Chapter VII: Renewed
The convoy threw up a cloud of purplish ash as it drew towards the crash site. Two Chimera Transports and a brace of Armoured Sentinels trundled towards the burning scattered wreckage that lay between two large rock formations. A long furrow had been gouged in the earth where the shuttle had impacted, and the path was strewn with debris. A Chimera and Sentinel each ground to a halt at either end of the trail of destruction.
Brother Lek stomped down the descending ramp of the Chimera that had stopped nearest the initial point of impact. It was dark, the only light came from his suit lamp and from the twisted and burning metal that littered the ground. The searchlight on the Chimera swung around to try to illuminate the gouge torn in the earth. There was little left, most of the pieces here were of the wings, torn away from the main fuselage as the craft had ripped itself apart. Suddenly the illumination increased considerably as a Valkyrie gunship flew overhead before settling into a circling hover pattern, a powerful spotlight casting its beam in a sweeping arc across the crash site. Lek looked up as it moved, calculating the doomed shuttle's path
An overhead crystal outcrop had been shattered, jagged spikes testament to the damage wrought upon it. Shards littered the area and some of them had impaled themselves deep into the surrounding rock such was the violence of the destruction. Clearly the shuttle had hit this first and the impact had it had altered its trajectory enough to result in a horizontal slide rather than a meteor like impact into the earth. This was the only thing that had prevented the shuttle from being utterly obliterated on impact. The shuttle had then hit the ground on one side and a wing had been torn off, the vessel then cartwheeling along, losing the other wing and shedding pieces of its hull, ripping itself apart as it went.
Lek kicked a piece of smouldering wreckage aside, there was little debris here that was big enough to have to be investigated but they had been instructed to look for a body. Were they doing the search for appearances sake or were they actually meant to bring the body back? That was for the Magus to decide. Lek could see His Yellow robed form a few hundred foot away, directing the other search team. Comprised mostly of 3rd Generation hybrids they were a little more brutish and less independent but they were truer to the vision of the four armed Emperor and therefore blessed and holy. He could see them flipping over pieces of wreckage, silhouetted by the flames. Another group nearby were gesticulating wildly and the Valkyrie moved to cover them with the spotlight, Ganvan strode over to their position and Lek broke into a run to join them.
As he approached he could see what had agitated the Thirds, Though there was no single piece of the shuttle left large enough to be called intact, the spread of wreckage did include some larger pieces of fuselage and interior partially covered in the strange grey/purple ash. Seats were strewn across the ground. One of them was still occupied.
The pilot worked it's jaw and what remained of it's right arm spasmodically. Various fluids leaked from tubes and ruined flesh, intermingling on the floor and soaking into the dark ash, congealing and solidifying. Like the shuttle there was very little of the pilot left and it was only the extensive augmentations and bionics that meant it was still alive at all. Alive might be have been the wrong term, functioning might be more accurate. In any event, it wasn't in that state for long, at a nod from the Magus a hulking Third ripped the pilot's body from the seat and harness in a gush of blood and lubricants. Holding the stricken cyborg aloft in its claws the Third savagely blew the helpless pilot's head apart with a burst of fire from it's auto pistol before tossing the ravaged remains aside with a guttural snarl. No survivors it was to be then. The Magus nodded approvingly and turned to face Lek as the Valkyrie made another looping pass with it's searchlights.
"Well?" He swept his Staff in a wide arc encompassing the crash site, "any sign?"
Lek swallowed hard, though he did not fear the Magus, it simply galled and pained him to disappoint such a venerated figure. He bowed his head before replying.
"My humblest apologies Holy One. No sign of the human, but given the completeness of destruction of the transport it is unlikely that anything significant could be found." He raised his head once more to meet the Magus's piercing stare as he replied.
"Take no chances, continue the search and ensure that you are thorough. We need to be sure. We cannot afford a repeat of the incident in the mine. It is not time yet." Ganvan's eye's glinted, leaving no illusion as to what he meant. He abruptly turned and stalked away, a Sentinel coming to a halt to allow his passage. He boarded the Chimera accompanied by a guard of Thirds, the ramp closed and the tracked transport ground its way through the ash and departed, leaving Lek in charge of the search operation. Standing framed by fire, Lek swore that he would not fail as he had with the previous human visitor. He strode back over to his squad to organise the search.
*
The convoy threw up a cloud of purplish ash as it drew towards the crash site. Two Chimera Transports and a brace of Armoured Sentinels trundled towards the burning scattered wreckage that lay between two large rock formations. A long furrow had been gouged in the earth where the shuttle had impacted, and the path was strewn with debris. A Chimera and Sentinel each ground to a halt at either end of the trail of destruction.
Brother Lek stomped down the descending ramp of the Chimera that had stopped nearest the initial point of impact. It was dark, the only light came from his suit lamp and from the twisted and burning metal that littered the ground. The searchlight on the Chimera swung around to try to illuminate the gouge torn in the earth. There was little left, most of the pieces here were of the wings, torn away from the main fuselage as the craft had ripped itself apart. Suddenly the illumination increased considerably as a Valkyrie gunship flew overhead before settling into a circling hover pattern, a powerful spotlight casting its beam in a sweeping arc across the crash site. Lek looked up as it moved, calculating the doomed shuttle's path
An overhead crystal outcrop had been shattered, jagged spikes testament to the damage wrought upon it. Shards littered the area and some of them had impaled themselves deep into the surrounding rock such was the violence of the destruction. Clearly the shuttle had hit this first and the impact had it had altered its trajectory enough to result in a horizontal slide rather than a meteor like impact into the earth. This was the only thing that had prevented the shuttle from being utterly obliterated on impact. The shuttle had then hit the ground on one side and a wing had been torn off, the vessel then cartwheeling along, losing the other wing and shedding pieces of its hull, ripping itself apart as it went.
Lek kicked a piece of smouldering wreckage aside, there was little debris here that was big enough to have to be investigated but they had been instructed to look for a body. Were they doing the search for appearances sake or were they actually meant to bring the body back? That was for the Magus to decide. Lek could see His Yellow robed form a few hundred foot away, directing the other search team. Comprised mostly of 3rd Generation hybrids they were a little more brutish and less independent but they were truer to the vision of the four armed Emperor and therefore blessed and holy. He could see them flipping over pieces of wreckage, silhouetted by the flames. Another group nearby were gesticulating wildly and the Valkyrie moved to cover them with the spotlight, Ganvan strode over to their position and Lek broke into a run to join them.
As he approached he could see what had agitated the Thirds, Though there was no single piece of the shuttle left large enough to be called intact, the spread of wreckage did include some larger pieces of fuselage and interior partially covered in the strange grey/purple ash. Seats were strewn across the ground. One of them was still occupied.
The pilot worked it's jaw and what remained of it's right arm spasmodically. Various fluids leaked from tubes and ruined flesh, intermingling on the floor and soaking into the dark ash, congealing and solidifying. Like the shuttle there was very little of the pilot left and it was only the extensive augmentations and bionics that meant it was still alive at all. Alive might be have been the wrong term, functioning might be more accurate. In any event, it wasn't in that state for long, at a nod from the Magus a hulking Third ripped the pilot's body from the seat and harness in a gush of blood and lubricants. Holding the stricken cyborg aloft in its claws the Third savagely blew the helpless pilot's head apart with a burst of fire from it's auto pistol before tossing the ravaged remains aside with a guttural snarl. No survivors it was to be then. The Magus nodded approvingly and turned to face Lek as the Valkyrie made another looping pass with it's searchlights.
"Well?" He swept his Staff in a wide arc encompassing the crash site, "any sign?"
Lek swallowed hard, though he did not fear the Magus, it simply galled and pained him to disappoint such a venerated figure. He bowed his head before replying.
"My humblest apologies Holy One. No sign of the human, but given the completeness of destruction of the transport it is unlikely that anything significant could be found." He raised his head once more to meet the Magus's piercing stare as he replied.
"Take no chances, continue the search and ensure that you are thorough. We need to be sure. We cannot afford a repeat of the incident in the mine. It is not time yet." Ganvan's eye's glinted, leaving no illusion as to what he meant. He abruptly turned and stalked away, a Sentinel coming to a halt to allow his passage. He boarded the Chimera accompanied by a guard of Thirds, the ramp closed and the tracked transport ground its way through the ash and departed, leaving Lek in charge of the search operation. Standing framed by fire, Lek swore that he would not fail as he had with the previous human visitor. He strode back over to his squad to organise the search.
*
Some distance away, weary and pained eyes watched the crash site activity though they could not make out any details. Carn didn't know how he was still alive. He had been thrown far from the site of the crash, landing in soft ash rather than hard rock and somehow escaping the conflagration of the shuttle's demise. There was no wreckage around him. It was dark and he was more or less invisible, not least because he was covered in purplish ash. Nonetheless, he had not escaped entirely unscathed. At least three of his ribs were broken and one arm hung uselessly by his side, his shoulder dislocated. He would have to take care of that at some point. Blood and ash also covered his face and he had a number of minor lacerations to his torso and arms. However, from what he could see of the wreckage of the shuttle it was nothing short of a miracle that he had survived. Truly the Emperor Protects, he thought, mentally reciting a prayer of thanks to the Master of Mankind. Through a haze of pain he watched the indistinct figures go about their search. He'd seen one transport depart and now only one remained accompanied by two walkers and a couple of flyers circling the crash site.
Sprawled in the side of an ash dune Carn contemplated his next move. Injured and suffering from shock there was no way he could take any kind of immediate action. In addition his continued survival even should he remain undiscovered was by no means guaranteed. Aside from natural predators that might hunt him he had no supplies and no idea where he was. The Emperor may have saved him from certain death in the crash but it would be up to Carn himself to continue to stay alive. He resolved there and then however, that he would not spurn the Emperor's gift, he would not waste His benevolence and e would make the most of the miracle he had been granted.
Wincing, he sat up and reached inside his jacket with his good arm, feeling for the data slate. He pulled the slab from his pocket, gratified that there was no obvious damage, though it was so dark that he could not see much in any case. After turning it over in his hand a few times feeling for any major damage he was satisfied that somehow it had survived largely intact, though it was obviously scratched and battered from its calamitous journey. He elected not to thumb the activation rune lest the telltale light betray his position, He would have to check it's functionality later. He slipped the slate back into his pocket and as he shifted position the sudden pain from his wounds made him pass out and he slumped back into the ash and dust with a dull thud.
It was daylight when Carn awoke, blearily blinking ash and dust from his eyes. The periodic ash storms that beset Worth had left even more of him covered than before and he actually had to dig himself out, prying clumps of blood soaked purplish ash from his person. He was stiff and sore but at least he could move. The search party were long departed and the wreckage of the shuttle little more than smouldering debris in the distance but he was careful with his movements nonetheless, partly for fear of drawing attention to himself and partly from necessity due to his damaged frame. He slowly extracted himself from the ash and dirt and groggily got to his feet, grimacing as his various pains intensified. Upright at last and granted light to see by, he surveyed his surroundings;
He stood in a small clearing among pillars of igneous rock and crystals, walled off by a mighty formation of Basalt. indeed the entire area was almost entirely inaccessible save for a gap up between rock formations no more than ten foot across. The odds for him to be hurled from the crash through that small space were beyond calculation, a few foot to either side and his death would have been a certainty. He looked up and bought his undamaged arm across his eyes to protect himself from the glare of the suns. As he did so the Aquila charm glinted across his field of vision, dangling from his wrist. He bought his arm back down and inspected the golden charm. He didn’t remember looping it around his wrist but there it was, more puzzlingly the chain was fused. He likely could break it but something told him that wasn’t a good idea. He looked up at the gap in the rocks again and the floor around him. The suns rays filtering through the gap formed a crude but distinct Aquila on the dusty ground. The charm keened, echoing off of the walls, resonating in the crystals, piercing his soul.
Alistae Carn had never been the most pious of men. He dutifully worshipped the God Emperor of Man as all good Imperial citizens did, but it was rote, more as an autonomous indoctrinated impulse rather than a deliberate and heartfelt act. His obeisance was as unthinking to him as breathing, an everyday observation. In an instant all of that changed. He crashed to his knees, ignoring the pain shooting through his body. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he gave himself to the Emperor utterly in a way that he had never thought was possible, body and soul immediately surrendered to His will. He wept as he gave thanks for his deliverance and continued protection under His Aegis. For Carn knew in that moment that he had purpose, divine purpose, and he would not fail in his given task. He swore to this in all that he was. Framed by the Aquila of divine light and fuelled by Holy intent, Alistae Carn was born renewed.
VIII: Ash and Blood.
Getting to his feet once more, Carn assessed his condition. He had a large gash in his forehead and half his face was covered in blood, though the wound seemed to have healed. He also had a number of lacerations to his entire body, most of which were minor and clotted with ash. As he had suspected he had a number of broken ribs and upon lifting his tunic he was alarmed at the lurid bruises and subdermal bleeding that greeted him. In addition his shoulder was severely dislocated, such that he couldn’t reset it himself. He tried, leaning on rocks and crystals to gain leverage but it seemed to be firmly locked out of place. Weak as he was he had no chance of correcting the injury. His overcoat was a tattered ruin, torn, scorched and ripped. It was a miracle that the dataslate had fared as well as it had. He removed it and tore the remainder of the garment to shreds, kneeling upon it to allow him to perform the task with one hand. He deftly tore the coat into strips, using some to bind wounds and some to wrap around his head as a hood. Worth’s environment was hostile at the best of times and he would need the protection from the suns. He kept a few scraps to wrap around the data slate to protect it. He needn’t have worried about it betraying his position, it resolutely refused to activate despite him cleaning it as best he could. It seemed largely undamaged but it just wouldn’t power on. Carn suspected it was out of energy, either that or the simple Machine Spirit within was disquieted and refused to comply. Carn was no Techpriest and lacked the devotions or unguents to repair the slate, he would simply have to connect it to a power supply and hope for the best.
Of course, getting to one would be difficult. It was a certainty that the wreckage would be of no use to him, though he was bound to check it anyway. He had no food, no water and no medical supplies. All he had was his new found faith and that would have to be enough. Making a simple strap from strips he had torn, he fastened the pocket he had salvaged from his coat and tied the ends. With his makeshift satchel containing the precious dataslate he staggered towards the crash site to see what he could salvage. As he walked he realised that his right ankle was damaged too, hopefully nothing more than a sprain. Nonetheless it would make his progress slow and painful. Determinedly he continued, focusing on the wreckage of the shuttle and setting one foot in front of the other heading towards his destination a few hundred metres away.
So preoccupied was he on his target he quite failed to notice the ash shifting behind him, following him as he walked…
*
The crash site was even worse than he could have imagined. The destruction of the shuttle notwithstanding, the search party had been thorough indeed in their hunt for survivors. Debris had been ripped apart, scattered and in some cases destroyed entirely, molten puddles testament to their fervent search. There was little left, his would be killers had seen to that. No medical supplies and no food or water, clearly they had intended that should Carn somehow have survived the crash he would die out in the ash wastes. Not that anyone could have imagined that he would have lived through such an event. Still, Carn did not pretend to know how the minds of the impure worked and did not wish to. Sifting through the charred remains and still warm smouldering metal of the hull he found his chest holster, empty and ruined beyond any hope of being able to use it again. Despairingly he tossed
Erupting from the ground from behind Carn it fastened its many fanged maw on his shoulder and injected its numbing venom, attempting to wrap its body around Carn and haul him to the floor. Carn, weary beyond measure, tried to turn and dislodge his attacker but had neither the strength or momentum to do so. He was lucky It was only a juvenile, had it been an adult Worm he would be dead already and dragged beneath the surface to be slowly consumed. Nonetheless, in his weakened condition he was in a fight for his life. Already the soporific effects of the creature’s bite were spreading through his body and he could feel his limbs becoming leaden and his senses dull. He fumbled with his good arm for the knife he kept in his boot, though he had no way of knowing if it was still in there. The worm, thrashing about, wrapped a coil round his trailing leg, tripping him. He hit the ground on top of the serpentine predator and rolled away lest his attacker try to constrict him further. He sensed his flesh tear at the shoulder, though there was no pain thanks to the numbing agent in the worm’s venom, but the creature's grip on him remained firm.
