Getting Warhammered [WH 40k Fanfic]

Ciaphas Cain, Hero of the Imperium, had made the mistake of beginning to see this assignment; he'd been forced into taking ‘voluntarily’ as something of a vacation. Echidna was powerful, the most powerful mortal psyker alive as far as he knew, and she held herself to some ancient custom, supposedly from Holy Terra.

Guest Rights, she explained, were a form of ancient system working on honour. You didn’t try to harm your guest and took care of them as best you could, and in return, the guest would behave properly, not steal, kill, or seek to harm their host.

Cain wasn’t sure whether he bought that tale, or if he believed that she would honour these ‘guest rights’ under any and all circumstances, but she had done so thus far. Which resulted in the last month or two being some of the most relaxing Cain had ever had … aside from that one time she threw them inside a genestealer nest and promptly forgot about them.

He also had to make a conscious effort to ignore the fact that this horrifying ship he now lived on was heading straight for a danger so great it could very well end in his death. And Echidna’s, and everyone’s aboard the ship … and in the Jericho Reach.

Nobody sane tried to invade a Necron Tomb World, much less one that they knew was the primary world of a ‘dynasty’. He’d only recently learned that Necrons had those, even if it made sense. Necron Lords could think and talk, so it was no wonder some of them loathed each other and formed factions so they could murder each other.

Cain usually preferred to turn tail and run the moment he caught wind of Necrons being within the same subsector as him. Alas, it wasn’t an option now. It usually wasn’t, bound by duty or his over-inflated reputation, as he often found himself.

“And you think the most prudent thing to do is to go bother the big bad psyker lady when she’s probably commanding the ship in active combat?” Cain asked, an eyebrow raised inquisitively as he peered down at Amberley. The blonde woman gave him an unimpressed look.

“It’s not like she can’t multitask, and if she really is fighting something for this long, it could be a good opportunity to get a more accurate measure of this ship’s capabilities,” Amberley said, arms crossed. “And this isn’t a negotiation. I’m going, I’m merely asking whether you’re going to tag along or … stay here eating grapes and drinking our host out of her stock of ‘brandy’.”

Cain stiffened, knowing the walls had ears — quite literally in some places, apparently Echidna had a strange sense of humour — but no psychic bolt of death was forthcoming, so she assumed Amberley’s words weren’t offensive enough for their host to smite her out of existence. Cain had told her that maybe she should consider not pushing Echidna’s boundaries.

Amberley had just given him a disappointed look, as if his unwillingness to join her in her self-appointed task of getting Smote was the height of disappointment. Still, she was the Inquisitor; it was her job, not his, and she claimed she had it handled. He was just here for … emotional support? He wasn’t really sure, so he’d given himself a task of his own: making sure to sample every delicacy Echidna had available. Might as well live as if he could die tomorrow, because he very well might.

“… I’m coming,” Cain said, suppressing a weary sigh as he stood. He was already regretting it, but the small, genuine smile that fluttered across Amberley’s face made that regret dim. Just a little.

They made their way through the corridors, and Cain was once again struck by the sheer strangeness of the architectural style surrounding him. It was reminiscent of the Tau’s in some places, weirdly obsessed with avoiding putting sharp edges wherever the maker could get away with it. But it differed in others.

The setup was almost brutalist in its simplicity, and the scarce decorations matched that style. No etchings on the walls, no paintings, no statues, no elaborate murals. It was all clean and mostly white, with minimalist decorations; for example, the floor was light blue, and the wall had silver lines running across the pure white metallic plates.

The emptiness was another thing he couldn’t quite get used to. An Imperial Battleship of this size would have had millions of humans onboard, tens of thousands of trained officers and tech-priests, many thousands of voidsmen and Mechanicus drones, and the rest support personnel or stowaways hiding in the forgotten corners of the ship.

This ship? It had six people. Six. Six. … if he didn’t count the ship itself as the seventh member. It was alive; Echidna had been annoyingly forthcoming about that — Amberley told him the woman did it because she knew the knowledge would give him nightmares and that amused her — but apparently it was more like an organic machine than a real thinking being. It was similar to a servitor in some ways. One of those that the Mechanicus grew in pods for specific purposes, not made from convicts.

There were signs, even the occasional map of the deck you were on, plastered across the wall now and then. But no deckhands, no voidsmen, no officers, no servitors. It felt eerie, haunted, and wrong.

