40K Terra - Warhammer 40k Forums - View Single Post

Icarus Athrasuriel · 01-18-2008

Chapter 1

998.M44

Tyranid

The Lord Inquisitor

His eyes opened, and he was instantly overwhelmed by the sudden influx of light. He shut them hurriedly, then opened them again. His pupils adjusted, but still all he could see was pure white light, though it slowly faded. As he became conscious proper, he was hit by a sheer wall of pain. Entire muscle groups felt like they were on fire, and his head could have almost exploded if the agony he was experiencing was to be believed. As the pain gradually dulled, he turned his head to the left, trying to catch a glimpse of a shadow in the blinding light that still streamed into his eyes. He groaned as his neck muscles strained against his will.

+++Ah, you're awake+++, a mechanical, emotionless voice droned. A cold limb lifted him up onto his feet with unnatural ease. He managed to stand, though swaying. The pain had resided, though he felt unbearably stiff. +++I've been sustaining you+++, the voice said again.

“Wha-what?” he stammered, surprised he could speak coherently.

+++You have been in a coma for four weeks+++

“Fabricator...” he realised, looking into the Fabricator General's augmetic eyes, “What happened?” He was suddenly aware of what was going on, his eyes finally adjusting. There were some fifteen other bodies scattered across the deck of the shuttle. Each had tubes and wires attached to various areas of their body. He began to pull out his own.

+++The Navigator was killed, I do not know how or by whom. We drifted into a warp storm, or very powerful current. The ship sustained structural damage and all organic occupants were killed or knocked unconscious+++, the Fabricator General explained in his monotonous voice.

“How...how long?” he asked, stumbling over to a view port, looking as his chronometer: 233.998.M41

He noticed that he was wearing his armour and that his bolt pistol was amongst some weapons piled on top of a ruined console. Combat, possibly?

+++As I said--+++ the Fabricator said before being cut off.

“Wait... sorry... four weeks you said? Why am I in combat gear?” he asked.

+++I found you like that, next to Brother-Marine Hector+++ the mechanicus lord said, attempting to open the view port.

“Where is he?” he asked.

+++Dead, a bolt round to the head+++ the Fabricator General answered. The man almost baulked at the lack of emotion or regret in the mechanical voice, but quickly remembered that the denizens of Mars could rarely express emotion due to their mechanical augmentations. The man wondered if any of the Fabricator General was organic anymore.

“Damn...”

+++Indeed+++ The Fabricator General continued his struggle against the ship's uncooperative command consoles in silence. It was only broken by the occasional groan and creak of the ship's hull, and the whirring of the Fabricator's aumetics. He continued for a while, then the man spoke.

“Do you need any help?” he asked.

+++I am infinitely quicker without an organic+++

“I'll take that as a no.” The man hobbled across the bridge, leaning on consoles and pipes. He stopped just in front of the line of survivors. Each looked dead, silent and still, like a corpse. The man knew not many would make it out of the coma. He was lucky himself, to have survived so long...and in the warp as well. It almost made him think that there was some motive behind all this. He glanced at the Fabricator General. He was the only one who had not been unconscious when the man had woken. Nor had he claimed to ever have been.

+++What are you thinking about?+++ The man jumped, slightly startled. It was as if the machine lord had sensed his thoughts, or just seen his gaze, somehow.

“Tell me, why were you not knocked unconscious?” he asked, slowly walking towards the Fabricator, lifting his bolt pistol from the weapons pile.

+++I am not flesh+++

“That is not a good answer, Fabricator, ” the man pressed. He was checking the clip. It was full.

+++I am not flesh, so my cranium is not affected by blunt force as your organic one is+++

“That only begs further questions,” he hissed, taking aim, “Why did the force not destroy you outright?”

+++Because I am made of the sturdiest material known to the Mechanicus. Simple force cannot even damage me+++

“Very well.” He quickly holstered his weapon before the Fabricator turned round, knowing that he wouldn't divulge any more of his sects many secrets. Their eyes met, and the Fabricator locked his gaze with the man's. The man's was penetrating, fiery, powerful. The eyes of the Fabricator General were disturbingly emotionless. “Tell, me,” the man said, “Who killed Hector?”

