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 [:: Inloading Data-Packet; Lt. Tomas Foley :: ]

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“I could use some good news Gamma!”

Tomas pulls Ran closer to his chest to shield her as he rounds the corridors corner, the wall plating next to him, erupting in a storm of fragmentation and shrapnel as an autogun shot strikes a touch too close for comfort. 

Tomas pushes himself, sprinting as swiftly as he could manage, still carrying the weakened form of Ran as he stole furtive glances over his shoulder. Much to his surprise, Viktor was far more nimble than one would imagine in his cumbersome void armor. As he still found the time here and there to release a storm of shells back down the corridor to dissuade the growing horde of menials and mutants that pursued them across the deck's width. 

Nearly a dozen paces ahead of Tomas, Gamma ranged forward, her reflexes and aim inhuman as she snapped off shots at those that dared interrupt their withdrawal. Her voice crackles to life across the vox as she speaks up, unwinded and even as ever.

“Confirmed: We are approaching the bulkhead B-21, we have one more flight upward to scale and we will be nearly on top of the savior pod bay. Situation Update: The bridge is under threat, Commodore Terval is ordering for all crew to make ready for an emergency transition into real space.”

This notion forced Tomas to swallow dryly, nothing ever good comes from hasty breaches from the Immaterial back into reality. He casts a look down at Ran, as he skids about one of the remaining corners, the dull roar of Viktor’s rotor-cannon echoing still to remind him that the foe draws ever closer. 

“Now would be a good time as ever for your Master to do whatever sort of plan she was cooking up. Gamma! When Viktor clears the bulkhead, lock it off, that should buy us some breathing room between us and them!” 

Ran stares up at Tomas, worn and tired, as she tries to muster a bit of defiance at his remark, her gaze slipping over his shoulder as she spies the charging form of a beastial warp-twisted mutant collapse under a torrent of shells from the roaring rotor-cannon.

“Do you think I want to lay here like a welpling? No, my Master drew from my own strength to finalize her efforts, her works are unfolding as we speak.” 

Tomas stares ahead as he watches the threshold of the bulkhead drawing ever closer, the distance seemed agonizingly far as he threw the last bit of energy he had into his haste. He catches only a glimpse of the beckoning form of Gamma, who once noting that Foley had cleared the bulkhead, began to throw arcing bolts to cover Viktors final sprint. The heavy bulkhead hisses the doorway starting to cycle closed ponderously slow.

For a split second, Tomas was fearful the heavily armored voids-men wouldn’t make it within an arm's length of the door, he was elated to be wrong however. The huffing form of the voids-men managed to reach the door, throwing through his rotor-cannon before he dove forward, clearing the sliding bulkhead and landing upon the deck in a shower of sparks and shrieking metal.

The heavy adamantine portal hisses closed, the heavy locks securing, as the corridor they stood within finally appeared empty. Only the dull hiss of faint machinery echoed within the industrial corridors walls, dull billowing clouds of chilled air wisps from conduits on the right hand side of the wall, opposite it resides a vast and expansive viewport, that stared off into the churning and ceaseless immaterial sea they were trapped within. 

Gamma took a brief moment to walk alongside the gently smoldering form of Viktor, a bionic hand reaching forth to help him up.

“Admirable: Excellent leap Voids-Men Viktor, my logic engines had given you a 20% chance of escaping.”

Viktors visor hisses and slides upward, his displeased face staring squarely back at Gamma as he takes her offered hand.

“Feh, not the first time Viktor has had to clear the closing bulkhead, at least this wasn't a reactor leak. Those runs are not ones I would like to repeat. Come then cog-women, help me clear jam in the second feed drum, I think I landed on it incorrectly.”

Gamma moves aside, starting to diagnose and troubleshoot the rotor-cannons feed system, as Tomas moves aside, and leans against the wall to catch his breath. Ran squirms and indicates her intent to stand, to which he obliges. She provides an indignant huff, as she brushes shrapnel and broken shell fragments from herself

“Mhmm, I can stand now, thank you Lieutenant. I… Am however grateful for not leaving me down there, I am indebted to you.”

