Imperium Ascendant

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Death in Calixis

Date: 893.M30

Mankind was at war. A statement which is unfortunately applicable for the species' entire history. Proven even more true by the Great Crusade. Across the galaxy, a thousand battles were waged as the Imperium fought to reclaim humanity's birthright. Bolter rounds, ships, human lives, and every other resource of war flowed out of the Segmentum Solar. They fed the Imperial war machine as it slowly but steadily brought the galaxy to heel. Across the Imperium a sense of hope and new beginnings was palpable. News of victory after victory fed the people a steady stream of propaganda. After centuries of fear, mankind was starting to look up to the stars with something other than horror and trepidation. The old human spirit, the indomitable desire to conquer the cosmos, to understand its secrets and forge a better future, was returning. Something that had almost been stamped out of the species by Old Night.

For all its glorious purpose and benevolent tyranny, the Imperium used many of the tools reserved for cruel regimes. The control of information between systems a key example. Astropaths gave the Adeptus Administratum a near-total monopoly on communication. Information passed only between necessary hands, and any leak was squashed by the electrified cudgels of the Arbities. However, a particularly intelligent and observant citizen might be able to get a sense of the whole truth through what was missing. What were the Iterator Corps and Remembrancers recordings leaving out? An avid enjoyer of Imperial vox-casts might hear reports about battles and peaceful compliances from all across the Galaxy. From all areas except for one. Nobody talked about the far Galactic North. To an Imperial Citizen, it would be understandable to assume the Great Crusade had not reached that far-off region of space. An incorrect assumption, and one encouraged by the Imperium's propaganda apparatus.

A secret war was being waged in the haunted reaches of the Halo Stars. A war not meant for the histories or to be commemorated through art. The Imperium of Mankind and the Rangda Kindred were at War. Two great civilizations of equal power, both struggling to claim ownership of the Galaxy. Unlike the great battles against the Beasts of Ullanor, which exemplified powerful heroes driving back Xeno barbarians and making the Galaxy safe for humanity, the Rangda War was something much darker and fouler. A conflict that earned the title of Xenocide.

The Imperium had struck first against the Rangda Kindred a several solar years ago. The IX Legion, colloquially known as the Dawn Angels had reduced a major feeding world to ash and then pushed deeper into the Galactic North. Soon the VIII Legion, the Night Lords, joined the conflict. Both legions were known for their psychic foresight and brutality. They had been given a critical task by the Emperor. Buy time for the Imperium. With every world brought under the Aegis of Imperial rule, its war machine grew exponentially. Soon humanity would have the resources to fight two great wars simultaneously, crushing the two rival contenders for Galactic dominance. But 'soon', was not enough. Entire worlds were going dark as the Rangdan infection spread while millions of Astartes and mortal troops fought to secure Imperial Conquests and claim the Ullanor Beasts' heads.

It would take time for the Imperium to gather the needed strength and redirect its forces to face the Rangda as well as the Orks. Entire Legions were already committed to the Golgothan campaign, hoping to burn away the Orkish infestation before the Greenskins reached the next stage of their broken evolution. The necessity of fighting two galactic campaigns left the VIII and IX Legions with the difficult task of buying time for the Imperium to send them support. It was a task the sons of Dante and Konrad approached in different but related ways. The two Legions rampaged through the Halo Stars, attacking undefended Xeno worlds with a mixture of righteous fury and sadistic pragmatism. They left mauled worlds and wounded fleets in their wake by using their Primarch's and Astartes' precognitive talents to evade the Rangda's response. It was an incredibly risky strategy, committing nearly a tenth of the Imperiums Astartes to a series of raids in deep enemy territory.

This method of waging war to remind the Xeno what it was like to be afraid suited both Legions perfectly. Years of study into the biology, culture and psychology of the Rangda Kindred had produced mild results. The Xenobreed were profoundly Alien, even by Imperial standards. They were an Empire of symbiotic species descending from a common ancestor. An ancestor that is more closely aligned with Viruses than the multi-celled bacteria Terran life descended from, resulting in an entire Domain of organisms that existed beyond the already exotic norms of galactic life. The Rangda without exception followed their distant progenitor in many ways, chief among them their Parasitic nature.