+++I do not know. I suspect the Navigator's killer+++ They continued to look at each other. The man began to read the Fabricator's surface thoughts. Suddenly, as he withdrew from the Machine Lord's mind, he noticed the quickly fading psionic ice crystallising on the view port.

“It is open?” he asked.

+++Yes+++ They looked out. All they could see was the warp.

The ship rocked, and the warp dissolved. Slowly it was replaced by light green, gleaming as light from within the room reflected off of it. “We have dropped out of the warp?”

+++No. We have fallen out of it...+++ How was that possible? One did not just fall out of the warp without warning.

“Oh my...” the man gasped. The Fabricator General through a rare sign of body language, taking a slow step back.

+++In the name of the Omnissiah...+++ It seemed to mean nothing on that mechanical frequency, but the man knew exactly what he meant. This certainly hadn't been encountered before. Just infront of the view port, there was a massive light green hull. A ship. It eclipsed the stars it was so close.

“What is it Cagarner?” the man asked, using the Machine Lord's proper name for the first time.

+++I do not know, Inquisitor. It is something I have never encountered+++ Inquisitor Rosenadel stared blank-eyed at the ship, almost with admiration, mostly with instinctive fear. He stumbled as their own ship shook, and suddenly the hum of the engines was cut out. Rosenadel turned, worried by the Fabricator. If he did not know what the ship was, then it was obviously alien, and, ergo, not friendly. He hobbled off of the bridge and into a corridor, taking note of the date. He almost fell as he read it: 233.998.M44

The ship they were on only had three decks and one airlock. It was a transport shuttle for the Senatorium and guards, often members of various Chambers Militants groups or Custodes.

Rosenadel reached the airlock, with Cagarner coming shoulder to shoulder with him a few seconds later. There was a pneumatic hiss as the door slid open, controlled from the outside. What stepped through took Rosenadel's breath away. And he was quite sure that if Cagarner could have, he would have gasped too.

What stood there was 3 metres tall. It had angular, almost human like features, but it's jaw was lined with round, scalpel sharp teeth. Instead of hair it had the beginning of a chitinous armour plating that extended down it's back. It had no clothing, but a rather strange, armour like chest. It's four arms were likewise covered in some sort of natural armour, with clawed hands. It's legs bent backwards at the knee, rather than forwards, and it stood on a pair of hoof-like feet. It's eyes were black, but not malicious. Rosenadel could read it's surface thoughts, so it was clearly sentient.

Any other day, with any other recognisable xenos, Rosenadel would have drawn his bolt pistol and blown it open. Today, though, was not any other day. He was weak, slow, disturbed and most of all out of sync with his surroundings. The Machine Lord Cagarner was similarly paralysed.

“What...what are you?” asked Rosenadel, suddenly snapping back into reality. He was about to kill the creature when he heard it's reply.

“I welcome you in peace, human. We do not get many of your kind here, we were surprised. And your ship, it is such an...old, model,” it said, sounding just like a man, albeit with a hiss. Not evil or fair, but trustworthy.

“You have not answered my question, Xenos,” Rosenadel replied, hesitating to attack, looking at the creature now with hateful eyes.

“Ah, yes. You humans always have been stubborn. I am Arkot, Captain of this vessel. Welcome to our Galaxy, M33, the Triangulum Galaxy,” it smiled, and Rosenadel was quite taken aback at the answer. They were in another galaxy? Another Emperor-damned Galaxy?

Though he stammered for a second, Rosenadel managed, “Answer me... what are you?!”

The alien's answer was the killing blow to Rosenadel's mind, and he froze when he heard it, his mind denying it.

