Silas climbed through the soft-seal awkwardly, then turned around and reached down to grab Coriola’s hand and pull her up into the Crow Winged Angel. As soon as she was through, he ran his hands over her frantically, checking for injuries. “I’m fine.” She said, brushing him off. “Get to the CIC and strap in.” Said Silas in fast, terse Black Speech. He was in take-off mode, his thoughts a constant loop of Get the package, get to the cockpit, get the frack out of here. Get the package, get to the cockpit, get the frack out of here. Get the package, get to the cockpit, get the frack out of here. He and Bob, the lead Operator from the Edgecoat force, hauled the heavy plasteel crate containing the precious Cogitator through the hatchway with the strength only given to desperate men by dangerous levels of adrenaline. When it finally clunked down on the deck, he didn’t stick around. “Strap that down then jettison the shuttle. They’ll be tracking it.” He shouted over his shoulder, already moving up the steep spiral stairway into the upper deck. He ran right past Coriola who was trying to raise somebody on the squawk, probably Pious, and into the foreward flight deck where Barkus was already unbuckled and half out of the Pilot’s seat, moving to the Co-Pilot’s position. “We’re clear!” he yelled, practically leaping behind the controls. “Punch it! Cut the running lights and go dark. Hard burn and roll on 3. 1, 2,-” Barkus and Silas both jerked hard on their yokes at the same time and jammed the throttle into the firewall, sending the Angel into a sharp, accelerating barrel roll with enough energy that even with the internal gravity activated, others in the ship were almost knocked from their feet. At the same time, the now empty Imperial shuttle detached from their belly, sending it flying off towards the Mass Hauler where it was promptly eviscerated by flak-turret fire. The shuttle was quickly followed by several decorative fetishes and Imperial Iconographies, as Silas, seeking to rid the ship of as much weight as possible, punched the mag-locks that held the Imperial disguise on the Angel. They came away, revealing her true, sleek, black form. The prow art of woman wrapped in black wings was revealed beneath an Inquisitorial I that flew off and was forgotten. The next several minutes were something of a blur. A violent, furious cloud of laz-fire, flak, and shrapnel. The Angel groaned sharply in places, while the engines screamed with a fury that only battle can bring out in a ship. Barkus and Silas spoke rarely, and in clipped, harsh sentences. They were dancing with thunder and blood, and the slightest of distractions would mean death. Silas hadn’t realized how much he missed this. The rush, the roaring. He hadn’t flown like this in almost a year, and gods did he revel in it now. Quick, fraction of a second glances at the dradis and ladar HUDs told him a fragmented story of what was happening to the rest of the team. To cover their retreat, the Edgecoat operators in the stolen Fury Interceptors had turned to meet the pursuing imperials. They were getting torn apart. Finally, after an eternity of white-knuckle flying and more than a few high profanities between them, Silas and Barkus relaxed their grips on the controls and steadied the Angel, setting a heading to the asteroid belt where the rest of their fleet had been stationed, already moving to intercept them. A moment later, Silas saw why they had broken cover.A hundred flashes of light were going off in the blackness beyond the asteroid field, the flickering signatures of warships coming out of the warp. A second later the Arcadia burst out from the front of the formation. Pious Mengala’s voice came over the Squawk “Silas. We need to leave! NOW!” “Way ahead of you, Old Man!” Silas pushed the engines past the red-line. Warning lights erupted on a dozen consoles. “Forget docking. No time. Make to jump and we’ll ride your belly into it.” There was a moment’s hesitation, then “That doesn't seem-” Barkus interrupted violently “Quitcher yappin and pull the frack up!” Maneuvering jets fired on the the Acadia’s ventral surface, illuminating her dark underside in pinpricks of white hot fire as she pitched up. The Angel rolled sharply, then, with an almighty lurch, landed hard on the hull of the larger ship. The view-pane shutters slammed closed just as Silas and Barkus both screamed “NOW!” The Arcadia disappeared into the