Clang.
Enkidu stood outside the dical bay as the white doors slid open, revealing a gore-slicked scene. Due to the sudden, overwhelming raid by the Craftworld Aeldari, the warband's casualties were severe. Seven battle-brothers were confird dead, and four others were in critical condition; those like him—who hadn't lost limbs and could still move—were considered "lightly wounded."
For a Chaos warband already short on manpower and materiel, this was a crippling blow. The silver lining was that most of the casualties belonged to Varex's drug-addicted faction. The heavy news, however, was that Armand—the veteran who had taught him swordsmanship for years—was at death's door.
"Brother Armand, mortal stimulants have little effect on us. You must endure."
Enkidu stepped up to the surgical slab, using a scalpel to excise Armand's blackened, necrotic entrails. After a basic disinfection, he began the suturing. When they had regrouped in the hangar, he knew the veteran was badly hurt, but Armand had remained stoic, even forcing himself to pilot the shuttle back. Only now did Enkidu realize that the Aeldari had effectively eviscerated him.
Despite his loathing for Chaos, Enkidu felt a sharp pang of grief for Armand.
In the past, they had an Apothecary. No matter how monstrous Morpheus had been, he wouldn't use his own battle-brothers as re lab rats. Now, with the Apothecary dead under suspicious circumstances...
Will we all die together in this battle, or just drift aimlessly through the galaxy until extinction?
Enkidu felt a sense of lost direction. His earlier claim that the Dark Eldar knew a way out was largely a bluff to keep despair at bay; he just didn't want to look hopeless in front of the others.
"A total... clumsy... pathetic failure." The wounded Astartes lay on the slab, muffled grunts escaping his throat. "In the old days, if these xenos dared challenge us, they would have been annihilated in days."
"There are no 'old days' anymore." Enkidu opened a bottle of disinfectant, letting it wash the blood from his blade. "The Great Crusade is over. Our Primarch is never coming back. It has been ten thousand years. Wake up."
"Lies!" Armand roared, his scarred face twisting into a hideous mask of fury. "The Phoenician would never abandon us! We are his sons! He was rely heartbroken by that ugly Gorgon. As long as we offer enough gifts to Father—as long as we invigorate his spirit—he will return to us!"
Enkidu remained silent, simply pressing his palm flat against the massive, jagged incision.
This was the tragedy of the Chaos Astartes: they were pathologically nostalgic for the Great Crusade, yet after the blood-soaked Horus Heresy, they could no longer stand tall as the Emperor's warriors. To cope, they deceived themselves into believing the Legion's glory ca solely from the Primarch, rather than the Master of Mankind.
Without the Emperor, there would have been no Primarchs, no Astartes, and no Great Crusade to speak of.
Perhaps a tiny few could repent, but most simply threw themselves into self-destruction, venting their rage upon the Imperium.
A silver-white light seeped from the edges of Enkidu's hand, sinking into the wound. The flesh writhed as it pulled together; the purple-black rot receded, replaced by the healthy hue of living tissue.
An unnamable sensation welled up in his heart, growing stronger with every pulse of psychic energy.
The heavy, unmistakable thud of power armor boots sounded behind him.
"Varcus," Enkidu said without turning. "What do you want? If you're here to recruit for Varex, save your breath. Don't drag into your power struggle with Telax; I have no interest in it. If Varex has any brains left, he should be thinking of an escape, not playing gas."
"Beautiful fantasies, but you aren't in a position to talk." Varcus spoke with a mocking grin, his armor covered in fresh scars that seed to only heighten his manic excitent. "He sent to interrogate you regarding your 'dereliction of duty' on the Velvet Abyss."
A spark of fury ignited in Enkidu's chest. He flexed his fingers and turned sharply to face Varcus.
"It was indeed a failure—failed so badly that the ship was exploding before I even set foot on it," he said, his tone soft and elegant, his words precisely weighted. Before Varcus could retort, he threw a data-slate containing his recordings at him. "Does he think I'm a chronomancer? That I can wave my hand and bring a long-dead Morpheus back to life?"
Varcus ignored the sarcasm, letting out a low chuckle.
"Oh, you sweet, naive little pebble. Do you really think that's why Varex is targeting you?" Varcus eyed him mockingly, his gaze shifting to the Aeldari Witchblade hanging at Enkidu's hip. "This is a warning. Learn your place, pebble. Telax is just a daydreaming madman. Varex is our master. Only by following him will there be a place for you in this warband."
"If your master were truly sane, he'd realize the only thing that matters right now is surviving."
Enkidu knew exactly what Varex was doing—asserting dominance—but he chose to ignore it. He stretched his arm and gripped the shimring Witchblade.
Varcus's expression soured.
"Fine. I'll report your attitude to Varex. I just hope the next ti you see , you aren't crying and begging to kill you."
"I doubt you'll get the chance."
After handling the overflow in the dical bay, Enkidu hurried back to the bridge. Telax was occupied, while Varangis and Truen had their own tasks; the bridge needed a commanding presence.
As he stepped off the elevator, the veterans dispatched by Varex cast unwelcoming glares his way. Enkidu didn't bother glaring back, ignoring them as he reached the command deck.
Thanks to his "gentler" deanor compared to other Astartes, the mortal crew didn't fear him as much, allowing things to proceed smoothly.
"Lash of Agony, report. Casualty status? How long can the void shields hold? Are anti-boarding armsn deployed? Status of plasma reactor, warp drive, and Navigator? Can you perform a jump?"
He opened the comms channel imdiately, linking with the Lash.
After a brief, joyful cheer from the crew on the other end, Adelina's voice ca through.
"Reporting: Casualties are light, mostly due to hull tremors. Reactor and warp drive are green. However, void shields are at 24%—near exhaustion. We must disengage imdiately."
The surge of worry for his ho ship receded slightly, only to be replaced by a new knot in his stomach as Sebastian broke into the channel.
"But Lady Nostramo is in a bad state. She's been traumatized by the psychic backlash; it might take a while for her to recover. We're doing our best to soothe her. Regardless, the Lash is in better shape than the Velvet Abyss. How are you? Your voice sounds hoarse. Are Varangis and Truen safe?"
"We're fine," Enkidu replied vaguely, trying not to worry them. "This ship's shields are robust—still above 50%. Systems are green. We can jump at any mont. Adelina, stay close to this ship. If we can't break the xenos blockade, we may have to perform a blind jump before reaching the Mandeville point."
"No need for that."
Telax strode onto the bridge, a rare, grim smile managing to squeeze onto his scarred face.
"The xenos talked. He actually has a way for us to break the encirclent."
User Comments
0 comments from readers