Still, it made reaching the command deck rather easy … only to find the captain missing. A portal yawned open before them, making Cain jump back, then force himself to relax when he saw their target floating on the other side. The observation deck? Still wary of the sorcerous portal, they stepped through, careful not to touch the simmering edges.

“Hello,” Echidna said, not turning around to greet them as she kept looking out the massive glass-like dome of the observation deck. He knew it didn’t mean it didn’t see them, of course; he was half convinced there were literal eyes on the walls behind him. “Come.”

The gleeful grin was obvious in her voice, but Cain barely heard it, frozen on the spot, eyes wide as dinner plates as he stared out the window. That was the largest Tyranid fleet he's seen in his entire life, and it wasn’t even close.

Despite himself, he sent a quick prayer to the Emperor. He’d always thought that one shouldn’t bother the Master of Mankind with inane prayers when he was probably really frakking busy keeping the Astronomican working and the Chaos Gods from steamrolling the Imperium. Compared to those self-imposed duties, what right did one measly Commissar have to bother Him on Earth about saving his life from a bunch of bugs? None.

Still. That was … a lot of Tyranids.

“ETA five minutes until they reach the extreme long-distance range of the Sovereign’s lance cannons,” Echidna said. “You came to watch, didn’t you? Come, take a seat and enjoy the view.”

“That’s a big fleet,” Cain mentioned in what he hoped was a conversational manner, slowly lowering himself onto the sofa that grew out of the floor. It was a very good sofa, all things considered, soft and luxurious as the best furniture found in the manors of noble lords. You just had to ignore the fact that it was fully organic.

“It’s offensive, is what it is,” Echidna huffed, then made a gesture with her hand as if to pinch something, and the image of the massive fleet zoomed out until he could see the entire star system on the other side. She snapped her fingers, and the entire system lit up with a horde of crimson dots, some clustered together so tightly they melded into amorphous blobs. “The Hive Mind thinks this measly fleet will be able to stop me.”

She snorted, and Cain’s eyes narrowed, quickly finding the white marker that probably showed where ‘The Sovereign’ currently was. His eyes snapped over to the nearest cluster of dots, and he realised with dawning horror that it was not the largest cluster of Tyranids in the system … not even close.

His fingers traced the grip of his laspistol holstered at his side, considering whether to just save himself from the pain and suffering that a long, drawn - out death would cause. He could die here and now, a bolt to the head, quick and easy. No genestealers violating his humanity. No melting into digestion pools. No being eaten alive by a swarm of rippers.

He slumped, his hand falling to the armrest as he leaned his head back. He couldn’t do it; he knew he would never be able to. He was too much of a coward to end it himself if there was so much as the tiniest sliver of a chance that he might survive this mess. Still, he was going to need literal Divine Intervention to survive this.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Echidna huffed, apparently reading his mind … or the visible despair on his face. “I got this.”

He detected a faint note of uncertainty in her voice, as if she wasn’t quite as sure of that as she pretended to be, and that terrified him more than anything. He shared a look with Amberley, and while she masked it much better, he could see in her eyes that she noticed the faint uncertainty and was similarly disturbed.

“May I ask what system we are in?” Amberley asked, her voice and face betraying none of her emotions. Cain couldn’t put into words how much he respected her for that; he knew his voice would have betrayed him.

“Freya,” Echidna said. “One of five neighbouring systems currently teeming with space bugs. They are building something. On that note, I had a question for you, Inquisitor. Do you have any idea what it could be? As a member of the Ordo Xenos, you surely read up on Inquisitor Kryptman’s findings on the structures Hive Fleet Tiamet was building. What are the most likely theories on that?”

“You think they are doing the same here?” Amberley asked, shifting into her serious Inquisitor persona. “And that it’s Hive Fleet Tiamet occupying the system? Not Dagon?”

“That's the curious bit, I’m almost certain it’s Dagon. The ‘nids I’ve fought so far were from Dagon, I’m absolutely certain of that, but the ones building the structures?” She gave a helpless shrug. “Who knows?”

“You think two different Hive Fleets might be working together?” Amberley asked seriously, a grim note entering her voice.

“Who knows?” Echidna hummed. “That would at least make some sense … the alternative is that whatever they are building here is acting as a massive synaptic node amplifying the Hive-Mind’s reach and ability to micromanage.”

“Foes the structure, the entire world it’s built on has a massive psychic presence?” Amberley asked, and Cain recognised the tension in her voice, the tightness in her pinched expression.

