Jacelyn was an astropath. It was her sacred duty to keep the Imperium of Man together by sending and receiving messages through the Immaterium. Jacelyn dreaded every moment of it.
The warp had been still all day. That was a rarity at the best of times. Ever since the opening of the Cicatrix Maledictum, it was practically unheard of. Innumerable astropaths died in those first days. Many more died after, trying to pierce the veil of the Immaterium. Each death put a greater strain on the remaining astropaths, and more died every day.
Jacelyn felt the pressure building up behind her eyes. Her last shift had been 16 hours long. Later that night, her best friend - her only friend, really - died while reading a corrupted message, the partially decayed cry for help of a lost world. A valiant effort, or it would have been, had they not known that the world was already dead. They found it to be a covered in a mass of flesh, writhing, bleeding. Lord Guilliman ordered the Exterminatus himself two months ago. Jacelyn was about to enter her current shift - 17 hours.
She prayed fervently to the God Emperor, as she always did. Just another shift. Just another day. The seconds drummed past, turning to minutes, then to hours. The warp was still. Jacelyn kept up her prayers.
After seemingly an eternity, Jacelyn started to withdraw herself from the warp. Just 5 more minutes, and then she can leave. A short journey to her quarters. Ablution. Blessed sleep. But wait.... There! There was something. Sighing, praying, Jacelyn opened herself up. A message. A world caught unprepared by the storm. Thousands dying, going insane. Jacelyn shed a single tear. There were too many messages of this sort. She could not afford to- The message ended abruptly, as if cut in half. But it also did not end. A second message started immediately. Raiders at the edge of the star system. The same world, under attack. A second cry for help, delivered at the cost of most surviving astropaths. Delivered, but not received in time. The warp must have held the message back until it caught up with the first one, then melded them together. This was getting tiresome. She had to close herself before- The third message started just as abruptly. More death. Carnage in the streets. Desperation. Prayers to the God Emperor. The last astropath, sacrificing himself to send the final plea. Jacelyn fought frantically to close herself. But the message had a will of its own. It kept her open, and delivered the final blow. Endless laughter. Suffering. Laughter. Suffering. Laughter.
Jacelyn ran. The message had to be delivered. Her nose bled. She coughed, and felt warm blood in her hand. She ran. She shouted as she ran. She thought she spoke sense. She barrelled into a man, threw him to the side, and ran past. The message had to be delivered.
---
Farrel was a commissar. He understood people. He was good at it. He accepted the myriad ways he performed his duty to the Emperor. He did not relish being stranded on a damaged ship. The Hammer of Thurysia was severely hurt entering the system they currently resided in. The rest of the fleet carried on. The will of Lord Guilliman had to be done. The system needed liberation. The fleet also needed a rearguard. Thus, The Hammer was relegated to picketing duty at the edge of the system, awaiting for the shipyards to be serviceable again.
A couple of naval troopers hurried by. They saluted Farrel. He saluted back. He demanded respect. He gave it back in turn, until convinced otherwise. He walked on absentmindedly. He may have took a wrong turn, not recognizing his surroundings, and for a moment - There was shouting ahead. Farrel quickened his step. As he turned a bend in the corridor, he was swept aside by a frail, old woman. She was blind. She was bleeding. She was an astropath. She was shouting a word, over and over. Her shouts became gibberish. Farrel racked his bolt pistol.
---
“-khhh- is The Hammer of Thurysia! I have an urgent message -khhh- Lord Guilliman!”
“I’m sorry captain, he is busy.”
“It’s an Emperor--khhh- emergency!”
“He is coordinating the assault on the shipyards, captain. I’ll-”
“Patch him through, ensign.”
“But milord-”
“Go ahead captain.”
“Thank you, milord! -khhh- astropath went insane delivering -khhh- to me-”
“The message, captain.”
“Yes, milord. Sorry, milord. -khhh- Ulpia system. That’s what the astropath shouted. They must be in -khhh- peril.”
“Understood, captain. And watch your tongue.”
“Yes, milord! Sorry, mi-”
“Ensign, patch me through to the Sacrum Pugnus.”
No comments:
Post a Comment