Tomas leaned down, placing his hands on his knee guards, the lack of sleep, compounded on the ebbing adrenaline rush had finally struck him like a thunder hammer. He shakes his head, and motions to Ran.

“I wouldn’t just leave you, you might be with a shady employer, but at least you're on our side. At least you had better be, I don’t really feel like trading blows with you now, we can pick another time and date if you're so apt.”

She sighs, giving a facetious half smile, as she moves to the view-ports edge, leaning on a handrail whilst she stares out at the churning and dancing scarlet waves and shrouds that ebb in the realm of abject madness.

“Not too keen myself Lieutenant. I think working together is just fine enough for me. Though I do apologize for remaining so… elusive with the answers to your questions. I confess, this is one of the first times in a century that I’ve spent time among humans of your nature, let alone warriors for that matter. I do apologize if I seem, less that familiar with the way this dynamic works.”

For a spire-dweller, she ain’t half bad in a scrap, bit clueless but she’s got guts ….

Tomas chuckles breathlessly and rises from his doubled over state, moving alongside Ran, he slaps his gauntleted hand down on her shoulder.

“Yeah, well it's not really your fault, those spire-nobles you’ve been playing nurse-maid to, didn’t really do you any favors. You have a good head on you, just keep your head down and you will be fine. Though you're going to have to explain how this whole connection business works with you and your Master, not to mention that stunt with the empty las-pistol of yours. Any insight into her plans at this point would be Throne sent at this point. ”

Ran furrows her brow uneasily, her eyes failing to meet Tomas’ own as she fidgets uneasily, a long uneasy moment settling between the two before she speaks up.

“I had meant to tell you, back when we first met, if we had been given a moment to sit down and actually discuss the arrangement my Master had for you and your friends. It seems that forces beyond our own are conspiring to deny you that information. I am not certain you are ready for such, there are so many … “ her gaze moves back to meet his own, bearing what appeared to be a pang of pity, “... risks involved with disclosure, I’ve not had the chance to calculate or observe your reaction or theorize on your possible reaction to such. Though I am committed to providing answers. When the time is right. As for happened back there with the weapon how-”

That shimmer, that telltale flicker of golden hued light within her eyes. Tomas furrows his brow in confusion as Ran suddenly drops her sentence mid-syllable. Her gaze drawn back to the armored viewport and the churning immaterial sea beyond. Her silence drags on, as Tomas moves to wave his hand before her face, a baffled look upon his face.

“Aye? You were saying something about your master, something cryptic about the weapon?”

“There is no need, look.”

Tomas throws a swift glance to the window, beyond it he spies near half a dozen troubled forms, the vast from great and hulking troop-ships to the smallest of destroyer escort bogged down and ensnared within the madding eddies and churning multispectral tendrils of the Immaterial. The very sight of the immaterium unsettled him, a dull sickness kicking him square in the gut as he narrows his gaze, trying to pick out individual ship forms.

One of the escort destroyers along the leading edge of the bedraggled line of ships is completely aflame. Great gouts of brilliant orange and yellow fire erupt from her inner workings, her viewports blazing brightly as she pitches and rolls to starboard, the wounded destroyer slowly and tragically succumbing like a beast to it's wounds.

A stark discharge of violet light along the visible spectrum erupts below the stricken destroyer, the Immaterium itself reels and withdraws from the bedraggled ship. Foley stares in muted terror as a titanic and immeasurably sized wound appears within the churning sea sea of the Immaterium before the wounded escort. The shimmering violet and midnight black boundary widens slowly as it moves to envelop the destroyer. This strange door-way yawns wide before them into a perfect and midnight realm, dozens of unblinking static eyes staring at the seemingly doomed warship slowly sinks within it's open embrace. 

    The vast shimmering sukima almost gingerly draws down the stricken ship as it seems to plummet into this unnatural inky void. Once the ship vanished from sight, the vast portal snapped shut as quickly as it came. The raw energy of the Immaterial, surges forth to reclaim its place but finds not it's prize. Thus denied, the immaterial sea simply rages and roils furiously, denied it's prize.