It was poetic in a twisted way. Most every form of life across the Galaxy had spent their entire evolutionary history fighting Viruses. Fittingly the species capable of enslaving and exterminating all multicellular life was the ultimate product of some parody of life born of a Virus. This parasitic existence was what made the Rangda conflict unsuitable for propaganda or even public awareness. The Rangda Kindred did not have the decency to kill or conquer like other monstrous species. They infected and subverted with a level of skill only matched by the Dark Gods.

Entire worlds of peaceful humans, descendants of long-lost colonists existed in the Halo Stars. Left alone to exist and grow like Crops in a field. Completely unaware their existence was permitted only to provide fodder for hungry aliens. Aliens whose influence reached down into even the cellular and genetic level. Every world in the Halo Stars was suspect, every man, woman, child was infected. Existing as livestock cultivated over centuries. Ready to be consumed when the Rangda Empires worms burrowed out of the Warp and into their meal.

The Imperium would be forced to purge these populations, exterminate millions, perhaps billions in bio-pogroms. A terrible prospect that proved only part of the Rangda's horror. The Kindred gleefully unleashed terrors that combined the worst of organic, psionic and mechanical technologies. Even with the raiding tactics of the Night Lords and Dawn Angels, casualties had been heavy and every battle was difficult. While successful, the offense against the Rangda could not continue without resupply. It would still be years before the other five legions tasked with wiping out the Rangda would arrive in force. Years the VIII and IX had to put to good use, and more importantly survive.

So an Imperial forward presence had been established in Rangda space. Within a sector the old Maps and Navigator lore called Calixis. Its isolated nature and swaths of nebulas made it perfect for Imperial uses. Fast-moving supply convoys would enter a pre-arraigned system and make dead drops of equipment. That could be picked up by the VIII and IX Crusader Fleets surreptitiously. Unfortunately, not all tools of war could be trusted to such methods of transportation. Heavy armor, new Troops and ships required a proper rendezvous. Something dangerous both for the supply fleet and Crusader Fleet.

Stopping for even an isolated and short resupply would rob the Crusader Fleets of their chief advantage. The power of psychic foresight and the superior mobility of Imperial warp-drives granted the Legions a level of unpredictability and more importantly the ability to pick their battles wisely. If ambushed or cornered during a supply mission it would be disastrous for the Imperial forces.

Location: The Vindication, Night Lord Strike Cruiser in Expedition Fleet 89

Date: 893.M30

Expedition Fleet 89 had earned a reputation for pragmatism and efficiency in the face of extreme danger. Having braved the Corpse Spheres of Caotal, survived an encounter with Slaugth Feeder Ships and made contact with the besieged Knight World of Dark Haven. This history of surviving in the face of unexpected threats earned the Expedition Fleet the dubious honor of escorting needed supplies into the Calixis Sector. The Fleet was under orders to rendezvous with Crusader Fleet IX in the Dyatlov-Rho System. A young system near the spinward periphery of Calixis. Product of the nearby Nebulas. The Dyatlov-Rho System is infested with proto-planets and subject to powerful electromagnetic activity. Perfect for an Expedition Fleet to hide in while awaiting the IX.

After weeks of running dark, the Expedition Fleet arrived into the infant star system. Small by Fleet standards. EF-89 was stripped down to the bare necessities. A full military contingent and little else. Astartes and Armada ships protecting a flock of reinforcements for Crusader Fleet IX. A flock capable of protecting itself, considering its members included ships flying the Dawn Angel's flag and half a dozen Auxillia regiments. Even so, the Expedition Fleet's job was to ensure the reinforcements were fresh and accounted for when they joined up with the IX Legion.