Summoning his last vestiges of inner strength, Carn pushed himself to his feet, kicking his leg free. With the Worm hanging from his shoulder, writhing and trying to gain a fatal grip on him, he hurled himself backwards into the piece of hull that he had hurled the bottle of Skee into. The impact pushed the debris back and he fell on his rump awkwardly. The Ashworm, crushed between the hull and Carn's body, writhed and squirmed in an effort to free itself. Carn leaned forward to try to get to his feet but his legs failed him. He managed to push forward with one last herculean effort just as the hull sheeting toppled. The piece of metal had been supporting another section of wreckage and this fell, impaling the worm scant inches from Carn’s body. The jagged metal cut deep and the Worm’s ichor splashed on the surrounding ground, a cloying and sickly sweet smell filling the air. Pinned to the earth the Worm's struggles grew weaker and weaker as it’s lifeblood pooled into the ash. Finally it stopped moving and hung limply from his shoulder, its grip loosening at last.
Shaking as the adrenaline left his system, Carn reached up and prised the dead worm’s teeth from his shoulder. It fell to the floor with a thud and he cautiously moved away from it though it remained quite motionless. It was then that he realised he was supporting his weight on both arms. He gingerly lifted his bad arm and rotated it at the shoulder, even if there were any pain he wouldn’t have felt it thanks to the venom but it moved easily enough. He surmised that the force of the Worm’s bite had somehow put the joint back into place, truly the Emperor worked in mysterious ways. Even the blood streaming from his shoulder had slowed and congealed. Furthermore he now had a form of sustenance. Reaching once more into his boot he was gratified to feel his knife after all and pulled it out to start sawing hunks of meat from the Ash Worm, deftly avoiding the venom glands. The skin and flesh was tough but the knife sharp and equal to the task. Carn devoured the first couple of strips raw, gulping down the juicy meat, ichor running down his chin, mingling with the blood and ash. Further slabs of flesh he laid on the metal shard that had killed the worm, in the heat it would cook, or at least dry, quickly.
With a dozen strips laid out on the hull he arose from the butchered carcass of the Ashworm and scanned the horizon. Much of the surrounding area was rocky mesa but it was not hard to see which direction the convoy had gone, the transports tracks were deep and even the ash storms had failed to completely cover them. He would simply follow them till he got to their final destination, Emperor willing. Kneeling once more by the remains of the Ashworm he continued to flense and skin the creature constructing a pouch from a portion of the skin to house the meat in. As an afterthought he totally removed the skin from the carcass and wrapped it round him like a shawl, with any luck the smell might deter other predators and at worst it would provide a little extra protection from the elements. A final survey of the area found little else of use other than a metal strut he could use as a walking stick/weapon and a charred piece of fabric which he wrapped around his shoulders. He imagined that he looked quite the horror now but he had never been a particularly vain or proud man, and besides, now he had a higher purpose. During his final search he also came across the ragged remnants of the pilot, barely recognisable as a figure, little more than hunks of pulped flesh and metal tubes. Carn regarded the tattered ruin; his newfound piety compelled him to solemnly voice a heartfelt prayer for the soul of the pilot, ushering him into the glorious embrace of the Emperor, beloved by all. Possibly a benediction to the Machine God that they worshipped would have been more apt but Carn knew little of such things and besides, he’d heard tell they were one and the same anyway. This was a comfort to him, there was only the one almighty immortal God Emperor, any other concept was the foulest heresy.
It was late, well into the second cycle as Carn reckoned it, It was still light and hot though. Travelling a long distance at night would be ill advised, no matter the preparations he had made. He had best make a start. He stood up, testing the weight on his leg and supporting himself on the metal stanchion. There was some pain, which was likely a good sign, indicating that the Ashworm’s venom was wearing off. With one final check of his provisions, garb and equipment (including making sure the dataslate was secure and protected) he set off. As he reached the edge of the debris field, using his improvised staff to gain purchase and lean upon, his foot kicked something, dislodging it from the ash where it was buried. Carn looked down. The item was still mostly covered but he could just about see glinting gilt scrollwork and the letters ‘ore Imper’ partially obscured by purplish grey ash and dust. Tears filled his eyes as he knelt down to retrieve Emperor's Fury and gave thanks once again to the Emperor of Mankind.
IX: A Violent Ingress
It was three days (such as Worth reckoned them) later that Carn approached Endomaw mine. His path had diverged from the convoy's tracks some time ago but he had followed the tank treads far enough to be able to see the plumes of industrial waste in the distance and the City of Endomaw in the direction of the tracks. He knew there were no answers to be found in that metropolis. No it was the mine in which Larkarsky had chanced upon whatever it was that so desperately being hidden. His task, his Holy appointed task, was to uncover it and expose it to the Emperor’s light. He would not fail. He had made good progress, fuelled by divine purpose and Ashworm meat, travelling during the day and fitfully resting at night, plagued by dreams and visions. Only once had he had to fire Emperor’s Fury to dissuade a stalking quadruped predator lean of frame and lank of fur that had stalked him one dusk with glowing feral eyes. A warning shot had been enough to drive off the opportunistic hunter and it had not returned.
On the second day he had come across one of the rare copses on Worth, a grove of strange purplish trees shooting up between crystal formations. Though he had Ashworm meat to spare it was of little succulence by now and he sampled the fronds and leaves cautiously. Most were so bitter as to be unpalatable but he had eventually found a growth that had yielded a sweet nectar that quenched his thirst. He had lopped off some extra stalks with his knife and taken them with him. He had also taken some branches in the hope that he might be able to produce a campfire but alas they proved to be entirely non combustible and he had to endure the bitterly cold nights huddled and shivering. Still, endure he did, triumphing against the elements and hardships, conquering the terrain and inhospitable environment, and now, NOW his destination was in sight.
He crouched behind a boulder on a rocky bluff slightly overlooking the mining complex. He had never been to Endomaw but he had studied the plans that had been made available. Unlike those of the city these still seemed to be mostly accurate, at least above ground. Carn had no illusions that subterranean developments would have altered the underground layout drastically. For now though, he needed a point of ingress. Lacking any type of mag scope he had to rely on his own eyes but thankfully he had gotten used to the frequent ash storms and squalls and could see through the clouds of dust around the complex. There! A utility entrance, and only monitored by a single guard. Carn watched him for the next couple of hours, hoping to establish a patrol pattern he might exploit but the guard largely kept to his post, departing only for a moment to relieve his bladder against a nearby wall. Carn became resigned to the fact that he was going to have to kill the sentry. He grimaced, he would have much preferred to sneak in without resorting to violence. Not for regard for the guard’s life, he was the enemy and therefore deserving of such a fate. Besides, Carn had killed before, albeit not for some time. No, it was simply a matter of efficiency. He did not want to have to hide a body and there was the chance that the missing guard might be noticed or the alarm might be raised when he failed to call in.
There appeared to be no choice however, and he prepared himself for the seemingly inevitable confrontation. First he discarded the wrappings that he had cloaked himself in, Scorched cloth, Ashworm hide, tatters of overcoat, all were discarded and placed in a pile at the top of the bluff. After all, there was no guarantee they would not be needed again. He tore off the ragged sleeves of his shirt and made sure Emperor’s Fury was secure in his waistband. His leg had healed somewhat and he had been able to rid himself of his metal crutch the previous evening, he had considered keeping it as it made a formidable club, but his knife was more subtle a killing tool than a metal bludgeon and he was glad to be rid of the weight. Sporting only his improvised satchel, which he securely tied to his chest, and his weapons, he slowly descended the rock face. It was not a perilous or particularly lengthy descent and within a few minutes he was crouched on the ground behind a formation of crystals. He regarded the sentry; the guard seemed slight and though Carn was no longer young he was powerful and had no concerns about besting the guard in a fight. The trick was to make the fight as quick and quiet as possible. A length of large industrial piping would allow him to close within striking distance, although he would not be able to take the guard totally unawares. He would have to hope that the element of surprise and the Emperor’s grace would prove enough for him to triumph. Before he made his move he drew his knife and made a swift short incision on each forearm, he squeezed the wounds to maximise the produced blood and smeared it all over his arms. He then coated them in ash. The cuts stung as he rubbed the ash into the blood but the desired effect was attained. He knew his face was still covered in ash and blood but where he had removed his sleeves his bare arms, though dirty, were showing far too much flesh that might divulge his position. Now thus camouflaged he was ready.
Taking advantage of a sudden ash cloud he crawled towards the cluster of piping. Keeping a low profile he progressed along the side of the pipe until he closed within four foot of the sentry. Looking between the pipes he could see his target more clearly. Wearing a mining suit and lackadaisically carrying a poorly maintained lasrifle he nonetheless determinedly performed his duty, maintaining a dutiful vigilance. The guard wore a yellow bandanna over his face, presumably to keep the ash out, and stooped slightly, suggesting some deformation. There was a power to the way that he carried himself however and Carn revised his earlier assessment of the ease of the coming combat. The pipe lay between him and the guard and he would either have to crawl under it or go over the double length of piping to attack. Going under would be slow and leave him far too vulnerable. Mounting the piping would prove no easy task though, especially attempting to do so quietly. He looked back along the way he had come, noting where the piping curved and ran along the building that the utility door led to. He carefully crawled back along the pipe and then pulled himself up on top, hauling himself up as quietly as he could, Crouching on top of the pipe he crept back along to his previous position, going slowly so as to maintain his balance. Before long he was near his original position, though he dared not get quite as close for fear of being spotted atop his perch. He was about ten foot away, slightly behind the guard and entirely visible. A leaping attack was out of the question, even in his prime Carn would have been unable to make the distance. He removed his boots carefully, placing the knife between his teeth. Leaving his heavy footwear atop the pipes he lowered himself carefully to the ground. Absolute silence was impossible, Carn was a big man after all, but he managed to descend without the guard noticing. He was thankful he cast no shadow betraying his movement. There were shadows at the foot of the piping however and he now crouched in these, considering his next move. The door was too far away for him to reach and the odds of him doing so without the guard noticing were zero. He began to slowly edge towards the guard, leaving the sanctuary of the shadows and holding the knife low in one hand so as to keep it out of the light.
Suddenly he froze as the guard turned slightly, cocking his head. Carn contemplated a knife throw but his skill in such things was a far cry from that in his youth. Instead he tensed like a coiled spring, ready to launch himself at the guard should he be made. Thankfully the guard halted just short of seeing Carn and muttered something, bringing his free hand up to his head and cradling his lasrifle in his other arm. He was obviously reporting in, there would likely not be a better time than this. Carn waited for the sentry to finish his communique and then as he turned back Carn crept forward the final few feet. At that moment fate changed. A squall of ash saw the guard spin around to protect his face and suddenly his eyes widened as he saw Carn crouching in front of him. Carn resorted to the knife throw in desperation but as he had feared it was inaccurate and glanced off the guard, the knife spinning into the dirt. The guard went to raise his rifle to firing position but Carn launched forward and lashed out with a sweeping kick, toppling the sentry and knocking the rifle from his grasp. Carn looked to follow this up with a elbow to the guard's windpipe, ending the fight quickly, but the sentry was more agile than Carn had credited and rolled to the side, avoiding the blow. He went to activate his comm but Carn delivered a precision chop which disabled the device and tore away the face mask. The guard responded by hurling Carn away from him and with the few seconds bought got to his feet. Carn stood as well and the two combatants regarded each other.
Carn was aghast at the visage of his opponent, where he had torn away the face mask exposed was no human face but rather the features of some beast. The nose was more of snout and the snarling mouth showed pointed fangs rather than teeth. What heresy was this? What den of depravity and horror did the mine contain? He must find out, bring it to the Emperor's light and see it burned to purity. First though, he would have to contend with this guard. He launched himself at the loathsome figure with both fists knotted, intending a critical double handed uppercut blow. It never landed, once again with an ease belying his awkward frame the guard swayed to the side, avoiding Carn's strike. Carn had been expecting this however, and the telegraphed blow was in part a feint. He kicked out at the guard's leg, sacrificing balance for the quick strike. His foot crashed into the guard's leg just below the knee, forcing it in a direction in which the joint was never designed to go, and he was rewarded with a bellow of pain and his opponent toppling to the floor. Carn also hit the ground but rolled quickly to come back up to his feet, scooping his knife up in the process. The guard was still on the floor, trying to rise but unable to do so, able to get to his knees but no more. Carn sprang at the guard knocking them both to the floor, stabbing his knife into his foe's torso. The blade pierced the sentry's side and Carn felt hot blood flow over his hands. They rolled, Carn's blade still stuck, as they vied for position and the guard fought for his life. Carn knew that the longer the fight went on the more disadvantaged he would be. He was injured and as they struggled he felt wounds reopen and his shoulder jar painfully. He had to end this quickly.
The guard got the upper hand however and landed a punishing blow into Carn's face, he felt bone break, though whether it was his cheek or jaw he was not sure. The guard sat astride Carn and smashed another fist into the Prefect's face, snarling in fury. Carn tried to throw his opponent off but his strength was failing him, his gun was pinned underneath him out of reach. In desperation he reached for his knife, still lodged between his enemy's ribs. blood slicked fingers grasped and slipped on the handle as the guard wrapped both hands around Carn's throat and started to squeeze. Carn's struggles grew weaker and weaker as the guard, hissing triumphantly, choked the life from him. No, not like this, he wouldn't fail like this. He wouldn't fail the Emperor, be unworthy of his light! But that light was fading, Carn's vision started to darken as his brain was starved, his efforts to dislodge the guard growing ever more feeble, his mind fogged and despite the situation he started to calm, a strange peace filling his body.
Then he was free, the guard's crushing weight was gone. Carn was able to move, more importantly, he was able to breathe. He sucked down great greedy lungfuls of air, gasping as his mental faculties returned. looking to one side and then the other he saw the prone figure of the guard. As the blur faded he then saw a knife sticking out of the guard's chest. His knife. He had no recollecting of landing the killing blow, no recollection of even successfully reobtaining the knife. Carn sat up, aches and pains shooting throughout his body as his mind attempted to make sense of what had happened. The guard was quite dead, his rictus snarl intact despite all life being absent from his form. Carn regarded his vanquished foe for a moment and then rolled to his hands and knees before shakily getting to his feet. he leaned against the nearby length of piping, hands on knees, recovering from the fight. He was conscious of the noise the struggle had caused and tried to listen for any activity or alarm over the blood pounding in his ears. It seemed that the fight had not drawn any attention however and after a few moments recovery he cast his mind towards what came next.
The body caused a problem, though he had been fortunate to engage the guard just after a check in, he would no doubt be missed at some point. However long that took was pretty much how long Carn had undetected. He contemplated hiding the body, there was not all that much blood on the ground and he could kick ash and dirt over that easily enough. But no, the body would be discovered before long and a hidden corpse would cause suspicion. Just then, as Carn was weighing up his options, a solution was once again provided for him. Stalking from the shadows came a skulking form, a quadruped of the kind he had encountered before. Carn snapped his head up and as swiftly as he could, retrieved his knife. The predator was not interested in him though, there was an easier meal available. The beast hesitated as Carn prepared to defend himself, but upon seeing that Carn was making no further aggressive move approached. Still though it would not feed on the corpse, it's instincts taking precedence over it's need to feed. Carn fished about for a strip of the Ashworm meat, selecting the most tender portion, he tossed it to the far side of the dead guard and the beast approached it, sniffing it cautiously before wolfing it down. It was clearly hungry. Carn stepped forward, knife in hand, and threw another scrap of Ashworm flesh. The creature regarded him cautiously with glowing eyes, sniffing the proffered food tentatively before once again eating it whole. Carn used this moment to slit the guard's throat. A slash across the torso would have been preferable but the mining suit was thick and difficult to cut through, though the blade would have done it given time. In any event the result was the same. As the blood poured from the ruin of the guard's throat and Carn retreated, the predator-turned-scavenger turned its attention to the corpse, lapping at the pool of blood before fastening its jaws upon the dead guard's throat.
Satisfied that he had utilised the Emperor's gift as best as possible and that the guard's death would now be explained away as an animal attack, Carn turned around and walked back to the door without a second glance. He had the presence of mind to retrieve his boots from atop the pipe first, slipping them back on, though he ached and his right foot was swollen. Hefting the door open with a grunt, Carn stepped into the darkness of Endomaw mine at last.
X: The Truth Revealed:
Pascal Ralscon leaned over the monitor on hands bunched into fists. Ruddy of complexion and wide eyed, he was trying his very best not to get angry, he couldn’t afford to get angry, not now.
‘Yes I see but.. ‘ he paused as the monitor speakers crackled and hissed..