“It’s hard to say,” Echidna said. “The Shadow is thick here, viscous like tar and hard to penetrate. The Warp near Freya itself is a solid mass of darkness.”

“That’s new,” Amberley said thoughtfully, and Cain once again wondered whether it would be better to just vent himself out an airlock. Whenever the Tyranids did something ‘new’, things went horribly wrong, horribly quickly. “Hive Fleet Tiamet’s structures have two distinct effects that have been reported. One can turn any human setting foot on the planet into a Genestealer cultist. The other is the one known as ‘the Conduit’, according to interrogated cultists, but its true purpose is unknown. All we know is that it’s a continent-sized tubular structure that has an immense psychic presence, kills all psyker in its vicinity and radiates a psychic scream that can drive even normal people mad, and which can kill Astropaths trying to send messages into the system even from hundreds of light-years away.”

“I see no continent-sized structures,” Echidna said, much to Cain’s relief. “Nor do I hear a psychic scream, or feel any psychic attack. It’s just the Shadow.”

“But … having a more pronounced Shadow in the Warp is Hive Fleet Kronos’ speciality,” Amberley said absently, clearly lost in thought.

“The time’s up,” Echidna said, perking up visibly. “They are about to enter the extreme ranges of my weaponry. Let’s see whether their bioships have anything interesting to them or if those acid missiles were the extent of their innovation.”

“Acid missiles?” Cain found himself asking, a part of him feeling uncomfortable just lingering in the background like a wall ornament. It left him feeling a bit too much out of control, which he entirely was, but maintaining the illusion for himself — that he had some measure of control over his fate and what happened to him — did wonders for his nerves.

“Yeah,” Echidna confirmed, and Cain gasped when he saw a titanic hail of glowing lances of plasma zip through the dark void, racing towards the ‘small’ Tyranid fleet. Behind them went missiles, less bright but much more numerous. “They were filled with acids and bases of all sorts, also venoms and toxins, but those weren’t all that useful.”

“Bases?” Cain asked, unfamiliar with the word.

Echidna turned around, staring at him with such disappointment that he shrank back subconsciously.

“The chemical opposites of acids,” Echidna said. “Effects are similar enough that you probably call them both ‘acids’ even if that is factually untrue. Acids have a pH value under 7, and bases have one over 7. Often the two can neutralise each other when mixed due to their opposing natures.”

“That’s probably knowledge safeguarded by the Mechanicus,” Amberley said, drawing Echidna’s colossal disappointment onto herself and letting Cain finally breathe again. “You learned it from them?”

“I learned it in science class when I was 11,” Echidna said, her voice dry as a desert and filled with condescension. “I always forget, you look so similar and yet you are nothing like the humanity I knew. No wonder any survivors from the ‘Dark Age’ loathe the Imperium so much. They had to see mankind slip from the height of its power down to this pitiful state, where a high-ranking officer of an interstellar empire can ask me with a straight face what bases are. I can’t even begin to imagine the enormity of the disappointment those few survivors must have felt. Do they even teach you anything in those child-soldier factories they call schools besides ways to better kill things?”

The silence that lingered after that was oppressive, even when Echidna dragged her gaze away from them as if she couldn’t bear to look at them any longer. Cain wanted to protest her accusations, but couldn’t find it within himself to do so. Science class. Probably in school. For children. Had she been anyone else, the Mehanicus would have servitorized her just for suggesting the mere idea of that. Science was Tekheresy, synonymous with invention, and spreading their knowledge was antithetical to nearly all factions of their cult. Cain knew only a handful of more progressive factions who wouldn’t view the idea of spreading knowledge to the uninitiated as heresy.

Then he was treated to the sight of Echidna’s opening salvo reaching the advancing fleet, plasma lances burning holes through the thick cloud of spores and opening the way for the missiles trailing in their wake. Whatever those missiles were, they were horribly effective, reducing half the bioships into burbling messes of half-melted space debris.

Seeing all that made his urge to speak up and defend the Imperium’s stance on such dangerous things as ‘science’ and ‘freely available knowledge’ all but vanish.

The second salvo came a few minutes later, a storm of missiles and titanic bolts of plasma that eclipsed the first salvo by an order of magnitude. It lasted for half a minute straight, just pouring out of the weapons batteries and missile silos like ‘munition economy’ was an alien concept to the ship’s captain. When it cut off, it wasn’t because the ship had run out of munitions or that the weapons were starting to overheat. No, it stopped because every single enemy ship was dead.