. "Just find help so we can get the others out."

She watched Klemens leave and his footsteps fade along the corridor along with the others.

"Let's hope they hurry back." she muttered to herself, before turning to face the pale, tired-looking blind girl who had once been her younger sister. She didn't know what question to ask first.

"Liv..." she began hesitantly, "Where have you been for the last 8 years?"

"They won't." Olivia said faintly. She had produced a pack of crystal-fronted cards from inside her robes and was now shuffling them in her thin hands.

"What?" said Fitz, confused at the apparent non-sequitur.

"You said you hoped they hurry back." Olivia said, fixing her blind eyes on Fitz. The way she seemed to look at her without her pupils dilating or focusing was somehow unnerving. Fitz drew back slightly, and immediately felt guilty for reacting that way towards her own sister.

"Anna," the astropath went on, "I don't think they will. Hurry back. Some of them won't be back at all."

She wrapped her arms around herself as if cold and began to rock back and forth in the centre of her chalk hexagram.

+ + + + + +

"And there is something in that water!"

Pilgrim and several of the Triarii levelled their guns at the water, muzzle lights sweeping back and forth across the oily black surface. Nothing moved - no bubbles, no ripples. Just the slight waves generated by the ship's own vibrations.

"What was it you saw, crewman?" Pilgrim asked Martiya, taking his eyes off the water to fix the young woman with an intense stare.

"Nothing moving, Colour." said DuGrae, although he kept his gun trained on the surface.

"Fokking better not be." Martos muttered from further along the gantry. She too still had her lasgun covering the tank. "That's our drinking water down there."

"You sure you saw it?" Corbec queried of Martiya. The woman was clearly rattled, and Emperor knew your mind could play tricks on you in that state.

"Frak this! Sir, I'm not going down there!" Klemens said with obvious hesitance.

"You'll do as you're damn well told, corporal." Pilgrim snapped savagely, "Or I'll get you a court martial." He paused for a moment and then sighed, softening slightly. There was a time for iron discipline, but perhaps this wasn't it. "You're an Imperial Guardsman, son. Keep it cool. We're going to get though this."

He slapped the corporal on the shoulder pad and threaded past him towards crewman Tellaris and the pumping station door.

"Miss Tellaris, please tell me this thing has some kind of reverse flow, drainage or transfer system."

Armswoman Kerrigan leaned over the walkway railing to peer at the water pipes curving down into the tank. "Now I'm no tech-priest," she said, "But I'm guessing you can transfer water between the tanks. Don't think you can just empty them though. Where would you send it all?"

"Let's find out." said Pilgrim, heading into the pumping station. Corbec and Kerrigan followed him. "Keep an eye on Klemens." he murmured to Fenix as he passed his old friend. Ferentinus seemed alright when he had a task to keep his mind off things, but the stress of the situation was clearly affecting him more than most. After losing one man, Colour Sergeant Pilgrim was determined not to lose more, not due to panic, to those damn shadow orbs, or anything else. By the Emperor, he would not.

The blue glow of the terminals was somehow comforting compared to the barely-adequate lighting in the corridors. Pilgrim was no tech adept and he couldn't begin to make sense of the baffling arrangement of levers and dials which occupied the command station. Luckily, the information displayed on the pict screens was comparitively user friendly. Eight labelled squares partially filled with blue Pilgrim assumed to represent the tanks. The three nearest the stern were marked "sump", "filter", and "disinfection", while the others were labelled 1 - 5 from the bow backward. The levels indicated for the five storage tanks were roughly equal.

"So how do we empty these three?" he asked, sweeping a finger to encompass tanks 1 to 3 and looking at Kerrigan in the hope that her knowledge of the ship extended to the potable water system.

"No idea." the armswoman shrugged, "I'm just security, I don't know the machine prayers to work these things."

Pilgrim let his arm drop. "Great."

"You should be okay leaving them as they are though? As long as the levels are equal the pressure should be about the same, so the hatches in the walls should open."

Corbec looked at her. "I'll say it again, sweetheart. You should've been a tech-priest. Far too smart for our line of work."

