The Void Spirit: Part 1

A single ship cut through the endless void.

    Slicing through the black velvet of space, the strike cruiser, Justice, is on the prowl. To a novice, it would appear the legion astartes ship is dead in the void. To an experienced captain, however, it’s plain to see it is merely hiding. Within the endless void, even the small heat source can become a beacon for unwanted attention. To remain hidden, the Justice has gone both into communication silence and thermal suppression. The ship was carried silently forward through the void by the massive inertia of its long cooled engines. Inside the Justice maintains minimum life support. Because of this the inside has developed a fine layer of frost from the moisture in the air, giving the vessel a vacant, abandoned feel. Yet despite the biting cold the crew, dutifully, carried on.

    Serfs run up and down the corridors in both to keep warm and complete their tasks as swiftly as possible. Tech-priests look over servitors and machinery, checking for any signs of damage from the frost accumulating in the halls of the strike cruiser. Astartes of the first legion, the Dark Angels, strode down the halls from time to time, their power armor also turned off to minimize heat.

    Within the bridge of the Justice, the various tech priests and officers oversee their tasks. The navigator sat at his throne, tired, allowed a moment of respite as the ship has to, too many dismays, cut the astropathic beacon to maintain it’s stealthy advance. Still, the rest isn’t exactly comfortable. He sat in his throne still, shivering. Even with the blankets provide the frail man trembles in the cold. The bridge officers oversaw the various scanners that were allowed to be active, though they outwardly remain resolute, and upright, there shaking hands and clanking teeth gave them away.

    Justice wasn’t exactly alone in the void. Far ahead of the strike cruiser was a true derelict; a once-proud Imperial Army station left abandoned in the void after it lost it strategic usefulness. Now it floated aimlessly in space, stripped down to nearly nothing. Yet something was on it. A weak signal emitted from it. It said nothing, merely made itself know. That was what drew the Dark Angels to it.

    A siren went off, breaking the frigid silence.

    The shivering among the crew members ceased as one of the officer's terminals produced a grating, screeching noise, and a dull red light. The entirety of the bridge looked to that single man and woman’s gaze was directed at the frantically moving officer.

    “Warp exit!” The red hair man broke the silence, it echoing across the bridge. “Off port side, marked. Three-Five-Eight.”

    “Sensor scanning.” An equally tense woman spoke as hurryingly pressed the keys on her own terminal. “Legiones Astartes freighter, it’s one of our own. It’s... It’s the Void Spirit.” The officer said breathlessly.

    “Is it damaged?”     

    Now the whole room looked towards the command throne. Seated in it was a giant of a woman. Clad in black power armor, wrapped in a white robe flowing blonde hair pouring from underneath the hood. The woman’s words were strong, dripping with authority. The crew’s silence was cut by the woman sized astartes.

    “Officer. Answer me. Is the vessel damaged?”

    “N-No Lord Ariel.” The officer is quick to reply, stammering both due to the cold, and sheer nervousness one got from speaking to a scion of Lion, “It would seem to be in working order. A tech priest may be able to provide a better analysis than I.”

    “That won’t be necessary,” Ariel said coolly. “Any signs of it re-entering the warp?”

    “No my lord.” The red haired man spoke. “It would seem it’s remaining within the material world, for now.”

    Ariel tapped her armored fingers on the command throne, she had to plan her moves carefully, this required a gentler, more precise approach. The ship itself had been captured, whisked away by a band of mercenaries. It wasn’t just the fact that the ship had been captured, staining the honor of the legion, it was what it carried that was of greater importance.

    “Any idea where they’re going?” Ariel asked staring into the void.

    A bald headed man with a cybernetic eye spoke up. “Speed and trajectory suggest the station.”

    ‘Perhaps the navigator needs to rest.’

    “No, they-” Ariel caught herself. Damn, she did it again.

    Ariel was a psyker, a powerful one as well. Telepathy was her strong suit, though she would not lie if she didn’t dabble in warping flesh with biomancy, or snuck away with a few pyromancy tomes when upon the garden world of Shizukesa, where she studied to become a librarian. A brief moment of nostalgia washed over her as she remembered the other scions she met there...

    “My lord?”

    Ariel shook her head. “Nothing, merely musing.”

    Before the room could fully comprehend the doors to the bridge opened. A Dark Angel entered the room, though he wore no robes over his armor. His chest plate was dominated with a powerful eagle, lightning bolts striking from it.  

