Chapter 35: The Vault and the Voids-Voice
Kian Voss strolled toward the perimeter of the Monitoring Station. He wasn't in a hurry. He paused to tuck the waxy "Emperor's Mercy" pill against the inside of his rear molar, then began to hum a jaunty tune from the Age of Terra as he entered the frosted grass.
Snap.
A blur of movement descended from the seventh floor. The Silent One landed in front of him, his boots cracking the frozen mud. His bloodshot eyes were wide, darting around frantically as if searching for invisible flies. He reached out with a skeletal, trembling hand toward Kian's throat.
"The voices... they are back! Give it... give me the oil!"
Just as the Psyker's grime-encrusted fingers were about to touch his skin, Kian pulled a bottle of Sanctified Oil from his rags.
Minutes later, inside the seventh-floor sanctum, the Silent One was weeping. It was a pathetic sight—a man who could shatter tanks with a thought, huddled on the floor, cradling a 150ml bottle of oil as if it were his firstborn child.
He didn't just apply it; he drank a mouthful, the golden fluid coating his blackened teeth.
"I thought you weren't coming back," the Psyker whimpered between gulps. "You vanished in a flash... my soul went cold. I thought the Silence was a lie... gulp-gulp."
Kian watched with a mix of pity and nausea. "Easy there, buddy. You'll get a stomach ache. I said I'd be back, and Kian Voss always delivers."
He placed two more bottles of oil on the floor. The Silent One snatched them up instantly, hisding them beneath his wire-wrapped chest like a hoarding animal.
"Alright," Kian said, leaning against a Cogitator bank. "The charity is over. I gave you the silence, now you give me the power. Teach me how to pull the threads of the Warp."
The Psyker looked up, the divine oil already purging the whispers from his mind. "I... I do not know how to teach. The power is a part of me. I am the pipe, the Warp is the water."
Kian nodded. He'd expected this. In the logic of the Imperium, Psykers were living conduits. The stronger the soul, the wider the pipe.
"I have an idea," Kian said. "Release your energy at me. Don't try to kill me—just vent it. Let the Warp 'spill' onto my soul. Slowly."
This was Kian's gamble. His "System" increased proficiencies through repetition and exposure. If he stood near the "leaking pipe" of a powerful Psyker, maybe he could catch enough "splash-back" to trigger a skill unlock.
The Silent One hesitated. "The energy of the Beyond is poison. It will rot your mind. The Daemons will see you!"
Kian stepped closer. "Just do it. If I start turning inside-out, I'll let you know."
The Psyker raised a hand. He didn't form a spell; he simply opened a crack in his mental armor.
Kian felt it instantly. It wasn't like a physical impact; it was like being submerged in a river of liquid static. The Warp energy was violent, oppressive, and heavy with the scent of old blood and rusted iron. He felt thousands of conflicting emotions—rage, despair, agonizing lust—slamming into his consciousness.
He grit his teeth, his bones groaning under the psychic pressure. He was holding on, pushing his soul against the tide. One more minute... just give me the unlock...
Suddenly, a voice that wasn't the Psyker's echoed in his skull.
"An interesting soul... I haven't tasted a 'Player' before..."
Kian felt a cold, oily hook sink into his spirit, trying to drag him out of his body.
"Gah!"
Kian didn't wait. He lunged forward and delivered a desperate, heavy-booted kick to the Psyker's stomach. The Silent One folded with a wheeze, the connection snapping instantly.
Kian collapsed to the floor, his eyes rolling back as his nervous system misfired. He nearly bit his suicide pill in the panic.
"Throne... an actual Daemon nearly yanked me out of the game," Kian wheezed, clutching his chest.
The Silent One looked at him, apologetic. "I told you. The Never-born are waiting in the Sump of the mind. They want to eat us."
Kian checked his System Interface and a wide grin spread across his face.
[COGITATOR STATUS UPDATED]
Mental Clarity: 16 (+3)
Warp Resistance: 20 (+10)
Psionic Proficiency: 21 (+10)
Note: Your soul-signature has grown 'brighter.'
"Worth it," Kian muttered. He looked at the Psyker. "Listen, you can't stay here. The PDF is coming to clear this place. If you stay, they'll bring the Inquisition, and they have special cages for people like you."
The Psyker panicked. "Where do I go? The voices will find me!"
"Remember that giant ventilator pipe I vanished into?" Kian asked. "There's a sub-level maintenance vault near there. It's dry, hidden, and it's close to my 'Nest.' If you live there, I can bring you the oil every three days. We can continue our 'lessons' in private. Want to be neighbors, Silent One?"
The Psyker nodded frantically. "Yes! Close to the Silence! Yes!"
"Then pack your trash. My friends will be here soon. Go!"
With a blur of motion, the Psyker gathered his few belongings and leaped from the window, using a short-range telekinetic glide to vanish into the woods.
[THE VAULT RUN]
Kian headed to the basement. He reached the massive, scorched plasteel doors of the Hydro-Seismic Vault. He pulled out Reno's Master Key and slotted it into the manual override.
With a rhythmic thrum of ancient motors, the doors cycled open.
Inside, the lights flickered to life. This was a "Key Room"—the holy grail of any extraction.
Kian went into a looting trance.
Residential Tier: He ransacked the staff quarters.
1,500 Agri-Scrips.
Two gold-plated chronos (watches).
Five bottles of vintage amasec.
Medicae Bay: This was the real prize.
8x Haemostatic Bandages (Stops bleeding).
5x Compact Med-Kits.
3x Bottles of Pain-Suppression pills.
1x Standard Surgical Suite (8/8 Uses).
Note: These weren't just "bandages." Under the System's rules, using the Surgical Suite could literally regrow a limb in seconds.
Kian let out a low whistle. "This is my retirement fund."
He pushed deeper into the Command Tier. On the primary cogitator, he found the objective: a palm-sized Logistics Data-Slate. To Reno, this was mapping data. To Kian, this was 100,000 scrips.
Finally, he hit the Maintenance Tier. He found several high-grade power transformers, a spool of industrial copper wiring, and—the crown jewel—a Pristine Promethium Power Cell.
Kian stuffed his backpack until the seams screamed. He was carrying so much metal he triggered a Red Weight Warning. Every step made his knees pop, and his movement speed was reduced to a pathetic shuffle.
He dragged himself back to the surface. The Silent One was gone, having glided away toward the Underhive. The station was empty, smelling of ozone and the dead.
Kian pulled out the small stub-pistol he'd taken from the Sump-Matron. He aimed at the moon and fired three times.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
The signal was sent. Within minutes, the roar of Rudolphson's Chimera began to echo from the distance. Kian sat on his mountain of loot, waiting to hand over a "liberated" station to a very ambitious Lieutenant.
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