    Words could not describe what the simple Lieutenant was thinking at this moment, the sight of such a venerable and powerful warship in His service, simply vanishing left him pale and white knuckled upon the railing. He calls out, his tone firm, fighting to find the words.

    “Him on Earth . . . The hell did they go? Gamma! What in Terra’s name just happened over there.”

    Gamma, by this point had finished her work with Viktor, his rotor-cannon cycling as the duo arrived at the viewport just in time to see the sukima consume the destroyer. The Skitarii stands unmoving, the furious clicking and hisses within her form indicated her engines were swift at work.

    “Analyzing: The destroyer escort, Lucid Fath, appears to have lost control of it's engineering and was ablaze, she was doomed. That object that appeared seemed to resemble an exit-point into real-space, however it did not match any known signature I have data for. Nor could the stricken escort have been able to muster the energy to make it's own, given it's extensive damage. However: I have insufficient data to report officially on the nature of what occured. As it stands, the Lucid Faith is lost to us.``

    Viktor stares out mutely, his visor locked back as he dourly watches the scene before him. His attention is ensnared as he indicates out towards the other struggling vessels of the Flotilla, dull anger rising in his tone,

    “Look there! More of these monsters open upon our fleet! In all my decades, never has Viktor seen breaches in immaterium like this! This is not the work of blessed warp-drive! No! It seems like  monsters try to consume us!”

    Once more the Lieutenant casts his gaze beyond the windows threshold, he’d spy similar sukima opening all around the panicked fleet, the twisted and broken gaze of hundreds of static faux eyes seemed to stare into the souls of the wayward vessels unerringly.  One by one, the near half dozen ships glide forth like ships sailing over the world's edge into the yawning gaps.  

One of the nearest ships, the venerable Mechancius cruiser, Machina Interregnum, springs to life as it engages heavy retro-grade thrusters, kicking itself away from a yawning sukima before it, the vast bulk of the vessel moves aside the gateway, before a far larger one winks into existence below it.  The vast cruisers form suddenly lurches to a halt, before plummeting downward in free-fall. As suddenly as they came the sukima silently slid closed after the ancient vessel disappeared within its inky abyss.

Gamma brings up an armored fist, bringing it harshly against the viewports frame, as a string of binary grief escapes her, for a long moment, the corridor falls quiet.

Tomas turns once more to Ran, a budding mote of fear welling in his gut as he barely can manage to raise his voice above a hoarse whisper.

“This better be your Master’s work.”

Ran meets his gaze, a surprising calm upon her, as she flashes another of her half smiles.

“Do not be afraid, my Master now struggles to save us all from this nightmare.”

Light flutters upward upon the armored viewport, the quartet’s gaze is ensnared and drawn down below the ship's mass as they watch in disbelief, as the tendrils of the immaterial withdraw from their own vessel. For a singular moment, the vessel drifts serenely amid the chaotic storms of the Warp, unfettered and free.

However, far below the ship’s freeboard another of the titanic sukima works to manifest itself. Slowly, across the canvas of the Immaterial, a fine line is drawn before this mark upon the Warp opens forth into a looming void. Down far deep within this gap, did those unblinking eyes hold silent court over the vessel's fate. Like an ungainly beast perches uneasily, the hulking form of their vessel surrenders to the drawing force of this void, as the sudden feeling of acceleration blooms within their guts as the sensation of speed builds. 

The heavy clank of the mag-tread boots from Gamma and Viktor jar the Lieutenant back into the moment,as the voice of Gamma flatly and matter of factly,

“Warning instructions to be relayed: Anomalous gravitational distortion in effect, the ships gravity system will take some time to compensate, brace yourself ”

The warning came too late, as sudden forces of gravity caused the hulking cruiser to drop like a stone. Tomas watches as the scarlet and rose waves of the Immaterial flew past the window at dizzying speeds. He reacted from the gut, reaching around Ran and anchoring himself and her to the railing that ran  along the side of the corridor. He’d feel the kick of weight-less once more, unmistakably as if he’d leaped out of one of the Valkyries for a high altitude jump. 

Faintly above the distant squeal and labored groan of the ancient ships hull, he could hear the dull and soft clicking prayers from Gamma, all the while Viktor blazes speedily through every curse a mortal could muster before he begins inventing his own.

