3-24 DREAD

You waver in front of your room. Do you “dream” here, or do you go elsewhere?

Your dreams have plagued you through the night, not that they are truly unpleasant, but you’d rather have a more restful sleep. These dreams, however, started as a result of you following the creature in your arm further into the ship. So, do you sleep and hope to dream normally, or do you go elsewhere? Do you find a meditation room and return to the Doctrine?

You suppose it doesn’t matter in the end. You should be able to achieve the same result, right? You can meditate in your bed, and you’d rather not actually fall asleep and spend the whole night in a meditation chamber. Mind made up, you enter your room and begin shedding your clothes, changing into a clean set for the night.

Pushing aside your sheets, you sit in the center of your bed. Legs crossed. Hands in your lap. Tail comfortably lying across the soft mattress. You take your mask off and set it to the side — you won’t need it now.

Back in you go, back to the ship where your arm-creature dwells and your memories hide.

You will dream.

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

It’s still floating there, above the orrery of azure lights. You lie on your back, staring up at the starlit sky, glaring at that creature loitering above.

You point at it and yell, “Get down here!”

It doesn’t respond.

“Please?”

The faux-stars twinkle, emitting a sonorous hum that fills your head. They spin and whirl and dance and dive — a thousand hours playing out as you wait for a response.

Nothing.

The shadow remains ambivalent to your annoyance. It watches from on high, unreadable to you in any way. No emotions. No soul. No self.

“Bah!” you cry. You hop to your feet, bouncing up on your luxurious bed.

You bounce, and bounce, and bounce.

Higher and higher you go, up into the banks of stars above. You dive — upwards! — through the glittering field, flying toward the ephemeral shadow. Your wings spread out, your mouth gapes open as you let loose a bellow of triumph.

You’re too slow.

The shadow swoops away, lashing out and pummeling your mottled gray belly before diving back down into the stormy seas below. You follow most ungainly, crashing belly first into the rain-beaten waves.

The dark waters welcome you, but you do not reciprocate the love.

You drag yourself upwards, breaching the surface just in time to take in a faceful of salty foam. Choking and coughing up water, you slip down again.

Down and down.

Down where it’s peaceful.

Down into the deep’s embrace.

You hit the bottom, kicking up a cloud of warpstuff which you shy away from. It’s too late though. The murky fog envelops you, covering you completely before suddenly blowing away.

And then you’re gone, off into the realm of dreams.

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

“Are we there yet?”

“Ma’am, I believe you should be telling us that.”

“Eh…”

“Ma’am?”

The Navigator lounges on the bed, too lazy to open any of her eyes. She caresses the billowing sheets with a hand, scratching her bum with the other.

“Bleh. Fine,” she finally says. She cracks open her warp eye, peeking through her thin lashes at the planet below. She blinks.

“Stop!” she commands. The marines immediately halt, putting their backs to the wall and each other, covering all angles in an instant.

“What is it?” the lead marine whispers.

“Did you see the size of that rat?”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, nevermind. It’s in the other tunnel. If you want to take a look, put a hole in the wall next to you and stick your head through.”

The marine pauses, then shakes his head in exasperation. “Navigator, please do your job.”

“What? You don’t want to see the sights on your way? A giant rat is certainly more interesting than anything else you’ve seen today. Oh! It’s standing on its hind legs now! Like a human! How adorable…”

“Navigator!”

“Alright, alright.” The woman sighs, lolling her head in annoyance. “Fine. You’ve got another one-point-four klicks to go. You’ll see an access door on your right. Enter it with extreme prejudice.”

“There’s not going to be giant spiders or plague toads behind it, is there?”

“I’ll let you find that out yourself.”

“Navigator!”

“There’ll be a ladder behind it, going up and down. Head downwards, of course. Twenty meters down, then you’ll see another door. Punch through that and you’ll be right on top of the target.”

“The target, being…?”

“Big room. No idea what’s inside. Get there. Find out. Don’t blow up our actual objective.”

The marine clicks his tongue, perhaps out of annoyance, perhaps out of relief at finally receiving proper instructions. Either way, he picks up the pace and soon the marines are looking down a dark hole, half a door just barely hanging by a single remaining hinge behind them.

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A flimsy ladder, muddy-red with rust, hangs before them. The lead marine grabs it and pulls, ripping the top rung cleanly away. He stares at it for a moment, then tosses it carelessly behind him.

“I’m assuming this is it,” he says to the servo-skull in his other hand.

“...I can’t think of anything snarky, so I’ll just give it to you straight. Yes.”

“Good.”

With that, the marine tucks his limbs in close and jumps in.

…

“Slow down!” the Navigator shrieks. She sits up on her bed, watching horrified as the marine falls like a drop pod. Her servo-skull peers upward, seeing the doorway she’d noted earlier fade into the distance.

Three limbs bury themselves in the walls, tearing through rock and stone as the marine slides down, carried downward by another dozen meters by momentum.

“What is it?”

“You missed the entrance!”

The marine looks up, then pulls himself to hug the side of the tunnel, just as a flash of gray hurtles past. And then another. And another.

“Imbeciles!”

…

The four marines file through yet another dark corridor, just like any other. This time, however, they can hear something besides gunfire or a rushing river of waste echoing from up ahead: the crackling of flames.

