In Extremis

[Killermoose]

Indeed! +rep for you, that was great! I was really suprised when that old man killed the Archon's best Incubi, it was great! Well done!

[Templar Mikeel]

What can I say that I havn't said? Anyways, + rep.

[Inquisitor Rosenadel]

As always, your kind words are very much appreciated.

V

The old man and his companion ran quickly through the underground passageways, not hesitating, knowing the exact route they had to take. Though they carefully approached every intersection and rounded corners, they met no resistance. Their plan had gone surprisingly well. Better, even, than the old man had expected.

Soon both the men could smell something horrid. Sweat, blood, feces, *****, and worse stung their nostrils and made their eyes water. The old man could sense even more. He could sense anguish, pain, fear, and anger. Though the emotions were more or less equal in intensity, anger stood apart from the rest.

What was most telling to the old man’s attuned mind was the gaping hole the emotional stains surrounded. He knew that was where he and his fellow were headed. He turned back to address the man in fatigues.

“Hurry, Dlavim. He is weak, and I fear the tampering with his mind is more grievous than that which they have done to his body. We must evacuate him as soon as possible. We have already trapped the eldar here. The Arbites will take care of them soon enough. I do not want to lose so promising an individual.”

“We’re not enough for you, eh?” the younger man retorted.

“No, Dlavim, you are not. You and the rest are my tools. I value your skills, but make no mistake, you expendable. As, ultimately, am I. But you are to be expended first.” The old man’s voice was cold and powerful.

Dlavim was a drug dealer, and a good one at that. He had the best quality, and always plenty of it. He had inherited his father’s penchant for maintaining a low profile on the legal side, but an imposing presence on the black market, or what the people in his hometown called the “underside”. He was called an “underdiver”, the leader of the drug ring that usually jumped for cover first when the Arbites came. But in Dlavim’s case, it meant he could slip out of any situation and pull the floor tapestry out from under the wealthy in town, or the plasteel from under the Arbites.

But one day he got caught, and had no where to go. But the Arbites who captured him had seen some worth in him. They enlisted him in the Slavar Chem-dogs, the army of the Imperial Guard infamous for being drug addicts. Which suited Dlavim fine, because as well as being a dealer, he had his intoxicants and hallucinogens of choice. He soon learned to love Kalma. The commanders let the troops have their drugs during the battles to boost their courage and ferocity, but in between, they would have to do what they could to cope from the withdrawl. Dlavim could not bear it himself, and so he started to smuggle the inhalant off the battlefield. Others soon head of his exploits and offered to pay him handsomely for his wares.

Soon Dlavim had created a sizeable drug ring. As before, he managed to stay in the shadows. That is, until an inquisitor named Andrei Krustyef fought alongside the Chem-dogs and discovered his drug ring posing as a buyer. Dlavim was shocked when the man who was so addicted turned out to be one of the highest Imperial authority. Dlavim was to be executed on the spot by his commissar, but Krustyef intervened. He told Dlavim that he could die, or serve under the Inquisitor.

Dlavim was no fool. He chose the latter, and followed Krustyef. Krustyef later told him that he would not have reported the drug trafficking had he not needed a decent warrior like Dlavim at his side. Dlavim knew that this was only half true. He knew that he was expendable, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed soldiering, and Krustyef let him have the Kalma he was so addicted to. So he remained content to be an asset to Krustyef’s team, albeit an expendable one.

And now he had ended up here, following this old man into hell, and, hopefully, back.

“Feth, I was making a crack, old man. Don’t need to fething ork on me,” the younger man said half under his breath.

The younger man could not see the elder smile. “I am merely making sure you remember, Dlavim. Don’t want you to have a big head when this is over.”

The younger man grunted, and looked at a device on his wrist. “Speaking of such, the gate is gonna frag in less than a deca.”

“Just enough time,” the older man said as they rounded the last corner. Before them was a row of old power generators, still functioning and hissing steam. Dlavim and the old man quickly but efficiently covered each other with military precision down the aisle of generators. Their target was not hard to find.

