Chronicles Of Deimos (4 of 5)
Hey all, if you've been reading my stories, all the way back to Only in Death, my first Altair fic, then you'll have some idea where the story's been going. Well, I won't spoil it for you (if you want the entire, long, story, I'll PM or E-mail the entire thing so far to you).
So, once again, I'm going to ramble for three of four pages about what the 40K universe is all about. Awesome characters, cool battles, huge ships, serious guns, (and maybe some romance).
And as per my natural ability to kill off everyone's favorite characters, more will die, and cool new characters will appear, so I can kill them off in the next (and last) one.
Well, onto the story!
27 days after the fleet actions above Deimos
A tortured black sky trudges to a far horizon. Screams and yells fill the air as two massive armies crash into each other on a brown plain, the ground runs with blood. Harsh cries fill the air as gore-crows dive to pick at the flesh of the dead. A single white light stands among the blackness that sweeps across the field. the newcomer's armor is untainted by the blood and violence surrounding it. A black sword is gripped in one gauntlet. The blackness swirls around the figure's pure, white armor, trying to find a way inside. A black figure rises to oppose the figure. The figure's black sword suddenly explodes into blue fire, cleaving through the darkness. The world dims, then turns to blackness.
Altair sat bolt upright.
He wiped his forehead with one hand, breathing hard. Iridea raised her head groggily next to him.
"What are you doing up?" she said.
Altair shook his head, throwing off the blanket that covered him, and walking into the front room of his quarters aboard Everto Justica, the ship given to him by Damias, the Lord of the Daemonicum, and his leader.
Iridea threw her white chirugen's robes over herself and followed him into the room.
"Don't shut me out...what's the matter?"
Altair swallowed. "I was a dream. I saw a battle, somewhere. A man banished everything with one swing, and the world went away. Everything went away.."
Iridea placed her hand on Altair's cheek, turning his head to face her.
"It was just a dream. You're here."
Altair shook her off. "It seemed so real."
"Dreams often do...it's what we accept as real that defines who we are."
Iridea's words struck him as the same words Marius the Cursed had given him when he had doubts fighting the Space Marines on Threshold.
Altair found himself calmed by her. Iridea smiled, and clasped her robes together with a brooch.
"Well, my love, as long as you're not going back to sleep, you might as well go see how Khalis and the others on the bridge are doing, I'll be in the chirgeury if you find yourself in need of me."
Altair nodded. He fastened his armor on and walked down the corridor to the lifts.
When he reached the bridge, only Vrael and Uraj were there, playing regicide on an overturned crate of Impaler ammunition. Uraj nodded his greetings, a wisp of smoke escaping his nose. Vrael looked over his shoulder at Altair.
"Just a moment, Shipmaster, almost finished here."
He moved his Lord, and knocked over Uraj's Inquisitor.
"Checkmate." said Vrael. Uraj looked over the board before flicking his Emperor piece onto it's side.
"Very well." said the smith, still looking for places he could move.
When he found none, he stood up, taking his place at the helm.
Altair turned to Vrael, who was packing up the regicide board.
"Good move. How's things?"
Vrael looked fondly at the regicide board. "My hobby, I'm afraid. As to your other question, things are fine. Damias and the other captains are all still passed out, except for Yurial, but he's a nutcase anyways, so I try not to count him."
Altair looked at the holochart in the middle of the map table. The fleet was in low orbit over Deimos, a world perpetually stuck in a calm area of the Warp known as Tzeentch's Eye. Thousands of small red dots marked wreckage from Imperial vessels from the fleet sent to destroy them. For the twenty-seven days since the battle, Altair had pondered over the attack. Demons or not, the Imperium had been their allies against Azulanthis, the most powerful demonlord since Angron last launched a crusade against Man.
He looked at the table, searching for clues.
Vrael jerked up from the Comms station, a headset covering one ear.
"Shipmaster! Lord Damias is calling all vessels to move immediately to the southern isles, we're launching the attack at zero-eight-hundred tomorrow!"
Altiar nodded sternly. "Rouse the crew, get everyone to stations!"
Vrael turned back to the vox, and Altair heard his voice a split-second before the intercomms turned on.
[All Crew! Report to stations! Repeat, all crew report to stations! Ready weapons and drop arrays, battle stations!]
Altair recalled his dream with some worry now that Iridea's words seemed far away. He resigned himself to the fact that no matter how easily things went, he never had the entire picture.
You'll forgive me, but you must be mistaken. I've met your makers, and they don't even know your name...
GIVING CHASE- ORDO HERETICUS FIC (Updated Mar. 19)
Hat in the Ring