Kerrigan returned his smile. "And since Fitz isn't here, I'll tell you to shut up in her stead."

"I could bomb out that tank." Lehner suggested as Pilgrim and the others emerged, "But only this one; after that, I'd be out."

"Still can't see anything down there, Colour." DuGrae called out from further down the gantry, "But it can't hurt to play it safe."

"No chances." Pilgrim agreed. The blast might damage the pipes and pumping equipment, but he didn't much care. Better that than be ambushed underwater by some tentacled monstrosity. He nodded at Lehner to proceed.

The team withdrew into the cramped safety of the pumping station as Lehner lobbed his demo charge into the tank with a strong overarm throw. There was a heavy splash, followed by several seconds of silence. Then, with a muffled boom that was felt as much as heard, the surface of the tank leapt upwards in a column of spray. It slammed into the ceiling and sheeted down the walls, and the waves generated washed up and over the walkway, causing the old metal to shake and creak.

"Woah!" Corbec exclaimed as a spray of water washed over the windows of the pumping station. "Now that's how you go fishing!"

"Now I'm definitely not drinking that fokking water." Martos said from beside him.

"You think it's bad now, Kenda? Wait til all us dirty Guardsmen go swimming around in it."

"Get your rebreathers out." saidPilgrim, focussing his men back on the task as he opened the pumping station door and stepped out onto the dripping gangway to inspect the aftermath. The water was still frothing and sloshing angrily against the walls of the tank, but at least no pulped alien monster floated to the surface along with the bubbles.

"What about the crewman, Colour?" said DuGrae, motioning towards Martiya, "Should we take her with us?"

[Hechman]

“Klemens, O'Rourke, recon as far as the next bulkhead and then report back. Corbec, you go with them.”

“Aye, sir.” Gerald responded to the senior sergeant before he slightly lowered ‘Beloved’. He stared at the loathsome witch a moment longer before he started to backpedal out of the room. Even though the Astropath was surrounded by soldiers, and hadn’t done anything but cower, he still refused to turn his back on the freak. If she tried anything he was going to defend himself and the Triarii.

“And O'Rourke.” Pilgrim added before Gerald was completely out of the door, “Lance corporal Lehner wears those stripes for a reason. If he gives you an order you obey it. Understood?”

Right… because that’s makin’ a gak load of sense, Colour. That damned boy has gotten more infractions fer brawlin’ an drinkin’ than me since the regiment formed.

“Understood, Colour.” Gerald replied after that momentary thought while he saluted the senior sergeant. Once he broke the salute Gerald followed Klemens and Corbec out and down the corridor towards the Armoury. He was thoroughly relieved to put distance between himself, the witch, and her chamber.

Gerald muttered and cursed to himself as they swept through the empty bunk rooms along the corridor. Each room had been noticeably abandoned with haste and, much to his discomfort; he couldn’t help but remember what the witch had said. Then the crew were all running. The armsmen all ran for the armoury, they were going to fight something. Our guard left his post by the door and ran away screaming. There was a lot of noise, and then...quiet. Those words forced him to spit on the deck as he looked about the empty room he was in. The smell of smoldering had cigars had brought him in here. Apparently some of the sailors had been wagering before their game had been interrupted. Gerald looked over his shoulder as he casually pocketed the compact aluminum box of cigars and the modest pile of Thrones in the pot. He was about to leave before a sudden curiosity made him scoop up and check the nearest pile. There were only four cards in this hand as opposed to the five in the others.

“Golden Throne…” Gerald breathed as he tossed the cards back down onto the table and stepped back. The hand was two pairs, aces and eights, suited in clubs and spades. He superstitiously made half an Aquila with his free hand to ward off the ill-omened cards. The dead man’s hand remained face up amidst the chaos as Gerald returned to Klemens and Corbec at the Armoury.

***

"The armsmen are all dead, Colour." Corbec reported, chewing the inside of his cheek, "All with holes in the backs of their heads."

