827.M30, Islington System
The 2nd Company of the Shadows of Order 11th Chapter, under Captain Kirkland, had joined forces with Cassian Vaughn's 18th Legion. Their mission: to investigate a massive derelict starship drifting through the system.
Aboard the battleship Shield of Vostroya, Kirkland stood on the command bridge and gave his first order:
"Disengage the protective shutters. I want to see the wreck with my own eyes first."
"Before we focus on the details, I'll use the gift Father granted me to feel the battlefield."
"By your command," the servitors droned in unison.
The motors whirred. Metal shutters on the viewing ports rose, and the bridge was instantly bathed in a blinding orange glare.
"Dim the viewport, ninety-seven percent," Kirkland ordered.
The machine spirits complied. The glass darkened, and before them blazed a colossal orange sun.
They were close enough to see great solar flares bursting from its roiling surface.
The Islington star was so violent that only four of its eleven planets could support a total population of less than five million struggling souls.
"The derelict will soon pass between us and the star, Captain," the shipmaster reported.
"Ten… three, two, one…" a servitor counted down.
"I see it," Kirkland murmured. A vast black shadow drifted across the face of the sun.
"Project the image on the main holotable and compensate for stellar brightness."
The shipmaster obeyed, relaying the order. The machinery around them hummed as mechanical voices echoed: "As you command."
The star map table flared to life, displaying a holographic projection of the derelict, a hulking mass that eclipsed half the star's light.
Kirkland stepped forward. The thing was larger than their battleship, a tangled monument of wreckage and ruin, ships and debris fused together by the tides of the void, like a shattered work of art scattered across the heavens.
He ran a gloved hand along the flickering projection: transport bays, voidship turrets, crushed freighters, xeno craft with organic curves, jagged asteroids, and frozen cometary ice, all melded into a single grotesque whole.
The materials clearly came from many species and technologies of the material universe, yet what bound them together was the Warp itself, defying every physical law.
The shipmaster approached, data-slate in hand.
"The Sensorium Adept reports the wreck's estimated mass at 25.84 trillion tons, albedo 0.96, gravitational displacement…"
"Best estimate: composed of 136 distinct vessels."
"Several unstable radioactive sources detected inside. Deep-scan probing is impossible."
Kirkland turned to a young Lexicanum, his hood faintly glowing with psychic runes.
"Nicholas, what do you sense?"
"Warp readings stable, Captain. No anomalous activity," the psyker replied.
"Good. Then you'll coordinate with the techmarines to assign the wreck a permanent position in the Islington system."
The derelict's time in realspace was uncertain.
"Father wishes that after we recover any valuable assets, the remaining structure be converted into a training ground for new recruits," Kirkland continued.
"Such an environment will test their adaptability and instincts."
"Derelicts rarely remain long in a system," Nicholas cautioned. "Five to ten days at most before they drift away. The 18th Legion has experience dealing with such phenomena across the Imperium."
"They tracked the warp trail and celestial drift that led here and successfully predicted its arrival."
"I've already contacted their Chief Librarian and Master of the Forge; they'll assist us in fulfilling Father's command."
Kirkland nodded, then activated his vox-link.
"Signal the 18th Legion. Request communication uplink."
One standard hour later – Aboard a Heavy Landing Craft
Veteran Eisfeld of the 18th Legion stood ready. His Mark I Thunder Power Armor was painted deep green, its helmet strange, snout-like, studded with emerald sensor lenses, giving it an insectoid, alien appearance.
He was among the most experienced derelict explorers in the Legion, having thrice the honor of being the first to board such ships.
"Brothers, close your visors," Eisfeld's rasping voice sounded over the squad channel. "The wreck orbits too close to the star. The glare will blind unshielded optics."
Kirkland relayed the instruction, and his Shadows of Order followed suit.
Under Eisfeld's direction, the boarding team approached an ancient human starship embedded within the wreck. Using mag-locks, they clamped onto its hull. Chainsword gauntlets roared silently in the void, scattering sparks that faded into nothing.
Nearby, a Techmarine knelt, servo-arms burning with plasma cutters. Within three minutes, a large enough breach was cut.
"Always make a hole big enough for two Astartes to pass side by side," Eisfeld explained calmly. "If something goes wrong, that simple precaution doubles your chance of survival."
Kirkland could hear the melancholy in the old veteran's tone. Clearly, he'd seen many fall.
"All units, stay sharp," Kirkland ordered over the company channel. "I won't have anyone dying from stupidity."
Eisfeld, given temporary command privileges, overheard and gave an approving nod.
He then instructed his servitors to deploy a cylindrical seismic scanner. Pistons descended, revealing an interface of runes, screens, and keys.
"Because derelicts spend so long adrift in the Warp, and due to stellar interference, normal auspex scans are unreliable," he explained.
"This device collects vibration data to build a precise structural map."
Once uploaded to the tactical network, Kirkland and his guard entered the breach.
Their mag-locked boots clanged faintly on the deck as they adjusted to the microgravity, barely 0.016 G.
They passed through a corridor when Kirkland suddenly froze.
"Contact," Eisfeld rasped over vox.
Kirkland turned his bolt pistol toward the marked direction. A moment later, he saw it, a creature, half leopard, half spider, eight legs clattering across the deck.
He fired. Eisfeld fired too. Twin detonations tore the beast apart in utter silence.
"Fast reflexes," Eisfeld muttered. The Shadows of Order had reacted almost as one, barely a heartbeat apart.
They moved on, deeper into the ship.
Moments later, Kirkland's pistol barked again, cutting down another abomination before it could leap. Eisfeld hesitated, then realized he hadn't even sensed the threat.
"I'd forgotten, the Shadows of Order have heightened perception," Eisfeld said.
"A gift from our Father," Kirkland replied, kneeling beside the carcass.
Eisfeld joined him. The creature's underside teemed with centipede-like tendrils.
"The Emperor told us the Warp holds no true life," Eisfeld said. "But ships that drift into it carry the seeds of other worlds. Those caught in its currents mutate beyond recognition."
"These… are what remains. Warp-twisted echoes of life."
He tapped his strange helmet. "The helmet I wear is a customized model based on experience and was made by our technmarines." "
"But obviously, it's not as keen as your perception."
"You and your men adapt quickly," Eisfeld said approvingly. "With time, you'll be veterans of derelict hunts yourselves."
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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