The scene outside the viewport shifts not unlike dusk to dawn, the unending black and mottled hue of the abyss of which they had fallen, vanish away as the blinding light of a star fills the corridor. The sudden and stark change forces Tomas to blink and glance away till his eyes adjusted to the natural light. When he gazed forth once more back out the viewport, the scene before him was certainly the last possible thing he could have expected. 

Beyond the cracked armor of the view-port he could spy the certainly a distinct curve, betraying the presence of the planetary body of which they now hurtled down towards. The vast expanse of this realm was bright and vibrant green, with specks of bright and luminous colors. Vast flora and dense tree canopies of green stretched for miles all around, with only the vaguest hint of deep azure betraying the presence of naturally occuring deep pristine lake and river tributaries that flow from them. 

Blazing brightly in the distance between the cusp of day and night as two celestial bodies turn, the first them a warm and yellow hued star who’s gentle rays caresses the face of the Lieutenant as he peered through the viewport. 

As the realm below turned slowly to night, caught between this soft twilight, a single lunar body of pure silver, pock-marked with impact crates, graciously moved to take the place of the solar body as they graciously traded places with one another far above a pristine blue sky.

Ran grows elated, a look of awe plastered upon her face as she stares out at the world before them, her own hushed tone audible only to that of Tomas.

“I’ve never seen it from up here before, it's … “

Her words are cut off as the entire vessel shakes violently, the gravity compensating for the presence of planetary gravitational forces. The pair of Ran and Tomas are thrown down upon the deck, with the poor Lieutenant receiving an elbow to his face and a sizable bruise from Ran’s inelegant flailing.

Tomas manages to haul Ran off him, a touch worse for wear as his stitches upon his temple have opened up once more. Uneasily, he gets to his feet, staring out the viewport at the rising world below the vessel. 

“Throne, where the hell are we? That looks a bit too vibrant to be our dropsite.”

Ran pushes herself upright, dusting herself off, as she indicates towards the world below, a pleased tone in her voice.

“That is our destination. It would be wise if we make haste; however, as I know not how long your vessel will continue it's losing struggle against the pull of the realm below.”

Gamma toggles her mag-boots, her antenna rising once more from her power pack as she goes utterly silent.

“Priority Traffic: Senior staff have evacuated aboard savior pods two decks above us. Menials control several decks in all directions, Commodore Terval has sealed himself within the bridge and has ordered all hands to abandon ship…” She pauses for a brief moment, before uttering “... He intends to take the vessel down manually, to try and preserve as much equipment as possible for recovery by loyalist forces.”

Viktor stares impassively, his voice hissing as he laments.

“Crazy old man, the best commander I ever served under. There will be much sorrow, but we cannot let this chance go to waste, no? Abandon ship, means we take savior pods and head planetside. Get away from traitors and find more ammunition for rotor-cannon, yes?”

Caught in the vice of conflicting ideas, Tomas wipes the thin lines of blood from his face, staring at the trio before him. Truly, if the ship was so far gone, the only viable option would be to withdraw and regroup. Though the thought pained him, retreat in the face of the foe is what got them into this situation in the first place. 

There has to be some order to this withdrawal ….

“Aye, Gamma? Was there any lingering orders from the upper officers? Anything on the vox?”

Gamma stares on impassively, eyes dimming before she flickers back to life.

“Negative: Vox network is still swamped with scrap-code and poor discipline. Major Bruma gave coded instruction to his unit, in alignment with the Commodore’s orders. Commissar Bulgraff has begun the evacuation of Ichorous V’s guardsmen as well. The Magos has refused thus far to broadcast over open channels, the Noosphere is in a similar state. It appears they are fleeing with no pre-selected destination in mind.”

Miserable, our sorry lot is counting on me to get them through, and I don’t even have reliable data to make calls from.

Tomas turns to face the world below, watching as tiny pin-pricks of light leap from the bedraggled vessels sinking into its gravity well, as the battlegroup commences it's flight from the doomed fleet. His temple started to throb once more, a dull ache spreading over his head as he wracked his mind, however the only solution remained clear.

