Editing Story:Another Continuation of LCB (section)

===Chapter Twenty===

The path was meandering, and the rooms similar enough to make navigation difficult. Obviously prefabricated and assembled here. Yet they could tell they were getting closer. Broken wards only lent credence to Liivi’s theory. Pools of blood occasionally dotted the trail, and the caked blood trail itself only got thicker. It hardly took long for the Farseer to put it together.

“''This was the fastest route to each soldier. All on camera. There must have been people in the control room, working with the attackers. Perhaps Liivi was right. But then, what’s at the end of this pathway, that they wouldn’t halt us?''” The rituals of chaos cults were widely varied and idiosyncratic. Veneration and the desired objective were more important than set procedure. The objective was typically simple: summon a daemon.

“''There were hardly enough bodies here to open a rift, let alone feed a daemon for however long it’s been. What’s their game?''” Concern slowly gave way to cautious optimism. “Suppose the majority of them are dead. Perhaps the ritual failed.”

“Possible. The only other chaos ritual I observed failed. They had far more bodies.”

“What? When?” The Farseer, incredulous, stopped dead in her tracks.

Liivi remained unphased. “Circa two months ago.”

She snapped. “Why didn’t you mention this sooner?!”

Now he was confused. “It seemed irrelevant.”

His reaction exacerbated her concern. “Tell me everything.”

“The Handler hailed me-”

Speaking slowly, through gritted teeth: “<u>about the ritual</u>.”

“I did not see the ritual site personally. My partner, a Callidus, infiltrated the facility. She reported the ritual center was covered in bodies. When the final cultist committed suicide atop it, the ritual activated. Warp energy passed through the facility and expanded outward in a roughly spherical shape. I outran the blast, but tripped and fell on my head. No sign of chaos taint was found on either of us, despite her presence at the epicenter. Presumably, our wards protected us against flawed technique.”

“I will be damned if I trust the mon-keigh to detect warp taint - all the power of the Inquisition, and they can’t see what stands in front of them. I’ve not smelled anything on you, but I’ve not looked thoroughly. I promise, Liivi, if I find anything, I will extract it in the most painless way possible. Now, step over here and hold very still.”

Taldeer guided him to a corner of the room, adjacent to the next entrance they needed to pass through. She cycled some extra juice to her shields, and kept her pistol train on the door with the her left hand - better than nothing in case of an ambush. Her right hand hovered slowly over the vindicare’s body, feeling more closely for aberrations in his warp signature or the shadows of internal warp mutations. Nothing in his legs, aside from the protective wards etched into his flesh. A bit worse for wear, they were - they only gave her pinpricks as she probed. Likewise as she did a once over of the torso and- winced. She had forgotten about his injury. Focusing through the sympathetic pain, she found no hint of taint in his chest, nor in his arms or head. He was, as he said, perfectly clean. The wards spread across his body were indeed worn - but that was just evidence that they had done their job. The Farseer breathed a sigh of relief. The two had been in such close proximity for days now - it was highly improbable that she would have missed even the slightest hint of chaos taint. But in that time there had been much on her mind, and it was always better to be safe than sorry.

“You’re clean, Liivi. Thank Isha.” She slumped against the wall as she exhaled. Things had been going poorly. Thankfully not ''that'' poorly. After a moment’s rest, they got back in gear.

A crashing sound from the hallway through which they had just advanced. Some metal object had fallen. Liivi jolted for his pistol and trained it on the door.

“The turret,” he whispered?

“We’ll see,” she replied.

The fates were quiet as she waded through the shallows towards the door. They sung no hymns of battle nor moved to rhythms of combat. They all moved in one straight direction - out, with the tide. Nothing in the immediate future was cause for concern, it was all peaceable. But who knew what the next wave would carry with it.

There were whispers. Metallic, monotone, and distorted. But faintly raspy. The voice of a young woman, with a strange accent. It sounded almost like a conversation. Taldeer pulled out the mirror and peeked around the corner. Nothing. If she hoped to get to the bottom of this, she’d have to go further. Beyond the door. She took a hesitant step into the portal.

To say that the wave arrived sooner than expected would be an understatement. The foam slapped her across the face. It seemed so distant, and suddenly it wasn’t. She dived to safety, cursing herself as she slid across the floor. “''Falling for the same trick twice. I knew the hook was baited. Why did I think it was worth it?''” The sound of doors closing echoed around her. More than one. Two. Three. Four. She was losing count. As her head lifted slowly from the hard floor, she could see some doors remained open.

