I scrambled through the maintenance shaft, the air smelling of ozone and ancient dust. The sound of the Lychguard's heavy footfalls echoed below, vibrating through the metal floor. My lungs burned, a reminder that despite the flickering "Phase-Shift" and the voices in my head, I was still encased in a shell of fragile meat.
I collapsed into a small alcove where the green conduits branched off like glowing veins. I was safe, for now.
"Okay," I panted, wiping sweat from my forehead. The hat was slightly crooked, but I jammed it back down. "System. Talk to me. Access the memory fragment. Who am I?"
[ ACCESSING PROJECT '**********' FRAGMENT... ]
[ DATA CORRUPTION: 40% ]
[ PLAYING AUDIO/VISUAL LOG... ]
My vision blurred. The green tomb vanished, replaced by a sterile, white laboratory filled with scientists in high-collared robes. They didn't look like the Necrons; they looked... old. Wise. Their eyes held the depth of nebulae.
"The Necrontyr have completed the Bio-transference," a voice spoke—the same gentle, paternal voice from the darkness. "They are no longer flesh. They are souls trapped in cold, unfeeling iron. We failed to guide them, and now the C'tan feed upon the very galaxy we swore to protect."
The scene shifted. I saw a pod the same glass capsule I had woken up in. Inside was a figure, obscured by swirling violet mists.
"We cannot defeat the Star Gods with power alone," another voice whispered.
"We need a bridge. A catalyst. A being, evolved by our hand, but marked by the essence of the shards we captured. A soul, forged in the crucible of both the Old Ones and the C'tan."
The image of a woman appeared on a monitor. It was me. Or a version of me. My hair was longer, my face less weary, but the eyes were unmistakable.
"She will be the end of the War in Heaven, or the catalyst for its return. Sleep now, little weaver. Wake when the stars are right."
The vision snapped shut. I was back in the dark, cramped shaft.
"A bridge?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'm a... project? A weapon?"
[ INTEGRATION: 33% ]
[ ALERT: ENERGY SIGNATURE DETECTED NEARBY ]
[ CLASSIFICATION: BIOLOGICAL ]
I froze. "Biological? You mean there's someone else here who isn't made of metal?"
I crawled further down the shaft, following a faint, rhythmic thumping. It wasn't the mechanical clanging of Necrons; it was the sound of someone hitting a wall.
I reached a ventilation grate and looked down. Below me was a holding cell, but it wasn't empty. A man was there, dressed in tattered green fatigues with a double-headed eagle crest on his chest. He was frantically kicking at the energy bars of his cell.
"Bloody... metal... toasters!" he grunted with every kick. "Let me out so I can die on my feet, you soulless scrap heaps!"
[ TARGET IDENTIFIED: IMPERIAL GUARD - SECTOR 842 ]
[ THREAT LEVEL: MINIMAL ]
"Hey!" I hissed through the grate.
The soldier jumped, nearly tripping over his own boots. He spun around, looking wildly at the ceiling until his eyes landed on me. "By the Emperor's Throne... a girl? What in the warp are you doing in the vents?"
"I'm... lost," I said, reaching for the latch of the grate. "And I'm getting you out of there."
"Don't bother," he sighed, his shoulders sagging. "These bars are powered by some kind of magic. You touch 'em, you turn to ash. I've seen 'em do it to my Sergeant."
I looked at the bars. To my eyes, they weren't just energy; they were strings of code. Layers of sub-atomic instructions holding reality in place.
The Deceiver's Mirage, I thought. Or the Weaver's Hand?
I reached out, my fingers flickering with that strange, translucent glow.
"Wait, don't!" the soldier yelled.
I touched the bars. Instead of burning, the green energy turned purple under my fingertips. The "code" shifted. The bars didn't just turn off; they ceased to have ever existed in that spot.
The soldier's jaw dropped. He stepped through the gap I'd created, staring at me like I was a ghost.
"Who... what are you?"
"I'm the person who is helping you," I said, trying to calm down the person.
"And if we don't move now, we're both going to be 'specimens' in a Cryptek's jar."
"Fair point," he muttered, grabbing a discarded metal pipe from the floor.
"Names Kars. 112th Cadian. You got a name, ma'am?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but the System beat me to it.
[ INTEGRATION: 35% ]
[ NAME RETRIEVED: vertin]
"Vertin," I said, the name feeling strange yet familiar on my tongue. "My name is Vertin. Now, do you know the way to the hangars?"
"Hangars? Lass, this is a tomb world. But I saw where they took our gear. If we're lucky, there's a shuttle or a way out. If we're unlucky... well, I've always wanted to see a beautiful woman up close before I died."
"I guess you're ready to die," I said jokingly
"I guess so" he said chuckling