“God Emperor!” Gerald cursed as he heard the news. He didn’t need to look in there like the others had, as he could well imagine what the scene looked like. More than a few of the armsmen had to have been killed in there for that much blood to slosh across the deck. The fact that they’d all been shot in the head… that was something he really didn’t like the sound of. He cursed again quietly as he thought of the hand of cards again. Someone in there had had a particularly bad turn of luck, and Gerald hoped it hadn’t rubbed off on him. The stolen cigars and thrones in his pocket weighed heavily, perhaps with guilt, after that unwelcome thought.

"Like they'd put their lasguns in their own mouths?" DuGrae put in uneasily. Gerald looked at his squad mate but didn’t say anything. He wanted to believe, like DuGrae, that the sailors had all offed themselves. The idea of spontaneous mass suicide, which was known to happen occasionally in warp transit, was much more preferable to the alternative.


"Or like they'd been executed." growled Pilgrim. Gerald grimaced and spat on the deck as the colour sergeant said what he’d not wanted to mention aloud. All of them were armed and trained men, even if only by Navy standards, so had they resisted their deaths as it came for them? Or had they gone like lambs to the slaughter? He really didn’t like the idea of either option.

"So what now?" asked Kerrigan, her dark skin now an unhealthy grey as she learned the fate of her fellow armsmen.

"We find those tech-priests of yours up forward."

'No, no, ........ cold, so cold ...... please, not them. Those Mechadendrite's, those unnatural replacements, those soulless machines.' He didn't know what he hated worse, the threat plaguing the ship or those red robed freaks.

"And get them to open the doors. Klemens?" He turned to the jittery grenadier sergeant. "Fitz is staying behind to mind the astropath. Go give her your helmet vox so we can at least try and keep in contact."

Gerald just looked after Klemens as he scurried off and shook his head slowly. The “grenadier” was damned near out of control with his own fear. It his experience it was disgraceful, and dangerous, for a non-commissioned officer to be so unmanned in front of anyone. When cases like this popped up in the 37th Rifles, as they occasionally did, the squaddies tended solve the problem themselves. Soldiers died in battle, and accidents or desertions happened during transport. Nobody tended to ask questions when they didn’t particularly care for the answer. He holstered the revolver when the Corporal was out of sight.

***

"Movement!" Pilgrim alerted his fellow Triarii, and dropped into a crouch, hugging the wall-side railing of the gantry. There was precious little space for the 12 soldiers on the walkway, and no cover. He crouched down momentarily before he realized it was pointless. There really was no cover, other than the bodies in front of him, and that wouldn’t do for Gerald O’Rourke. Instead he stood up and shouldered ‘Beloved’ so he could fire the launcher over the rest of the unit. He trusted most of the others to cover him as he covered them.

"Imperial Guard!" Pilgrim challenged. "Identify!"

"Watch the water!" The woman shouted at them as she waived about an improvised cudgel like it would actually drive off a reinforced squad of Imperial Guard. He knew from personal experience that a lump of metal like that could be an effective weapon, so he kept his launcher sighted on the crew member after she’d stepped out of the booth.

“She better be twitchin’ out.” Gerald growled as he cautiously peered into the water. He really did not want to share the water, if they really had to go in, with anything other than Imperial soldiers.

"Who the frak are you?! Name, rank and serial!" Klemens ordered, his lasrifle now trained on this new 'contact.' Gerald was momentarily relieved to see the Corporal act like he was a partially squared away Guardsman. Perhaps all the man needed was some action to distract him from thinking.

"Shipsmen 3889260, Martiya Tellaris. And there is something in that water!" Gerald’s eyes narrowed at the woman as she again mentioned something in the water. His grip on ‘Beloved’ tightened and he again hoped the second Navy female was out of her mind with panic. That could be dealt with, by leaving her behind, but the alternative was not a comfort.

"Frak this! Sir, I'm not going in there!" Klemens said with obvious hesitance, continuing down the pathway towards Martiya. Gerald’s face contorted into one of disgust, once again, as the Corporal proceeded to panic… again. This man was past the point of merely embarrassing himself and verging into the realm of being a liability. He really had no idea how Klemens had become a “grenadier”, or earned the Corporal’s stripes at that.

"You'll do as you're damn well told, corporal." Pilgrim snapped savagely, "Or I'll get you a court martial." He paused for a moment and then sighed, softening slightly. "You're an Imperial Guardsman, son. Keep it cool. We're going to get through this."