“We are the Tyranid”

+++

01-18-2008	#1 (permalink)
Icarus Athrasuriel Lieutenant Join Date: Nov 2006 Location: The Candy Cane Forest of LIES!! Or Glasgow. Posts: 965 Rep Power: 2 Thanks: 18 Thanked 32 Times in 18 Posts Blog Entries: 1	Triangulum Chapter 1 998.M44 Tyranid The Lord Inquisitor His eyes opened, and he was instantly overwhelmed by the sudden influx of light. He shut them hurriedly, then opened them again. His pupils adjusted, but still all he could see was pure white light, though it slowly faded. As he became conscious proper, he was hit by a sheer wall of pain. Entire muscle groups felt like they were on fire, and his head could have almost exploded if the agony he was experiencing was to be believed. As the pain gradually dulled, he turned his head to the left, trying to catch a glimpse of a shadow in the blinding light that still streamed into his eyes. He groaned as his neck muscles strained against his will. +++Ah, you're awake+++, a mechanical, emotionless voice droned. A cold limb lifted him up onto his feet with unnatural ease. He managed to stand, though swaying. The pain had resided, though he felt unbearably stiff. +++I've been sustaining you+++, the voice said again. “Wha-what?” he stammered, surprised he could speak coherently. +++You have been in a coma for four weeks+++ “Fabricator...” he realised, looking into the Fabricator General's augmetic eyes, “What happened?” He was suddenly aware of what was going on, his eyes finally adjusting. There were some fifteen other bodies scattered across the deck of the shuttle. Each had tubes and wires attached to various areas of their body. He began to pull out his own. +++The Navigator was killed, I do not know how or by whom. We drifted into a warp storm, or very powerful current. The ship sustained structural damage and all organic occupants were killed or knocked unconscious+++, the Fabricator General explained in his monotonous voice. “How...how long?” he asked, stumbling over to a view port, looking as his chronometer: 233.998.M41 He noticed that he was wearing his armour and that his bolt pistol was amongst some weapons piled on top of a ruined console. Combat, possibly? +++As I said--+++ the Fabricator said before being cut off. “Wait... sorry... four weeks you said? Why am I in combat gear?” he asked. +++I found you like that, next to Brother-Marine Hector+++ the mechanicus lord said, attempting to open the view port. “Where is he?” he asked. +++Dead, a bolt round to the head+++ the Fabricator General answered. The man almost baulked at the lack of emotion or regret in the mechanical voice, but quickly remembered that the denizens of Mars could rarely express emotion due to their mechanical augmentations. The man wondered if any of the Fabricator General was organic anymore. “Damn...” +++Indeed+++ The Fabricator General continued his struggle against the ship's uncooperative command consoles in silence. It was only broken by the occasional groan and creak of the ship's hull, and the whirring of the Fabricator's aumetics. He continued for a while, then the man spoke. “Do you need any help?” he asked. +++I am infinitely quicker without an organic+++ “I'll take that as a no.” The man hobbled across the bridge, leaning on consoles and pipes. He stopped just in front of the line of survivors. Each looked dead, silent and still, like a corpse. The man knew not many would make it out of the coma. He was lucky himself, to have survived so long...and in the warp as well. It almost made him think that there was some motive behind all this. He glanced at the Fabricator General. He was the only one who had not been unconscious when the man had woken. Nor had he claimed to ever have been. +++What are you thinking about?+++ The man jumped, slightly startled. It was as if the machine lord had sensed his thoughts, or just seen his gaze, somehow. “Tell me, why were you not knocked unconscious?” he asked, slowly walking towards the Fabricator, lifting his bolt pistol from the weapons pile. +++I am not flesh+++ “That is not a good answer, Fabricator, ” the man pressed. He was checking the clip. It was full. +++I am not flesh, so my cranium is not affected by blunt force as your organic one is+++ “That only begs further questions,” he hissed, taking aim, “Why did the force not destroy you outright?” +++Because I am made of the sturdiest material known to the Mechanicus. Simple force cannot even damage me+++ “Very well.” He quickly holstered his weapon before the Fabricator turned round, knowing that he wouldn't divulge any more of his sects many secrets. Their eyes met, and the Fabricator locked his gaze with the man's. The