The marines proceed silently, enhanced ears wide open for anything… interesting. However, all they hear is the sounds of their own breathing, the beating of their own hearts, the thumps of their own footsteps, and the soft singing of their Navigator.

Under the gold throne,

A battle most dread,

The God-Emperor rages,

Behind in the head.

A slow heart beats,

The flayed skin feels,

Ragged lungs breathe,

His dying mind feeds.

Father, a gift!

Daughters, a curse.

A black ship searches,

He tracks and he hurts.

In nightmares held dear,

How fare your dreams?

Where hope turns to fear,

A thousand silent screams.

“Navigator?” the lead marine whispers. “Would you kindly shut up?”

“Pshh. Hurry it up then. We’ve been at this for long enough already.”

“Ma’am, I would have thought you knew the meaning of patience. Aren’t your battles paced across days?”

“Yeah, but at least I get to either do something, or sleep. I can’t do either at the moment!”

“Well, stow it for just a little longer. Please. We’re almost done.”

“Very well… Oh, hey! Try that door!”

The squad turns to look at a dark door. It stinks of blood and soot. A trail of footprints lead into the room, easily trackable in the caked layers of dust and ash.

Very promising.

The marines stack up by the door, one of which pulling out an auxiliary auspex. He points it at the door, while fiddling with the too-small knobs. Finally, he puts it away, his fist clenching with disgust.

“Nothing. Nothing on any of my sensors.”

The others incline their heads in agreement, none of them able to penetrate the door or the walls with their equipment. Likewise, the skull rattles, its own mechanical features clacking away as the Navigator tries to get her own read on the room. A minute later, the skull’s eye dims, blinking forlornly in defeat.

“Brothers, be ready,” the lead marine states. He puts his shoulder against the door, his hand clenching on the tiny handle. The others pull up behind him, aiming their boltguns over his shoulders.

His muscles tighten, adrenaline surging through his veins. He clenches his teeth, then flexes his jaw as he relaxes.

“For him on Terra… For our Lord; may he watch over us forevermore.”

He is ready.

“Go!”

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

A skull rolls across the floor. Forgotten.

It slows to a halt, its eye pointed toward the ceiling.

The Navigator looks down, meeting its sight from orbit. She looks away, pointedly ignoring its lonely stare.

She sees an open door, but beyond that is nothing. A sphere of nothingness, hidden from sight.

Three marines parade within, doing something. The fourth never made it through the door, launched backwards and away the instant he’d charged through the opening.

Blood pools around the skull, leaking into the sacred machinery inside. Soon, its own light will dim and the Navigator will have no proxy nearby.

She sighs.

The Navigator sits cross-legged on her bed, waiting. What can she do? What can she do but wait?

Metal rings against metal. A set of armored feet thump against the ground, drawing closer to the skull. A moment later, a gray helmet comes into view and the marine leans down to pick up the skull.

“Took you long enough,” the Navigator remarks, the cut of the words smoothed by a tinge of relief. “How did it go?”

The marine ignores her, stepping closer to his fallen brother. He kneels down and shoves his other hand beneath the body. Standing up, he heaves his brother onto his shoulder, then turns and strides through the door.

“A hard fought victory, Navigator. We succeeded in the end.”

“Of course.”

“Did you believe otherwise?”

“For a minute there, yes,” the Navigator admits. “Did you find the target, though?”

“...Maybe.”

The Navigator scowls, forgetting that the skull has no means to mimic her expression. “What do you mean, ‘maybe?’”

The marine points the skull forward, allowing the Navigator to survey the room. The room is indeed spherical, similar to the Navigator’s sanctum. A branching web of stone catwalks criss-cross the room, sloping upwards and downwards with no apparent purpose. What’s even stranger is that there are no supports for any paths, the whole structure seemingly floating in the air.

Bodies are strewn about the room. They lie upon the stone paths, many of whom are messily split in twain, their guts torn out by adamantine teeth. At the bottom of the sphere is a pile of corpses, having been struck down and collected by the sloping walls.

The two other marines stand in the center. One of the marines is inspecting a massive plasma cannon, inscribed with disturbing, scrawled symbols. This is likely what felled the lead marine. The other surviving marine is kicking corpses off the paths, either out of spite or simply to reduce tripping hazards — perhaps it is for both reasons?

In the centroid of the room, at least five meters up, is a finely carved cauldron large enough to cook ten men at once. However, it is not a stew that fills it, but instead a flame. A ghastly green flame spews out the top of it, crackling with arcane energy.

Surrounding the room at uneven positions are sculptures. The Navigator is unsure of what exactly they are of, but simply looking at them fills her with unease. No doubt the marines are more than willing to tear them down if given the command.

“Navigator, is this what you were looking for?” the marine asks.

The Navigator frowns, unsure but unwilling to voice her ignorance just yet. “Is there anything else here?”

“No, ma’am. We haven’t found anything yet.”

“Did you leave anybody alive to interrogate?”

“No.”

“... Alright. Well, let’s take a look ar—”

The sounds of shouting echo through the open doorway behind them. It’s gibberish to the marines’ ears, but it’s clear someone has discovered their intrusion and is sounding an alarm. The two other marines rush to block the entrance, one of which peeks outward. A single retort of a boltgun and the voices fall silent.

And then they start up again, far louder than before.

“We need to hurry,” the new skull-bearer concludes. “We don’t have long, and we don’t have much ammunition remaining. Where do we look?”