Blindfolded, naked, and strapped to one of the generators was the bleeding and broken form of explicator Rosenadel. He was strapped over a steam vent on the generator, and the two men could see the scalded flesh on Rosenadel’s back. The generator let out a gout of steam when the pair were not three meters away. Rosenadel did not so much as cry out. He merely moaned, and shifted his head to look at them. Both eyes were blackened, and his left cheek had a large gash in it.

Dlavim and the old man moved to unchain him. They carefully laid him on the ground and let him rest.

“We have to scatt,” Dlavim said, and glanced around nervously. “The eldar lord has no doubt sent underlings after us.” He lifted Rosenadel’s softly moaning form onto his back, and he and the old man set off the direction they had come from.

No sooner had they rounded the corner than they were met by six eldar wyches. Dlavim cursed.

[Inquisitor Rosenadel]

=][=

The boxy Rhino APCs of the Adeptus Arbites roared through the city. They didn’ t care who knew they were coming. They had their quarry trapped, or so their man on the inside had signaled.

In the lead Rhino, Bruster Carmichell sat in the commander’s seat, his torso out the top hatch, his hands on the pintle-mounted storm bolter. Sitting beside him, but lower and inside the Rhino was a curious man that Bruster Carmichell had never truly been comfortable around.

He was short, had a shaven head, and one half-closed gray eye. Where the other eye would have been was an optical sensor that glowed red. Instead of ears, the man had one metal funnel where his left ear would have been, and a metal plate with several wires leading from it where his right would have been. He also had no mouth, but four vertical slits that were the speakers for his voicebox.

The man had a rectangular metal case around the mechanical and electrical components that made up his torso, which was partially shrouded in the brown sackcloth robe he wore. His arms were also metal, and were thinner than normal human arms. One hand had five metal fingers and was fully articulated. The other was composed of several different writing utensils. The “normal” hand almost always held the metal man’s portable multi-cogitator, which he often used for complex mathematics and recording events, observations, and whatever else he found appropriate. His legs were covered in the robe, but Bruster could still see the man’s metal right foot.

Bruster had not heard how the man had come to be so augmented, or exactly how he had come into Inquisitor Krustyef’s employ. He had been with Krustyef longer than any of the other of Krustyef’s associates. There were rumors, of course. Some said that the man was a former member of the Adeptus Mechanicus who had committed some heinous techno-heresy and Krustyef had spared his life on the condition that he must serve the Inquisition. There were others that said the metal man had once been a brilliant but heretical researcher, and had delved too far into alien and chaos technologies, and that he was hunted down by Krustyef personally. Why Krustyef would keep the man was a mystery in both cases for Bruster.

In any event, the man had proven to be a highly useful asset to Krustyef, serving as his savant-arithmeta, general coordinator, and source of information. Bruster did not know what the man’s original name was, but he was introduced only as “Vault”.

When Vault suddenly spoke, his deep metallic voice nearly made Bruster jump from his gunner’s position. It sounded like that of a Space Marine from inside his helmet, which Bruster had only heard once before, and found extremely terrifying.

“Crysanthe had informed me,” droned Vault in bass, “ that Wing Two is approaching the target as scheduled. ETA is one minute. I am to remind all personnel that our objective is to delay the xenos until the prisoners are outside the boundary zone. We are then to regroup outside the boundary zone, await the Inquisitor’s orders, and destroy any threats on sight.”

“Thank you, Vault,” said Bruster. He switched on his vox-link to the rest of the Rhinos under his command. “Wing One, you have heard your orders. Prepare for rapid assault, pattern Omega-Delta-four-one. No one splits off; do not break into combat squads. That is exactly what these despicable aliens want: for us to be isolated. Stay together, cover each other, and remember that the civilians come first. We can search them for taint later.

“And have no mercy for these aliens, because if they capture you, you will regret it. They are deceitful and foul in the extreme. If anything, shoot them again to make sure they’re dead. You should have plenty of slug and spread shots, but don’t waste them. If they figure out your fire pattern, they can avoid it. Most of you saw how fast and agile they are at the HQ today. Giving them a pattern they can avoid will only let them use their speed to the fullest. Switch targets if yours escapes you. Your squadmates will take care of yours.”