‘It was an accident’ he responded ‘I made a full report, there is no need to…’
Again he was cut off as whoever was on the monitor interrupted. He cut them off in turn, he was starting to lose his cool.
‘I really don’t think that this is nece…’ this time he was stopped mid word as the volume of the response increased. A barrage of words followed and his face blanched as he absorbed the import of what was being said. His next words were subdued and meek. He spoke only between instructions and to confirm his comprehension.
‘Yes my Lord, I understand. Full co-operation. Yes. I will make the necessary preparations for his arrival. Yes my Lord, the Emperor Protects.
The communication ceased, the picture fading to show the standard background of the Imperial Aquila grasping a chain in both talons. Ad Gloriam Imperator was written beneath the looping chain and Ralscon had just been reminded in no uncertain terms that he was but one link, a very insignificant link, in that chain.
Now the Eagle was coming.
He slumped back into his chair, perspiration running from his forehead though it was not warm. In fact he felt cold. Carn might mock his tendency to perspire, calling him 'Persi' but this was something else altogether, borne of dread. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest he thought it was going to burst. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a clear little bag of yellow pills. Each was round and flat and stamped with a curious symbol or brand. He’d paid it no attention at the time. The man who supplied them (at a cheap price no less) assured him that they would make him feel better and that they did was all Ralscon cared about. Apparently they were called the Emperor’s Caress and they were becoming rather popular in Narthley. They were of course strictly prohibited and only available through the rather extensive black market.
He tipped the bag, three pills tumbling into his sweaty hand which he immediately bought to his mouth whilst simultaneously moving the other hand to his drink. One, two. Swallow, drink. Done. He sat back and almost immediately felt his body relax. His muscles loosened, his senses dulled and yet at the same time he felt his mind open. He could almost visualise it expanding, unfurling like petals, his cerebrum parting and unravelling. He was still alert even though his movement was slowed and his eyes glazed. Now came the second part of the experience: Golden hands, no, tentacles, yellow tentacles it seemed, penetrating his expanded brain matter. The sensation was simply exquisite. Ralscon was far from a sentimental man but he had felt love, and he felt it now, unconditional love for him, spreading through his being. He leaned back into the folds of his chair to better enjoy the sensation, feeling his spirit and mind being enriched, elevated. He soared on Eagle wings, no they were more leathery and bat like than that, ridged and clawed not feathered. Up and up he went, into the clouds, into the atmosphere, into the stars.
He was suddenly conscious of a flashing light on his terminal. It pulsed slowly, demanding his attention. Suddenly the screen came to life, the Aquila, chain and motto replaced by lines of text, scrolling across the screen, unravelling like thread. It was a report from one of the furthermost relay outposts. He tried to ignore it but the glowing screen and flashing light were insistent. He frowned, this was too distracting. Leaning forward he deactivated the screen. Even three tablets wouldn’t last forever and thanks to Carn he now had an investigation team coming from Celias III to look into things. Even dead, the bastard was causing him problems. He sank back into the chair. Preparations for their arrival could wait, they wouldn't arrive for several days. First, the stars...
***
Far off in Endomaw and far less dead than Ralscon believed, Alistae Carn crouched in the dark. Thus far he had met precious little resistance. Three easily dispatched guards, three easily broken necks, three easily hidden bodies. Now, after concealing the latest corpse, he waited.
It was astonishing how quickly old, half remembered skills had re-established themselves to the fore. His tread was stealthy, even in his boots. His senses were sharpened, his eyes had become accustomed to the gloom and he unconsciously stuck to the shadows, undetectable to the casual observer. He was following lengths of electrical conduit, hoping they would lead to a power terminal where he could try to reactivate the precious dataslate. He stilled his mind as his ears picked up faint footsteps.
His predator’s instinct kicked in and he reduced his profile, becoming almost completely invisible in the shadows of the vents and pipes. The footsteps grew closer, and he perceived a figure approaching in the gloom. Slight, unarmed. This was too easy. None of the workers he had killed thus far had posed even the slightest challenge, they were easy meat. Carn thought of the different undetectable ways that he could kill the approaching miner. The simplest was to allow him to pass then come up behind, a quick grab, choke hold, stamp on the calf and, snap: Subject terminated. Alternatively a sweep kick, throat chop and neck snap: Subject terminated. Or a nerve pinch from behind, neck snap: subject terminated. A knife from behind between the correct vertebrae: Subject terminated. Over a dozen possibilities, each with varying levels of noise and disturbance and therefore evidence, ran through his mind in seconds, the numbers and scenarios playing out like a vid. None of these would actually be used though and he stilled his breathing as the figure walked past. Non-combat; always the best option unless absolutely unavoidable. The other guards had been directly in his way, this individual was not. Besides he didn’t want too many people to go missing that might be noticed. Carn waited for him to turn the corner and then crossed the corridor and continued down the passage from which the miner had emerged.
The conduits snaked and split a few times, leading to a few wrong turns but eventually Carn found himself standing in front of a data terminal, having had to kill only one more guard, who lay at his feet awkwardly. The terminal was locked of course but another of Carn’s re-emergent skills took care of that as he deftly prised the cover of the input panel loose and rewired the board whilst at the same time placating the Machine Spirit and beseeching it’s forgiveness with a common litany of contrition. His work done, he restored the machine and attached his data slate. Breathing a prayer to the Emperor, he thumbed the activation rune.
The device hissed and screeched as its abused hardware was activated. The screen flickered a few times and then died. Carn cursed, he didn’t have time for this. He hit the slate hard, jolting the quiescent and damaged Machine Spirit within to life. Cajoling only got you so far sometimes. The screen flickered again and then dulled but the Machine Spirit was strong and the dataslate came to life. The top left of the display was cracked badly but the device was still usable. Carn scrolled through the entries, some of the files were damaged, corrupt. The dataslate's memory had suffered badly in the crash But Carn trusted in the Emperor and sure enough there it was... he opened the file.
Scan reading the words, he felt his heart sink. There was nothing here, nothing obvious anyway. He scrolled through the text, trying to establish any cipher or code. There were no patterns, no keywords or phrases, nothing. He kept scrolling, past the embedded video files, past the charts, past...there! A video excerpt embedded in the text, an interview with a Professor 'Rex Flavo'. This was it. Expanding the video window he hit play, whilst making sure to record a copy to an undamaged section of the dataslate’s memory just in case.
Pallas Larkarsky’s face appeared. Even through the damaged screen Carn could see the Adept was worn and haggard, his eyes wide and haunted. He was jittery, frantic. When he spoke however, his voice was calm and measured. He knew the import of his message and how critical it was that it was delivered concisely.
‘Whoever is reading this message, whether you have stumbled upon it by chance or followed my clues, I implore you, you must warn the Imperium before it is too late. I have escaped Endomaw, but they are coming for me, I can hear them. Worse, I can feel them. In my mind, in my mind oh Emperor save me!’ He made a visible attempt to calm himself before continuing.
“I had got the feeling that they didn’t want me there, that they were hiding something, and I found it. The door at the main complex, locked by the access panel. The sequence is one alpha four four zeta kappa omega three. I watched them, I have good eyes. They all went, I was alone, they thought I was asleep. But I wasn’t. I followed them. The door, it leads to an antechamber, and there are robes,hooded yellow robes. I took one, put it on, went in through the other doors. The one with the sign. They lead to steps, steps that went down and down and down..' He paused, visibly trying to control himself, aware that he had begun babbling. His eyes bulged and he grimaced in pain, bringing his hands to his temples.
“Oh Emperor preserve me! They are looking for me, they are in my mind, in my mind! No not yet, not yet, I must tell before it is too late. So I followed the stairs down and as I descended I heard chanting, thousands of voices chanting. The stairs lead to another chamber. Vast. Massive. Under Endomaw. I stayed at the back, I was scared to get closer. They were all there, in a crowd, chanting and swaying. Ganvan was there, Ganvan Seris. He was standing at a pulpit, there was something behind him in the shadows, something huge.’ The memory was almost too much for him and Carn could see the terror in his eyes, but from somewhere Larkarsky found hidden reserves of resolve and continued.
'The chanting reached a fever pitch and stopped. Suddenly there was silence, Ganvan said something, I was too far away to make it out clearly but he said something about a Yellow King. Then there was a grinding sound and he stepped aside. Something came forward, it was a throne, a throne, and in the throne… no, not yet, not yet!!!'
Then Larkarsky screamed. The sound erupted from the devices speakers, startlingly loud. Carn looked about him but there was no sound of activity spare the hum of machinery, which was nowhere nearly loud enough to drown out the piercing shriek. Carn scanned the area for a few moments and then satisfied that the alarm had not been raised returned his attention to the dataslate. The aspect of the video had changed, the sky of Worth visible, clearly the slate had been dropped. Afraid to touch the slate lest he disrupt the playback, Carn waited, still glancing about himself warily. The sound of laboured breathing came from the slate and then the view shifted crazily, coming to rest again on Larkarsky’s face. Blood streamed from one nostril, his ears, and most worryingly, his eyes. His voice was shaky, slurred, his eyes were glazed but he found the strength to continue.
‘It was monstrous’, he managed, 'sitting in the the throne, even from the back of the chamber I could see the claws, the four arms and the eyes, the eyes, they flashed… green'. A vein pulsed in Larkarsky’s temple, slowly, malevolently. The Adept shuddered and continued, wiping blood from his nose.
'I don’t know what it was, but it was alien, but not a dumb beast, it was flanked by two smaller versions of itself which crept from the darkness. It looked up, it saw me! It saw ME! In that moment our minds were connected. I knew this was the Yellow King, I saw the gulf of space, and things, things! Vast living creatures moving through the stars, tentacles writhing. Always hungry, always consuming. A plague on the cosmos. Endomaw is a cult preparing for their arrival. The Yellow King was surprised, I could tell. He shrieked and pointed at me and as one the crowd turned and dropped their hoods. They were all monsters too! Well n,no not all of them. But a lot of them, and not just their faces. I could see that some of them had extra arms or claws or other deformities. They came for me, as one. I had to run, to get away. As soon as I was out I tried to send a message but nothing is getting through. I can feel a shadow, a shadow preventing me from transmitting. I have to just record this and hope for the best. An invasion is coming,. You must warn them, you must warn them! Warn them about the Yellow king, warn them about the plague, the plague from space.. they are coming… a yellow plague, yellow tentacles from space, yellow...yellow....yellow....
The last was spoken in a whisper and Larkarsky’s eyes rolled. Fresh blood flowed anew from his nostril and the screen shook as a spasm overcame him. Then the screen turned black. Carn stared in shocked silence at the now dark cracked screen. Despite himself he could feel the terror rising. Suddenly he was shaken from his reverie as a siren started blaring. The terminal deactivated and the dataslate sparked and fizzed as the connection terminated with an overload. Carn snatched the dataslate and ran, stuffing the precious device in a pocket as he fled. Red light pulsed as he sprinted down the corridor, all thoughts of stealth forgotten. He drew Emperor's Fury from his belt, clearing the chamber. He could already hear shouting nearby. There was no point trying to find another terminal to send a signal, any transmissions would be blocked. He had to escape. He headed out the way he had come, retracing his steps from memory. The shouting was getting louder. He turned a corner and there was a miner, no, cultist. They were all cultists.
Muscle memory bought his arm up and he pulled the trigger. A large hole appeared between the eyes of the miner, (no, cultist, they were all cultists!) and the body crashed to the floor. The gunshot echoed round the corridor and more figures turned the corner. Carn threw himself low to avoid a volley of autogun fire. He rolled and let off four shots, taking out four targets, but there were too many. More fire struck his position and he scrambled back round the corner breathing hard. His skills might have returned but he was still much older than when he had last used them properly. He had no time to rest his weary body however. With the red on the walls blending with the sticky red on the floor, he ran back down the corridor. Instead of heading back to the terminal he purposely chose other passages at junctions, there had to be another way to the surface. His mind raced as he put together an incomplete mental map based upon the paths he had taken thus far. Something he would not have been able to do a day ago now came as second nature to him and he thanked the Emperor for this returned gift. There, a path that he had stopped following not because it had no conduits but rather because it had many, a branching point. A left, a right and another right. Spurred on, he fled down the corridor pursued by shouts and sporadic gunfire.
Ganvan Seris closed his eyes, the unfortunate neophyte in front of him crashed to the floor, smoke billowing from his eye sockets, mouth, nose, and ears. Ganvan sighed, he disliked losing his temper. He addressed the smoking corpse, slowly emphasising each word, each syllable.
‘I said, no, mistakes.’ He pulled his golden robe free of the grasping wizened fingers of the neophyte and motioned to the two Thirds that were his makeshift bodyguard. They shuffled forward and removed the body from in front of him. They then departed as he made it clear that he wished to be alone.
This was a complication, and one that he did not wish for. He could feel the ire of the Patriarch psychically and had no wish to suffer it first-hand. The malign intelligence tasked him. They were so close. Close to the day of truth. The Yellow day. Then it would not matter. Till then, they must remain secret, they must remain safe. Clearly the attack on the Shuttle had failed to eliminate Carn, somehow the Prefect had survived and despite the odds made it to Endomaw. Initially localised, the alarm was now complex wide and the entire mine was on alert. Thus far Carn had killed ten brethren, though truth be told Ganvan mourned their loss not. They were little more than pawns, Fifths and Fourths, of little value. Still it was perturbing that the Prefect eluded them still. He must be eliminated, quickly. Unless….
Striding over to the nearest wall he picked up the ornate mouthpiece mounted in its cradle. Finished in bronze It bore the sigil of the Yellow King. It was an ostentatious affectation, but one that he allowed himself.
'My brethren, hear me. We have an intruder in Endomaw mine. This non believer is not of the Brotherhood and must be caught lest he spread his lies. Heed him not, find him, capture him. Kill him if you must. But I would rather he is taken alive so that he can embrace the glory of the Yellow King. Be warned my brethren, this man is dangerous, he has already killed many of our number. But we are strong, the Brotherhood will triumph. This I have seen. Ad Gloriam Flavo Rex!'
Speech over, he replaced the mouthpiece. All around he could feel the cult stir, impelled by his words and subtle psychic signals. Carn would not escape, there was nowhere to go and the Brotherhood were too many. It was only a matter of time, and when finally snared he would serve them well. whether he wanted to or not.
XI: An Explosive Flight
Heavy booted rapid footfalls signalled the group's approach. Shadows rushed past and the footfalls receded into the distance betraying their departure. Had the passers-by been more observant they might have noticed scratches on the vent grille on the wall, or the flakes of rust on the floor beneath. Thankfully for the occupant of the vent in question they were not more observant. Carn held his breath as the latest group passed. This was the fourth, and they were getting more frequent. That suggested that they were focusing the search in this area. He would have to move soon. Further progress through the vents was not an option, the system narrowed further on and Carn was a big man, far too big to fit through the gap. He also could not hide here indefinitely, sooner or later he was going to be discovered.
His headlong flight through the corridors had lead him towards the central mining complex. He had encountered a couple more patrols, which he had eliminated, and had gone through a clip and a half of Emperor’s Fury’s precious ammunition. Soon he would have to arm himself from corpses. He'd had no chance to do so previously, the last couple of hours had been a mix of frantic firefights and a deadly game of cat and mouse. His re-remembered skills had been stretched to the limit as he strove to evade capture. He had had to blast his way out of several ambushes and dead cultists littered the ground where he had passed, constantly acting as a trail of bloody breadcrumbs showing his path. Eventually he had managed to break free of his pursuers and after a prolonged flight down a seemingly deserted access tunnel (though the cultists had a habit of coming out of the very walls; such was their uncanny ability to ambush) he had stopped, taken a moment to think and upon hearing pursuit once again, elected to hide rather than flee.
That had been over half an hour ago by his reckoning and he decided that he could remain no longer. Once the running footsteps had receded beyond his hearing he cautiously removed the grate. Almost silently he set it on the floor and slowly descended from the vent. He replaced the grille carefully and swept the rust under a nearby crate on a pallet. His mental map was shattered, he had had no chance to recall pathways or routes during his desperate flight. Going by the build-up of industrial machinery and carts of ore he had seen recently, he deduced that he was approaching the central mine, working his way deeper into Endomaw rather than an exit. He knew this was intentional, that he had been shepherded down various tunnels and paths to an area not of his choosing. Deep down Carn knew he would never leave Endomaw. The number arrayed against him was insurmountable, eventually he would be caught. But his divinely appointed task was not completed yet. He had to get word out, broadcast Larkarsky’s message somehow. Furthermore he needed proof, lest the warning be dismissed as the ravings of a clearly distressed madman. He had no way of knowing how he was going to get this proof. He had no way of knowing how he was going to transmit the message, given that the dataslate seemed dead, the indomitable Machine Spirit within extinguished at last. He had no way of knowing how he was going to even get out of this tunnel. All he had was his faith and that would have to be enough. The Aquila charm at his wrist glinted as if in affirmation of his conviction.
