<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5KKgTgUUTgE" rel="nofollow">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5KKgTgUUTgE</a> The explosion ripped through the void shields of The Valiant, the Liberty-Class Ocryn Cruiser that sponsored as the flagship of the Black Fleet of Fure Muthamu, fleetmaster of the Dead Fjordes. Fire was bursting throughout the lengths of the hull as the coalition of human and xenos crew raced hurryingly to douse the flames. Pious Mengala and Jamery Corman cursed in unison as the Valiant was caught in the dual trajectory of two Emperor-Class Battleships. “Status report!” Fure Muthamu screamed over the black-vox. “Mayday, Mayday, ---” the static erupted as the red-dot visual representation of the Gloriana disappeared from the holographic projectors depicting the ensuing battle. “We lost...three ships, Fleetmaster,” A Rylian Bondsman answered. “Nova Cannon” “How did they get our position?” Pious demanded angrily. “We were cold-burning!” Jamery and Agrul Dez stood defiantly dark as the scene was rapidly disintegrating as more warp signatures were illuminating on the screen. Agrul Dez, the eldar ranger, simply pointed to their ship. “They knew we were here.” “We have to enact the crow-feet protocol now!” Jamery declared, yelling across to the fleetmaster. “They can’t follow us back to the Dead Fjordes!” “Agreed,” The fleetmaster said before turning his command chair. “I’ll contact Silas,” Pious demanded in an aggressive order. “Relay your orders to the rest of the fleet Master Corman.” “I don’t take orders from the Inquisition,” Jamery responded angrily. “We don’t have time for this,” Pious growled, ignoring the confrontation and punching through a comms channel. “We’ll settle this later,” Corman whispered, turning away and marching off to the vox-arrays. It would take him a few minutes, and as he disappeared through the length of the hall his powerful gait turned into an all out sprint. Then there was smoke. Jamery stopped just outside the communications bridge, slowing to a cautious approach. He ripped an extinguisher unit from the wall and a respirator before moving on. Fire was everywhere. But the Communications Bridge had not been hit… Burnt corpses were hunched over the vox units. Smoke was rising from their corpses. Electrical discharges burst around him. How had this happened? Corman didn’t have the time to figure this out just yet. He had to see if one of the long range broadcasters were operational. He pushed aside one of the dead hurriedly, the softened flesh sticking to his gloved hands. With a grunt he began to pull and prod until he heard the sound of one of the units kick online. The signal was weak from this end, but he knew he could broadcast his orders. With a rapid session of typing he sent the protocols to the remaining fleet. Those ships with the black run ciphers would get the randomized jump location, as per the verbal orders of the Fleetmaster. “Father,” A voice broke through the ambient noise of the fire and crackling control panels. Jamery stood and turned, facing the man. “Becks, what are you doing here?” “I’m here to help you,” Becks said. “What are you trying to do?” “Enacting the Crow-Feet protocol, but something has happened here,” Jamery pointed around them. “ “It looks like the comms bridge has been hit,” Becks said. “Everything is ruined. We need to get going dad,” Becks motioned with his head. “It’s not broken, not all of it,” Jamery said with a sound of relief. Becks frowned slightly at that. Jamery stopped and slowly drew back. “Well, we should double check to ensure the signal gets dispatched,” Becks said. Jamery smiled. His tension relaxed. “Yes, we should.” Corman turned to the signal panel and began to try to work what he could. Becks smiled. “Always something going wrong, right?” “Yes,” Jamery grunted. “Never going to plan. Soon as we make a plan, it all goes to shit at the worst possible moment.” “Always the worst moment,” Becks repeated. Jamery grew stiff then as the read out of the crow-feet protocol revealed that it had both been successfully sent, and all the randomization algorithms had been replaced with a singular rendezvous point. Someone had tampered with it. “Becks…” The cold-bore of the stub pistol braced itself against Corman’s head. “Yes father?” “How...How could you?” “Don’t ask foolish questions. You know damn well this plan was never going to work. A sovereign nation? We are not going to form a country, you are leading every single one of us on a path straight to death. Fine for the others I suppose, but I have no intention of dying for some aliens and misguided fools.” “Becks! Silas could save us all!” Becks Corman face faltered, hesitant almost, as he closed his eyes from what he was about to do. “No father, he has doomed you all. But I will ensure our family is not blemished. We will be redeemed. I have ensured that. Battlefleet Mandragora awaits the last resistance of the black run.” “I won’t let you do this.” Corman barked. “I am YOUR FATHER. PUT THAT DAMN GUN DOWN!” Jamery stood, turning as the pistol steadied between his eyes. “My father died a long time ago when he chose filth and xenos as his family,” Becks opened his eyes and stared into his father's with hurt intensity. “It’s time I let his memory die.” The shot rang out, as Jamery’s body fell limp to the ground. Becks wiped the tears coming down from his cheeks before he poured promethium across his father’s body. Igniting a small lighter, he set the body aflame. “I’ll make sure the Cormans rise to a better position old man. You’ll see,” he whispered before he turned to the length of the hall way. “Help! Help!” He started screaming as he ran down towards the bridge. “Help! my father! the comms bridge! Heeeeelppp!!!”