The duty of organizing and commanding the overall fleet fell to Expedition Captain Vinnius-Gamma. A competent if unremarkable officer, who differed in many matters to his Astartes equivalent. Master Tiberiu Fenj of the Night Lords. A decorated veteran who earned the respect and fear of the Expedition Fleet a dozen times over. The Heavily scarred Terran native was considered largely responsible for EF-89 surviving its duel with Slaught vessels at the edge of the Gothic Sector. Officially Fenj was the commanding officer of the three thousand Astartes assigned to the Expedition Fleet.. Unofficially in matters of war and mobility the fleet;s officers listened to Fenj.

Master Fenj had originally only been in command of a single Chapter of Night Lord Astartes. The initial Astartes contingent for the Expedition Fleet The early mixed chapters of Expedition Fleets were becoming less common as the Great Crusade wore on. Difference in recruitment and the stretching logistics made the idealized balanced forces impractical. Still when the assignment to the Calixis sector came, so did Astartes reinforcements. By the time EF-89 departed Imperial space, three thousand Astartes served as the fleet's Space Marines. Two thousand Night Lords, three hundred Dawn Angels, and seven piecemeal companies assembled from the other eighteen legions.

Under the Chapter Master's command the swollen Expedition Fleet had made a series of Deep-void jumps when entering the Calixis sector. Entering realspace in the gaps between star-systems. Using the outer-dark to hide a steady methodical approach. Warp travel in space with Rangda influence was difficult. Spiritual currents shifted randomly and occasionally stopped. Forcing shorter dives into the Sea of Souls. But after months of cautious travel the Fleet arrived in Dyatlov-Rho.

Fenj and his inner circle stood aboard the bridge of The Vindication. Watching the mammoth warp-shutters open. Exposing the bloody void of the Dyatlov-Rho. The primordial forces of creation at work in the system colored the normal blackness of space. The guts of broken proto-planets melded with wispy clouds of cosmic gas. Creating an unsettling but beautiful painting of reds, yellows, and oranges. ȐÄΝՕᛒÊŜ

Scanning the void for an immediate threat the Nightlord Master growled "Status of Fleet? Did we lose anyone in that jump?"

After a moment a mortal comms officer piped up "All clear my lord. The Subtle Knife, and Blackwood are both out of formation from the jump but realigning themselves as we speak"

Nodding curtly the Astartes continued to growl out orders and request information: "I want a full Auger sweep of the system. Release a double complement of probes. This Star is stirring up a gale and I don't want any gaps in our sight. Keep our Plasma drives at low burn but make sure the Fleet is ready for a quick Warp jump if need be."

If you asked any Imperial citizen what they imagined a son of Konrad Cruze is like. The image they would paint for you would match up startlingly well with the reality of Tiberiu Fenj. Corpse-pale skin, haunting black eyes, features so sharp they seemed cruel, and a disturbing predatory air. The VIII Primarchs geneseed is strong and announces the purpose of the Night Lord Legion to all. To add to this image of a Lord of the Night, Fenj was one of the rare Astartes with old scars. A Slaugth necrotic blister had torn off part of the Fenj's face. The eldritch weapon burned off his left cheek, leaving his jaw and cheekbone exposed. Completing the picture of a officer in the Legion nicknamed "The Sons of Murder"

Turning away from the many-hued void, Fenj addressed one of the Astartes accompanying him aboard the bridge. "Brother-Librarian Nestor, what do you see?"

Slightly hunched over, with an apparent facial tick. The Librarian Nestoroi had the privilege and curse of inheriting their Genefathers gift for prophecy. While the ability to get flickers of precognitive insight is near-universal among the Night Lords. Some brothers hold a special talent in using this power. These Solomonari see into the future, at a cost to their body and mind.

Nestoroi peered out into the void, his oil-black eyes defocusing and a palsy flowed across his body. After a few moments of subtle twitching Nestoroi let out a hissing growl and frowned. Looking to his commander, the Solomonari spoke in a hushed whisper. "We must not tarry in this system, Fenj. This is a place of death and suffering. A battle will be fought here and much blood will be split into the crimson void. I cannot tell when the battle will occur, or even the victor. But in the future mankind and our enemies will clash here."