Bruster paused. He went over the checklist in his head. Satisfied that he had covered everything, he spoke into the vox-set again. “Good luck, Arbites. The Emperor’s Justice is our privilege and duty to dispense.”

Bruster’s Rhino rounded the corner at the head of the armoured transports. What he saw almost made him vomit. People in dirty rags of clothes were spilling out from a the target, which was a large and decrepit power station. The people were pale and thin, probably malnourished. They shielded their eyes from the harsh light of the transports’ lights.

Bruster activated the spotlight, and ordered all the rest of the transports to do so, as well. They would try to deny the Dark Eldar the cover of darkness. The rear doors unlatched, and the steely-eyed warriors of the Adeptus Arbites poured out, moving quickly, their guns raised and scanning through the crowd. They ran toward the power station, covering the doorway with their combat shotguns.

A man ran up to Bruster. Bruster recognized him as one of secret operatives part of the mission. Bruster came to attention and barked, “Hraben, report!”

The man likewise came to attention before Carmichell, and snapped a crisp salute, which Carmichell returned. “Sir, we have opened up the building to allow the citizens to escape. But the aliens do not appear to be concerned with them. They appear more concerned with finding-“

The man was cut off by screams from within the complex. Bruster wasted no time and signaled his squads forward. They pushed the fleeing citizens aside to get into the building. It was dark, except for the eerie blue light cast by the glowing portal beyond a set of heavy blast doors at were spewing forth more of the planet’s population. Shapes jumped around, and Bruster knew those must be the aliens.

He signaled the advance, and the Arbites quietly entered the room among the fleeing citizenry. Carmichell opened up his vox channel. “All units, shoot on my mark.” He waited until they were all in the room, hidden because of the press of people. “Mark!”

Suddenly there were great strobes of light and earsplitting cracks as the shotguns of the Adeptus Arbites spewed death at the eldar wyches and incubi mercilessly killing the humans. Several wyches danced out of the way, and the blasts ricocheted off of the incubi armour, but several wyches and incubi lay dead around the human bodies.

Caught off guard, the eldar quickly targeted the new threats. The wyches ran at the Arbites, the blades already stained with vast amounts of blood. The incubi marched swiftly forward, their halberds giving off a menacing glow. Splinter pistols shot their lethal crystals, and several Arbites fell. “Huddle up!” Bruster shouted as a reminder to all the squads. “Because dying with your comrades is better than dying alone, and I don’t think any of us are going to make it out," Bruster mumbled to himself.

[Killermoose]

Another great couple of parts! Well done, I wonder how Krustyef and Rosenadel are going to get past the Wyches! Great work!

[Dan296]

yea. havnt checked up on your story in a while but its comin great!

[Inquisitor Rosenadel]

On the other side of the building, Crysanthe and Mercurie dismounted from their Rhino to accompany the Arbites into the power station. They moved carefully, the searchlights of the Rhinos bathing the area outside the doors in harsh white light.

It did not matter to Mercurie, her eyes unable to sense light since her soul-binding. Despite the myriad of minds inside, she could still pick out the ones that mattered. She could sense Bruster and his Arbites. They were determinded, but slightly fearful. She could sense minds vanishing, too, and knew that the Arbites were battling the eldar. Fighting and dying.

She could also sense the eldar minds themselves. They were cold and cruel. But they were also fearful. They were confused and frustrated. Mercurie knew Bruster’s plan had been well thought out and executed.

The only thing that disturbed Mercurie was that she could not find the minds of Dlavim, Rosenadel, or Krustyef. What worried her more was that they could not be reached by the secure vox-frequency Krustyef had established with Vault. Vault had reported that something inside was interfering with the transmissions, most likely anti-espionage measures put in place by the Adeptus Mechanicus when the power station was constructed. Still, she was concerned.

There was, however, a curious presence that she could feel pulsing against her senses. It was not sentient. It did not worry her, and she wanted to investigate, but somewhere deep within her soul, she knew she must not. The presence, whatever it was, permeated malice all about. It came from a place inside the building, not far from Bruster Carmichell and the Arbites.

