"One month has passed since the incident that stranded us here in the void..." Callex’s voice trailed off as he stared at the cogitator screen, his hand hovering over the keybord. He took a slow, deep breath. How could he possibly document all they’d witnessed in this alien place without painting himself and Ambrosius as heretics in the eyes of the Inquisition? The data he, Ambrosius and even the civilians had gathered on A.R.K., the machines, and and the place they now live in was staggering—and dangerous.

He glanced over the screen, where numerous reports blinked back at him, each recording the unsettling yet fascinating discoveries they’d made. He rubbed his temple, a headache lingering after hours of combing through reports.

With a huff, Callex moved away from the cogitator and crossed the room to a nearby table, where a goblet of deep crimson wine waited, still half-full. Guide had explained that it was “The best wine produced on Earth in the year 3198,” though Callex doubted it was worth the high praise. He took a deep sip, letting the warmth ease his nerves.

His eyes wandered down to his combat knife lying on the table, and one particular memory from the past month flickered in his mind—the day they met Chen, the Scientist Protocol. It had been roughly two weeks after they’d arrived on A.R.K., and they’d been meeting with Arsenal and Ratchet to discuss the production of bolter ammunition. Callex chuckled darkly as he remembered it: Chen had barged into the room mid-conversation, appearing out of nowhere with her excited, floating form, ready to throw her two pieces into the conversation. Pure instinct had taken over, and before he could think, Callex had drawn his combat knife and hurled it through her.

The blade had skewered Chen cleanly, sending her careening down the hall, where she had slammed into the wall with an echoing metallic clang. The two Space Marines had been braced for retribution, expecting Arsenal or Ratchet to retaliate. Instead, Ratchet had merely muttered, “Damn... now I owe Chi five rotations of defragmentation.” while Arsenal sighed in a way that almost sounded resigned.

That incident was also when they’d learned the true nature of the machines they have interacted with. it turns out that these were not their real bodies but avatars called 'Monitor's', while their true cores resided deep within the heart of A.R.K., alongside its primary systems. A strange detail, indeed—but one that raised more questions than answers.

He set the goblet back on the table and picked up one of the slates. He barely had time to scroll through another report when he heard the door to their base open. Ambrosius entered, a large box tucked under one arm. Callex couldn’t help but smirk as he noted his brother’s attire. Ambrosius wore plain, weathered clothing—a rough tunic and trousers—garments he’d adopted to keep up civilian morale and spend time working with them in the hydroponics bays. He himself chose to wear his Chapter's standard "off duty" clothing which consists of a simple chitons clothing made in white with an ultramarine blue belt.

“I see you’ve taken a break,” Ambrosius observed with a slight smile, setting the box down on the table.

“Not exactly,” Callex replied, closing the slate. “I’m trying to find a way to word these reports without giving the Inquisition a reason to burn us.”

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Ambrosius chuckled and opened the box, pulling out a object. “Perhaps you’d think better with something in your stomach.” He tossed the object at Callex, who caught it without looking.

“An apple?” Callex asked, eyeing the smooth, red fruit in his hand.

“An unmodified apple, grown right here in the ship’s hydroponics bays from Terra’s own seeds,” Ambrosius replied, sitting down at the table and taking one for himself and biting into it.

Callex regarded the apple thoughtfully before taking a bite. The sweet, fresh taste flooded his mouth, momentarily washing away the lingering tension. “Not bad,” he muttered, swallowing. “So… what are you doing with the civilians today?”

Ambrosius was about to answer when a faint, steady hum sounded outside, growing louder by the second. The door swung open abruptly, and both Arsenal and Ratchet came crashing into the room, their usually composed forms hovering tensely.

“We have a situation,” Arsenal announced, his voice laced with urgency. His eye blazed white as he spoke.

Callex still had problems when it came to Arsenal as for some reason he sounded just like Lord Calgar. Which at their first meeting had left him speechless.

“What kind of situation?” Ambrosius asked, rising to his feet, his posture immediately alert.

Ratchet floated forward, his orange eye scanning over them. “Approximately half an hour ago, A.R.K. detected something on its long-range sensors and initiated another jump to investigate. After we arrived we were still several light second away from the source, but we just made visual contact.”

Ratchet glided to a cogitator terminal, interfacing with it. “This is what we found.” The screen flared to life, showing a vast, tangled mass floating in the void. Ships, asteroids, and hulking debris meshed together, drifting slowly, the blackness swallowing its silhouette.

Both Marines recognized it immediately, a familiar cold dread gripping them. “A space hulk?” they exclaimed in unison.

“Not only that,” Arsenal added, moving to another cogitator and pulling up another feed. A crackling sound burst from the speakers, hissing with static, then—

“This is First Lieutenant Farestein of the Cadian 315th .....bzzzz… can someone hear me…bzzzz.... we are in need of reinforcements…bzzz...”

The voice faded in and out, like a ghostly plea carried across the stars. Callex and Ambrosius stared at the screen, the implications settling heavily between them.

“Cadians…” Ambrosius murmured, his brow furrowing. “How old is that transmission?”

Ratchet’s optic eye glowed as he replied. “Based on A.R.K.’s analysis, the signal appears to be a continuous loop, though it’s impossible to determine exactly how old it is without closer proximity.”

Ambrosius clenched a fist. “If there are Guardsmen on that hulk, we have a duty to investigate. We can’t leave them stranded—whatever their fate.”

Callex, however, remained cautious. “Space hulks are riddled with danger. It would be foolish to approach unprepared, running in without intel or a strategy, I would advise against any rash actions.”

Arsenal’s tone was somber but resolute. “A.R.K. agrees with your assessment. However, the signal might hold critical information regarding your current predicament or even a potential path back to Sol.”

Ambrosius grunted in agreement, his gaze hardening. “Then we don’t have a choice. We have to investigate, but we proceed with caution.” He turned and started moving towards their armory.