Fenj frowned and asked "Should we leave? We can hide in a nearby system and leave an encrypted nav buoy here. The Dawn Angels could find us and we might avoid whatever fate this system holds."

A moment of uncertainty and something darker appeared on Nestoroi's face. After a pause the Solomonari spoke: "No we must stay here but leave as soon as possible. The longer we hide in this ruptured womb of a Star system the more likely we meet a cruel fate. If we leave and hide in another system that will set other events into motion. Our Fleet might avoid the battle in this system. If the Dawn Angels arrive and must search to find us they will not"

Gritting his teeth, the Astartes Master flicked through the information being transmitted to his suits cogitator. Dyatlov-Rho was a maze of Proto-Planets, the last remnants of an Accretion Disk and a myriad of other stellar obstacles. The system would be a nightmare to conduct Void warfare in. Perfect for the Night Lords. Skulking about in the shadows, striking at weakness and running from the foe. This was the type of war the Night Lords had been built to wage. And why the Legion had been assigned alongside their more beatific cousins to prosecute this Shadow Crusade against the Rangda.

Weighing his options Fenj made his decision. He trusted Nestoroi's sight and he had his orders. They would stay in Dyatlov-Rho and await the Dawn Angels. Expedition Fleet 89 was on schedule and it should not be more than a few terran weeks before the IX Legion made its appearance. Even if the Rangda made an appearance, they would have time to escape the Xenos.

Data was sparse but Imperial Records had already documented Rangda Worm-Ships on numerous occasions. Horrible techno-organic vessels with the diameter of a moon, and stretching to lengths that defied physics. A Worm-Ship could punch its head into the Warp and burrow through the Sea of Souls before rentering the Materium at a desired location. With its tail end still floating in the realspace it started, the Worm-ship could "open up" turning itself into a tunnel through the Warp that provided fast and easy transport between two systems. Thankfully the process of worming between both sides of existence was time consuming and not exactly subtle.

If Imperial warp-drives could be compared to ships from the age of sail. Braving the Warps currents with the Astronomicon as their north-star. Then the Rangda Worm-Ships were bridges built in the Warp. Slower with a more limited range, but with the ability to move colossal fleets and objects with ease. Thankfully these bridges could not exist indefinitely. For once the madness of the Warp worked in mankind's favor. The churning tides of the Immaterium battering away at the Worm Bridges and eventually rupturing them with enough time and effort.

After a brief discussion with the Expedition Captain, and other pertinent officers, both Mortal and Astartes. Expedition Fleet 89 had a plan. They would wait for the IX Legion and fulfill their duty, but they would not wait ideally. The majority of the Fleet moved into the elemental murk surrounding a malformed planet near a Mandeville point. Hiding in the mess of gases, metals, lava, and electromagnetic interference. Meanwhile the Night Lords would do what they did best. Scouting the Dyatlov-Rho system and finding every possible way to use the star system to their advantage. Now came the part that had been tormenting soldiers since the oldest days of Ancient Terra. The waiting.

Location: The Vindication, Night Lord Strike Cruiser in the Dyatlov-Rho system.

Date: 893.M30 (Four Solar Months Later)

They had been cut off from the rest of the galaxy for four months. No Astropathic messages had arrived and there had been no response to any they sent. Which in itself was unusual but not terribly. This far away from the Segmentum Solar and the heart of the Imperium, the Astropathic network became frustratingly vague and unreliable. Mass soul-bindings were occurring nearly daily and it was still not enough to provide sufficient Choirs for mankind's growing empire. Even in the 30th millenia the Fog of War reigns supreme.