“''It’s not a room they want to lock me in. It’s a path.''”

----

He had noticed it too late. The mirror in the next room. A camera was set at just the right angle to get an image of the doorway Taldeer had gone through. The machine didn’t bother to refocus on him. The attention of its master had been drawn elsewhere. He could feel the doors slamming shut. Remote switches being flipped. At last it shuddered to a halt.

It took a moment to collect himself mentally, but he quickly dashed to the comms panel next to the door. A shaking finger mashed the call button.

“There was a mirror. A camera got us through it. I should have seen it.”

It was supposed to default to the adjacent room, but she didn’t respond. Maybe she didn’t know how. Maybe she was already running. Liivi sighed and released the button. What now? Hacking without his mask wasn’t possible. His eyes were drawn back to the blood trails. The door was still open. The camera still hadn’t moved.

Maybe it would be wise to stay in the same spot. Maybe wait for things to boil over. Taldeer would know where to find him. But if this was chaos, well, chaos was usually sloppy. There were a lot of bodies dragged that way. If they weren’t frisked - and they probably weren’t - then one of them probably has keys. Gamble on being able to find keys and resume the operation, or stay on the bench in this room, alone? Taldeer could handle herself. Probably.

Liivi pondered these thoughts as he looked at his pistol, then at the open doorway.

He stepped forward.

----

The winding hallways seemed to go nowhere. Vaguely bronze colored walls with simplistic ornamentation, and the scent of incense, appeared to indicate that this was some sort of area for officers. She passed an open door - an officer sat dead at his desk, “stubber” pistol in one hand, a picture of his family in the other. An understandable reaction to an attack from chaos. Taldeer almost felt pity for the mon-keigh. Almost.

Hopefully her mon-keigh was alright.

She picked up her pace. There was no telling where this path led. It probably wasn’t anywhere good. But this situation was going to get worse before it got better. With every step, she listened to the sound of the ocean and the rolling waves, felt the wind and smelled the surf. Ceaselessly reading the data, searching for that next useful thread. Nothing. Loads and loads of nothing. Maybe she was walking to her death. Walking into a trap. A room turned into an oven. She would see that coming, certainly. But wouldn’t she also have seen a melta bomb being tossed practically in her face? Fate had only revealed itself to her jeeringly, when it neared certitude - a giant blazing sign that she somehow missed.

Once again, she shoved these doubts out of her mind. Halting her steps, she closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and tested every muscle. Eyes open. She was ready.

There was no waiting. The squad needed her. Whatever was going on, it was probable that going to meet the enemy would allow the squad to better accomplish their objective. She could draw some fire off of them, tie up some enemy resources. Not that she really knew what resources they had. The faster this could be resolved, the sooner she could save Liivi. All he had to do was stay still. He was smart enough, level headed enough, to know that he shouldn’t run when being searched for. Of course, if they successfully summoned a daemon, and somehow it was still walking around, perhaps he would be better off running.

She tried not to dwell on that thought.

----

The cameras weren’t watching him anymore. They sat frozen, motionless, staring blankly into empty space. Why did they lose interest? He could only guess.

These tunnels seemed more aged than the rest of the facility. Clearly maintenance for a variety of systems - heating, electrical, air circulation, water. Perhaps it was the dim lighting, or maybe it was the dampness that gave it a more aged look. It could have been recycled from a defunct installation. Or maybe it was the ever thicker blood trail. It almost looked like rust.

He heard a blast not too long ago. Muffled in the ducts. Mission accomplished. Hopefully. But that just meant the clock was ticking further down.

Flashlight swaying across the hallway, Liivi took step after step towards whatever dark and arcane chaos ritual had taken place. It was hardly a desirable place to go. But desire didn’t factor into the equation. He needed those keys. He had to get back to Taldeer. She had to be protected.

And she was right, too. Daemons have a limited time in the materium, extended only by the consumption of mortals. If the ritual was successful, it should have come looking for him. It wouldn’t sit and wait. It was probably safe.

Probably.