“Alright, then we make for the pods, and get groundside, our first object should be to get back into contact with the command structure. From what Gamma says, it sounds like they intend to set up some measure of organization once they reach the groundside. No reason for us to remain aboard with traitors and -”

His words are cut short, as a dull whine fills the room, a sudden violent impact rocking the heavy bulkhead to the frame. The quartet turn in time to spy the heavy adamantine bulkhead, warp and deform under some thunderous blow, a hail of spalling and sparking energy rupturing the doorway. A brief moment later, another thunderous strike impacts the door, this time a heavy object punching through the weakened bulkhead. 

Emerging from the breach, was a titanic dull gunmetal fist emblazoned with alternating black and yellow hazard stripes, writhed in a crackling energy field. The vast inhumanly large power fist was suited to only that of the inhuman Astarte merely flexs, withdrawing with the horrific shriek of rending metal as it thrashed and tore the heavy barrier asunder. 

Needing no further prompting, Tomas gestures down the corridor, barking his order as he starts to pick back up into a run.

“Savior pods! Now!” 

The trio fall briskly into line with his path forward, the group fleeing away from the mangled and rapidly being torn asunder doorway at their back. They rapidly ascend the remaining flight of stairs, racing for the promised and perceived safety of the savior pod chamber. Terrifyingly, each boot step up the lengthy stairwell, only seemed to ring in time with the horrible squeal of bowing steel as the door behind them finally relented to the assault.

A physical relief struck the Lieutenant as the group managed to clear the final bulk-head, finding the savior pod’s all neatly in their berths, and the room entirely untouched by the fighting. Far at their back however, a dull ring of steel on steel only built as lumbering bootsteps announced the coming dread, all the while Gamma hastily worked to lock down and seal the final barrier.

Viktor stares down the corridor, thick beads of sweat rolling down his brow as he keeps his rotor-cannon fixed at the end, his voice thick with a budding dread.

“Anytime Skitarii! Monster of ceramite is chasing us! Would be as good a time as any to lock the door now!”

Gamma rapidly connects her data-inlinks to the heavy doorways control terminal, eyes flashing to and fro as she pours over lines of data. The barest hint of terror ebbing across the normally unreadable and flat tone of hers.

“Attempting: Scrap-code infection making isolating bulkhead controls difficult, the machine spirit wails in agony. Something horrific is transpiring to the poor spirit of this vessel.” 

Tomas keeps his rifle leveled at the end of the corridor, Ran swiftly moves away from the trio barring the door. Her path takes her to the nearest of the savior pods, clambering within as she uneasily tries to discern what was inside the savior pod and how it functioned.

After several agonizing moments, the heavy bulkhead sparks and grinds slowly closed. The heavy door-panels move to lock and seal as Gamma pulls herself away from the console, visibly unsettled as she coils in her data-jacks. Her gaze falling squarely on Tomas and Viktor.

“Situation: Dire, large sections of the vessel are suffering from infection, the very spirit of countless machines have been subverted and poisoned against us. We must vacate this vessel at once.”

Viktor watches as the heavy doorway hisses closed, heavy locks sealing it closed, his tone ragged and breathless as he motions with the tip of his rotor cannon towards the pods.

“Well don’t just stand around, go! Board ships! Let us go!”

Needing no further promptly, the trio make for the nearest pod, finding Ran having already sat herself down as she struggles to figure out how the crash-harnesses locking mechanism worked. Viktor pushes ahead of the boarding passengers, heading for the control suite, pausing only to carefully stow his rotor cannon into one of the jump-seats, pausing a hairsbreadth of time only to lock his weapon securely. 

Shortly before he practically threw himself into the control throne, which pivoted with a groan and brought him to the controls. Gamma calls up to him as she enters the vessel and finds herself a seat, pulling down her crash harness.

“Deck Officer Viktor, are you blessed to operate such a holy vehicle? Do you know what the controls allow you to do?”

His armored gauntlet emerged from behind the heavy operator's throne, waving off her concern, as the vox clicked alive his tone bearing a thick tone of faux confidence.