What was worrying and kept the men and women of Expedition Fleet 89 on edge was the fate of Crusader fleet IX. The Dawn Angels had not arrived and they had received no word or sign. The official Iterator line was the Warps Currents or a battle were delaying the Emperor's true Angels. An official position that became increasingly doubted as the weeks wore on. Astartes, Auxilia and other such beings of action were not meant to hide in the shadows awaiting what may come. It ran counter to the entire ethos of the Great Crusade. Striving out to face the galaxy and conquer it in humanity's name.

This existence of watching and waiting suited the Night Lords well. The Emperor had not designed them as soldiers, warriors or even beasts. The VIII were predators, and they knew it. Like any skilled predator they were content to wait for their prey and not make stupid choices. Especially when that predator senses something even more dangerous than itself. The Warps currents were proving unpredictable and increasingly erratic. Nestoroi and his fellow Librarians had spent much of the four solar months in careful observation. Working in consultation with the fleets most skilled Navigators to understand the strange eddies of the Immaterium.

It was a young Navigator of House Tordith who finally cracked the problem and nearly went mad in the process. The Navigator had peered into the Immaterium and tried to make sense of the rapidly changing currents. Going from terrible heights that threatened to form Warp Storms to unsettling calmness the likes of which only found beyond the galactic plane. The Expedition Fleets experienced Psykers had been looking for a pattern or point of context within the frame of the Warps natural movement. In his inexperience the Navigator of House Tordith took a different approach and stumbled onto a terrible insight.

He looked at the changing currents not as if they were shifting tides or disrupted formation, but if they were the wakes of Immaterial vessels. A skill all young Navigators were trained in and taught to focus on. The Warp's shifting was not the result of some Alien ritual, bizarre natural phenomenon or even the whims of Dark Gods. It was the effects of passing Leviathans. Truly massive things were moving through the Warp around them with disturbing regularity. Things of such presence in either mind or matter that the Warp bowed to their movements. Entire planets traveling through Worming tunnels like a Swine through a serpents belly. Godlings that could kill just by focusing their attention on petty human minds. Incomprehensible Alien things swam across the Halo Stars.

With this dreadful information it became painfully clear to Master Fenj that his options were limited. Whatever horrors waited in the Rangda's territory were not the sort of things mortal men could face. This was the realm of Gods and Monsters. A place where even a being like an Astartes was little more than a common soldier. So under his orders the Expedition Fleet would wait. Follow their orders and avoid the attention of whatever horrors drifted about in the Halo Stars. This decision had provoked arguments and actions that toed the line of insubordination. Almost daily a different representative of the Imperiums myriad institutions would come before Fenj. Arguing for different courses of action. To reach the rank of Chapter Master, Fenj had some experience and skill in these political games. Still he was no rhetorician son of Augustio and the XIII Legion. More used to debate halls than the battlefield. It distracted Fenj from his duties and it threatened Fleet cohesion.

The most recent petitioner to come before the Chapter Master was a Magos requesting permission to start a temporary extraction site on a mineral-rich moon on the far side of the system. Fenj listened to the Tech-Priest but found his mind wandering. He mentally took apart the heavily augmented Martian. Wondering what injuries would summon forth pain. Planning how he would break the mind and spirit of a being that had replaced most of its body with steel and plastic. It proved a pleasant distraction, a bad habit he had picked up to help with these meetings. He of course never acted on these little mental tangents. The officials who came before him rarely deserved the attention of the Emperors' Judge, Jury, and Executioners. On some level, the subject of this mentally simulated dissection could usually sense the predatory weight behind Fenj's eyes. It helped speed things along. An unsubtle tactic but an effective one still.

After fifteen minutes of Fenj's attention the Magos was starting to falter. Perfect, this Martian cyborg was not as removed from their emotions as many of their cult. Fenj bet within five minutes the Magos would be completely cowed and would not even object to his objection to the proposal. Setting up a void mine would bog down ships and resources that needed to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. Fenj did consider allowing the proposal simply to distract parts of the fleet. Deciding against it out of a sense of caution, and his own instincts. It would not be long now before something happened. A faint itch of anticipation gnawed at the back of the Chapter Masters mind, and he was not the only of his Legion feeling it. The instincts of a seasoned warrior are a valuable tool, especially ones gifted with traces of precognition.