Carn weighed his options. He knew it was going to be impossible to remain out of combat indefinitely, it was only a matter of time before he was forced to fight. Almost unconsciously he removed his knife from his boot and dulled it in the soot and ash at his feet. More deliberately, he rubbed additional ash and soot over his arms. His exertions and stress, not to mention the inherent heat underground, had resulted in him sweating profusely and his pale skin was showing through the dirt again. He also blacked his face, his mind wandering once more as he absentmindedly rubbed the dirt into his cheeks above his new beard that had grown over the last few days. Looking at the work lights above him he traced the wiring to the wall opposite, isolating the cable that powered the lumin-globes. Looking about him for any signs of activity, he crept over to the wall and reached up, slicing through the chosen wire. Immediately the tunnel plunged into darkness and he heard cries of alarm echo around him.
Advantage Carn.
The cultists mining suits had built in search lights but they would be of limited use. From the look of some of the more hulking figures that he had seen, sporting additional limbs and bestial features, they would no doubt have additional senses that they could utilise but he would take every edge he could. He skulked forward like a shadow in the night. Now he was the hunter and his pursuers the prey. A few hundred metres down the tunnel around a bend he saw beams of light up ahead, bobbing up and down as the sources swung about wildly. Carn stopped, the hum of the machinery prevented him from making out individual words but the consternation ahead was clear. He shifted his foot and felt it strike something solid and unyielding. Reaching down he felt cool metal, a track, he must be getting close to the mine itself.
He wouldn’t get through the group up ahead easily, they were on high alert. He suspected he might drop half the group with a surprise attack before he was overwhelmed, even with darkness as his ally. He ran through simulations and scenarios in his mind, before choosing the one with the greatest chance of success. Picking up a lump of rock he struck the track, the trick was to produce the right volume, too loud, everyone heard it and he was no better off. He needed just a couple of the group to investigate and yet still strike hard enough to make sure the sound was heard over the background noise of the active machinery. Sure enough, two searchlights swung round and Carn ducked behind a couple of barrels to avoid being spotted. The lights panned across the ground, brightening the tunnel a little as the beams of light passed. The extra illumination showed the barrels in stark relief and as Carn noticed that they bore warning signs, another tactical possibility presented itself as his agile yet weary mind absorbed the latest information. He waited for the lights to swing away again, deigning not to try to tempt the bearers closer for the moment. Once he was enveloped in darkness once more he put his new strategy into action. First he leaned against the barrel he was behind, it was heavy. Full, perfect. Next, as quietly and quickly as he could he punched a hole into the barrel near the bottom. A thick, viscous, sticky liquid flowed forth and an acrid yet honey sweet stench followed it. Not Promethium, something else, likely some kind of lubricant for the machines. As long as it burned, that was all Carn needed.
Carn drew Emperor’s Fury from his waistband, this shot didn’t need to be accurate, the next did.
Peering back over the barrels he could see that the lights were more steady, much less agitated as the group discussed their next move, or perhaps waited for an update after reporting the blackout. It mattered not, they would be dead soon enough. Levelling the weapon, he aimed for just below one of the lights and fired. The Emperor himself must have guided his aim as he struck true and his target dropped, the light jerking crazily. The reaction was immediate. All the lights swung as one in his direction and he ducked again, if he presented a target then they might fire and that would be a fiery death for him that he had no intention of experiencing. He tried to control his breathing, this would have to be timed perfectly. The lubricant continued to flow onto the floor and he prayed that their lights wouldn’t show the leaking liquid, as it was, it was pooling round his boots. Grunts and shouts followed and then the sound of running. The lights jogged and jerked crazily as the cultists approached. Carn calmed himself, focusing his energies and trusting in the Emperor's guidance, placing himself under His aegis. The lights grew closer, closer, the sound of boots blending with the hum of machinery to provide a symphony building steadily to an inevitable crescendo. Closer, closer. Carn tensed like a coiled spring, he had only one chance at this. The cultists slowed, they were only metres away now, and knowing they were approaching the location of the shooter they were more cautious. Carn’s tally thus far was common knowledge at this point and they feared him. Good. They slowed to a walk, the lights steadying and showing more barrels that Carn had failed to notice. They were right on top of him when one of them stopped, noticing the liquid as it squelched underfoot.
Now.
Carn sprang, not at the cultists but over the barrels, still full enough to support his weight without being toppled. The cultists saw little more than a dark blur but swung in the direction of the noise. Carn was not as agile as he once was, but managed a clumsy somersault none the less, getting as far away from the barrels as he could. He hit the ground, rolling as he did so. Gun fire came up after him as he came up into a crouch, twisting and bringing Emperor’s Fury up in both hands and firing in one fluid action. It still wasn’t quick enough, he was struck by a few shots as he fired. His aim was true though and the reaction immediate and violent. Despite this Carn saw everything in slow motion adrenaline and focus sharpening his senses and awareness. The flash of Emperor’s Fury’s muzzle. The alarm on the cultists faces, mouths and snouts parting in snarls. The impacts on the ground, thankfully clear of the leaking lubricant, stitching their way toward him. His shot moving towards the barrels. He grunted as he was hit by autogun fire, spinning to the side in an attempt to dodge further injury. He didn’t see the impact of his shot or the lubricant ignite but he felt the resultant reaction. He tried to get to his feet but in any event was hurled through the air as the barrels ignited and the liquid on the floor burst into flame . The conflagration singed his hair and burned the clothes from his back and Emperor’s Fury was flung from his grasp as he was thrown from the explosion. Further barrels ignited and the roar of exploding flammables was joined by the rumble of dislodged and falling rock as the tunnel caved in.
Carn hit the ground hard and lay motionless for a moment as the roar subsided, replaced by a loud ringing in his ears. He got shakily to his feet and looked back. The tunnel collapse was total, ground to ceiling was a pile of rock. A few twisted and broken bodies lay around the debris, some of them still burning. Carn saw Emperor’s Fury glinting in the firelight and he stumbled towards it. It took him two attempts to retrieve the gun, such was the disruption to his equilibrium. He had to move, fast. The cave in had eliminated his enemies and prevented pursuit from one direction but was almost certainly going to attract attention from elsewhere. Unsteadily, he moved down the passage, away from the flickering flames and deeper into the darkness of the tunnel. He walked along the track, peering into the gloom. One eye was swollen and half closed and as he moved he became acutely aware of the hits he had taken from the cultist gunfire. Thankfully the majority were flesh wounds, Emperor be praised, and only one really counted as a gunshot wound, low on his right shoulder. He could feel that the bullet was still in there and suspected it had impacted his right shoulder blade. Blood flowed profusely from the wound and he attempted to staunch it with the remains of his tunic best as he was able. He turned down the first side tunnel that he could, it was less likely to lead to anywhere critical but he had to get somewhere away from the source of any reinforcements investigating the cave in. Besides the roof above him was creaking and groaning ominously and he could not be sure that he had not further damaged the entire tunnel structurally. He also seemed to have reached the extent of the circuit he had severed as he came across working lighting and he would swiftly be discovered should he remain in such a lit area. Even if he had been seen however, he would surely have had a moment before being recognised. Burnt, covered in ash and blood, he looked as much like a daemon or fiend from legend as an identifiable human.
But he was still human, not a mutant cultist, and he had the Emperor's work to perform. Securing Emperor’s Fury in his belt once more, he carried on down the side tunnel as quickly as he could. Back behind him he could hear commotion as booted feet pounded past and he felt quietly vindicated in his choice. He had no idea just how fortuitous his decision actually was. He had to climb a few ledges and navigate a few narrow gaps but eventually he came to a deserted processing room. The machinery here was loud, with grinding gears and engines drowning out even the residual ringing in his ears. Even better, there was a medikit on the wall. Carn pillaged the kit, taking dressings, pain pills, stimm pills and emergency coagulant, laying them out on the floor. in order of use. First though he had to get this bullet out of his shoulder. He grabbed a pair of forceps, and taking his knife from his boot (and sterilising it), made an incision in his shoulder. He was less dexterous with his left hand but eventually he managed to extract the round, which thankfully was still in one piece. He could feel bits of his shoulder grind as he moved it though and knew that professional medical care was going to be needed, the wound being beyond his battlefield medical training to repair.
He used the emergency coagulant to stem the blood flow and gulped down the pain pills and stimms. Dressing the wound carefully he looked about him. The room was very warm, almost intolerably so and he would not be able to stay for long. There was little else of use in the room but another more careful search of the pack revealed a plasma infuser, he jabbed the needle on the end of the device into his side and grunted. The serum within would compensate for the blood he had lost and stimulate the production of new cells. A lucky find indeed, though he was inclined to believe that once again that it was the Emperor providing for him in order to complete his holy task. He lay back for as long as he dared, waiting for the cocktail of chemicals to take effect. His head cleared, strength flowed to his muscles and his aches faded. Sufficiently restored, he rose to his feet. Even the swelling in his eye lessened and he was able to see with both again though his face was still encrusted in blood. The heat in the room was making him sweat heavily and streaks appeared in his camouflage, he rubbed his arms irritably and wiped his hands on what was left of his trousers, it was then that his hands hit the object in his pocket. The dataslate! He had forgotten about it entirely in the frenzied action. He removed it from his pocket and groaned as he saw the damage. Two slugs had hit the dataslate, burying themselves in the inner workings, the explosion itself or at least his subsequent impact into the dirt had cracked the case open and twisted the shell of the device, even worse it had damaged the workings within. The dataslate would never power up again, it was beyond repair.
Carn wept, the tears mingled with the sweat on his face and soaked into his beard. It had all been for nothing, nothing! He had failed, he had failed his Emperor. There could be no greater transgression, no greater betrayal of trust and love.
No, he refused to believe it. There had to be a way. There HAD to be.
His knife lay on the floor, its tip covered in blood. He scooped it up and wiped it clean with his palm. Gently, he prised open the casing of the dataslate even as he apologised to the departed Machine Spirit. Finally the case sprang free and clattered to the floor. Carn inspected the inner workings, tears stinging his eyes. He rubbed them clear and peered at the innards of the slate. He was no Tech Priest but he had rudimentary knowledge of machinery in general. He identified the power core, shattered by a bullet. There was the wiring leading from that to the main processing unit, that too was partially destroyed by a round. Under that however…
He flipped the chip aside with a flick of his knife. There! Under the processor, the memory shard. It was scratched and cracked, hopefully the damage was no more extreme than before. He dared not touch the crystal with a knife, instead he retrieved another soft sterile dressing from the medikit and loosened the cradle with the tip of his blade. He then held the dressing over the crystal and upended the slate. The crystal dropped into the dressing and he wrapped it carefully, placing the dressing back into it's resealable packet. This was now a cargo most precious. There was still a chance that he could access the data on the crystal if he could find a compatible machine. He dropped the carcass of the dataslate to the floor, silently thanking the Machine Spirit for its brave service. The device deserved better than such an ignoble end but he had precious little time as it was.
He had to leave this room. There was no door, he had noticed that when he first entered, but there was a chute above from which the ore was deposited. The processing machine was autonomous, there was no emergency stop rune, no way to deactivate it. Thus Carn found himself suspended above the rotating crushers and milling gears, his shoulder protesting as he pulled himself up into the chute. Thankfully the vertical ascent levelled out relatively quickly and he found himself confronted by a shaft which contained a trough and a conveyor belt. There was space enough though that he could edge alongside the trough if he was careful which was fortunate as ore was moving along the belt to the chute. He had once again been most fortunate with his timing, the Emperor watching over him still. Grunting with the effort and ensuring that the packet was still safe in his pocket, he continued along the dark passageway trying to hear above the squealing conveyor belt to see if anything was ahead.
The Stimms started to wear off and as the adrenaline they had lent his ravaged physiology departed exhaustion began to take it's toll, but he had to keep going, so much depended on him. Worth, the Celias system as a whole, possibly the entire sector. They had to be warned. Monsters lay in their midst, had done all along, infiltrating and growing like a malignant tumour. But this was nothing compared to the horror that was coming. Unfathomable, ancient and ravenous. Giving up just wasn't an option. So it was that Carn, weary beyond measure, pulled himself along the passageway step by step, toward his final destiny.
XII: One final hope-
A loud shrill bought Ralscon out of his high. Irritably he fumbled for the acknowledgement rune to stop the alert. Realising too late that it was a vid-call. The screen snapped into life and Ralscon sighed with relief when he saw that it was just one of his subordinates and not anybody of real import. Ralscon knew that he looked a state, he had been using the Emperor's Caress a little too much recently, blaming the stress of the incoming inspection crew. Dirty, bleary eyed, with dilated pupils (and losing weight rapidly, though he had plenty to lose) he was starting to resemble the wretches that skulked in the dank dark holes of Narthley, the very dregs of society. His work was suffering too, urgent communiques and updates lay unattended, important missives and instructions disregarded.
Still, he wasn’t alone, Emperor's Caress usage was becoming more and more prevalent, he knew that many of his own staff indulged for a fact. Indeed, it seemed most of Narthley was using the narcotic, productivity was grinding to a halt and there were rumours that even the Arbites, the very hall of Imperator Lex Lawgivers was riddled with the drug. The end product was that Narthley was mostly very content and pliant but not very productive or effective. Worth was effectively paralysed, Narthley being the biggest recognised city on the planet by far. Given Adept Larkarsky’s reports however, in the past few years Endomaw City had outperformed it and indeed surpassed it in size and capability. That it had done so unnoticed would have surely given Ralscon pause for thought, had he been capable of rational thought. At the moment his drug addled brain was barely capable of remembering his own name, let alone the name of the person on the screen in front of him.
"Yes?", he slurred, more than one syllable at a time beyond him at the moment. "What is it?" He blinked slowly, twice. It made no difference, his higher brain functions were wrapped in yellow silken tentacles, piercing his cerebellum, probing his knowledge, his memories, though he was blissfully unaware of it. The same was happening all over, the narcotic was establishing a network throughout Narthley and at the heart of that network someone was getting a lot of information.
The dark face on the screen frowned slightly, she was not a user, not one of them. Ralscon felt an instant dislike of her. She would need to experience the Emperor's Caress, she would be made one with them all.
"Sir", she said, using the honorific almost as an insult, with dripping sarcasm and veiled distaste. "I thought you should know that we have detected a surge of activity in Endomaw. There appears to be a mass mobilisation of infantry and armour, it looks like an army… what action would you have us take?, We should report this, shall I take care of it?"
Ralscon frowned, this was an irritation, an unwelcome complication. He knew he should take action but the very thought made the tentacles squeeze on his brain unpleasantly. He didn’t like that, no not at all.
"Well", he began hesitantly, "have you asked them what they are doing?" He affected an imposing bearing though his head was still clouded and his mind enshrouded, "It could be an...," his mind struggled as extra syllables were needed "...ything", he finished lamely, rather damaging the image of authority he was trying to portray.
It hardly seemed possible but the look of disdain on the screen increased still further, "We have requested an explanation from the Governor there and he has said that it is simply drills, exercises for their defence force, but there are a LOT of them sir. Perhaps I should contact someone else if you are busy", the tone in the final word was positively vitriolic.
His knife lay on the floor, its tip covered in blood. He scooped it up and wiped it clean with his palm. Gently, he prised open the casing of the dataslate even as he apologised to the departed Machine Spirit. Finally the case sprang free and clattered to the floor. Carn inspected the inner workings, tears stinging his eyes. He rubbed them clear and peered at the innards of the slate. He was no Tech Priest but he had rudimentary knowledge of machinery in general. He identified the power core, shattered by a bullet. There was the wiring leading from that to the main processing unit, that too was partially destroyed by a round. Under that however…
He flipped the chip aside with a flick of his knife. There! Under the processor, the memory shard. It was scratched and cracked, hopefully the damage was no more extreme than before. He dared not touch the crystal with a knife, instead he retrieved another soft sterile dressing from the medikit and loosened the cradle with the tip of his blade. He then held the dressing over the crystal and upended the slate. The crystal dropped into the dressing and he wrapped it carefully, placing the dressing back into it's resealable packet. This was now a cargo most precious. There was still a chance that he could access the data on the crystal if he could find a compatible machine. He dropped the carcass of the dataslate to the floor, silently thanking the Machine Spirit for its brave service. The device deserved better than such an ignoble end but he had precious little time as it was.