But that was not her concern right now. She nearly spoke to the Arbites with her mind, but stopped herself and spoke awkwardly into the vox-bead attached to her armoured coat’s collar. “The aliens are in combat with squads Alpha through Gamma. They are all in the central chamber.”

She heard the platoon commander’s orders through the vox-piece in her ear. “Squads Delta and Epsilon, form on Epsilon point. Squads Phi and Eta are to secure the perimeter and ensure safe evacuation of citizens.” The Arbites followed the orders quickly and efficiently. Mercurie went with Crysanthe into the building with a special Arbites escort. They stayed back from the main force, watching as the Arbites joined the fight in the central chamber.

The Arbites escort took up covering positions around Mercurie, and Crysanthe moved off a ways, a wary look in her eyes. Mercurie knew she could not stand psykers, and wondered how it felt to be in love with one, yet be so afraid of them. Mercurie could sense it without using her psychic powers, but they confirmed what the rest of her observations led her to believe.

Mercurie concentrated, carefully probing the edges of the Empyrean, finding a weak spot with less difficulty than she expected. She made a note of it, but focused on channeling the massive energies pouring out into the hands in her mind’s eye. They coalesced into blue flame in the palm of her hand. She directed the flames toward the large chamber, focusing it on the minds of the aliens.

Inside the chamber, the eldar faltered and twitched. They flinched in mid-attack, tripped over nothing while running, landed awkwardly after leaping down upon their foes. Bruster knew what was going on, and called the Arbites to form up on him. He released the spent drum on his automatic shotgun, pulling another from his hip and clipping it in. He pulled it up to sight along the barrel, and almost swallowed his tongue as a graceful, beautiful, blood-soaked eldar wych leapt down upon him.

But at the last moment before she would have plunged her serrated dagger into his neck, her face twitched, and her grip loosened just enough for Bruster’s body armour to deflect it. He swung the butt of his shotgun around, smashing the alien in the face, causing several fragments of tooth to break off. The eldar spun around and kicked Bruster in the chest, knocking him backward. He fell awkwardly in a heap. His shotgun clattered to the floor, a mere meter away.

But the wych was faster than Bruster, and she leapt upon him again. He tried to roll away, but she pinned him to the cold, unforgiving rockcrete floor on his stomach, straddling him. She leaned her head close to his and whispered in his ear, “I will not kill you now, Mon-Keigh. No, you are to be savored.” She made a half-purring, half-hissing sound, and stabbed Bruster in the left leg. Her dagger like a lance of pure pain to Carmichell. He cried out, and he could sense the wych taking pleasure in his pain.

Bruster reached for his own dagger, but it was not on his thigh. He craned his neck to look at the alien, and could see the scabbard dangling from one finger, empty. He did not have time to brace for the pain as his own dagger was plunged into his upper right arm. He cried out again, and could hear the alien laughing at him as she stood up. Bruster rolled over, but saw that she had already picked up his shotgun and tossed it far from him.

[Inquisitor Rosenadel]

The wych stood over him, staring down for only a half second more when her head exploded sideways, trailing a thin beam of light. The lithe warrior collapsed to the ground, blood streaming out of the exit wound and pooling at Bruster’s side. He pulled the knives out of his arm and leg, and was about to attempt to stand, when a pair of hands pressed against his shoulders, forcing him to sit back down.

He looked up to see Crysanthe, hell-pistol in hand, as well as his automatic shotgun. She was staring sternly down at him. “You are not going anywhere,” Crysanthe said firmly. “We will fight from here.” She tossed him two patches. “Apply those to your uninjured arm.”

Bruster raised an eyebrow at her. “I know how to apply a medi-patch,” he said indignantly. He peeled off the back layers and slapped the patches onto his upper left arm, while Crysanthe attended to his leg and arm wounds.

An Arbites officer strode next to him and saluted. “Sir, the aliens have been driven off. They have escaped through a doorway leading into an underground series of tunnels.”