The frantic whispers and increasing nervousness of Nesteroi and his fellow Solomonari confirmed it. They were hiding something, not something too strange among the occult circles of the Librarius. Yet whatever secrets they were privy to had them tense. They had shared the revelation about the Warp Currents, so another mystery was gnawing at the soothsayers minds. Fenj considered himself a patient man, a trait that his Legion favored and rejected in equal measure. That patience was running thin. He might need to corner Nesteroi and pull the secrets out of him. He doubted even the most erratic Solomonari would ignore a direct order free of any interpretation. Fenj would have the truth even if it required an ugly confrontation with a Brother he considered a friend.

A need for such a confrontation became nill a few seconds later. Fenj's Vox exploded with a dozen hails. The Chapter Master held up a large armored hand to the Magos, signaling them to pause. Fenj's worst suspicions were confirmed as he checked the Vox calls sources. They came from the Librarius, Astropathic Choir, Navigators, and every other warp-soaked Imperial institution. Before Tiberiu Fenj could tune in to a single hail, he felt something strike him in the very soul.

Waves of fractured visions and virtually incomprehensible thoughts hit Fenj. A seizure-inducing psychic misfiring that stunned the Astartes for a solid six seconds. By the time he regained focus, Fenj realized he was on his hands and knees. The Magos and a mortal attendant calling his name with a mixture of fright and shock. Pulling himself up, Fenj shook off a wave of Nausea that should have been impossible for him. Every communication device in his office was exploding with hails, status reports and emergency claxons. Centering himself Fenj listened for a moment and understood. His episode had not been random, the majority of Night Lords had suffered similar seizure-like episodes. Lasting a few seconds but debilitating. This was the blessing and curse of the VIII Legion. Geneseed was not meant to carry such a potent legacy of its Primarch. Even diluted and controlled, the terrible power of foresight could be catastrophic.

The normal precognitive insights of the Night Lords were never anything so grand. An instinct to dodge a surprise attack, unnatural familiarity with alien environments and similar hints of atemporal awareness. Rarely these abilities amounted to something more in the Solomonari and could be pulled forth in any Night Lords on the eve of disaster. In a seizure of warning like the one that gripped the fleet. This was the first time Fenj had experienced the terrible vision of the Solomonari, what he saw would haunt him for centuries. If he lived that long. The enemy was at the gates and there would be time for self-examination and shock if they survived.

A deep snarling growl escaped Fenj's throat and both mortals stepped back. Organic and mechanical eyes wide in terror. Ignoring them the Master pulled his helmet off its mag-clamp and put it on. Tapping into the fleet-wide command frequency and barking orders. "Night Lords! Our time has come, move to your assigned positions and prepare for combat. Cousins, Auxilia, and Mechanicum stay with the hidden fleet. You will shield them while we drive in the knife."

On a private channel he messaged the Dawn Angels' own commanding officers and the Expedition Captain. "Stay hidden until the enemy shows their hand. The Night Lords will keep them distracted and unable to commit to a proper hunt. However be prepared to leave the system and move towards the secondary or tertiary positions if need be."

Within minutes Fenj was back on the Vindications bridge and shouting for a status report. Auspex and Auger readings were in the clear so far but the Navigators were reporting extreme Warp disturbances. Immaterial madness that must settle before a reasonably safe Warp Jump could be initiated. The bow waves of an oncoming horror. A curse from the fetid Underhive Fenj had been born in, crossed his lips. Turning to the Bridge Crew the Astartes Master gave his command "They are coming from the occidental Mandeville point. Move us to position Gamma. Activate the inverted voids. We run dark today."

The crew obeyed and the rest of the Night Lord fleet fell in around the Vindication. They took their positions and waited. The Night Lords scattered themselves in hunter-squads across a squashed disk of gas and rock that might become a Gas Giant and its moons one day. Using the mess of a young star system to hide. The Vindication accompanied by a quartet of Cruisers and six escorts tucked itself behind a pair of Proto-Planets. A mismatched duo of celestial stones grinding into each other in a slow-motion impact. Here they would wait and watch.