***

"You should be okay leaving them as they are though? As long as the levels are equal the pressure should be about the same, so the hatches in the walls should open."

Corbec looked at her. "I'll say it again, sweetheart. You should've been a tech-priest. Far too smart for our line of work."

Kerrigan returned his smile. "And since Fitz isn't here, I'll tell you to shut up in her stead."

“I like her.” Gerald chuckled and looked at Corbec from just outside the doorframe after before he glanced at Kerrigan with a grin, “Seein’ as you’re fittin’ in so well, m’dear, how about transferrin’ Guard? Payin’ the same lousy rate, but new an’ excitin’ dangers daily!”

***

"Get your rebreathers out." said Pilgrim, focussing his men back on the task as he opened the pumping station door and stepped out onto the dripping gangway to inspect the aftermath. The water was still frothing and sloshing angrily against the walls of the tank, but at least no pulped alien monster floated to the surface along with the bubbles.

“Here’s to hopin’ we ain’t wasted the demo charge fer nothin’.” Gerald stated as he stepped back down the walkway and watched behind them as some of the other Triarii secured their own masks on. He kept his ‘Beloved leveled and ready to fire if something else popped up unexpectedly.

"What about the crewman, Colour?" said DuGrae, motioning towards Martiya, "Should we take her with us?"

“Ain’t one fraggin’ basket case enough as is?” Gerald muttered while he tightened his grip on the launcher. He could only imagine, and shudder, at the thought of this new rating and Klemens feeding each other’s fear. That was not at all what anyone here needed right now.

[trynemyne]

Holden thought to himself after hearing that blast, feeling the shockwave rumble through his carapace and into his bones.

"That sounds like something very fokking close. My team is gone, my auspex is broken, but I at least have my armor unscathed and weapons at full."

He began moving quickly towards the sound of the explosion. He went to reach for his auspex out of pure reflex, to see what he might be dealing with. Remembering it was broken he cursed under his breath and came up to where the explosion had come rather quickly. At this he saw a small squad of Guardsmen, putting rebreathers on. This was his chance, whether it was his team or not. They were guardsmen, and he could tell easily that they were looking for something. Xenos? Who knows.

He turned the vox channel to the main chatter channel and barked into it as he was getting ready to reveal himself.

"Guardsmen Squad about to move out, Imperium Friendly on the other side of the tanks, I lost my squad. Please Comply. This is Corporal Holden Mercurius, of the 4th."

When he finished he stood up so they could see him clearly, his hands up, weapons at his side. He repeated it as he came into view of the guardsmen, he could see not all were Guardsmen though. There was a female crewman, or what looked to be a crewman with them.

[Lord General Armstrong]

Klemens stood, arching his rifle lamp across the walls of the tank. Scanning the area for anything really, "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." He stated, hinting his own distress as he turned to face the Colour.

"Not just trying to get out of it sir. I'm generally concerned for my own safety." Smiling under his rebreather and for that brief second he could have been mistaken for himself again. "You know, could be like throwing an over sized toaster oven into a bathing unit." Tossing his rifle over his shoulder he planted both hands upon the catwalks railings and gazed down into the water.

"So there's no fish in there ha? Good, good, we still don't know about the other tanks though but that's some kind of assurance at least." Shaking his head slowly, he took a hand from the support and began to fiddle with the Vox casters dials.

"Fitz? You hear me Fitz?"

[Effigy_Cross]

"What was it you saw, crewman?" Pilgrim asked Martiya, taking his eyes off the water to fix the young woman with an intense stare.

Switching her gaze away from the water under the weight of the man's stare, she gave a single shake of her head and clearled her throat softly before replying, "A ripple, a slither..something. Like a snake in a puddle."

"You sure you saw it?" Corbec queried of Martiya. The woman was clearly rattled, and Emperor knew your mind could play tricks on you in that state.

Eyes narrowing and jaw tensing, the woman's eyes cut over from the first man to the second. Her first instinct was to snap at the question. About to offer a reply, whatever she had to say was cut off by the exclaimation that followed.