Bruster looked around to see the floor littered with alien and human bodies. Those of the Arbites were being hoisted into stretchers and carried away, while those of the citizenry were left where they were if they were not alive. How simultaneously arrogant and cowardly these aliens are, Bruster thought. “Very good, sergeant. Secure entrance to the tunnel, evacuate the citizens, and then vacate the premises.” The sergeant saluted once more, then hurried off to give the orders.

“We’re leaving soon?” asked Crysanthe. Bruster saw she was concerned.

“Yes, we are. If everything has gone to plan, there is an explosive on the portal there that will explode in under five minutes.”

Crysanthe was shocked. “Five minutes!” she blurted. “There are citizens that need immediate medical attention! This would have been the perfect field-site! Why does Krustyef have to destroy this room?”

Bruster pointed at the portal, still glowing with its unearthly energies. “Because if he doesn’t, then more of them may get through.”

“What about-“ Crysanthe started to say, but Bruster cut her off.

“They will make it,” he reassured her. “Now, you could help ensure I make it and help me back to my command Rhino, if you would be so kind.”

Crysanthe glared at him, but said nothing. He put an arm under his and though he was heavier than she, she supported him enough so that he could use his good leg to walk.

They hobbled together past Mercurie, neither noticing the look of curiosity on her face. She could sense the evil coming from within the portal, washing over the whole building with its darkness. But there was something else that struck her as peculiar. She could sense the alien minds that had fled the battle joining with several more at a junction deep underground.

What was even more interesting was the psychic void they were gathered near. She could sense, through intuition and not her other-worldly powers, that this was the infiltration and rescue team that had so boldy gone in before the Arbites, but the fact that there was a psychic void where two powerful psykers should be made her worried.

=][=

[Killermoose]

Very nice! I was wondering what had happened to this story, and its good to see its keeping to its high standards of excellent work!

Great job!

[Templar Mikeel]

After leaving everyone at such a cliffhanger, you did an excellent job!

[Inquisitor Rosenadel]

I'm sorry, but school is taking its toll again. I will do what I can to keep going, but it will probably be sporadic because I will be writing whenever I have a little extra time. With that, more of Chapter V.

=][=

Rosenadel could barely breathe. He was able to discern through his swollen eyelids that he was being carried by a man familiar to him, one he recognized as one he could trust, but he could not recall the man’s name. Next to him was another man, also one he recognized and trusted, but could not recall his name, either.

His body felt as if it were enflamed, shattered, exhausted, and incredibly cold all at the same time. He was grateful that this man had deigned to carry him to safety. Every step hurt, but Rosenadel didn’t feel the pain. He only felt anger as raw as the gashes across his back. He desperately wanted revenge on the aliens for what he had gone through.

When the man stopped, Rosenadel knew something was wrong. He knew it was the aliens, these despicable eldar. He turned his head to look at them. He could make out just enough to know that they were the wyches, among them the one that had captured him. He knew by instinct it was the lead wych. She wore the same outfit as the rest, except that what little she wore was more embellished and had slightly different coloring about it.

Rosenadel knew that he and his rescuers were not going to be able to defeat six of the furious eldar combatants. But he swore that he would kill the one that had gotten him into this situation. He reached down to the leg of the man that carried him slowly and carefully. The man, as well as the other rescuer, were talking to another eldar that had appeared. The eldar lord. The one that had nearly unhinged his mind with pain.

Rosenadel pulled the laspistol out of its holster in one quick, smooth movement. He pointed it at the eldar lord just as the lead wych leapt to attack. The laser bolt went straight from the muzzle of the pistol and bored into the wych’s head as she jumped into its path. It melted flesh and bone, and stabbed through her cerebellum. The wych went limp in mid-flight and crashed to the floor. The man carrying Rosenadel dropped him in surprise, and Rosenadel hit the floor, the pain nearly making him black out.

The rest of the wyches leapt at the humans, screaming fiercely. The eldar archon joined them, his twin wrist-mounted combat blades flashing with energy, giving a little more light to the dim passageway.