Suppose they hadn’t launched it yet? Perhaps they needed another body. He was walking into a trap. Or maybe that wasn’t possible. Those kills were made awhile ago. The blood isn’t what summons and feeds daemons. It’s the soul. How long do they have before a soul really leaves the body, and their ritual material becomes nothing more than a pile of corpses? A question with no obvious answer. But not exactly a bad question. Likely best to take it more slowly. He decided to hug the wall just a bit more closely. The grungy piping, wires, and hard metal was slippery beneath his suit. Oil mixed in with some condensation, maybe.

He turned a corner. The hallway was masked by total darkness. Shards of glass glittered on the floor. Fragments of the bulbs. The sound of pumps, the thrum of air moving through vents, and the occasional drip of some fluid - their echoes emanated from the placid, lightless void, met only with the sound of the man's pounding chest and his quiet breathing.

The deep shadow embraced him as he entered, even as the flashlight pierced its heart.

And a knife pierced his chest. It took a moment for him to register it. “''Amateur''.” Liivi noted that he was so distracted that he managed to reflect on his error, rather than finding a solution.

With cat-like reflexes, his assailant had emerged from a large vertical crevice between some ducts. But the last of his energy appeared to have been spent on the leap and thrust. Energy wasted, the point of the knife making direct contact with the wraithbone cast. He slumped to the ground, gasping for breath.

The gash on the assailant’s head was large enough to see easily, even in this dimness. But a little more light wouldn’t heart. The man hardly winced as the flashlight was directed at his head. Things were clearer now. Skull was visible - and cracked. The runes cut into his temple were undoubtedly the inscriptions of chaos. Disgusting. And yet, familiar.

Not the marks. The man’s face. No time to dwell on it though. He was getting close now.

Liivi pointed his Exitus pistol at the man’s head.

----

Nothing doing.

The quarters seemed to stretch on forever. The double headed eagles and lions that adorned the walls almost seemed to move, looking down from on high, laughing at her as she was trapped in this labyrinthine maze. “''How did anybody ever navigate this?''” She did not have the subtle eddies of fate washing around her ankles to guide her. It burbled to and fro, indifferently, devoid of any discernible meaning. It irked her.

Door upon door flitted past, all sealed. She passed an oddity - an open one. Inside, an officer lay dead on the floor. His legs were straight, eyes closed, and his hands crossed over his chest. Held in them was a picture of his family. A gun lay on his blood covered desk.

It was the same man as before.

She’d gone in a circle.

Muttering. “Isha help me if I don’t-”

Her glower shifted. Perplexed and concerned. “''Who did this?''”

Doubtable it was one of the others. Ysukin might in other circumstances, but he was too dedicated to the mission. He wouldn’t stop. Chaos certainly wouldn’t. Perhaps Liivi escaped? Yes, maybe he got a key! She quickly rummaged through the officer’s pockets. Maybe he had one. But she turned up nothing. Either he didn’t have it, or it was taken. It wasn’t on or in his desk. So it wasn’t going to be found. Time to go.

As she paced angrily down the hallway, she passed a second peculiarity. An open door, one that she swore was formerly closed. How curious. She had not heard it open.

Stepping carefully into the hallway, she found herself surrounded by the spartan, militaristic decoration of the rest of the facility. So this was a step in the right direction, apparently. Hopefully. Even so, she had to take it slow. This could well be a trap. She advanced quickly down the hallway, never allowing her irons to leave her eye. Her eyes were soon drawn to something else, however. She almost missed it.

At last, there it was, clearly labeled on the door. Command Center. It was not locked. In fact, it was clear that Ysukin had already been there. The door opened graciously, and she accepted the invitation to step through.

The squad was all present, milling about. Gilfavor was on comms, speaking in Eldar, reporting to the fleet. Ysukin and Tanlon were watching the two entrances. The Warlock was more expressive than he’d ever been - he actually smiled with his polite nod. “Farseer.”

Ysukin beamed. “It’s good to see you alive and well. And Liivi?”

“I’m afraid we got separated. I trust he’ll make it here, however. He always comes through.”

“He has at least until Taesan gets up here with Mellorena,” Ysukin whispered. “I can’t say how long the captain will be willing to wait. Probably not long. The mon-keigh know.” She nodded sourly and swallowed, glancing around the room. Something in the corner caught her eye.

A corpse. There was an ear on the top of its head.

“I see you’ve noticed the trash, Farseer.” Gilfavor. “I’d spit on the corpse. But I suppose they’d probably enjoy that. Good thing is, we won’t be here for much longer. We should get to the pad soon.”