“Have they found it?” The astartes’ voice was booming in the quiet chamber.  

    “Aye,” Ariel said nodding. “They have.”

    The astarte looked up to Ariel, she looking back, eyes hidden by her hood. Despite a helm hiding his face, Ariel knew that his eyes were judging her.

    ‘Witch blood’

    The thought cut her but she refused to give him the satisfaction of showing it. Instead, Ariel gestured out to the velvet backdrop of space.

    “It would seem our prize is unguarded.”

    “We were lucky.” The astartes looked back to the void.

    Ariel shook her head. “Not all luck, Master Samson.”

    The Mark III ‘Iron’ helm gazed back at Ariel, she feeling a mixture of anger and disgust sent towards her by the Company Master.

    “You can read prophecy?” Though the question was said in a neutral tone, Ariel knew the astarte meant it to be sarcastic.

    “No, I read intelligence reports,” Ariel said with a grin.

    The psyker feels a brief flash of anger from the man but it quickly subsides. “So, the guess was right then.”

    “So it would seem,” Ariel said musingly. “How far are they from the station now?”

    “Fourteen void miles my lord. If we break stealth now we could be able to lightning  strike them, boarding would swiftly follow.”

    Ariel remained silent, something was... Off about all of this. While the ship seemed to be heading towards the station, logically it would be a meeting spot. There was no fuel in the station, not to mention the hab zones would be in great disrepair, meaning this was a temporary stop. It seemed all too easy, considering why they were here.

    “My lord,” Samson’s voice interrupted Ariel’s musings, “Allow me to lead the strike, I’ve been on over a hundred boarding operations.”

    Ariel already knew why Samson wanted to lead; to be as far from her as possible, and Ariel, truly, wanted the same. Though despite the wanting to dispatch Samson off to just have him off the ship, something still bothered her about the whole situation. There was also something else in the intelligence report, that, if true, would mean she’d have to accompany Samson, like it or not. With a deep breath, the psyker went ahead with it.  

    “Break cover,” Ariel ordered. “Ahead full, I want to close with that station as quickly as possible.”

    The darkened strike cruiser suddenly came to life, the interior lights came illuminating the bridge fully. Some crew members had to cover their eyes due to the sudden brightness. The chill ceased as the heaters returned back to normal; now the crew shook only because of their nerves. Justice rocketed forward through the void, it’s plasma engines roaring to life.

    “Raise void shields, give full power to all weapon stations,” Ariel commanded, she now leaning forward from her command throne.

    “Void shields charging,” The mechanical voice of a tech priest said. “They shall be fully operational upon entering targeted area, my lord.”

    Ariel nodded, she then looked over to the navigator, who was now hooked into his throne, wires flowing from his skull and into the headrest of the techno-arcanic device.  

    “Navigator, any odd warp signatures?”

    The navigator slowly shook his head. “No my lord.” He spoke softly. “The warp is still.”

    Ariel nodded, though the navigator’s soft words did little to comfort her. This still felt too easy. Considering what and how they stole it was no spur of the moment highjacking. It had to have been planned. And yet this seemed like such a miscalculation. The signal was easy to find for the Dark Angels. Too easy. To the point that it made Ariel paranoid.

    Yet despite herself, she looked over to Samson. “Get your boarding team assembled. Bring the apothecary with you.”

    Samson’s mood turned more curious than annoyed. “Expecting casualties?”

    Ariel gave a slight nod. “Can’t be too careful.” She turned back to the bridge. “Life signs?”

    “Scans are inconclusive, seems the Kenzi appear to be oversaturating the area. Our auspices and aguar scanners cannot give us a clear reading.” Another crew member said, his pale blue eyes looking over to Ariel.

    From what information that could be gathered on the Kenzi, Ariel had developed a certain level of respect. A group of castaway post-humans, these once proud warriors had been forced to become common mercenaries after their home world suffered a catastrophe, making it uninhabitable. Though ‘common’ would be an understatement. Imperial Intelligence notes that they do not back down, even when confronted by legion astartes. They fight honorably, and to the bitter end. Those traits alone made them worthy adversaries in Ariel’s eyes.

    “Helm, position us one hundred kilometers from the station to our starboard side.”

    “Aye milord.”

    “Ready boarding torpedoes,” Ariel picked up her helm from the armrest of the throne and turned to her post-human counterpart. “I shall be accompanying you.”    

