Sitting in the Ascendant, Pious Mengala breathed out. He had been at the right location, at the right time. Silas, however, had not. It had been only a mere forty minutes since their arranged rendezvous, but he had still expected more punctuality in the acolyte. He was patient, however, and sat breathing in the recycled air. Nothing. For hours he had waited, and yet, nothing. Then, something strange happened. Deep in the pits of his eyes, Mengala saw a flash of light that wasn’t light. Something just outside the visible spectrum of color that speared into a white hot flash that lasted only a fraction of an instant. When it was gone, the thing that replaced it was beyond comprehension. It was enormous. The size of a planet. Mengala had seen pict captures of the infamous Hub before, but the real thing, sitting alone in deep space, was beyond magnificent. Laticewords of walkways and structures whispered and spiralled out from the central sphere like vapor, which indeed they appeared to be at this distance. The whole thing was a sea of lights and impossibly alien architecture. With a sudden gasp, Pious Mengala blinked when the planet suddenly appeared in the sights of his augur arrays as well as his own naked eyes. Breathing out, he calmed his initial reaction, rubbing his hands on his robes to straighten the folds as he recomposed himself as best he could, regardless if none were around him. He heard his passive comms crackle. The display booted showed a room full of screaming, cheering, ecstatic men women and aliens. He saw the young man Silas looking around in jubilation, then reach out, and haul Coriola into a hug, spinning her off of the ground a few times before his leg gave out and they both fell in a laughing heap. He heard somebody out of the frame call the boy over. “That guy you told us to scan for. I got him on vid-squawk.” “Silas dragged himself up, still smiling like a child on Sanguinala morning. “Lemme see, Lemme see. Mengala! Didn’t I tell you you were in for a hell of a show?” Mengala paused, stroking his fine, powder white beard before responding. “I did not anticipate that statement to be taken literally, Silas.” He said with a slight crease on his lips. He did not want to show his own amusement at the acolyte’s antics, but even this was beyond the realm of things he had yet to see in his occupation. Silas laughed aloud. “Oh, I could kiss you, old man. Get over here and we can get caught up. I’ll have somebody beem you a docking vector.” “I shall,” Pious mused, placing a hand on his lap. “Just as soon as you instruct me where to dock on that…” --- Silas was getting used to the new leg. He knoly half limped over to the still recognizable hull of what had once been his baby. Mengala was stepping off the ramp. “Well, took us a bit, but we finally got the old girl singing again. What do you think?” Silas beemed at the fruits of his labor all around him, the ecstatic moment when the Hub had finally jumped was still on constant replay in his mind’s eye. “I’m impressed,” Pious answered. “I truly am. This mundane promise you made has turned towards the spectacular, and in all my years I have not seen such a feat performed in such a grand way.” Clearly, Silas had out performed himself. To Impress upon an Inquisitor Lord was no easy feat. “This opens up many more questions than answers,” The old man continued, as he joined Silas’ side. Together they walked, occasionally leaving Pious to stop and gaze for directions. The structure of the hub was byzantine and foreign to him, a work of xenos antiquity and labyrinthine construction that only those who had grown accustomed to it over time would find easy to navigate. “What kind of questions?” asked Silas. “I could ask where did you go, or how did you learn to manipulate technology in such a way,” Pious answered. “But perhaps, simply, how did you manage to make this station jump in such a way would be the most apt to begin with.” “Same way it was built.” Said Silas. “The guys who made this, they had technology that turns matter in on itself and tunnels it throu-” Silas stopped, catching himself rambling. He had done this a few times with Coriola, and although she would never say anything, he knew it was probably unpleasant for people other than him to have to listen to. “Well, put simply the technology is very old and very alien. Nobody has tried to use it in...shoot, I don’t know, at least ten, maybe fifteen thousand years.” Pious nodded. He smiled then, when Silas had stopped himself. The Inquisitor was pleased with Silas’ growing familiarity with himself, and he responded in kind. “I see. You have a very unique mind, to make sense of such things where others would be driven mad or craven. I appreciate your brevity in explaining the...mechanics of how, but still I must say that it is impressive nonetheless.” Silas grinned, allowing himself a little pride after the weeks of labor. “Well, I don’t know about that. Usually machines just sorta...talk to me. But this, this almost did make me go nuts. And it wasn’t just me either. We had teams of guys running all over the place. We were shoving wrenches in the hands of anybody who could