He had to leave this room. There was no door, he had noticed that when he first entered, but there was a chute above from which the ore was deposited. The processing machine was autonomous, there was no emergency stop rune, no way to deactivate it. Thus Carn found himself suspended above the rotating crushers and milling gears, his shoulder protesting as he pulled himself up into the chute. Thankfully the vertical ascent levelled out relatively quickly and he found himself confronted by a shaft which contained a trough and a conveyor belt. There was space enough though that he could edge alongside the trough if he was careful which was fortunate as ore was moving along the belt to the chute. He had once again been most fortunate with his timing, the Emperor watching over him still. Grunting with the effort and ensuring that the packet was still safe in his pocket, he continued along the dark passageway trying to hear above the squealing conveyor belt to see if anything was ahead.
The Stimms started to wear off and as the adrenaline they had lent his ravaged physiology departed exhaustion began to take it's toll, but he had to keep going, so much depended on him. Worth, the Celias system as a whole, possibly the entire sector. They had to be warned. Monsters lay in their midst, had done all along, infiltrating and growing like a malignant tumour. But this was nothing compared to the horror that was coming. Unfathomable, ancient and ravenous. Giving up just wasn't an option. So it was that Carn, weary beyond measure, pulled himself along the passageway step by step, toward his final destiny.
XII: One final hope-
A loud shrill bought Ralscon out of his high. Irritably he fumbled for the acknowledgement rune to stop the alert. Realising too late that it was a vid-call. The screen snapped into life and Ralscon sighed with relief when he saw that it was just one of his subordinates and not anybody of real import. Ralscon knew that he looked a state, he had been using the Emperor's Caress a little too much recently, blaming the stress of the incoming inspection crew. Dirty, bleary eyed, with dilated pupils (and losing weight rapidly, though he had plenty to lose) he was starting to resemble the wretches that skulked in the dank dark holes of Narthley, the very dregs of society. His work was suffering too, urgent communiques and updates lay unattended, important missives and instructions disregarded.
Still, he wasn’t alone, Emperor's Caress usage was becoming more and more prevalent, he knew that many of his own staff indulged for a fact. Indeed, it seemed most of Narthley was using the narcotic, productivity was grinding to a halt and there were rumours that even the Arbites, the very hall of Imperator Lex Lawgivers was riddled with the drug. The end product was that Narthley was mostly very content and pliant but not very productive or effective. Worth was effectively paralysed, Narthley being the biggest recognised city on the planet by far. Given Adept Larkarsky’s reports however, in the past few years Endomaw City had outperformed it and indeed surpassed it in size and capability. That it had done so unnoticed would have surely given Ralscon pause for thought, had he been capable of rational thought. At the moment his drug addled brain was barely capable of remembering his own name, let alone the name of the person on the screen in front of him.
"Yes?", he slurred, more than one syllable at a time beyond him at the moment. "What is it?" He blinked slowly, twice. It made no difference, his higher brain functions were wrapped in yellow silken tentacles, piercing his cerebellum, probing his knowledge, his memories, though he was blissfully unaware of it. The same was happening all over, the narcotic was establishing a network throughout Narthley and at the heart of that network someone was getting a lot of information.
The dark face on the screen frowned slightly, she was not a user, not one of them. Ralscon felt an instant dislike of her. She would need to experience the Emperor's Caress, she would be made one with them all.
"Sir", she said, using the honorific almost as an insult, with dripping sarcasm and veiled distaste. "I thought you should know that we have detected a surge of activity in Endomaw. There appears to be a mass mobilisation of infantry and armour, it looks like an army… what action would you have us take?, We should report this, shall I take care of it?"
Ralscon frowned, this was an irritation, an unwelcome complication. He knew he should take action but the very thought made the tentacles squeeze on his brain unpleasantly. He didn’t like that, no not at all.
"Well", he began hesitantly, "have you asked them what they are doing?" He affected an imposing bearing though his head was still clouded and his mind enshrouded, "It could be an...," his mind struggled as extra syllables were needed "...ything", he finished lamely, rather damaging the image of authority he was trying to portray.
It hardly seemed possible but the look of disdain on the screen increased still further, "We have requested an explanation from the Governor there and he has said that it is simply drills, exercises for their defence force, but there are a LOT of them sir. Perhaps I should contact someone else if you are busy", the tone in the final word was positively vitriolic.
The tentacles squeezed, "NO!" he strove to re-establish some control. "Note it in the log and mark it as handled,. I will take care of it personally and follow up the entry." The tentacles massaged his brain, increasing his mental capacity just enough. As far as Ralscon was concerned though it was just the end of his high, coming back down to Worth with a sickening sense of inevitability. "That will be all," he added, his eyes focusing on the screen once more. He tried to project authority into his tone, brooking no argument.
The face looked less than convinced but ceded nonetheless. "As you will it sir. The Emperor Protects." Without another word she signed off and Ralscon was gratified to see the entry marked a moment later. The tentacles seemed pleased and serotonin levels increased, barely perceptible to Ralscon. He put his hand in his pocket, feeling the small packet, only a couple of pills remained. thankfully he had many stashed away, having established a barter and favour system in exchange for a regular supply. A request filed here, an alert lost there, a requisition order rerouted, simple and easy things when measured against that wonderful euphoria that the Emperor's Caress bought. He would do anything to continue to feel like that, no matter the consequences.
Carn was feeling far from euphoric, he was strung out and weary and nervous. The stimms had long since worn off and his injuries were becoming burdensome. Thankfully, none of this was immediately obvious apart from a pronounced limp that he tried to disguise with a shuffling gait. He exchanged nothing more than brief nods and grunts with the other cultists as he passed and only his stolen mining suit kept him from detection.
At the end of the chute he had come to an opening where carts suspended on cables emptied onto the chute before turning round and returning empty across the chasms ahead. He had had the good fortune to discover here, a small locker containing a worn but serviceable mining suit the same as worn by the other miners/cultists. Donning the apparel he had done his best to make himself look as much like his pursuers as possible, he had one chance and it meant being in their midst. Thankfully his scorched scalp was now hairless, his hair burnt off in the explosion in the tunnels. His face was filthy and streaked with blood sweat and dirt and a pair of mining goggles and a rebreather obscured enough of his face that at first glance he passed for one of the Brotherhood. Thus attired he had climbed into one of the emptied carts and waited till he was carried to the other side of the large chamber. Once safely across he had disembarked and attained his bearings. His memory of Larkarsky’s detailed map of this part of Endomaw had told him that he needed to go up, indeed he could see the shaft from which the elevator had descended. He had started his ascent. Acutely aware of the danger around him and that he was conspicuously unarmed.
Now he neared his destination. He had navigated the tunnels as best as he could, making only one wrong turn, and now he was back in the complex proper. He needed to find a transmission terminal, a way of getting the message out. Carn knew he wouldn’t be able to escape, that he would die here in Endomaw, and his soul was at peace with that. To die doing the Emperor’s work was all that a loyal servant of the Imperium could ask for after all, and his was a holy task indeed. He followed the directions he had memorised from reviewing Larkarsky’s reports and made his way down the light grey corridors, cautiously pausing every now and then to make sure he was heading in the correct direction. Likely all other terminals would be locked out, but he was sure that Ganvan Seris would have a working transmitter, secured, yes but he could bypass security whereas the remote terminals he had encountered thus far were all dead. Lingering around them to try to reactivate the devices would be suspicious to the extreme, this was his only chance.
He kept his head down, giving brief nods to cultists he passed. One guard stopped him, thrusting his lasgun into his chest. The cultist hissed at him belligerently.
"Your weapon, where isss it?" a pointed tongue and sharp teeth betrayed what seemed to be an otherwise human face, though as Carn looked closer he saw faint ridges on the Cultist's forehead. indeed the being's pallor and features were more bestial and alien the longer they were observed.
"Jammed, broken" he replied, effecting a rasping hiss himself, though it was a little muffled through the respirator, "going for another" He stayed stooped, shadowed, his disguise would not bear close scrutiny. Carn tensed, ready to make a move, but with the lasgun pointed straight at his chest his chances of survival were infinitesimal.
The guard's eyes narrowed, "Weaponsss that way", he hissed, gesturing with his lasgun behind Carn, the barrel moved away from his chest just a fraction but it was enough. Carn moved without thinking, he twisted to the side, bringing his arm up to knock the rifle aside. But he was too slow, injury and weariness had dulled his reactions. Fire burned in his flesh as the lasgun blast took him in the shoulder. knocking him to the floor. Even as he was hit point blank he managed to knock the lasgun from his assailants grasp, sending it spinning away. He hit the floor hard, the air ripped from his lungs in a pained gasp. He had no chance to rise though before the cultist was upon him, grasping for his neck, tearing the respirator aside.
Carn desperately tried to throw the cultist off, calling upon his last vestiges of strength. He managed to roll to the side, landing a few weak blows on the cultist but his attacker swiftly regained the upper hand. Astride Carn, he smashed him in the face and then fastened his gnarled hands around the Prefect's throat and started to squeeze, snarling bestially as he choked the life from his enemy.
Carn felt his vision darken, he was so weak. So very tired. He scrabbled ineffectively at his foe, grasping at arms that felt like iron bars. He could not move them, this was it, this was the end. He had failed. Everything slowed, he calmed, his mind fogged. So tired. Time to sleep, time to die. Then reality froze, the moment stretched into eternity. Light beckoned.
Then he was free. He sat up gasping, shaking his head slowly in an attempt to clear the fog. Through a grey haze he saw the cultist on the floor, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle and clearly broken. But how? His head hurt, he couldn't think. He felt impossibly weary but got to his feet nonetheless, impelled by a voice in the back of his mind. In a daze he staggered down the corridor, passing the fallen lasgun. It occurred to him to take the weapon but his body wouldn't respond. He stumbled on, his body somehow knowing where to go. His head was drooped, his eyes half closed. Events seemed to occur as if he was observing them, not performing them, a captive in his own body.
***
Carn was feeling far from euphoric, he was strung out and weary and nervous. The stimms had long since worn off and his injuries were becoming burdensome. Thankfully, none of this was immediately obvious apart from a pronounced limp that he tried to disguise with a shuffling gait. He exchanged nothing more than brief nods and grunts with the other cultists as he passed and only his stolen mining suit kept him from detection.
At the end of the chute he had come to an opening where carts suspended on cables emptied onto the chute before turning round and returning empty across the chasms ahead. He had had the good fortune to discover here, a small locker containing a worn but serviceable mining suit the same as worn by the other miners/cultists. Donning the apparel he had done his best to make himself look as much like his pursuers as possible, he had one chance and it meant being in their midst. Thankfully his scorched scalp was now hairless, his hair burnt off in the explosion in the tunnels. His face was filthy and streaked with blood sweat and dirt and a pair of mining goggles and a rebreather obscured enough of his face that at first glance he passed for one of the Brotherhood. Thus attired he had climbed into one of the emptied carts and waited till he was carried to the other side of the large chamber. Once safely across he had disembarked and attained his bearings. His memory of Larkarsky’s detailed map of this part of Endomaw had told him that he needed to go up, indeed he could see the shaft from which the elevator had descended. He had started his ascent. Acutely aware of the danger around him and that he was conspicuously unarmed.
Now he neared his destination. He had navigated the tunnels as best as he could, making only one wrong turn, and now he was back in the complex proper. He needed to find a transmission terminal, a way of getting the message out. Carn knew he wouldn’t be able to escape, that he would die here in Endomaw, and his soul was at peace with that. To die doing the Emperor’s work was all that a loyal servant of the Imperium could ask for after all, and his was a holy task indeed. He followed the directions he had memorised from reviewing Larkarsky’s reports and made his way down the light grey corridors, cautiously pausing every now and then to make sure he was heading in the correct direction. Likely all other terminals would be locked out, but he was sure that Ganvan Seris would have a working transmitter, secured, yes but he could bypass security whereas the remote terminals he had encountered thus far were all dead. Lingering around them to try to reactivate the devices would be suspicious to the extreme, this was his only chance.
He kept his head down, giving brief nods to cultists he passed. One guard stopped him, thrusting his lasgun into his chest. The cultist hissed at him belligerently.
"Your weapon, where isss it?" a pointed tongue and sharp teeth betrayed what seemed to be an otherwise human face, though as Carn looked closer he saw faint ridges on the Cultist's forehead. indeed the being's pallor and features were more bestial and alien the longer they were observed.
"Jammed, broken" he replied, effecting a rasping hiss himself, though it was a little muffled through the respirator, "going for another" He stayed stooped, shadowed, his disguise would not bear close scrutiny. Carn tensed, ready to make a move, but with the lasgun pointed straight at his chest his chances of survival were infinitesimal.
The guard's eyes narrowed, "Weaponsss that way", he hissed, gesturing with his lasgun behind Carn, the barrel moved away from his chest just a fraction but it was enough. Carn moved without thinking, he twisted to the side, bringing his arm up to knock the rifle aside. But he was too slow, injury and weariness had dulled his reactions. Fire burned in his flesh as the lasgun blast took him in the shoulder. knocking him to the floor. Even as he was hit point blank he managed to knock the lasgun from his assailants grasp, sending it spinning away. He hit the floor hard, the air ripped from his lungs in a pained gasp. He had no chance to rise though before the cultist was upon him, grasping for his neck, tearing the respirator aside.
Carn desperately tried to throw the cultist off, calling upon his last vestiges of strength. He managed to roll to the side, landing a few weak blows on the cultist but his attacker swiftly regained the upper hand. Astride Carn, he smashed him in the face and then fastened his gnarled hands around the Prefect's throat and started to squeeze, snarling bestially as he choked the life from his enemy.
Carn felt his vision darken, he was so weak. So very tired. He scrabbled ineffectively at his foe, grasping at arms that felt like iron bars. He could not move them, this was it, this was the end. He had failed. Everything slowed, he calmed, his mind fogged. So tired. Time to sleep, time to die. Then reality froze, the moment stretched into eternity. Light beckoned.
Then he was free. He sat up gasping, shaking his head slowly in an attempt to clear the fog. Through a grey haze he saw the cultist on the floor, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle and clearly broken. But how? His head hurt, he couldn't think. He felt impossibly weary but got to his feet nonetheless, impelled by a voice in the back of his mind. In a daze he staggered down the corridor, passing the fallen lasgun. It occurred to him to take the weapon but his body wouldn't respond. He stumbled on, his body somehow knowing where to go. His head was drooped, his eyes half closed. Events seemed to occur as if he was observing them, not performing them, a captive in his own body.
A hundred yards down the corridor he was confronted by five cultists. Without even thinking, he wearily stretched an arm out and the guards were flung aside into the wall with sickening wet impacts. They slid down the wall in chunks of bloody viscera, unidentifiable as humanoid forms. Carn continued to walk unsteadily but unerringly down the corridor, another few corners and another dispatched larger patrol and he was in front of his destination. His eyes were closed by this point but he could see the door regardless, in fact he could see more than the door, he could see eddies, swirls, everything was overexposed, highlighted, more than real life. The door crumpled in slow motion, the thick plasteel crinkling and creasing, before simply ceasing to exist. Carn strode through the open portal, though he didn't know it. Suddenly consciousness reasserted itself, painfully, with a loud 'pop'.
Carn sank to his knees. Blood streamed from his ears and nose. He shuddered, his body was wracked with convulsions and he remained there a moment on his hands and knees, dry heaving and shaking. Finally he regained some control and rose to his feet, wiping blood from his nose. He looked about him. He was in Ganvan Seris's office, this much he established. On one wall behind a large elegant desk was a comms terminal. He walked over to it, fishing the precious data crystal from it's pouch. His head was still fogged, his vision blurred but almost by instinct he prised open the data panel and inserted the crystal. He broke and made connections, moving more rapidly than he had ever thought possible. Security bypassed, the terminal sprang to life. His fingers danced across the keypad, depressing runes in a combination that broadcast on the widest frequency, he just had to transmit on a wide beam and hope that someone picked up the signal.