"Frak this! Sir, I'm not going down there!" Klemens said with obvious hesitance.

Almost laughing at the reprimand and exchange that followed, her shoulders shifted and rolled first one then the other as she took a deep breath instead. Oddly, the man's unease and nearly hysterical protest served to calm the woman. Or rather, it balanced out her fear at this unnatural situation with a healthy dose of irritation. Seeing someone with more training and, one might assume, actual combat experience, behaving so unhinged grounded her. A single phrase came to mind, which she kept to herself - Man up.

"Miss Tellaris, please tell me this thing has some kind of reverse flow, drainage or transfer system."

Armswoman Kerrigan leaned over the walkway railing to peer at the water pipes curving down into the tank. "Now I'm no tech-priest," she said, "But I'm guessing you can transfer water between the tanks. Don't think you can just empty them though. Where would you send it all?"

"Typically," the woman replied as she stepped aside to let them pass. "We seal a single tank completely and shunt it all into that one when we need to clear one for maintanence." Watching as they tried to make sense of the control panel, she gave a gruff exhalation before adding, "However, we were having some issues with the seals and transfer piping. They sent me and my crew down here to do the grunt work and sort the physical problem." Resting her improvised bludgeon against her shoulder, she tilted her head to brace that against the metal implement.

Calm. Calm. Being around actual humans again was doing wonders for the crewman's mental state. The detonation caused her to cringe slightly as she listened to the water slosh and lash at the walls. Tensing faintly in apprehension, she wasn't sure if it was a relief or ominous that nothing came up from the charge. Pursing her lips for just a moment, she took another steadying breath and prayed that it had just been nerves and nothing more.

As the attention refocused on her, a sweet smile curved Martiya's lips. "Yes, by all means..please me leave 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.

Her position placing her back to the station and eye to the service entrance, the woman noticed the arrival of the new figure. Dropping her facade, she tipped her head up slightly to indicate him. "One of yours?"

[FarseerMatt]

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

"Thank the Emperor." said Martos, who was closest, feelingly. She lowering the lasgun she had just snapped up into her shoulder and worked her way round the gantry to meet the newcomer. "Got another friendly here, Colour." she shouted back over her shoulder.

"Private Martos, 94th." she said to Mercurius, saluting the NCO as she approached, "My company's trapped in the briefing hall because of this grox-**** lockdown so we're trying to get forward to the machine temple. Where's the rest of your unit? Any word from command?"

"You know," Klemens was saying, "Could be like throwing an oversized toaster oven into a bathing unit."

"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."

Tossing his rifle over his shoulder, Klemens planted both hands on the catwalk's railings and gazed down into the water.

"So there's no fish in there, ha? Good good, we still don't know about the other tanks though but that's some kind of assurance at least."

"I'd love it if they kept fish in here." Corbec said cheerfully as he secured his rebreather, "Imagine some fresh food once in a while. And you could even use them for target practice. Literal fish in a barrel. And the las would cook them so they'd be ready to eat as soon as they came out."

"Fok that." Martos laughed as she rejoined the group, "They'd make the water taste funny. And what if they got sucked into the pipes? Can you imagine fish dropping out the shower-head every time you turned the tap?"

"With you, Kenda? I doubt anyone'd notice the difference in smell."

Martos punched him in the arm.

Shaking his head slowly, Klemens took a hand from the support and began to fiddle with the vox caster's dials. "Fitz? You hear me Fitz?"

There was an awful howl from the vox, which Klemens hoped was static and not more Warp noise, but then the channel miraculously cleared for a moment.

"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?"

[Dakkagor]

Lehner looked up at the ceiling lights, what few there where, and then back to the glassy water.

"Its going to be dark down there sir. Without flares, and even with luminen, getting lost could be all to easy."

He pondered for a second, then turned as he heard Fitz voice over the radio. He was about to chide Klemens for bothering her, but decided against it. Klemens was riled enough anyway.

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

That last sentence was said while watching Klemens. If only they had a commissar present to deal with him officially, at the moment Klemens was heading for a nasty accident in his next firefight.

"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."

He looked at the others, crewmen and guardsmen alike.

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