man's was penetrating, fiery, powerful. The eyes of the Fabricator General were disturbingly emotionless. “Tell, me,” the man said, “Who killed Hector?” +++I do not know. I suspect the Navigator's killer+++ They continued to look at each other. The man began to read the Fabricator's surface thoughts. Suddenly, as he withdrew from the Machine Lord's mind, he noticed the quickly fading psionic ice crystallising on the view port. “It is open?” he asked. +++Yes+++ They looked out. All they could see was the warp. The ship rocked, and the warp dissolved. Slowly it was replaced by light green, gleaming as light from within the room reflected off of it. “We have dropped out of the warp?” +++No. We have fallen out of it...+++ How was that possible? One did not just fall out of the warp without warning. “Oh my...” the man gasped. The Fabricator General through a rare sign of body language, taking a slow step back. +++In the name of the Omnissiah...+++ It seemed to mean nothing on that mechanical frequency, but the man knew exactly what he meant. This certainly hadn't been encountered before. Just infront of the view port, there was a massive light green hull. A ship. It eclipsed the stars it was so close. “What is it Cagarner?” the man asked, using the Machine Lord's proper name for the first time. +++I do not know, Inquisitor. It is something I have never encountered+++ Inquisitor Rosenadel stared blank-eyed at the ship, almost with admiration, mostly with instinctive fear. He stumbled as their own ship shook, and suddenly the hum of the engines was cut out. Rosenadel turned, worried by the Fabricator. If he did not know what the ship was, then it was obviously alien, and, ergo, not friendly. He hobbled off of the bridge and into a corridor, taking note of the date. He almost fell as he read it: 233.998.M44 The ship they were on only had three decks and one airlock. It was a transport shuttle for the Senatorium and guards, often members of various Chambers Militants groups or Custodes. Rosenadel reached the airlock, with Cagarner coming shoulder to shoulder with him a few seconds later. There was a pneumatic hiss as the door slid open, controlled from the outside. What stepped through took Rosenadel's breath away. And he was quite sure that if Cagarner could have, he would have gasped too. What stood there was 3 metres tall. It had angular, almost human like features, but it's jaw was lined with round, scalpel sharp teeth. Instead of hair it had the beginning of a chitinous armour plating that extended down it's back. It had no clothing, but a rather strange, armour like chest. It's four arms were likewise covered in some sort of natural armour, with clawed hands. It's legs bent backwards at the knee, rather than forwards, and it stood on a pair of hoof-like feet. It's eyes were black, but not malicious. Rosenadel could read it's surface thoughts, so it was clearly sentient. Any other day, with any other recognisable xenos, Rosenadel would have drawn his bolt pistol and blown it open. Today, though, was not any other day. He was weak, slow, disturbed and most of all out of sync with his surroundings. The Machine Lord Cagarner was similarly paralysed. “What...what are you?” asked Rosenadel, suddenly snapping back into reality. He was about to kill the creature when he heard it's reply. “I welcome you in peace, human. We do not get many of your kind here, we were surprised. And your ship, it is such an...old, model,” it said, sounding just like a man, albeit with a hiss. Not evil or fair, but trustworthy. “You have not answered my question, Xenos,” Rosenadel replied, hesitating to attack, looking at the creature now with hateful eyes. “Ah, yes. You humans always have been stubborn. I am Arkot, Captain of this vessel. Welcome to our Galaxy, M33, the Triangulum Galaxy,” it smiled, and Rosenadel was quite taken aback at the answer. They were in another galaxy? Another Emperor-damned Galaxy? Though he stammered for a second, Rosenadel managed, “Answer me... what are you?!” The alien's answer was the killing blow to Rosenadel's mind, and he froze when he heard it, his mind denying it. “We are the Tyranid” +++ __________________ My favourite quotes: "There is something infantile in the presumption that somebody else (parents in the case of children, God in the case of adults) has a responsibility to give your life meaning and point." ~Richard Dawkins "Man, when perfected, is the best of animals, but when separated from law and justice, he is the worst of all." ~Aristotle "Must not all things at the last be swallowed up in death?" ~Plato Last edited by Icarus Athrasuriel; 01-22-2008 at 10:33 AM.