"This is Second Prefect Alistae Carn, personnel number one-four-five-alpha-kappa-iota-six-nine-beta- beta-nine. In the Emperor's name I am transmitting this signal to unearth the heresy and corruption at Endomaw mine. I will never leave this place but it must be cleansed. I am sending testimony from Adept First Class Pallas Larkarsky, it will support wha..... " he threw himself to one side, depressing the transmit rune as he did so. As he sprang away from the console a blast of etheric power hit it. The machine crackled for a second, the machine spirit within screaming as it was consumed by warp power, then it exploded. Shrapnel ripped into Carn but he barely felt it. He had no way of knowing if the signal had got out. His mind whirled, his actions were not his own. Once again he was just experiencing things from within.
Ganvan Seris strode through the ruin of the door frame, his staff outstretched, Psychic power crackling around the figurehead on top. The same violet fire burned in his eyes. Carn was suddenly frozen in place, even as he observed the event from inside his own body. He saw, rather than felt, his body pushed up against the wall next to the smoking terminal. Observed, rather than experienced, the hypnotising effect of Seris's gaze. He was powerless to act, but he wasn't the one acting. He saw his arms come up, tear through an invisible field. The force was suddenly gone, he saw himself hurl the yellow robed psyker to the side, though he sensed that his own manifestation of power was weakening. All of a sudden his reality was pierced, the bubble effect he had been experiencing ceasing with a roar of pressure and pain. He was back in control.
Carn staggered past, the Magus made a shaky grab for him as he went past but was still groggy from the psychic blow he had suffered. he flailed impotently.
“The Yellow Kiiing” Ganvan Seris managed. “The Yellow King has a use for you… come back….”
Carn himself, the apparent dealer of that blow, was faring little better. Blood flowed freely from his facial orifices and there was a slackness to his expression that suggested something inside had snapped. Mentally Carn was a storm of emotions and thoughts as he struggled to reconcile recent events. He’d had no previous inclination that he was a Psyker. None of the mandatory testing had indicated anything! Then again the same had been for Larkarsky and he had proven himself psychically capable in the extreme, maybe the tests were insufficient. If not a Psyker then what else? Was he possessed? Could it be the Emperor acting through him? Carn wasn’t vain enough to think that he was important enough to be an instrument of the Emperor's Divine will in that way but he WAS on a holy task. No, surely not. What then?
He WAS acutely aware that he now had no power at all, stumbling along like an intoxicated vagrant his head clearing far too slowly. Carn nearly tripped over the splattered remains of the cultists that he, if indeed it had truly been him, had dispatched earlier on his way to the terminal. The message! Had it sent? He suspected not, at least not in it’s entirety, not the data packet anyway. His words may have been received but likely not Larkarsky’s full account, and there was no proof! Now there never would be. He was battered, exhausted, on the ragged edge of endurance. He had performed his task but now it was time to rest. No! Blazed a thought in his mind. Continue, endure! Bring the Emperor’s light to this nest of Serpents! He balked at the admonishment, starting to wonder if his own psyche was fracturing under the stress. Still, the voice in his mind spurred him on, one foot in front of the other, as quickly as stability would allow. There was but one chance of escape. The elevator up to the surface.
The floor squelched as Carn proceeded down the now dark (the lights had been snuffed out by the psychic forces released) corridor. He tried not to think too much about the visceral consistency underfoot. Thus far there was no sign of any resistance although he was sure that he heard shuffling not far behind him. Through a door and the ground underfoot turned to hard rock and dust. The voice spurred him on; onward, onward! To escape. To freedom. To the surface! To the Emperor's light! Eventually he emerged from the darkness of the tunnels into the merely gloomy mining chamber. A short slope awaited and at the top of that, salvation.
Carn was beyond limits of all endurance and fell at the foot of the slope, weary beyond measure. He began to crawl, to pull himself up inch by inch toward the elevator and escape. He had made it barely ten feet before he heard a sibilant yet mellifluous voice behind him. He turned back to look the way he had come, though he knew in his heart what he would behold.
“You, you shall not leave, the Yellow King demands it.”
Ganvan Seris was there, supported by a hulking brute of a cultist who made no pretence at humanity, rippling muscle and a massive frame were accompanied by gnarled taloned hands and chitinous plates jutted from ripped clothing and torn flesh. The creature's face was bestial yet an alien cunning showed through it's savage features. Carn saw more shadows behind moving and writhing in the gloom. He tried to carry on up the slope, he only had a few dozen feet to go! He was so close! He could see the faded red frame of the elevator, the control panel, the cables leading up to the surface, the criss-cross of pulleys and carts in the air above, like a lattice of wires or a steel spiderweb. So close! He continued to edge up backwards, keeping his eyes fixed on Ganvan.
The Magus looked weak, spent. A lurid bruise patterned most of his scalp and his eyes were unfocused. He stood only by virtue of the lumbering behemoth at his side. He lifted his head and fixed Carn with a faltering yet piercing gaze.
“You, you will serve the Brotherhood, you will serve the Yellow King. You have drawn too much attention to us. You endanger the brotherhood! The arrival of the Star Children! You DARE to disrupt our holy work?"
Ganvan shook as he spoke, though from exertion or apoplectic rage Carn couldn’t be sure. He was continuing to surreptitiously creep up the slope. Under eight foot to the entrance of the elevator, he could make a run for it, he could…
Just as he went to turn and launch himself up the slope Ganvan held up a hand, Carn was transfixed. The Magus’s eyes burned with an unearthly luminescence, glowing brightly from their sockets.
"You. Shall. Not. Leave." the flesh pulsed under his cranium and the bruise spread, vivid patches of sub dermal blood pooling beneath the skin. A violet substance flowed wetly from one nostril. "You. Shall. Serve. Us." Each word was spoken in a low monotonous hiss, it was pleasant though, compelling. Carn bought his arm up and flung it out in desperation, nothing happened. He tried to focus, to imagine hurling the Magus away. Nothing. He was frozen in place, immobile as a stalagmite. The Magus continued; "To Resist is Futile. The Yellow King is Truth. The Yellow King is All…. "
Carn desperately tried to move, to turn and hurl himself up the slope into the elevator and escape, but it was no use. He was frozen, like prey before a predator. He couldn’t look away from that hypnotic gaze. The Magus stepped forward, still supported by his bodyguard. More grotesque figures followed, Some were beast like, others retained a semblance of humanity. all of them crouched and hissed, glaring with unbridled hate at the escaping Prefect. They spread protectively around Seris.
"The Yellow King is all..."
Yellow....Yellow.....Yellow.... YELLOW!!
With a ragged scream the voice broke through the Magus’s hold. Carn started as if slapped in the face. He was free. For a moment shock and surprise held him as much a prisoner as the Psychic power of the Magus had.
MOVE!!!
That one word, one impulse, spurred Carn into action. He knew, knew now who was inside his head, where the psychic assaults had come from. Even as he knew it was only a shadow, a remnant, an impression rather than a full presence. Larkarsky had managed to impart a piece of himself and his power in Carn’s psyche and was aiding him even as the imprint faded. Carn knew not how or when, he was only immeasurably grateful. Tears streamed down his face as he threw himself up the slope and into the steel cage of the elevator. He slammed a hand on the activation rune and breathlessly stood at the rear of the conveyance as the railing slid down and it started to ascend. He saw well the expression of shock and outrage on the face of the Magus and the bestial screams on the cultists as they hurtled up the slope after him. some launched themselves at the elevator as it rose and clung to the bottom, he could see them through the grille in the floor. They started to climb, clawing their way round to the side of the elevator. Others were clambering up the walls, extra limbs aiding their locomotion. Joining them, streaming from subterranean tunnels as the elevator passed, were creatures totally devoid of any human form at all, six limbed and all teeth and claws. They scuttled across vertical rock frighteningly fast, swiftly outpacing their brethren as they headed for the small opening in the rock above.
Others were hurling themselves from the caverns walls in an attempt to reach the elevator, most failed and yet uttered not a sound as they fell into the inky oblivion below. A scant few made the leap and impacted on the roof or sides of the elevator, making it rock violently.
I'm sorry Alistae, I tried, but I'm so tired, fading, not much left... I'm sorry...
Carn couldn't describe the way the message was imparted, it was less than words, more than a feeling. Thought, distinct and coherent, straight into his mind, into his being, into his soul.
"We're not done yet!" he growled, pulling Emperor's Fury from his belt and blasting the nearest cultist from the elevator with a pair of precision shots. "While I live I fight!" He roared, firing another burst of shots at other figures creeping round the steel cage. Sparks flew and the figures fell from the cage, tumbling away into the fathomless depths. "For the Emperor!" he screamed, again and again, firing until the clip was exhausted. Even then he used the pistol as a cudgel, smashing interlopers off the elevator's frame as they got too close. Clawed hands grasped for him through gaps in the walls, scrabbling for purchase as he desperately evaded them, dealing them blows even as he was overwhelmed. One of the cultists threw itself at the winch in an effort to stop the ascent. It died silently as it's body snarled and jammed the mechanism with gore and flesh. The elevator shuddered to a halt. Carn was trapped.
Alistae Carn knew this was the end. The end of his journey, of his path. He was tired. He backed up against the front of the elevator which swung gently as more bodies landed on it. Despite the situation he was calm, at peace. Part of this was due to exhaustion but he genuinely felt at ease even as more cultists and their accompanying creatures ripped their way into the stalled elevator. He swung one leg over the railing, noting with a strange delirium that this was the same railing that Larkarsky had felt he was going to be thrown from so long ago.
"I spit on your Yellow King" he said simply, and toppled back over the edge.
As he fell he felt claws grasp at him, but they were too late. Then one talon hooked over the charm round his wrist. For one split second the chain strained, and then it broke. Horrified, Carn made a desperate grab for the golden Aquilla as he fell into the fathomless depths.
Chapter XIII: The Yellow King-
It was a vast impenetrable darkness, unfathomable and unyielding. But in that void, a voice. Weak, faint. A whisper. A sigh.
Caaaarn…..
Then silence, only all-encompassing darkness once again. Until, so ethereal and insubstantial that it was as mist or a wisp of smoke…
Caaaarn…. Alistaaaeeee….
The voice was dying, he could tell, the last utterances of a fragment of a soul irrevocably sundered. Of a remnant drained. Carn himself felt insubstantial, he had no feeling, his body was absent. He had no sense of physicality, only the insistent fading echoes of that voice.
If he had eyes he could not open them. If he had a mouth he knew not how to use it to speak. He did not hear the words as much as feel them. He had no sense of time, no grounding. In this vacuum of reality the voice eventually spoke one final time.
This… is the end my…. friend…..
As Larkarsky’s voice faded reality reasserted itself. Not with a rush but with a slow increase, marked mainly by pain. Lots of pain. Carn quickly decided that he had preferred no feeling at all as now he was in burning agony. He tried to move but was utterly immobile, his body broken, shattered and wracked with pain. His eyes were the only thing that didn’t hurt so he opened them. It made no difference. Everything was black, he could not see a thing and had no idea if he was blind or if it was just THAT dark. But however dark it was it was not silent. He heard shuffling, grunting, breathing and a soft hissing. It was getting closer, inexorably drawing nearer and coming from all around. Carn couldn’t even turn his head, couldn’t even lift an arm. His breathing was ragged and wet, his scalp was sticky and as his senses returned there was a strong smell of copper mingled with the chemical tang of ore and mineral. His legs were crushed, covered with rock, stone and chunks of ore, he could not feel them but was aware of the weight of the rock pinning him to the floor. There was a sharp pain in his hand, though it took him a while to isolate it from the general agonies he was experiencing.
Yes, there was something in his fist, dug deep into his palm, slick with blood. It was sharp, angular. He knew it’s shape, it’s weight, the way it felt. He wept.
The sound was getting closer. Shuffling, snorting, the scraping of claws on stone. Grunting became audible with accompanying hissed instructions. There were no lights. Whatever these things were they were able to see at least a little in absolute darkness. Heavy objects were lifted, inspected and dropped. They fell with a dull thud and Carn realised they were bodies. They were looking for him.
And there was nothing he could do, he could only lie there, utterly helpless. He awaited the inevitable. It was intolerable, staring into the inky blackness (though he thought now that he could pick out some semblance of form above him) unable to act, move. More thuds, more grunts and shuffling, getting closer, ever closer. Soon the noises were right next to him, he could hear breathing and soft snarling, it was coming from his right, though there was sound still all around. Then, a boot beside his head. A triumphant hiss. A claw reached down and grasped the front of his stolen mining suit. It pulled and Carn fought back a scream as his body was strained. A grunt from his molester plus a hiss slightly further away and then he could feel rocks being moved away from his lower body. Another hiss and again he felt himself being pulled. The remaining loose rocks and stones tumbled away as he was dragged away and up. It was still dark but he could just about see a shape in front of him. Every nerve in his body screamed, no that wasn’t right. He couldn’t feel below his waist. That wasn’t good. The creature that had hoisted him up grunted in satisfaction and without warning and in one swift smooth motion, tossed Carn over his shoulder. Now Carn did scream, just for a split second before he passed into blissful and peaceful unconsciousness.
He knew not how long it was before he finally came round but he was being dragged roughly across a stone floor which passed beneath him as he opened his eyes. He was being gripped by the shoulders, which screamed in pain the moment he came to, along with the rest of his tortured body. There was a cultist either side of him. He managed to turn his head slightly, though it was agony to do so, to behold his captor. It was not as hulking or bestial as some but far from human, featuring chitinous plate on its arm and clawed hands. It’s head was bowed and the creature's gaze was downcast. It looked reverent, almost fearful. Amidst the various pains shooting through his body Carn began to feel a deep dread as he noticed many other similarly bowed heads around. There were hundreds, many hundreds of cultists all around him and all had their heads bowed, arms, be it two or three, crossed in front of their chests.
Inch by agonising inch Carn raised his head to see his destination, his nerves screamed their protestations but he had to know. His vision was still slightly blurred but ahead he could make something large out. Large and yellow. Actually many yellow things. As he was dragged closer, the objects came into sharp and terrifying focus one at a time, each more horrifying than the last. Ganvan Seris was there, looking quite recovered save for a lurid bruise on his head. He was flanked by two large broad shouldered cultists. further to the Magus’ right were actual monsters, bipedal let utterly alien, some had enlarged claws or extra arms, others carried strange looking weapons, some had tentacles for arms, some even had a tentacle mouth. Yet for all that, they stood upright and were of humanoid proportion. It was an amalgamation most foul and repellent . Carn felt bile rise in his throat as he beheld the repulsive creatures. As he got ever closer Carn could see that Ganvan Seris was smiling evilly. The sight repulsed and petrified him even more than the alien creatures had. To the Magus’s left was a space. A noticeable space that unnerved Carn greatly for it was obviously deliberate. Beyond the gap in the menagerie of horrors was another singular figure, more ostentatiously garbed, though he still wore the mining suit, clearly he was some kind of leader or more important member of the cult. Next to him were a variety of cultists, generally of the more mutated form.
And yet, for all the gallery of inhuman horrors about and before him it was the space that horrified Carn the most. It was foreboding and ominous. Beyond it yawned darkness, a recess that Carn could not judge the depth of. It seemed as a yawning pit threatening to swallow Carn whole. As his terror began to rise there was a noise, a rumbling and scraping. Something started to emerged from the darkness. Carn was roughly shoved to his knees. He was thankful beyond measure that his legs erupted with pain as he hit the floor. The scraping grew louder and closer. A giant obsidian throne started to emerge from the darkness, and in that throne…..
The sight unmanned Carn entirely, he began to gibber uncontrollably and then laugh the laugh of a mind frayed and hysterical. One of the cultists backhanded him, snapping him back to lucidity and he stared in wide eyed terror at the Yellow King.
It was monstrous, a gargantuan creature in yellow chitin and purple flesh, it leaned forward in its throne, resting its chin on one clawed hand in a monstrous parody of The Ruminator, an ancient statue from the mists of Terra’s past. Two other arms with slightly more human hands lent on the baroque carved arms of the throne and a fourth on the creature’s knee, brutal looking claws flexing. It’s cranium was swollen and enlarged and a prominent bony crest rose from it’s forehead. It’s eyes flashed green and simmered with a sinister alien intelligence. The creature looked monstrously strong, sinews and muscle rippled beneath its chitinous armour. A tail looped down in front of the throne where it crouched, a wicked looking spine at its tip. The monster regarded its captive coldly and Carn felt tendrils of thought penetrate his mind. He shuddered, fresh agonies roaring through his frame from the movement. He looked about him desperately. All around him the cultists were now staring at their Yellow King, their faces rapt. But it wasn’t fear or any kind of obeisance that Carn observed. It was devotion, pure unfiltered love. A reverence and adoration never more true. It was the love a child shows for a father. With a chill Carn realised that this was indeed the case, the creature WAS their father, their Patriarch. The Patriarch for the entire cult and they loved it unconditionally and would die to protect it, every single one of them, without hesitation. THIS monstrous alien was the nexus, the core, the very heart of the entire cult.