It was at that instant there was a rumbling from above. To Rosenadel, it sounded as if a piece of the roof had collapsed and nearly broken through the floor. The eldar and the three humans all fell to the floor. The man who had been carrying Rosenadel said something that Rosenadel comprehended, but did not understand.

The eldar were quick to recover, and were back on their feet in an instant. Rosenadel knew this was the end.

But just as the aliens started to run forward again, they stopped in their tracks. They fell to their knees where they were, and screamed in pain. Rosenadel, even drugged and in pain himself, could tell that their pain was like nothing he had ever experienced, or ever wanted to. They clawed at their heads, some twitching and wracked with severe spasms. Then suddenly, at the same time, their cries ceased, and they fell to the floor. Rosenadel swore that even through his haze of fatigue and pain, he could see their souls leeched from their bodies, dark and writhing.

Through it all, Rosenadel felt nothing different. Whatever had killed the aliens had not touched him in the slightest. The man that had been holding him and the other, older man, were both standing over Rosenadel. The younger was agape, but the older gave the bodies, and then Rosenadel, a hard stare.

[Dan296]

Dun dun DUNNNNN

what ever couldve killed them?
will our heros make it out alive?
will rosenedal ever be the same?
tune in next week and find out!

[Inquisitor Rosenadel]

VI

Crysanthe stepped through the double doors of the white-washed medicae emergency room to find four people waiting for her. Bruster Carmichell had a stony look on his face, grim and impassive, staring out a window. Dlavim was sitting in a waiting chair, nervously tapping with his foot, probably as much from anticipation as from his need for a good puff of his narcotics. Mercurie merely stood next to the impressive figure of Inquisitor Andrei Krustyef.

He still wore the cloak that disguised him in the Eldar’s presence. The stench he had applied to blend in and the illusion keeping his form looking feeble were gone, as well. Under the cloak, Krustyef wore golden power armour. It was not as bulky as that of the Astartes Crysanthe had seen, but it still made Krustyef’s figure even more imposing.

The man himself was imposing enough as it was. Only slightly shorter than Niedderberg’s two meters in his armour, he seemed much taller. His posture spoke of quite power that could be unleashed at a moment’s notice, and a Crysanthe knew the mind behind it was just as deadly. Krustyef had ways of coercion that the people he coerced were unaware he was employing, methods of persuasion that even Astartes had found compelling. He seemed to know everything, to always be in control. He was also a highly skilled combatant, both at range and hand-to-hand. All this was aside from the fact that he was a psyker, and a powerful one at that.

Krustyef stared at Crysanthe as she walk toward him, his steel-blue eyes boring straight through her. His snow-white hair was cut short and he sported a neatly-trimmed goatee of the same color. He looked at her with a grim expression that told her he was ready to accept casualties, but he would damned if he lost his promising apprentice. Crysanthe almost flinched when he spoke.

“Will the boy be rejoining us?” The question, so simply phrased belied the sense of concern Crysanthe saw in his eyes of steel.

“He is alive, for now. Incidentally, it is nothing short of the Emperor’s divine intervention that you and Dlavim are, as well.”

Krustyef’s expression soured and he furrowed his white eyebrows. “Yes, I sensed that the aliens’ souls had departed from their bodies, as well as some of the citizens that did not make it out. I have already given Bruster my thanks for his efficient, timely work, and for evacuating you and Mercurie out in time.” Krustyef turned to look at Bruster, who turned from the window. Krustyef gave him a nod, and his mouth formed a sly grin. “I am thankful that he managed to get his leathery hide out, as well.”

Bruster merely grunted and turned back to the window. Krustyef turned back to Crysanthe. “But what I am most interested in is how Dlavim and I survived. By the fact that the some of the citizenry were also stripped of their souls, whatever did this did not affect just the aliens. I assume it was the work of Chaos, some psychic shockwave that allowed the power of the Warp to touch minds and tear out the souls. But why were we not affected?”

“Incidentally, that is exactly the matter concerning Rosenadel’s health,” Crysanthe answered him. Krustyef gave her a puzzled look. She went on. “At some point during his capture, the aliens implanted a small null device in his chest. Somehow they knew that he was a psyker. They knew that if his psychic abilities were left unchecked, he might be able to destroy them.”