“Bah! Quiet cog-girl! Viktor was trained rigorously on the operation if the pilot did not make it to the escape bay! Have faith! … “ He lowers his voice, the dull clatter of controls being tested ambient as his vox catches his muffled words. “... at least I think, It's been a few years but it's all the same, yes. I think this makes it go.”

Gamma merely turns to Tomas, who was busy wrangling Ran fully into her own crash harness, getting it locked down as she tries not to get in his way. 

“I will revise my projections of our survival, they will be lower.”

Tomas feels the satisfying clank of Ran’s crash harness locking down firmly, he gives her shoulder a solid slap aiming to reassure her, before wheeling about in the crowded foot-space, heading back for the rear of the pod, raising a finger in warning as he passes Gamma.

“Don’t start, no numbers and no counting, let the Voystran fly the damn thing. If we actually land alive, feel free to let him have the full brunt of your sarcasm engine.” 

Gamma just tilts her head as he passes her by retorting matter of factly, watching as the Lieutenant starts to fiddle with the boarding hatches controls.

“Correction: There is no such device as a sarcasm engine. Unless Magos are blessed with such, we Skitarii do not receive such. Addendum: I am attempting to be sarcastic.”

Tomas shakes his head as the air-lock starts cycling, the pods door starting to hiss closed, he throws back a glance to Gamma, giving her flat unamused look. Her reply is merely to mime a smile with her fingertips upon her solemn silver death-mask.  

He wheezes as he internalizes his agony from Skitarii’s exchange, turning about just in time to spy the sealed door into the savior pod chamber, erupt into heavy and shattered fragments that embed themselves upon the opposite wall. 

The heavy blast door is hurled inward, the heavy panels are pushed inward by an oversized sparking fist. Emerging into the chamber was a figure straight out of the horror tales they’d weave in the mess hall. A towering and hulking gunmetal steel form hauls it's way into the chamber. Clad head to boot in ancient and carbon scored Astarte plate bearing a heraldry of hazard-stripes, the ancient uparmored mark bore several interlocking plates that lay atop their armor. The massive figure turns a crimson glowing T slit visor towards the open pods exit, pulling themselves into the chamber with a groan of plasteel. The ceramite monster casually flexes it's powerfist, advancing towards the open pod, a vox grated voice not unlike a landslide in motion issuing forth that chilled Tomas to the bone.

“Lap dogs of Terra, your flight is needless, come forth and report to your new Master .”

Tomas, feels paralyized for far too many heartbeats, his world almost as if in slow motion as he stares at the display, as it works to complete it's pressurization cycle test. His jaw is agape as he watches the display indicating it has completed it's run, a glowing button awaiting him. 

As the back of his fist races for the door, he yells into his vox, eyes staring at the crimson visor, his own terrified face reflected back at him.

“Brace! We are launching Now!”  

Viktor’s vox clicked, clearly preparing some measure of retort, nearly interjecting but he was cut short without a second of hesitation as Tomas rams his fist against the display, striking the input. The heavy pods door drops as it's shielded hatch slams down and locks firmly. The vessel violently bucks as the explosive bolts holding it into position kick the pod free from it's berth.  The savior pod bucks heavily, rocking as it starts its descent the upper reaches of the atmosphere starting to buffet it's frame causing the pod to rock violently. 

Tomas just barely manages to clamber over several of the seats, whilst partially pushed against the ceiling of the pod from the sudden forces, his hands grasping hold of a seat near the end of the row. 

With all the effort he can muster, he hauls himself into the seat, struggling as he battles with the crash-harness’ lock. As the heavy bracer bar slams closed over him, the speed kicks in the gut as he feels the world collapse below him as they plummet, the violent g-forces causing Tomas’ own vision to grey. Shortly before he slips into unconsciousness, the distant voice of Viktor is the last thing he hears. 

“Too soon! Not ready! Pray friends, pray to Him on Earth that he might catch us as we fall from his blessed vessel! Pray as our lives depend on His mercy!” 

With that the tiny savior pod starts it's path across the quiet evening sky, it's burning trail like a shooting star to those far below as it races across the inky black of the depth of night.