The Patriarch leaned back, it’s cursory inspection of Carn over. It raised its four yellow arms to the sky and barked out a series of guttural syllables. The congregation bayed its approval. Their Yellow King lowered its arms and the noise abated, it extended one taloned claw and beckoned for Carn to be bought closer. His guards gripped him by the arms and dragged him on his knees in front of the throne. Carn knelt there, utterly subdued and pliant. The guards stepped back and the Patriarch reached forward and scooped Carn up in its grasp. Its claws closed around Carn’s torso and his shattered ribs ground together, making him roar in pain as he was lifted bodily into the air. It hoisted him up and held him in front of its face, as if inspecting some morsel. Carn knew this was without a doubt the end. His life was about to finish and he was going to journey to the Emperor’s side. But he wasn’t dying without one last gesture of defiance. He spat bloodily into the Yellow King’s face, crimson expectorate spraying across it’s snout. The Patriarch recoiled slightly and then started convulsing, making strange snorting soft bellows. It took Carn a second to realise that it was laughing. It stopped abruptly and stared at Carn with primitive belligerence, a pointed tongue snaked out and licked the bloody spittle from its face. The Yellow King grinned evilly, malice glittering in its alien eyes. It pulled the helpless Prefect forward and Carn closed his eyes and gripped the Aquila charm tightly as the Patriarch opened its fanged maw wide. At long last, after struggles and trials immeasurable, Alistae Carn finally knew peace.
*
The investigation team was only three days out. That was all Ralscon could think of as he idly dismissed another alert from the outermost relay station. There was still a lot to do, things to hide, trails to remove, blame to shift. He'd tried to lessen his use of Emperor's Caress in order to improve his productivity but not using the narcotic for prolonged periods resulted in significant pain. No, it was much better to continue using it and escape the pain and reality. The problem was that it was unlikely that the imperial agents heading his way would feel the same. Therefore it was essential that some semblance of normality was presented. He'd already deleted some incriminating records, and files that seemed unimportant to him but had pleased the tentacles to eradicate.
Now with the team only days away he had decided that the pace needed to step up. He barked orders at his subordinates, directing them to various tasks. Even as they scurried off to enact his instructions he palmed another pill and swallowed it, feeling the tentacles presence increase straight away. The bliss enveloped him and he sat back in his chair and sighed contentedly. Everything would be ok, he would ensure it. The investigation team would arrive, carry out their probing and leave. He would kill them, he reflected, but he had not the means to do so. Besides, it would result only in more arriving. No, let them come, poke about, he would make sure they left empty handed. None the wiser, nothing would happen. .
He was cresting a wave of ecstasy when a light started to flash on the console in front of him. He was about to dismiss it as per usual when a twinge in his temple told him that he should answer. He moved his finger over to the receive rune and duly depressed it. A brief screen appeared showing that the message was coming from Endomaw and then faded as the screen transitioned to video.
A tall man appeared, garbed in a yellow robe. He had some kind of contusion to his head and carried an ornate staff topped with a four armed figure. For reasons that he could not explain Ralscon felt very comforted by the figurehead.
"Supervisor Ralscon, forgive my interruption of your important work but there is something that you need to know." Ganvan Seris spoke smoothly and smiled with warmth. "There has been a development, somewhat surprising but far from unwelcome. We would have contacted you earlier but we wanted to wait until, well, you will see in a moment." He unfurled his free hand, splaying the fingers. "I cannot deny that we have had a few problems here at Endomaw mine, things have not been going.... smoothly. However, I am pleased to report that all is well now and that we expect to be back at full production quotas soon." He beamed. "Now there is someone else who wishes to speak to you." He stepped to one side and off screen.
Ralscon's jaw dropped,. Agape, he stared at the figure on the screen that had been behind the man in yellow. He was severely injured, that was plain but he too was smiling serenely. Even with the bandages and scorched skin there was no denying it. It was Alistae Carn. The Prefect raised a hand in acknowledgement.
"Ralscon, damn you but by the Emperor it is good to see you", Carn spoke slowly, hesitantly, in an unfocused manner. If Ralscon hadn't known better he would have thought that Carn was under the influence of Emperor's Caress. He decided that it was much more likely to be painkillers, Carn looked like hell, no doubt he was hurting considerably.
"Carn", he replied, "You're meant to be dead, the accident....They said..."
"I was lucky, survived the crash, I was in a bad way though, managed to crawl from the wreckage and they found me in the ash wastes." Ralscon nodded dumbly. "They've been fixing me up for the last week. I still feel like hell mind you," he admitted wincing, rubbing the back of his neck. It's been interesting to say the least. While I've been here I've been doing some investigation of my own. About Larkarsky." As he said the Adept's name his expression darkened and from his sleeve he produced a small charm, it glinted in the light and he toyed with it as he continued. "It turns out that he had been poisoned, exposed to a hallucinogen from gas that is a by-product of the mining process. The miners here are unaffected, long term exposure over time I suppose has built up a resistance. Larkarsky had no such luck. Significant levels of exposure straight away unbalanced him, sent him crazy. Poor bastard. They didn't realise till it was too late." He continued to twist the charm as he spoke. The light flashed off it intermittently. It was irritating to Ralscon but a small matter compared to the disorientation that he was feeling. He put it down equally to the effects of the Emperors Caress and the revelations of the last few minutes. He started to gather his thoughts.
"Well it's good to see you Carn" he said, an insincere smile on his face. "You know, there's an investigation team on the way here now to look into the accident, now you can tell them direct that there is no need for concern. When can you get back here?" This was perfect, maybe he could even turn the team around. Ralscon felt the tentacles smooth his worries away. everything was going to work out fine.
"'I'm going to be staying here for a while", Carn said, dashing his hopes. "I'm still weak and not really in any fit state to travel. Besides, I still need to compile the report that Larkarsky should have made. Regulations must be followed after all."
"Maybe I can send the investigation team to you" Ralscon said, though as he did so he got the feeling that the tentacles would rather he didn't. He was starting to get a headache, that was usually a bad sign.
"No! " Carn exclaimed. "It's alright they are just going to get in the way" he smiled beatifically. "Great things are going on here at Endomaw, you have no idea, really. It's going to change things on Worth, perhaps the entire Celias system. It will be truly glorious. Show them a recording of this message, that will have to suffice. I'll be here another couple of weeks I suspect and then I shall return". His demeanour became serious. "I'll have some cargo with me that I'm bringing back to Narthley, samples in large containers. It is imperative that they not be disturbed. If all goes well the whole system will soon be aware. This could really be the chance to put Worth on the map Ralscon, and if we are smart we can all share in the glory."
Glory sounded good to Ralscon, very good indeed. "Well it's about time you did something useful rather than being a pain in my arse" he retorted. I'll look forward to your full report. I'll hold the investigation team off here, no fear. It's just a matter of protocol I'm sure. Once they see you are alive and well they will be satisfied. The sooner they are out of the way the sooner we can get back to normal and make preparations for your arrival. It sounds like there is nothing untoward at the mine so I'm sure I can just show them the operation here and get rid of them. Everything is going to be fine. As you say, great things are coming" he finished, with a covetous leer.
Carn smiled, his manner was still somewhat languid, slowed, "Yes", he said, still absentmindedly spinning the small Aquilla charm in his fingers. "Everything is going to be exactly as it should be, you have no idea of the magnificence that awaits us, no idea at all"
Carn sank to his knees. Blood streamed from his ears and nose. He shuddered, his body was wracked with convulsions and he remained there a moment on his hands and knees, dry heaving and shaking. Finally he regained some control and rose to his feet, wiping blood from his nose. He looked about him. He was in Ganvan Seris's office, this much he established. On one wall behind a large elegant desk was a comms terminal. He walked over to it, fishing the precious data crystal from it's pouch. His head was still fogged, his vision blurred but almost by instinct he prised open the data panel and inserted the crystal. He broke and made connections, moving more rapidly than he had ever thought possible. Security bypassed, the terminal sprang to life. His fingers danced across the keypad, depressing runes in a combination that broadcast on the widest frequency, he just had to transmit on a wide beam and hope that someone picked up the signal.
"This is Second Prefect Alistae Carn, personnel number one-four-five-alpha-kappa-iota-six-nine-beta- beta-nine. In the Emperor's name I am transmitting this signal to unearth the heresy and corruption at Endomaw mine. I will never leave this place but it must be cleansed. I am sending testimony from Adept First Class Pallas Larkarsky, it will support wha..... " he threw himself to one side, depressing the transmit rune as he did so. As he sprang away from the console a blast of etheric power hit it. The machine crackled for a second, the machine spirit within screaming as it was consumed by warp power, then it exploded. Shrapnel ripped into Carn but he barely felt it. He had no way of knowing if the signal had got out. His mind whirled, his actions were not his own. Once again he was just experiencing things from within.
Ganvan Seris strode through the ruin of the door frame, his staff outstretched, Psychic power crackling around the figurehead on top. The same violet fire burned in his eyes. Carn was suddenly frozen in place, even as he observed the event from inside his own body. He saw, rather than felt, his body pushed up against the wall next to the smoking terminal. Observed, rather than experienced, the hypnotising effect of Seris's gaze. He was powerless to act, but he wasn't the one acting. He saw his arms come up, tear through an invisible field. The force was suddenly gone, he saw himself hurl the yellow robed psyker to the side, though he sensed that his own manifestation of power was weakening. All of a sudden his reality was pierced, the bubble effect he had been experiencing ceasing with a roar of pressure and pain. He was back in control.
Carn staggered past, the Magus made a shaky grab for him as he went past but was still groggy from the psychic blow he had suffered. he flailed impotently.
“The Yellow Kiiing” Ganvan Seris managed. “The Yellow King has a use for you… come back….”
Carn himself, the apparent dealer of that blow, was faring little better. Blood flowed freely from his facial orifices and there was a slackness to his expression that suggested something inside had snapped. Mentally Carn was a storm of emotions and thoughts as he struggled to reconcile recent events. He’d had no previous inclination that he was a Psyker. None of the mandatory testing had indicated anything! Then again the same had been for Larkarsky and he had proven himself psychically capable in the extreme, maybe the tests were insufficient. If not a Psyker then what else? Was he possessed? Could it be the Emperor acting through him? Carn wasn’t vain enough to think that he was important enough to be an instrument of the Emperor's Divine will in that way but he WAS on a holy task. No, surely not. What then?
He WAS acutely aware that he now had no power at all, stumbling along like an intoxicated vagrant his head clearing far too slowly. Carn nearly tripped over the splattered remains of the cultists that he, if indeed it had truly been him, had dispatched earlier on his way to the terminal. The message! Had it sent? He suspected not, at least not in it’s entirety, not the data packet anyway. His words may have been received but likely not Larkarsky’s full account, and there was no proof! Now there never would be. He was battered, exhausted, on the ragged edge of endurance. He had performed his task but now it was time to rest. No! Blazed a thought in his mind. Continue, endure! Bring the Emperor’s light to this nest of Serpents! He balked at the admonishment, starting to wonder if his own psyche was fracturing under the stress. Still, the voice in his mind spurred him on, one foot in front of the other, as quickly as stability would allow. There was but one chance of escape. The elevator up to the surface.
The floor squelched as Carn proceeded down the now dark (the lights had been snuffed out by the psychic forces released) corridor. He tried not to think too much about the visceral consistency underfoot. Thus far there was no sign of any resistance although he was sure that he heard shuffling not far behind him. Through a door and the ground underfoot turned to hard rock and dust. The voice spurred him on; onward, onward! To escape. To freedom. To the surface! To the Emperor's light! Eventually he emerged from the darkness of the tunnels into the merely gloomy mining chamber. A short slope awaited and at the top of that, salvation.
Carn was beyond limits of all endurance and fell at the foot of the slope, weary beyond measure. He began to crawl, to pull himself up inch by inch toward the elevator and escape. He had made it barely ten feet before he heard a sibilant yet mellifluous voice behind him. He turned back to look the way he had come, though he knew in his heart what he would behold.
“You, you shall not leave, the Yellow King demands it.”
Ganvan Seris was there, supported by a hulking brute of a cultist who made no pretence at humanity, rippling muscle and a massive frame were accompanied by gnarled taloned hands and chitinous plates jutted from ripped clothing and torn flesh. The creature's face was bestial yet an alien cunning showed through it's savage features. Carn saw more shadows behind moving and writhing in the gloom. He tried to carry on up the slope, he only had a few dozen feet to go! He was so close! He could see the faded red frame of the elevator, the control panel, the cables leading up to the surface, the criss-cross of pulleys and carts in the air above, like a lattice of wires or a steel spiderweb. So close! He continued to edge up backwards, keeping his eyes fixed on Ganvan.
The Magus looked weak, spent. A lurid bruise patterned most of his scalp and his eyes were unfocused. He stood only by virtue of the lumbering behemoth at his side. He lifted his head and fixed Carn with a faltering yet piercing gaze.
“You, you will serve the Brotherhood, you will serve the Yellow King. You have drawn too much attention to us. You endanger the brotherhood! The arrival of the Star Children! You DARE to disrupt our holy work?"
Ganvan shook as he spoke, though from exertion or apoplectic rage Carn couldn’t be sure. He was continuing to surreptitiously creep up the slope. Under eight foot to the entrance of the elevator, he could make a run for it, he could…
Just as he went to turn and launch himself up the slope Ganvan held up a hand, Carn was transfixed. The Magus’s eyes burned with an unearthly luminescence, glowing brightly from their sockets.
"You. Shall. Not. Leave." the flesh pulsed under his cranium and the bruise spread, vivid patches of sub dermal blood pooling beneath the skin. A violet substance flowed wetly from one nostril. "You. Shall. Serve. Us." Each word was spoken in a low monotonous hiss, it was pleasant though, compelling. Carn bought his arm up and flung it out in desperation, nothing happened. He tried to focus, to imagine hurling the Magus away. Nothing. He was frozen in place, immobile as a stalagmite. The Magus continued; "To Resist is Futile. The Yellow King is Truth. The Yellow King is All…. "
Carn desperately tried to move, to turn and hurl himself up the slope into the elevator and escape, but it was no use. He was frozen, like prey before a predator. He couldn’t look away from that hypnotic gaze. The Magus stepped forward, still supported by his bodyguard. More grotesque figures followed, Some were beast like, others retained a semblance of humanity. all of them crouched and hissed, glaring with unbridled hate at the escaping Prefect. They spread protectively around Seris.
"The Yellow King is all..."
Yellow....Yellow.....Yellow.... YELLOW!!
With a ragged scream the voice broke through the Magus’s hold. Carn started as if slapped in the face. He was free. For a moment shock and surprise held him as much a prisoner as the Psychic power of the Magus had.
MOVE!!!
That one word, one impulse, spurred Carn into action. He knew, knew now who was inside his head, where the psychic assaults had come from. Even as he knew it was only a shadow, a remnant, an impression rather than a full presence. Larkarsky had managed to impart a piece of himself and his power in Carn’s psyche and was aiding him even as the imprint faded. Carn knew not how or when, he was only immeasurably grateful. Tears streamed down his face as he threw himself up the slope and into the steel cage of the elevator. He slammed a hand on the activation rune and breathlessly stood at the rear of the conveyance as the railing slid down and it started to ascend. He saw well the expression of shock and outrage on the face of the Magus and the bestial screams on the cultists as they hurtled up the slope after him. some launched themselves at the elevator as it rose and clung to the bottom, he could see them through the grille in the floor. They started to climb, clawing their way round to the side of the elevator. Others were clambering up the walls, extra limbs aiding their locomotion. Joining them, streaming from subterranean tunnels as the elevator passed, were creatures totally devoid of any human form at all, six limbed and all teeth and claws. They scuttled across vertical rock frighteningly fast, swiftly outpacing their brethren as they headed for the small opening in the rock above.
Others were hurling themselves from the caverns walls in an attempt to reach the elevator, most failed and yet uttered not a sound as they fell into the inky oblivion below. A scant few made the leap and impacted on the roof or sides of the elevator, making it rock violently.
