From time to time, fate demands that the great tree of the Imperium is watered with the Blood of Martyrs and Xenos.
Arakiel Dracos, Honored Chaplin for the 4th Company of the Angels Vigilant, a warrior of 3 centuries and veteran of innumerable battles, was bored. He sat upon the command throne of the ship “MARTYRS BLOOD” his skull faced helmet off and his armored fist pressed into his cheek as his head rested upon it. The bridge crew stood at their stations in silence, only pierced by the sounds of brief comms traffic of one ship reporting their arrival or departure or someone making a maneuvering turn in this direction or that. They were already docked and there was nothing for them to call out or communicate, they simply stayed at their post ensuring that each item continued reading as normal. The captain stood with his back to the hulking marine, desperately trying to ignore Arakiel’s presence on his bridge.
He wasn’t here for glory or honor, save for the honor of his chapter, but instead was going around collecting potential candidates for Astarties ascension and chapter serfs to serve in their fleet. They had just come off crusade and desperately needed replacements. Their veteran core was able to be replenished and the battle line companies held most of their squads intact, but it had all come at the cost of the reserve companies which had dwindled down to just enough Battle Brothers left to stand up the bones of their squads and hopefully stay alive long enough to train a new generation of Angels.
The bloodline of the Angels Vigilant was in danger of going extinct and so it sent out squads of representatives made up of their most impressive warriors to take tithes from the planets of the imperium. They were to go to places whose tithe hadn’t been paid forward to the wider Imperium for some time and take willing volunteers for aspirant trials or to become serfs within the chapter. If any were to refuse, as had been the case at an unwise planet known as "Sharpe's Folly", that information was easily forwarded to the administratum who would dispatch a compliance fleet. With any luck, the Angel's Vigilant would be apart of that fleet and their novices would wet their blades with the blood of those who added traitors, by refusing to replenish the Imperium's forces. Normally the tithe would be held at a world that they had fought on and simply demand that a portion of the survivors come with them to replace the blood spilt on their world for its security. But many of the worlds they had recently fought on had no survivors to cull and those that did were so few in population that to take any would be saving the world just to doom it in the same breath.
So the expeditions were sent. They had already visited several worlds, taking on many surfs and potential aspirants. Soon they would be taken to the fleet to be put through the trials and then inducted into the chapter. Forging the future of the chapter was an honor, but it was equally incredibly boring. There were no battles to be fought, very little glory to be won, nothing to do. Well not nothing, he was still chaplain so his duty to minister to those in his charge remained. His brothers appreciated the words he brought and the aspirants were filled with zeal when he preached to them, so he was lucky to have that duty bestowed to him. The others for the most part simply had the duty to stand tall and represent the Emperor’s Angels.
Chaplin Drako’s expedition included a Veteran Sergeant, the man actually in charge of the force, 2 other marines, a sanguinary priest, a terminator librarian with two companions, a sternguard veteran, and a Sanguinary Guard. Eight other identical expeditions had been sent out, each aboard a sister frigate, they each made a truly an impressive retinue that may inspire worlds to send their sons to serve among such heroes of the Imperium. During their time on planet they would arrive to one village or the next and complete some deed, slay some monster that threatened them, or some other local contest of arms that needed doing, afterwards they would spend the next few weeks assisting the locals in building homes or repairing this and that around their villages and towns. But for men as themselves it was trivial work unworthy of their talents. Sergeant Daminan Tamor, the true leader of this mission, seemed to find purpose and fulfillment in these tasks. Besides, Chaplin Drakos wasn’t even necessarily supposed to be on this expedition but he had been given another mission his duties required to carry out.
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A noise he at first didn’t fully register broke him from his bored thoughts. It was a member of the bridge crew speaking to the captain. The Master of Auspex
“Captain, we have a subspace disruption at the edge of our sensitorium range. To large to be a single ship” The crewman had looked back briefly to adress their Captain, before spotting the Chaplin in the throne and snapping his head forward once more.
“Master of vox, check with the station if they have a warp convoy scheduled for arrival.” The Captain strode forward to observe the reading on the auspex for himself.
“Forgive me captain but I don’t think it’s warp translation. There’s no portal forming. Space is instead, bulging” The Chaplin sat up on the throne at this announcement. Furious recognition sparking in his eyes.
“Master of Auspex speak plainly, what is happening.” the captain said with the typical agitation of his position. Naval captains had a certain tone of irritation whenever they didn’t immediately understand what their subordinates were saying.
“Captain, I don't know beyond what I have said. It looks as if something is buried under the galactic plain, like a cat hiding under a rug.” Oh yes, Drako did indeed suspect what was coming. His eye teeth extended in anticipation, his mouth became wet and his blood heated in his vains
“We will know what it is soon enough.” The Chaplin's voice rumbled through the bridge. The crewmen who didn’t break discipline to look at him, only to look away immediately, tensed their shoulders at the sound.
“My l-lord. Have you seen this before?” The Captain, a steadfast man of several decades of Astarties Navis service, stammered out. It was those decades of service and discipline that had let him speak after the sudden rise of transhuman dread. Frigate captains rarely interacted with Astarties directly, this may have been his first experience with one looming over his shoulder for an extended period of time. That he only stammered slightly was an impressive feat and spoke that he may one day have the courage to command even a strike cruiser.
“I think I may have. Please, exercise patience. Whatever is coming this way will reveal itself soon enough. And from knowledge the course of action will become clear.” Each member of the bridge crew held their breath as the minutes dragged on. Eyes switching between the growing distortion of the auspex and the black of real space in which they expected something to happen. Many wished for the ‘something’ to happen just so that they could move beyond waiting into action. Chaplin Dracos spoke into his vox “Brothers stand ready. We may have a task ahead of us.” as his brothers acknowledged and stated their intent to meet him on the bridge, the waiting ended.
There was no flash, no sound, nothing to indicate that something was coming. But a stretched blur of color that suddenly took the shape of a spaceship that looked to be inspired by a shark or some other aquatic creature. Chaplin Dracos smiled to himself as the captain of the ship called out to the bridge crew “Run out the guns and light our shields, master of vox alert all orbital defenses and ships that the enemy has appeared and we are to have action this day." His hand reached over and depressed a lever on the ships general loudhailer. His voice echoed strong and clear across the ship "All hands, this is the captain, man your battle stations and beat to quarters across the ship. Clear the decks for action.'' The captain turned to the chaplain and spoke to him as alarms blared on the bride and throughout the ship, in the background the messenger of the watch called out the pre battle rituals.
“General Quarters General Quarters all hands stand to your action stations. Let furry be our voice. Set condition Zulu throughout the ship, seal all hatches and scuttles. Spirits of this machine heed our words and fight with us not against us this day. Aft and down port side fore and up starboard side. The Emperor Protects.”
“It seems we have our answer lord” The Captain made the sign of the aquila and bowed at the waist. The chaplin’s smile disappeared under his grim skull vistage as he pulled the helm over his head and simply spoke one word.
“Tau”