It did not take long, Augers picked up the tell tale signs of Warp translation. Fenj had expected some great slit in space/time. Instead a smattering of smaller Warp Rifts opened. Staring at the tactical display, Fenj's eyes widened in shock. These were Imperial translation signatures. Soon close to a hundred ships bearing the telltale signs of Imperial design entered the Dyatlov-Rho system. Most in the light cruiser or escort weight class. With a single Battleship at the new fleet's heart. The newcomers' formation was shoddy, but quickly correcting. Bad jump or escaping a battle?

Soon a wideband Imperial hail erupted across the Void. A standard distress signal meant to attract friendly attention when there was little threat of enemy interception. The hail included a manifest of ships and basic information. Identifying the new fleet as Dawn Angel and Auxilia ships separated from the Crusader Fleet. This battlegroup had been forced to engage in an emergency Warp Jump. Fleeing the Rangda and eventually coming to Dyatlov-Rho looking for help.

Once the Warp Rifts fully shut the straggler fleet started to move towards the system center. Broadcasting its distress signal and scanning the system. Something about this raised Fenj's hackles. It felt false, like a lure twitching in logical intervals in hopes of snagging prey. They could send Cipher-codes along more secure channels to get confirmation of this Fleets identity. That carried its own risks of exposure. No, the best option was to wait. Let this flotsam and jetsam expose itself. If they were Imperial ships and didn't detect Expedition Fleet 89. Then they would repair and resupply before moving back towards Imperial space. If this was a trap, well the bait would keep dangling until the trapper got a bite or gave up. Either way, it was better not to risk exposing themselves.

Still more information would be useful, it was time to turn to more esoteric tools. Gesturing to a darkened corner of the Bridge, Fanj summoned Nestoroi. The Solomonari looked ragged, pale skin turned sallow, his hair greasy and stringy. With a wild-look in the soothsayers eyes. A look Fenj had seen before. The eyes of a man who stared into the abyss and felt its pull. A common sight among the elder Solomonari. Twitching slightly Nestoroi approached his Brother and gave a sad little smile.

"I take it you and many of our Brothers have a newfound empathy for my order Master Fenj?" asked Nestoroi. Showing a hint of humor Fenj had not seen in his friend in decades.

A tightening of muscles that could be called both smile and grimace crossed Fenj's ruined face. "Indeed old friend, now onto business. What do you sense from our new arrivals?"

Fenj had expected Nestoroi to focus his powers out into the void. Anticipating the tell-tale chill of psychic techniques, maybe even a few etheric sparks to light up his friends Librarian Hood. Instead he got a near instantaneous reply.

"Fear, I sense so much fear. It radiates off those ships like a stinking cloud. The type of fear that breeds madness and turns men into animals."

Silence fell across the Bridge as the Librarian's words settled. Another pained smile crossed the Psykers face and he took a deep steadying breath. Then Fenj felt a lance of familiar thought strike his mind. He let it pass his barriers and accepted the telepathic connection from Nostoroi.

+ "I'm sorry Tiberiu. You trusted me to guide you for decades. A trust I have betrayed over the last few months. I will not ask for your forgiveness or mercy, just that you understand when things become clear." +

Momentary shock filled Fenj as he looked into his Battle-Brother's eyes. Hints of resignation and exhaustion danced behind the Soothsayers wild sight. No questions could be asked, no answers pulled forth. As a great welling of psychic pressure pushed on the minds of every human, mortal or augmented in Expedition Fleet 89. The mysterious Imperial Fleet had not been the source of the Warp disturbances the fleets Psykers had picked up. They never could have been. They were the school of fish fleeing before the coming Leviathan. Fenj and his officers had turned their attention to the threat of the Fleet and the Worm had slithered in.

