Warhammer 40k: Ours Journey

Chapter 58: I'm Going In!

"All ships, prepare for counter-boarding actions. Explorator fleet, pull back."

Cawl's voice echoed through the command channel once more. The command throne he occupied was enveloped in data-streams. On the hololithic star-chart, hundreds of crimson icons were pouring from the belly of the enemy battleship. They were boarding torpedoes, packed with Chaos Space Marines and various profane constructs, each warhead tipped with a screaming, living ram.

The Imperial fleet immediately changed formation. The warships that had been pouring on the fire immediately went to full reverse thrusters. The Dawnlight naturally chose to pull back with them. But unexpectedly, a significant number of the torpedoes locked onto this unremarkable-looking vessel. The living rams on the torpedoes, their screaming heads shrieking, ignored the nearby Inquisitorial warships and suddenly veered in unison, charging towards the Dawnlight as if summoned.

"Strike Group One, go silent. Strike Group Two, intercept."

Escort fighters launched from the hangar bays, weaving through the torpedo swarm in suicidal attack runs. The plasma from their point-defense cannons blossomed into burning sparks in the void. The ignited Chaos craft exploded, revealing their twisted internal structures. One torpedo that slipped through the screen slammed into the ship's port side. A strange smoke billowed as corrosive ichor made contact with the adamantium armor, burning numerous holes through it.

As the red glare of the hololith's warning lights washed over Cawl's metallic face, the Archmagos's data-tendrils were injecting new encrypted commands into the fleet array, while simultaneously consolidating the data from the contents of the destroyed torpedoes. He looked at the results and breathed a sigh of relief. Cawl had always been wary of Chaos's insidious reach, but to think that a few dozen Chaos Space Marines and some cultists could pose a threat to the Dawnlight was, perhaps, overthinking it.

Maintaining the barrage against the boarding torpedoes, Cawl sent a warning to Romulus.

"Chaos Space Marines are conducting a concentrated boarding action against you via torpedoes. I will report their impact points."

Romulus glanced at his comrades. They all understood. Karna headed for the ship's mid-section, where the population was densest. Arthur departed silently, with Ramesses following close behind, who then began to discreetly observe the outside world from within the safe house.

Aglaia looked around, but ultimately suppressed her curiosity and stayed put. Thanks to the Emperor's grace, ever since she had made contact with the ancient warriors, she felt that her consistently unlucky and high-pressure life had finally found a moment of ease.

Silence was consent, and if something was taboo, they would state it plainly. The deepest impression she had from her dealings with these four ancient warriors was that, for the first time, she felt like she was being treated as a person. She saw none of the extremism and high-pressure mentality that was so deeply ingrained in the bones of the modern Imperium.

And so Aglaia, who had always been intensely curious about the identities of these ancient warriors and the history they carried, would usually try to stick close to them, gathering historical records for her own research projects. Arthur was the least talkative of the four, but as long as it didn't involve the history of loyalist legions, he would talk, and while he seemed cold, he was surprisingly easy to approach. Then there was Ramesses; as long as you were willing to trade your own knowledge, he didn't mind telling you about that era's history, embellished with some artistic flair. The other two were more guarded. One loved to talk about art and culture, while the other would just turn the conversation back on you, making it feel like you weren't talking to a person, but an entire council that was analyzing you.

But her precognition told Aglaia that following them this time would bring her no good. After a moment's thought, she decided to stay on the bridge. She had come to trust that feeling quite a bit.

Seeing this, Romulus turned his gaze back to the battlefield, continuing to witness the wild dance of steel and energy. The data in his vision wove together, drawing one tactical model after another.

BOOM—

Two escort craft collided with the torpedo swarm on intersecting trajectories, ramming two of them head-on. Burning metal twisted together in the vacuum of space. Despite the dense screen of defensive fire, several torpedoes still managed to slip through and pierce the Dawnlight's port side. As the melta charges bored through the thick, multi-layered armor plating, the pressure difference in the compartment instantly sucked three servitors who had been performing hazardous duty into vacuum-sealed blood-bags.

"Port-side lower node has been hit. Enemy core unit has been marked. Proceed to target location immediately. Librarian unit, provide psychic suppression and contain the damage. Fireteams will prioritize clearing other areas."

Romulus's command rang out.

"Acknowledged."

The black knight and the sorcerer, their power armor casting long shadows down the trembling corridor, received the data-stream Romulus had sent. The conduit network of the impacted area perfectly overlapped with the Dawnlight's holographic model.

WHOOSH—

As the Word Bearer Sorcerer's staff lit up, a fluorescent blue slime began to seep from the bulkheads. The armor of his eighteen guards crawled with writhing runes. They incinerated the unsightly servitors with plasma fire and blasted a ritual pattern of the Thousand-Eyed Nest onto the adamantium deck.

"Let the False Emperor's vessel be shattered," the Sorcerer intoned.

Bubbles formed in the crystalline liquid. As they popped, the contents of the torpedoes that had not yet completed their boarding action materialized in the wide chamber. Hordes of Chaos cultists poured out.

"Let the False Emperor's destiny be halted!"

The Sorcerer slammed his staff on the ground. The entire chamber was suddenly filled with mirrors. Each one recorded every detail of the warship, the projected images flooding the Sorcerer's mind.

Quickly scanning every piece of information on the mirrors' surfaces, the Sorcerer found that something seemed to be missing from all of them.

Who was commanding the people on the bridge? Who was that Inquisitor talking to? Why did the empty corridors inspire such reverent gazes from the crew? Why did the people on the lower decks, even in the face of his boarding action, still seem so full of hope?

Why is it like this?

The Sorcerer was confused. This was the spell he was most confident in. It was this very spell that had allowed the Word Bearers to pinpoint the location of the Nemesis Chapter's exterminatus weapons, destroying the last resistance of Guilliman's sons.

He quickly opened a comms channel. "Reaper Squad, respond."

There was only silence.

The Sorcerer grabbed a random cultist and threw him into a Shattered Mirror. The mirror's surface showed the fate of Reaper Squad: three corpses, torn to pieces by countless projectiles.

"..."

The Sorcerer, refusing to believe it, drove his neural probes deeper into his brain, stimulating his nerves and sending out psychic calls to one squad after another. For some reason, after boarding this ship, his connection to the Empyrean had weakened.

Finally, upon contacting the ninth boarding party, a voice came through.

"It's a trap, Sorcerer!"

(End of Chapter)