walk. And you? Don’t suppose your trip was any less eventful, what have you been doing?” “Keeping tabs on sector affairs,” Pious said, his voice growing dark and menacing. “There are certain things I need to inform you of.” Silas slowed down, lowering his voice a little. “Only kind of news comes in that tone is bad and worse. What happened?” “The Deathwatch have been very active eliminating your kind,” Pious said flatly. “624-VL led to some rather unfortunate repercussions. My contacts within the Ordos have allowed me to gain some insight into their strategies, but even a blind-grox could predict the pattern. The Dragon Knights themselves have pledged no less than their entire chapter to the effort of eradicating the Black Run - a feat unheard of in millennium. Something has spurred their hatred, and it’s only a matter of time before the other major holds are hit.” “Wait,” Silas said, hissing so as not to be overheard. “Back up. Did you just say the whole chapter? What is that, a thousand Konstod? There were barely half a hundred of them at 624, and that fight was over in hours! Now you're telling me their sending a thousand of the bastards?” “It seems they were riled about something, but I have not had much luck finding out what that was exactly,” Pious answered. He shifted his weight. “More troubling is the involvement the Inquisition has taken in coordination with the assaults. Most, if not all, the Ordos Hereticus and Malleus have pledged allegiance to my comrades in the Ordo Xenos in this endeavor. Never before has the hammer of the Inquisition turned so aggressive against the Run, and I fear some unseen hand is acting upon a chance to eradicate your ‘family’ in it’s entirety.” Silas leaned against a wall, letting out a long breath. “So the first time in millennia you people actually get your house in order and it’s so that you can all gang up on me and mine. Y’know a fella’ starts to feel cursed after a while.” “It is troubling Silas. In the Sectors Occularis, such solidarity is expected against the Archenemy. Out here on the edge of the Imperium, it is most perplexing.”. Pious paused, withdrawing from a satchel a dataslate, “The Mephatumi group has been the most vocal in its petitions for aid,” He continued, passing the ‘slate to Silas. “Their investments are starting to come under attack the most, or at least, the most reported. They’ve been attempting to consolidate their protectorates but given time, even their own impressive microcosmic trade empire will fall. I thought this might be of value of you to know.” Silas took the slate and read it. “The Fjordes.” He said grimly. “You ever been there?” Pious nodded. “In all my years, I have never wept so at such a place. Truly one of the eight wonders of the known galaxy, a place that brings the most hardened man to humility.” Silas’ mouth pulled into a thin line as he nodded in memory. “Well at least one of you thinks so. Rest of ya just want to watch the place burn.” He pushed himself off from the wall. “Welp, can’t have that can we? I’ll get together with a few of the other engineers and we can start scratching out some ideas. I’m not going to just roll over. We’re standing in one miracle already, maybe we’ve got a few more in us.” “I agree,” Pious said. “The Dead Fjordes is worth it, if any such place could be called so.” Mengala stopped, as of lost in thought, before looking at Silas with a serious, old-man expression. “I knew that you would say that of course. We will need to work fast, and I have already made arrangements to bring you there. I believe, however, my aid may not be so necessary in the end,” His gaze traced out towards the interior of the Hub, indicating visually what he meant. “You seem full of...surprises, Silas.” “So they tell me. But you should come with us. Nobody’s useless. If nothing else you know how to-” Before Silas could finish that statement, the old Inquisitor burst into full laughter, something Silas had never truly heard before. It took Pious a short period of time to stop, but when he did he pat the acolyte on the back. “I’ve never in all my years had to be reassured I could be useless, Silas,” The Inquisitor said with the mirth starting to fade. “Just seems you keep running off to play the mysterious wizard act. Be nice to work with an inquisitor that stuck around for the fun bits.” Silas leaned in a little. “So. All your little ears you’ve got feeding you this stuff,-” He tapped the dataslate “-I was wondering if they’d heard about something particular.” He paused. “It’s something Coriola said, about one of her visions. There was another man in Mengsk’s Retinue. Scythius Eizen. She says she sees him, that we fight, and that it never ends well. I try to keep her from worrying about it and tell her we’ll deal with it when and if it actually happens, but the thing is I know this guy. And if he’s coming, I’m thinking I should be scared too.” “We always seek salvation,” Pious answered. “In the future, where every waking moment is defined by our present. If we are favored by the Emperor, ours shall be the victorious path to tread upon. Do not let her visions trouble your mind. No path is set in