    A brief flash of both surprise and anger came from the gene-son of Lion, before asking. “Why?”

    Ariel’s answer was as curt, “To ensure our objective is completed.”  

    “Yes... Of that.” Samson scanned the room for a moment before turning back the true-born daughter of Lion. “You’ve yet to tell us what it is that we are in search for?”

    “That is of my concern alone, Master.” Ariel was quick to squash the line of questioning. “I will say this, however; there's a reason for keeping you in the dark. One you will come to understand after the fact.”

    'Might as well blindfold us, hag.'

    Ariel clenched her fist as she rose from her command throne. “First Officer Lasky, you have the throne. Keep me informed.”

    The human bowed deeply, his short cut black hair reminded Ariel much of the void, “Aye my lord.”

    Ariel stepped down from the raised position of the throne, motioning Samson to follow. The astarte kept pace with Ariel as they made their way down the halls of Justice. Legion serfs halting and bowing before both the lord astartes and the scion of their Primarch. It was something Ariel was still not used to; feeling important. Most of her childhood and part of her adulthood was spent being told of how she would be part of a greater whole. How scions were but astartes, merely born rather than made. Despite that, she, more often than not, ran into many of her gene-brothers who had less, if no respect for her. Couple that with her being a psyker, and you had a brew of paranoia.

    “I have chosen our strike team carefully.” Samson’s comments pulled Ariel back into reality. “Three squads, Raphael, Barbarous, and Carrick squads. Equipped and ready for boarding actions.”

    “Barbarous,” Ariel spoke that name with a puzzled look, “I do not know this man.”

    “Newly promoted,” Samson said plainly, “Rest assured, he is quite capable.”

    Ariel sensed no lies in the statement, so she did not express any concern. “Very well, I trust your judgment, and of the apothecary?”

    “Medicaid Jonas suggested Berrick, again, newly promoted.” The company master motioned down the hall. “They’re awaiting us in the command chamber.”

    “Very well.” The scion acknowledged nodding, “Let us not keep the boarding party waiting.”  

    The duo eventually came within the command chamber. Layers of frost still remained on the many terminals and consoles organized throughout the entirety of the chamber. Ariel entered first, followed swiftly by Samson, who closed the door behind him, which caused the scion to look over her shoulder briefly before gazing at the astartes, who stood around a circle holo table.

    The first was Carrick, a familiar face. A grizzled ‘old man’ clad in ‘Iron’ pattern power armor. Its power pack turned off to allow the chamber to remain quite. Still, though, he moved in it with superhuman grace as he turned to face Ariel. While the armor had a clear sign of wear, and the cybernetic right arm showed this the most. The wear and tear of the armor were made most noticeable by how pristine and well preserved his right pauldron, the one which held his personal heraldry was. At its center; the golden star of Terra, marking him a veteran of the Unification Wars.  

   To the right of Carrick was Raphael. His black beard was cut short to his tan skin, and though she could now see his eyes, Ariel felt them piercing at her from under his hood. He was a Calibanite, served under her father during the days of the Order. That was made very clear by the ‘bolt-revolver’ at his side; an old standby for many of the Caliban born astartes.

    Then of course was the apothecary, whom she assumed was Berrick, his bright white armor clashing with the rest of his fellow legionnaires. He seemed too preoccupied with his narthecium, his light blue eyes looking it over with great intent, even the door closing didn’t seem to draw his attention away from his instrument.    

    Lastly was who Ariel assumed to be Barbarous. He was a rather tall lanky, as lanky as a space marine could be anyhow, Dark Angel. He being the only one wearing a helmet within the command chamber; the true mark of the newly initiated. It seemingly was the only thing that distinguished him from his fellow legionnaires, the lack of ornate plating or the adherence to tradition.

    Ariel came to the opposite side of the table, she pressing a few buttons on the console built into it, activated the holographic project. The image produced was the object of their hunt; the Void Spirit. Ariel heard the mental whispering among the sergeants, intrigue hung in the air like the cold fog had earlier.

    “This,” Ariel lifted an armored hand, pointing at the vessel, “Is what we’ve chased for three weeks,” The room remained quiet, save for Ariel’s voice echoing off the ceramite walls, “As you know, the Void Spirit was hijacked during a rebellion on the planet of Val Secundus. This act has stained the honor of the legion, and cannot go unpunished. Legion command has declared the recapturing of this vessel an absolute priority.”     