“So they were able to neutralized his powers,” Krustyef mused, half to himself. “Have you removed the device?” he asked.

“No, Inquisitor. That is why I came out: to find you. I thought you should be present at the surgery in case there was something happening psychically during the removal that I was not aware of.”

Krustyef nodded. “Very good, Crysanthe. When will you begin?”

“I am ready to begin the procedure at the present, if you are, Inquisitor.”

Krustyef nodded again, and started toward the double doors of the emergency room. “Then let us to it, Sister.”

[Dan296]

next week....
tomorrow works also ;D

somethings gonna happen when they take it out. dark eldar?=booby trapped.

[Templar Mikeel]

Keep it coming!

Dark Eldar booby trap-a blade or dart of some kind that is very hard to see.

Imperial Guard booby trap- a hand grenade...

[Inquisitor Rosenadel]

=][=

The pain was almost unbearable. Before, it had been so much that he had gone numb, and blacked out frequently. But he could not feel the pain. Now, Rosenadel was awake and the pain was back, tearing him apart. Some parts of him ached with a dull throbbing, others were sharp, biting his nerves, almost incapacitating him. His mind ached dully. He knew his psychic powers were not yet fully developed and very sensitive. He knew he was cut off from the Warp, and his fragile grip on his powers was fading and would probably be damaged forever, even if he did find a way to remove whatever was causing the null effect.

Suddenly, there were others in the room with him. They talked softly. Rosenadel recognized their voices, one light and concerned, the other darker and like distant thunder. Though he did not have the energy to open his eyes, he knew it was Sister Crysanthe and Inquisitor Krustyef.

“What is it, Crys?” asked Krustyef. “A device? Something chemical?”
Crysanthe seemed perturbed by her own findings. “No, neither. It is… something else. It looks like a stone or gem. The scans cannot penetrate it. It cannot be one of their ‘soul stones’. Perhaps it is something alchemical.”

Rosenadel could tell Krustyef was considering the possible consequences of removing the thing. It could be an eldar trap that would kill them upon its removal. It might end up killing Rosenadel. Rosenadel knew he could not affect Krustyef’s decision, even if he were able to speak.

Finally, the Inquisitor spoke. “Let us begin.”

Rosenadel heard Crysanthe cart the tray of surgical equipment to the tableside. He prepared himself for yet more pain.

Rosenadel did not even realize that he was being operated on until he felt small tugs at the flesh on his sternum. He multitude of pain he was already experiencing made the scalpel incision seem like a scratch. He merely registered that the scalpel was cutting away more of his flesh, and cutting delicately into his soft innards.

It was several minutes before Crysanthe was satisfied with her cut. Rosenadel could now feel her trying to pull whatever was within his chest out. It was then that he knew something was wrong.

White hot fire spread throughout every blood-carrying vessel in his body. Rosenadel convulsed upward, slamming back on the table hard, causing him even more pain. “Give him another 2 cc’s!” Crysanthe shouted. Rosenadel had not even realized that he was being pumped full of painkillers. The thing continued to be pulled out of his chest. Finally, it ripped free, tearing bits of flesh with it.

Rosenadel started to feel dizzy, and like he was suffocating. He knew Crysanthe was fighting hard to save his life. It was nearly ten minutes before he could think again.

“He’s stabilizing,” Crysanthe said.

“Well done, sister,” Krustyef assured her. “Now this is interesting.”

Rosenadel desperately wanted to see the thing the aliens had put inside him before he smashed the thing himself. He still could not sense the Empyrean and desperately wanted the thing to be destroyed. He willed his eyes to open.

He had to shut them immediately because of the bright white light in the room. The action sapped a great deal of his energy, and he could bring himself to open his eyes again. He was forced to merely listen to the Inquisitor and Hospitalier discuss the null-thing.

“What is it, Inquisitor?” Crysanthe whispered. She sounded fearful.

Krustyef was not fearful, but he sounded wary. “I do not know, Crys. It is not a stone. That is certain.”