stone,” Pious said, turning to the philosophical as he was often to do, and often to Silas’ annoyance. “Well, maybe you should tell her that. Your Mystic is obviously a lot less rusty than mine, it might be a language barrier.” Silas said. “Alright. I’ve got to run and see what I can’t pull out of my ass for out latest problem. Barkus should be around, eh, that, direction, ish, maybe. He’ll point you somewhere where you can get a room for as long as you’re staying. Take a break, have a drink, and we’ll pick back up on saving the universe as we know it in the morning, eh?” Pious simply nodded. With that, he began to slowly to move down the halls, leaving Silas behind in his pursuit to find Barkus. --- Silas and a dozen other engineers were scattered around the “idea room.” It wasn't an incredibly glamorous place, but it had a door that closed, space for a table, a working power outlet for a recaf pot, and wide white walls just perfect for scribbling notes, diagrams and equations on. Silas generally thought of collaborative problem solving in three phases. First you had the the Hunting Phase, where everyone was yapping, scribbling, ideas would fly around the room like snowballs. Then you had the Feudal Phase, after everyone had picked an idea, and were sticking to it territorially. Brains would split off into packs and each work on something different, competing to prove that their solution was superior to those of the other groups. What they were in now was what he called the Dregs Phase. This was when the gaps between cycles of the recaf pot were just long enough for people to slump down and simmer. They stopped arguing, and just sat. maybe doodling an algorithm on the corner of the table, or staring at the graffitied wall in a half daze like Silas was doing now. He liked the Dregs Phase. It was quiet, and it served the purpose of letting individual minds think and run though what was said earlier without distraction. He heard the door creak open, and looked over to see Coriola. She looked at him, then the rest of the people in the room, then the chrono on the wall. It read 0300. Silas’s face pulled into that half grimace, half grin that one makes when resigning oneself to forces beyond one’s control. But mom, I don’t want to go to bed yet! he mocked the situation in his own head as he stood from his perch on the edge of the table and made his way over to her, stepping over a Klish who had passed out on the floor. “hey you. Come to drag me away again?” He said, as he left the room. “Silas, You’ve been up for days now it seems,” She said, half-whispering, half-waking herself. “I brought you something to eat,” She said, drawing his eyes to a small collection of food-stuffs wrapped in a bag that she was carrying. “hmm.” he muttered. “What would I do without you? C’mere. We can eat these on the ship. less people, less noise, more possibility of you actually winning and getting me to fall asleep. That sound good?” He put his arm around her and they walked the few hundred feet to the airlock where the Crow Winged Angel was anchored. Silas liked a lot of things about Coriola, but he had to put her taste in food somewhere near the top ten. That and her impeccable knack for saving him from himself in more ways then one. She was probably the only reason he hadn’t driven himself insane months ago. “Silas,” Coriola finally said after some time sitting in silence. She seemed slightly distant, as she absentmindedly tugged at her left ear. “Do you hear that buzzing noise?” Silas saw a look of discomfort on her face. Some form of aggrivation was clear on her expression: discomfort at what? Silas cocked his neck a little “I don’t hear anything.” He said, a little concerned. “Are you OK?” She tilted her neck a bit, scratching at her ear more intently. “You don’t hear that? It sounds like static!” Silas didn’t hear anything. But he saw red forming at her eyes. Instantly, the drowsiness was gone. His body scraped together enough leftover adrenaline to make him fully alert. “Hey,” He said urgently, “look at me.” as he put his hands on either side of her head, searching desperately for signs of injury. “I...I feel...sick…” Coriola trailed off as Silas grabbed her. Unexpectedly, she went limp as her weight collapsed beneath her, her eyes rolling back. Tears were running off her cheeks, but they were not clear at all - it was blood welling out, as she stammered incoherently. Silas’ mind was in full panic mode. What is this? Food? No, I ate it and I’m fine. Alergic reaction? Who the frack’s allergic to solli and rice? “I’ve seen it! I’ve seen it all!” Coriola screamed. “I’ve seen everyone die!” Before she went fully docile, passing out as her hand hit the floor. Is this a vision? What the frack did she see that could do this to her? A million other lightning thoughts were pushed into the back burner as he put his arm under hers, and lifted her. There was only one thing that mattered right now: Find a medical. Silas ran like a daemon, the young woman’s limp form in his arms. “MOVE! MOVE! OUT OF THE WAY!” he was screaming into the crowds of people in the corridors, “Medical!, Where’s the fracking medical?!?”