Fenj had never seen a Rangda Worm-Ship. Only read dry battle-reports. He'd imagined a great cut in the Void that let the Worm's head enter realspace like a suture through flesh. In retrospect he realized that was far too clean for the Rangda Kindred. At the heart of the Mandeville point the Imperial fleet had arrived. Space/Time bulged. The fabric of existence was pushed against by some invisible force. Fenj watched as the light of distant stars bent around the insistent force attempting to penetrate the Materium. Shifting and wriggling, the defect in reality was pulled taught. Light and gas smeared among the intruding form, before the certainty of the Materium gave way.

It made no sound of course, but every soul-bearing being in Dyatlov-Rho heard it. A sickening squelching rip. Accompanied by a chorus of pained screams from throats that defied the petty laws of physics and biology. Existence tore open like a burst cyst as a monumental shape pushed its way into realspace. Clouds of etheric ichor spewed out into the void, a thousand laughing Daemonic faces visible on the spiritual discharge. Writhing shapes clung onto the Worms head as it pushed its way forward. Melting off the Rangda horror as the dread certainty of the Materium asserted itself.

Unobscured by the wriggling byproducts of the Warp, the Worm came into view. Fenj had faced many horrors in his years of service. His dreams still carried flickers of the Slaugth's malice. Fenj had been part of fleets ordered to reduce worlds to ash, he personally had liberated the Meat-Pits of the Sonorous Hierarchy. Taking time to ensure the creators of those horrors were the last offering to their sick artistry. Those events somehow paled in comparison to the thing before him. It was a Worm, no better way to describe it. With the diameter of a planet. The Worm did not ooze the lunatic-malice of Chaos or show signs of creative evil. Hypno-indoctrinated data flicked through Fenj's mind. Of the myriad of parasitic vermiforms that tormented life across the galaxy. Creatures that burrowed under skin, into muscle and brain. Laying eggs and eating their host from the inside out. Perfectly adapted by evolution to function in a horrible way. What stuck through the still bleeding puncture in Space/Time was the God of those pestilent worms.

A colossal god that wriggeled through the flesh of reality. The product of science and sorcery that no human mind would ever dream of. This was an Alien horror in all sense of the word. Something outside human context or comprehension. Even the evils of Chaos were more familiar than this. Twisted reflections warped into a profane existence by ancient sins. Fenj found himself at a loss for description or context. The single word kept repeating inside his mind.

"Alien"

The mysterious Imperial fleet found itself exposed. Caught in the open void with the Worm adjusting its titanic form. Easing its way further into Reality, extending fleshy hooks capped by polished black stone into the wound it had created. Anchoring the Worm and keeping it steady. The Imperials opened fire as they accelerated toward the Star of Dyatlov-Rho. Macro-cannons and Lances rained death upon the Worm. The Vindication's sensors reported the barrage hit but with no observable effect. Shields or more esoteric Alien trickery at work.

Still the fleet fled. They would soon be close to the elements of EF-89 hiding near the far Mandeville point. A flicker of worry crossed Fenj's mind. Would one of the other commanders of the non-Night Lord ships be foolish enough to expose themselves? Hoping to aid the running fleet, even at the cost of the element of surprise. No, Fenj thought not. Fear would keep them to their orders. If there's one thing the Night Lords understand, it is fear and how to use it.

The Worm brought his focus back to it as its head swelled up. Great sphincter of flesh and plastic released and the Worm's maw opened. Splitting the alien leviathans head open. Strange Auger readings flooded the sensors. Long spindly ships with trailing tentacles and bulbous bulls flowed from the Worms mouth. Ships made of metal that twitched and moved like living flesh. Gliding through the Void like parodies of Terran Gelatinous Fish. Rangda War-barques. At least thirty had already exited the Worm and the flow of Xeno ships showed no sign of stopping.

Turning to the Librarian Nostoroi, Fenj growled: "You will explain what you have done, or by the Throne, I will end you myself Nostoroi. Till then we have our duty. Let us learn if these Rangda can feel fear."

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