Warp, dragging the Crow Winged Angel with it. --- Within the heights of an Imperial vessel, silent, plasteel corridors played host to an audience of one. The black robed figure gazed into the void, unmoving as the cold metal that surrounded him. He watched as the distant war raged, Nova Cannon and Plasma shell singing their macabre tunes, echoed by what could only be the death cries of a dozen or more. The Arch-Heretek had escaped, as according to plan. The Alpha however, was not content with returning to his meditation on completion of the objective, rather he felt compelled to watch the final moments of the battle. He understood Silas on a level that no Dataslate could express, a charismatic, intelligent and extremely competent Human being, something that this entire operation had relied on. However, the Conduit’s respect for the man’s capabilities were out measured by the contempt of his weak mind. The quiet that had permeated through the area so defiantly quickly surrendered to the familiar sound of Plasteel upon Plasteel, a heavy figure striding through the corridors at no significant pace. “Lord Alpha, I have the data you requested,” the vox-augmented voice echoed from the Sentinel that now stood behind him. His voice, too reflected the still nature of their surroundings, refusing to budge from the direct, toneless atmosphere. “You are dismissed, Sentinel.” The Alpha replied in kind, his gaze firmly locked on the ships as they retreated from the Imperial onslaught. The Stormtrooper took pause before continuing, the conflicting orders leaving him without any guidance of action but his own initiative. “There is something else, my lord, the Overseer suggested that it be brought to your attention.” The hooded figure turned to the Sentinel, a face more of adamantium than flesh as the respirator shrouded his visage. A single, fiery eye expressed no intrigue as it jolted about the Stormtrooper’s form. “Speak.” “The Arch-Heretek’s team were in possession of an Inquisitorial Rosette. We have isolated the transgression.” In the Sentinel’s hand laid a damaged, ornate, golden icon of the Ordos Mandragora. “This is not surprising, Sentinel, I trust there is more.” The Psyker replied. “There is a message upon the Rosette, the Overseer insisted that it was delivered to you.” He approached the already outstretched arm of the Alpha, whom had returned his sight to the void beyond, still dotted with the bright flashes of plasma and laser. He clutched the golden icon from the Stormtrooper’s grasp, scrutinizing the offence to the Holy Ordos, the familiar skull imprinted within the signature pronged ‘I’. Turning the blasphemous object in his hand, the Conduit laid bare one final blemish, hastily inscribed into the metal. Silence once again returned to the room, blanketing the atmosphere in its cold grasp as the Psyker gazed upon the message. All was still for but a moment, followed by the clashing of metal on metal as the Rosette was thrown against the wall with impressive force. “You are dismissed, Sentinel.” --- Silas relaxed his white-knuckle grip on the yoke and slumped in the pilot’s chair. He and barkus exchanged exhausted looks. Silas half laughed, half coughed “So...was it good for you, old man?” Barkus gave a harsh, croaking laugh and punched Silas hard on the shoulder. “I’m getting too old for this shit.” Silas was about to respond when he heard cheering coming close behind him. The Edgecoat Operators were piling into the CIC, sheer jubilation in their eyes as they tore off their helmets and grasped their comrades in hugs and handshakes. Coriola ran into the Flight-Deck and threw her arms around Silas from behind. “You did it.” She said. “We did it.” Said Silas. “Skin of our teeth, but hot damn! It feels good to finally have a win!” He unbuckled himself from the chair, and rolled sideways out of it and onto his feet. Standing on shaky knees, he walked through the hatchway directly behind the cockpit and into the CIC. A roar of cheers hit him like a wave. Silas couldn’t help but join in. “Alright!” he shouted over the din after yelling himself hoarse on the 5th cry of ‘Crows of the Black!’ “Alright! There’s gonna be plenty of celebrating later, believe you me, but right now, I gotta get the frack out of these...What is this monkey-suit called again?” He asked, turning to Coriola and tugging at the imperial costume he was wearing. She giggled slightly “They’re called Vestments.” “Well, you seem to know more about them than I do, so you’d better come help me with them.” A chorus of jeers and “oooh”s followed them as he practically dragged Coriola up the stairs at the back of the CIC and into the causeway leading to the captain’s cabin. “Oh, shut up and get drunk, you bastards, you earned it!” He yelled back at them before closing the hatch. He turned to Coriola who was blushing furiously. “Sorry about that.” He said, “Needed to talk to you alone.” “You...could have handled it a bit more...tactfully.” She said, eyes on her shoes. “Yeah.” He sighed. “I should have. But I had to see if you were OK. You scared the life out of me back there, when you went all cold and-” “I’m sorry.” She blurted out. “I don’t ever mean to frighten anyone, but I’m- I’m just a-” “whoa there.” Silas cut her off gently. “What are you talking about. I wasn’t scared of you, I could never be scared of you. But I was terrified for you. I don’t know what you saw, or what that must have felt like, but I saw something in your eyes, I saw what you were feeling in that instant. I would take a bullet for you in a heartbeat, Coriola, but right then, I was helpless to to help you. I’ve felt that too many times before. I’ve lost too many people to let it happen again.” “Silas.” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I’m not worth that. I’m not that important.” “No!” Silas said sharply grabbing her shoulders. “Don’t you ever say that. Never.” They stood like that for a long time, then Silas, reluctantly, let her go and walked around to sit on the edge of his bed, pulling off his ‘inquisitorial’ overcloak. Coriola sat down next to him. “What about you?” She said. “I saw you...do something with the Rosette before we took off in the shuttle. Where is it?” “I left it back there.” Said Silas, not looking up from trying to figure out how to unbuckle the clunky red and black boots Zan Ravish had lent him. “You mean you dropped it?” “No. I mean I left it. Deliberately.” Coriola looked puzzled. “Why would you do that?” “Because it was useless to us, Might as well be useful to somebody else. I left a message on it. To Scythius.” Coriola recoiled. “Message? What could you possibly want to tell that monster?” “That I forgive him.” Said Silas, not daring to look up from his task. “You...what?” Coriola was speechless for a moment “Why?” “Because of you.” Silas smiled weakly. “I have hated the imperium for a long, long time. I soaked in that hate for so long, I think I forgot what anything else could be like. I hated them for what they did to me, to Jebiden, Carlege, everyone. Then I met somebody. She...reminded me what else there was in the universe besides hate.” “You’re talking about Angel, aren’t you.” Said Coriola in a sad tone. “Yes. I loved her. I won’t deny it. Then they killed her too, and I was back to clinging to memories of the dead and hating the Imperium. Wishing I could tear it apart with my bare hands.” He looked up. “Then I met you. You were different. With Angel, I drowned my past. Ran away from the hurt of it. With you, I didn’t have to run. You didn’t help me bury the wrongs that had been done to me and mine, you showed me I could let them go. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m not holding on to that hate anymore. Not carrying it around. I’m dropping the albatros and focusing on what I can do here and now to make the world better, not just hurting the people who make it worse.” Coriola made a sound not unlike a small hiccup. “Silas...There’s- There’s something I need to tell you about-” She was cut off by a sudden shudder in the keel of the Angel. Did we just drop out of warp transit? No way, it hasn’t even been half an hour! A voice came over the intra-ship squawk. “Silas! Bridge! Now!” He tore himself loose of the remaining Inquisitor’s robes and dashed to the fore of the ship. He practically flew through the CIC and into the cockpit. The shutters were open. Before them was a planet, surrounded by a sea of ships. Black Run corvettes mingled with at least two factions of Imperial frigates, another fleet of a make Silas didn’t recognize off the top of his head, and a single, unbelievably massive Warship flying the colors of the Mechanicus. It was all too close. There should have been much more distance between all of the ships. They were practically stone’s throws away from each other. And the whole of the scene was on fire. fin.