I'm sorry Alistae, I tried, but I'm so tired, fading, not much left... I'm sorry...
Carn couldn't describe the way the message was imparted, it was less than words, more than a feeling. Thought, distinct and coherent, straight into his mind, into his being, into his soul.
"We're not done yet!" he growled, pulling Emperor's Fury from his belt and blasting the nearest cultist from the elevator with a pair of precision shots. "While I live I fight!" He roared, firing another burst of shots at other figures creeping round the steel cage. Sparks flew and the figures fell from the cage, tumbling away into the fathomless depths. "For the Emperor!" he screamed, again and again, firing until the clip was exhausted. Even then he used the pistol as a cudgel, smashing interlopers off the elevator's frame as they got too close. Clawed hands grasped for him through gaps in the walls, scrabbling for purchase as he desperately evaded them, dealing them blows even as he was overwhelmed. One of the cultists threw itself at the winch in an effort to stop the ascent. It died silently as it's body snarled and jammed the mechanism with gore and flesh. The elevator shuddered to a halt. Carn was trapped.
Alistae Carn knew this was the end. The end of his journey, of his path. He was tired. He backed up against the front of the elevator which swung gently as more bodies landed on it. Despite the situation he was calm, at peace. Part of this was due to exhaustion but he genuinely felt at ease even as more cultists and their accompanying creatures ripped their way into the stalled elevator. He swung one leg over the railing, noting with a strange delirium that this was the same railing that Larkarsky had felt he was going to be thrown from so long ago.
"I spit on your Yellow King" he said simply, and toppled back over the edge.
As he fell he felt claws grasp at him, but they were too late. Then one talon hooked over the charm round his wrist. For one split second the chain strained, and then it broke. Horrified, Carn made a desperate grab for the golden Aquilla as he fell into the fathomless depths.
Chapter XIII: The Yellow King-
It was a vast impenetrable darkness, unfathomable and unyielding. But in that void, a voice. Weak, faint. A whisper. A sigh.
Caaaarn…..
Then silence, only all-encompassing darkness once again. Until, so ethereal and insubstantial that it was as mist or a wisp of smoke…
Caaaarn…. Alistaaaeeee….
The voice was dying, he could tell, the last utterances of a fragment of a soul irrevocably sundered. Of a remnant drained. Carn himself felt insubstantial, he had no feeling, his body was absent. He had no sense of physicality, only the insistent fading echoes of that voice.
If he had eyes he could not open them. If he had a mouth he knew not how to use it to speak. He did not hear the words as much as feel them. He had no sense of time, no grounding. In this vacuum of reality the voice eventually spoke one final time.
This… is the end my…. friend…..
As Larkarsky’s voice faded reality reasserted itself. Not with a rush but with a slow increase, marked mainly by pain. Lots of pain. Carn quickly decided that he had preferred no feeling at all as now he was in burning agony. He tried to move but was utterly immobile, his body broken, shattered and wracked with pain. His eyes were the only thing that didn’t hurt so he opened them. It made no difference. Everything was black, he could not see a thing and had no idea if he was blind or if it was just THAT dark. But however dark it was it was not silent. He heard shuffling, grunting, breathing and a soft hissing. It was getting closer, inexorably drawing nearer and coming from all around. Carn couldn’t even turn his head, couldn’t even lift an arm. His breathing was ragged and wet, his scalp was sticky and as his senses returned there was a strong smell of copper mingled with the chemical tang of ore and mineral. His legs were crushed, covered with rock, stone and chunks of ore, he could not feel them but was aware of the weight of the rock pinning him to the floor. There was a sharp pain in his hand, though it took him a while to isolate it from the general agonies he was experiencing.
Yes, there was something in his fist, dug deep into his palm, slick with blood. It was sharp, angular. He knew it’s shape, it’s weight, the way it felt. He wept.
The sound was getting closer. Shuffling, snorting, the scraping of claws on stone. Grunting became audible with accompanying hissed instructions. There were no lights. Whatever these things were they were able to see at least a little in absolute darkness. Heavy objects were lifted, inspected and dropped. They fell with a dull thud and Carn realised they were bodies. They were looking for him.
And there was nothing he could do, he could only lie there, utterly helpless. He awaited the inevitable. It was intolerable, staring into the inky blackness (though he thought now that he could pick out some semblance of form above him) unable to act, move. More thuds, more grunts and shuffling, getting closer, ever closer. Soon the noises were right next to him, he could hear breathing and soft snarling, it was coming from his right, though there was sound still all around. Then, a boot beside his head. A triumphant hiss. A claw reached down and grasped the front of his stolen mining suit. It pulled and Carn fought back a scream as his body was strained. A grunt from his molester plus a hiss slightly further away and then he could feel rocks being moved away from his lower body. Another hiss and again he felt himself being pulled. The remaining loose rocks and stones tumbled away as he was dragged away and up. It was still dark but he could just about see a shape in front of him. Every nerve in his body screamed, no that wasn’t right. He couldn’t feel below his waist. That wasn’t good. The creature that had hoisted him up grunted in satisfaction and without warning and in one swift smooth motion, tossed Carn over his shoulder. Now Carn did scream, just for a split second before he passed into blissful and peaceful unconsciousness.
He knew not how long it was before he finally came round but he was being dragged roughly across a stone floor which passed beneath him as he opened his eyes. He was being gripped by the shoulders, which screamed in pain the moment he came to, along with the rest of his tortured body. There was a cultist either side of him. He managed to turn his head slightly, though it was agony to do so, to behold his captor. It was not as hulking or bestial as some but far from human, featuring chitinous plate on its arm and clawed hands. It’s head was bowed and the creature's gaze was downcast. It looked reverent, almost fearful. Amidst the various pains shooting through his body Carn began to feel a deep dread as he noticed many other similarly bowed heads around. There were hundreds, many hundreds of cultists all around him and all had their heads bowed, arms, be it two or three, crossed in front of their chests.
Inch by agonising inch Carn raised his head to see his destination, his nerves screamed their protestations but he had to know. His vision was still slightly blurred but ahead he could make something large out. Large and yellow. Actually many yellow things. As he was dragged closer, the objects came into sharp and terrifying focus one at a time, each more horrifying than the last. Ganvan Seris was there, looking quite recovered save for a lurid bruise on his head. He was flanked by two large broad shouldered cultists. further to the Magus’ right were actual monsters, bipedal let utterly alien, some had enlarged claws or extra arms, others carried strange looking weapons, some had tentacles for arms, some even had a tentacle mouth. Yet for all that, they stood upright and were of humanoid proportion. It was an amalgamation most foul and repellent . Carn felt bile rise in his throat as he beheld the repulsive creatures. As he got ever closer Carn could see that Ganvan Seris was smiling evilly. The sight repulsed and petrified him even more than the alien creatures had. To the Magus’s left was a space. A noticeable space that unnerved Carn greatly for it was obviously deliberate. Beyond the gap in the menagerie of horrors was another singular figure, more ostentatiously garbed, though he still wore the mining suit, clearly he was some kind of leader or more important member of the cult. Next to him were a variety of cultists, generally of the more mutated form.
And yet, for all the gallery of inhuman horrors about and before him it was the space that horrified Carn the most. It was foreboding and ominous. Beyond it yawned darkness, a recess that Carn could not judge the depth of. It seemed as a yawning pit threatening to swallow Carn whole. As his terror began to rise there was a noise, a rumbling and scraping. Something started to emerged from the darkness. Carn was roughly shoved to his knees. He was thankful beyond measure that his legs erupted with pain as he hit the floor. The scraping grew louder and closer. A giant obsidian throne started to emerge from the darkness, and in that throne…..
The sight unmanned Carn entirely, he began to gibber uncontrollably and then laugh the laugh of a mind frayed and hysterical. One of the cultists backhanded him, snapping him back to lucidity and he stared in wide eyed terror at the Yellow King.
It was monstrous, a gargantuan creature in yellow chitin and purple flesh, it leaned forward in its throne, resting its chin on one clawed hand in a monstrous parody of The Ruminator, an ancient statue from the mists of Terra’s past. Two other arms with slightly more human hands lent on the baroque carved arms of the throne and a fourth on the creature’s knee, brutal looking claws flexing. It’s cranium was swollen and enlarged and a prominent bony crest rose from it’s forehead. It’s eyes flashed green and simmered with a sinister alien intelligence. The creature looked monstrously strong, sinews and muscle rippled beneath its chitinous armour. A tail looped down in front of the throne where it crouched, a wicked looking spine at its tip. The monster regarded its captive coldly and Carn felt tendrils of thought penetrate his mind. He shuddered, fresh agonies roaring through his frame from the movement. He looked about him desperately. All around him the cultists were now staring at their Yellow King, their faces rapt. But it wasn’t fear or any kind of obeisance that Carn observed. It was devotion, pure unfiltered love. A reverence and adoration never more true. It was the love a child shows for a father. With a chill Carn realised that this was indeed the case, the creature WAS their father, their Patriarch. The Patriarch for the entire cult and they loved it unconditionally and would die to protect it, every single one of them, without hesitation. THIS monstrous alien was the nexus, the core, the very heart of the entire cult.
The Patriarch leaned back, it’s cursory inspection of Carn over. It raised its four yellow arms to the sky and barked out a series of guttural syllables. The congregation bayed its approval. Their Yellow King lowered its arms and the noise abated, it extended one taloned claw and beckoned for Carn to be bought closer. His guards gripped him by the arms and dragged him on his knees in front of the throne. Carn knelt there, utterly subdued and pliant. The guards stepped back and the Patriarch reached forward and scooped Carn up in its grasp. Its claws closed around Carn’s torso and his shattered ribs ground together, making him roar in pain as he was lifted bodily into the air. It hoisted him up and held him in front of its face, as if inspecting some morsel. Carn knew this was without a doubt the end. His life was about to finish and he was going to journey to the Emperor’s side. But he wasn’t dying without one last gesture of defiance. He spat bloodily into the Yellow King’s face, crimson expectorate spraying across it’s snout. The Patriarch recoiled slightly and then started convulsing, making strange snorting soft bellows. It took Carn a second to realise that it was laughing. It stopped abruptly and stared at Carn with primitive belligerence, a pointed tongue snaked out and licked the bloody spittle from its face. The Yellow King grinned evilly, malice glittering in its alien eyes. It pulled the helpless Prefect forward and Carn closed his eyes and gripped the Aquila charm tightly as the Patriarch opened its fanged maw wide. At long last, after struggles and trials immeasurable, Alistae Carn finally knew peace.
*
The investigation team was only three days out. That was all Ralscon could think of as he idly dismissed another alert from the outermost relay station. There was still a lot to do, things to hide, trails to remove, blame to shift. He'd tried to lessen his use of Emperor's Caress in order to improve his productivity but not using the narcotic for prolonged periods resulted in significant pain. No, it was much better to continue using it and escape the pain and reality. The problem was that it was unlikely that the imperial agents heading his way would feel the same. Therefore it was essential that some semblance of normality was presented. He'd already deleted some incriminating records, and files that seemed unimportant to him but had pleased the tentacles to eradicate.
Now with the team only days away he had decided that the pace needed to step up. He barked orders at his subordinates, directing them to various tasks. Even as they scurried off to enact his instructions he palmed another pill and swallowed it, feeling the tentacles presence increase straight away. The bliss enveloped him and he sat back in his chair and sighed contentedly. Everything would be ok, he would ensure it. The investigation team would arrive, carry out their probing and leave. He would kill them, he reflected, but he had not the means to do so. Besides, it would result only in more arriving. No, let them come, poke about, he would make sure they left empty handed. None the wiser, nothing would happen. .
He was cresting a wave of ecstasy when a light started to flash on the console in front of him. He was about to dismiss it as per usual when a twinge in his temple told him that he should answer. He moved his finger over to the receive rune and duly depressed it. A brief screen appeared showing that the message was coming from Endomaw and then faded as the screen transitioned to video.
A tall man appeared, garbed in a yellow robe. He had some kind of contusion to his head and carried an ornate staff topped with a four armed figure. For reasons that he could not explain Ralscon felt very comforted by the figurehead.
"Supervisor Ralscon, forgive my interruption of your important work but there is something that you need to know." Ganvan Seris spoke smoothly and smiled with warmth. "There has been a development, somewhat surprising but far from unwelcome. We would have contacted you earlier but we wanted to wait until, well, you will see in a moment." He unfurled his free hand, splaying the fingers. "I cannot deny that we have had a few problems here at Endomaw mine, things have not been going.... smoothly. However, I am pleased to report that all is well now and that we expect to be back at full production quotas soon." He beamed. "Now there is someone else who wishes to speak to you." He stepped to one side and off screen.
Ralscon's jaw dropped,. Agape, he stared at the figure on the screen that had been behind the man in yellow. He was severely injured, that was plain but he too was smiling serenely. Even with the bandages and scorched skin there was no denying it. It was Alistae Carn. The Prefect raised a hand in acknowledgement.
"Ralscon, damn you but by the Emperor it is good to see you", Carn spoke slowly, hesitantly, in an unfocused manner. If Ralscon hadn't known better he would have thought that Carn was under the influence of Emperor's Caress. He decided that it was much more likely to be painkillers, Carn looked like hell, no doubt he was hurting considerably.
"Carn", he replied, "You're meant to be dead, the accident....They said..."
"I was lucky, survived the crash, I was in a bad way though, managed to crawl from the wreckage and they found me in the ash wastes." Ralscon nodded dumbly. "They've been fixing me up for the last week. I still feel like hell mind you," he admitted wincing, rubbing the back of his neck. It's been interesting to say the least. While I've been here I've been doing some investigation of my own. About Larkarsky." As he said the Adept's name his expression darkened and from his sleeve he produced a small charm, it glinted in the light and he toyed with it as he continued. "It turns out that he had been poisoned, exposed to a hallucinogen from gas that is a by-product of the mining process. The miners here are unaffected, long term exposure over time I suppose has built up a resistance. Larkarsky had no such luck. Significant levels of exposure straight away unbalanced him, sent him crazy. Poor bastard. They didn't realise till it was too late." He continued to twist the charm as he spoke. The light flashed off it intermittently. It was irritating to Ralscon but a small matter compared to the disorientation that he was feeling. He put it down equally to the effects of the Emperors Caress and the revelations of the last few minutes. He started to gather his thoughts.
"Well it's good to see you Carn" he said, an insincere smile on his face. "You know, there's an investigation team on the way here now to look into the accident, now you can tell them direct that there is no need for concern. When can you get back here?" This was perfect, maybe he could even turn the team around. Ralscon felt the tentacles smooth his worries away. everything was going to work out fine.
"'I'm going to be staying here for a while", Carn said, dashing his hopes. "I'm still weak and not really in any fit state to travel. Besides, I still need to compile the report that Larkarsky should have made. Regulations must be followed after all."
"Maybe I can send the investigation team to you" Ralscon said, though as he did so he got the feeling that the tentacles would rather he didn't. He was starting to get a headache, that was usually a bad sign.
"No! " Carn exclaimed. "It's alright they are just going to get in the way" he smiled beatifically. "Great things are going on here at Endomaw, you have no idea, really. It's going to change things on Worth, perhaps the entire Celias system. It will be truly glorious. Show them a recording of this message, that will have to suffice. I'll be here another couple of weeks I suspect and then I shall return". His demeanour became serious. "I'll have some cargo with me that I'm bringing back to Narthley, samples in large containers. It is imperative that they not be disturbed. If all goes well the whole system will soon be aware. This could really be the chance to put Worth on the map Ralscon, and if we are smart we can all share in the glory."
Glory sounded good to Ralscon, very good indeed. "Well it's about time you did something useful rather than being a pain in my arse" he retorted. I'll look forward to your full report. I'll hold the investigation team off here, no fear. It's just a matter of protocol I'm sure. Once they see you are alive and well they will be satisfied. The sooner they are out of the way the sooner we can get back to normal and make preparations for your arrival. It sounds like there is nothing untoward at the mine so I'm sure I can just show them the operation here and get rid of them. Everything is going to be fine. As you say, great things are coming" he finished, with a covetous leer.
Carn smiled, his manner was still somewhat languid, slowed, "Yes", he said, still absentmindedly spinning the small Aquilla charm in his fingers. "Everything is going to be exactly as it should be, you have no idea of the magnificence that awaits us, no idea at all"
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