    Pressing a few more buttons rendered a new imagine. This time of a humanoid figure, clad in what could be described as boxy plate armor, with a small power pack. A glaive-like weapon hung in his right hand, wires and cables running up to the power pack connected to the glaive itself. The figures helm was most intriguing as it was highly stylized to look like the face of what many humans would characterize as a ‘demon’.  

    “Kenzi: these are the mercenaries that hijacked the vessel,” Ariel said with a measure of contempt. “They’re no normal mortals; they’re genetically augmented to be quick and deadly. They make use of energy weapons that double as melee weapons. Though unstable, they’re highly dangerous.”

    “How did these mortals even get aboard?” Carrick sounding vexed.

    “It would seem that they concealed themselves with the working crew of the orbital station of Val Secundus.” Ariel stated evenly, “The security detail attached to the freighter was... Admittedly inadequate. This coupled with the fact that the station's own Imperial Militia forces were greatly underpowered and you have what we have before us.”

    Ariel nodded to Samson, who stepped towards the console as she stepped to the side, he inputting his own commands. The projector now displayed the Void Spirit and the abandoned Imperial station in detail. Three red dots appeared, two on the Void Spirit one on the aft starboard, the other on the forward starboard, and one on the far end of the station.

    “These are our breach points.” Samson began, “I, Ariel, and squad Carrick, will be entering through breach alpha, securing the engine block and crew compartment.” Samson gestured to the aft point on the Spirit, “Squad Raphael shall enter through beta, securing the bridge. Lastly, squad Barbarous, shall enter via breach point gamma, and secure the command chamber of the station, allowing us to release the docking clamps of the ship.” Samson’s helm seemed to scan the room, “Questions?”

    Barbarous spoke, which did not surprise Ariel in the slightest, she could sense his... Unease. “Master, if I may ask, why is my squad not participating in the boarding of the Void Spirit?”

    'It’s because you’re a novice, Calbinite.'

    Ariel caught herself from scolding Carrick, though she didn’t hold back the glare the scion shot at the Terran Veteran. Carrick had a reputation of being an arrogant old man, who showed his pride via his actions. Many would say that he displayed heroism on the field, even for a space marine. However, Ariel could see through him and knew that he sought no true glory, only to prove he was better.

    “If you’re worried about missing out on a chance for glory, fret not,” Samson tried to reassure the young sergeant. Ariel knew the real reason for Barbarous distress; he feared being separated from the rest of the force, which could easily lead to him being surrounded, and slowly whittled down. “I assure you that the Kenzi will give your squad a fight.”

    “What I think sergeant Barbarous meant to bring up was that he’ll be isolated from the rest of the strike force,” The room’s attention was now directed to Raphael, “It may be wiser to focus our assault on the Spirit. The station is of little consequence.”  

    “It’d be rather awkward to seize a ship that we cannot then released from the dock,” Carrick stated in an obviously condescending tone.

    “We could simply melt the clamps with well-placed melta bombs unless you’re uncertain of your ability to handle them, brother Carrick,” Raphael said in an equal tone as he pointed to Carrick's cybernetic arm.  

    Ariel knew that this was inevitable, no one needed any form of prophecy to foresee the conflict between the Terrans and the Calibanites. The cultural differences created prejudice on both sides; Calibanites seeing the Terrans as arrogant and inhuman, while the Terrans, in turn, viewed the Calibanites as naive and superstitious. This tension at the moment might affect the mission performance of all astartes. A compromise needed to be made, fast. Ariel’s solution to the problem, however, was less than ethical.

    Reaching out with her mind, she carefully entered Carrick’s own. With a very gentle whisper, she implanted a thought. That thought gave Carrick the sudden drive to show Raphael how important the station truly was. That was the beauty of the scion’s deceit; it was within Carrick’s own arrogant way.

    “If such a thing perturbs the young sergeant so, I shall take his place!” Carrick declared on the fringe of coming off as angry.         

    Samson looked confused for a brief moment before asking, “Carrick, you certain.”

    He looked to company master, “Of course. Such a critical task must be done, I’ll commit my squad to do so.”

    Samson looked to Ariel, who gave a slow nod allowing Samson to say, “Very well... Your squad shall be responsible for securing the docking bay.” He then looked around the rest of the room and asked, “Any other concerns?” His question was replied only with silence, “Too your squads, you have one half hour to make ready.”