She stared at the body as if she was in trance. She may well have been, as far as the others were concerned.“”The scent of the Great Enemy should be strong. Even noticeable. It isn’t. But how? It doesn-”

All stared at one another, aghast. Things were finally starting to make sense.

----

The door hissed as it closed behind him. Golden light cut a sharp swathe through the inky black. Motes of dust shimmered in the air.

It smelled of iron.

He cast the beam on the ground. Crusted rouge mingled with flowing scarlet. Blood. Far too much for a single body. “''Where?''”

Light directed to the center of the room. A pile of bodies, arteries exposed. Unlit candles were positioned around them, alongside daemonic runes written in blood. A ritual circle. Purity seals and wards against chaos, smashed and scattered around it. And at its foot…

A familiar face. Half of one.

A Callidus. Slumped on the floor, she had turned her neuro gauntlet on herself. He could only speculate on why. The dead assassin’s face was filled with wrinkles, contorted into a mad grin, eyes bulging in their sockets. Partially transformed at her time of death. In spite of the distortion, the resemblance was uncanny.

It was the Handler.

Liivi’s eyes snapped to the faces of the bodies. Haphazardly thrown into the pile as they were, he couldn’t see all of them. But at least one was recognizable. One of Handler’s auxiliaries. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.

“''How.''”

A sound to his right, wet and quiet, like a toe being dipped into a puddle. Nothing living could hide in this 5 by 5 meter room. Yet it put him on edge. He quickly turned the flashlight to the rightmost corner, slowly scanning across the wall. Faint at first, two hazy marine orbs began to glow, growing brighter as the light neared them. At last, the spotlight shined down upon the star of whatever damnable apostasy this room had been a stage for.

A daemonette.

A black circle of carbon, burned into the wall she was slumped against, resembled a dark halo around her head. The streak of purple blood, no doubt produced as she slid down the wall, almost seemed like a column of sickly light.

Cause of death was obvious. It was the hole in the center of her chest - about two fists wide. Possibilities flashed through Liivi’s brain faster than words could express.

“''Not a lasrifle. Not a neuro gauntlet. What?''”

The gears were turning. The flywheel spinning out of control. It was all coming together now.

The daemonette blinked, grinning as the blood poured from her mouth.

“Start running, loverboy.”

With those words, her head slumped forward, dead. But he was already gone, keys ripped from the belt of the Callidus, stubber pulled from the holster of an officer.

----

The eldar recoiled collectively. Taldeer especially so. It felt as though, some time long ago, the wind had been knocked out of her chest, she had forgotten about it, and now it suddenly returned to her. She became whole again, without ever realizing there was something missing. A hidden tension in the air had been released.

And she could see it all now.

The wind was screaming death into her ear. The smell of the Great Enemy. Wisps of dead human. Where was this before? Where had it all been hiding?

Thick drops of rain fled this place, horizontal on the wind, battering themselves against her. Lightning cracked, illuminating wave upon frothing, rabid wave, each fit to drown them. The undertow was sucking hard enough to drown ships, let alone the flotsam they were.

But it was the rogue wave that frightened her. Towering above the rest. Bearing down on them. It was soon to hit.

That was when the sea began to boil.

Clouds gave way to empty void as the ocean slunk away from her, retreating Isha knew where. There was nothing beneath the water, no earth to catch her, no beach to retreat to. There was nothing at all. Not even a void.

It all made sense now. The muffled sense of the warp. The sinking feeling. The quietude of the ocean. Eyes widened as the eldar stared at each other in terror. 

“''No.''”

Pain. Immeasurable pain. The squad collapsed, writhing helplessly on the ground as their shrieks tore through the installation. Only Taldeer and Tanlon remained standing. His shaking body struggled to hold his witchblade aloft, turning frantically, looking for a target. The flame, suddenly weak, flickered and died. She vomited, her body’s desperate attempt to remove whatever poison she had swallowed. 

A fruitless response. She could already tell what poison this was. And it was not a poison imbibed. It was a walking <u>anathema</u>.

She found it hard to see. A hungry darkness gnawed at the edges of her hazy vision, intent on swallowing the distorted image. But detail wasn’t necessary. When Tanlon was batted across the room by some invisible force, it came as no surprise. At the end of the long, black hallway, it looked like the whole world was starting to sway and contort. And one patch of air warped a bit more than the rest.

It was moving towards her.

----