Glacialis Sepulchrum

The thunderhawk knifed through the void of space after clearing the Wrath's hold. Tech Marine Christos sat before a bank of vidscreens, detailing a list of anomalies that the vessel's sensors were obtaining from the Summa Sapientia.

"Sgt. Stephland. Our sensors are still registering no life signs aboard the ship. And take a look at this; there appears to be a coating of ice surrounding the outer hold." Christos punched at a series of runes at his station. "Measurements put it at exactly two meters thick -- across the entirety of the Sapientia. It appears to be interfering with the Machine Spirit's ability to interface with the ships controls."

Stephland harumphed inside his terminator armour, as Christos transferred the data feed to his suit's eyepieces.  He certainly couldn't climb the ladder up to the command deck of the Thunderhawk without severly damaging something.  However, this was an unneeded wrinkle.  "What kind of Ice, Tech Sergeant?"

"The whole area is awash with warp eddies, it will take a minute to try to narrow it down."  Cristos replied curtly as his fingers flew over the command terminal and he jacked himself into the system's data terminal.  His remaining eyelid fluttered unseen behind his helmet as he communed directly with the Thunderhawk's cognators.

After less then a minute of communion he murmurred the rites of completion to himself and opened his vox circuit again, "Sergeant, the Ice is almost pure methane.  But it appears to be mixed with... bits of human flesh and effuvia.  The sensors aren't clear - a Thunderhawk's sensors were never designed for such resolution, but it looks like human dna."

"Understood."  Marius stated quietly in response as he considered his options.  A younger sergeant might immediately think to call to his superior, and there was a certain amount of rationale to that line of thinking - however Marius Stephland had been campaigning as part of the Legion for almost as long as Gaius Septimus had been in command.  He had been but a neophyte - and a very new one when that old warhorse had taken over.  To him, at least privately Octavian was a young upstart - even if he was an incredibly effective one.  He had his mission, and he would attempt to carry it out.  Only moments had passed before he asked his next question, "Could the methane have been from an internal ships system?"

Unseen above him, the Tech Sergeant drummed his gauntleted fingers together - one of the few reasons he had not replaced them with more efficient mechanical digits - this was an idiosincracy that helped him to think.  "Yes, in fact that particular class revision of destroyer contains a large amount of methane storage which is converted as needed to everything from H2O and carbon, to various other chemicals that have a miriad of uses.  It collects this gas during the processing of offal.  Its an incredibly efficient system, honestly."

"A yes, would have sufficed Cristos" Marius replied with an unseen shake of his head, "So... one of the structural failures could have resulted in this?"

"...doubtful.  It is too uniform, and methane would convert to ice far too quickly to coat the exterior surfaces.  But... there would have been enough storage aboard ship to account for the majority of the ice." Cristos replied after some further consideration.

"And the results of introducing heat?"

"Energetic... but even if the entire ships ice pack was to converted to energy, it would not endanger the fleet, or even the hulk.  Methane is an efficient fuel, but not a very powerful one.  I would recommend we stand off to a safe distance before attempting any such action, however.  Since I doubt there is enough free oxygen for it to combust, but we do not want to befall the destroyers fate and be incased in ice ourselves."

"Pass the word to the cockpit then.  Stand off a safe distance and prepare to engage the ice over the primary port docking umbilical with the turbolaser." Stephland ordered.

"Aye." Cristos responded as he changed vox frequencys to the command cabin, and passed the orders.

The Thunderhawk banked away from the silent destroyer and backed off a little over a hundred klicks before reorienting on its stationary target.  Rerunning the numbers for the Gunnery officer, Cristos made two minor corrections to the firing solution, and authorized the firing rite.

A moment later, a three coherent scarlet beams lashed out at the ice around the docking port almost faster then the eye could register.  The preassure and heat, combined with the still leaking O2 from the ship's many hull breaches started a slow, and almost stately burnoff of the methane ice that surrounded the ship.

*********
Back aboard the Wrath of the Legionnaire, Octavian watched the burnoff of the methane ice visually unaided through one of the massive view ports at the fore of the bridge.  From here, the Destroyer looked quite small, as the flare of fire lit its dark silhoette  He had been personally monitoring communications between the mission team and was pleased with progress.  Stephland was a solid Sergeant, and would make a good candidate to replace him as Captain of the First Company, if they ever were successful in expanding their numbers.

That, was a line of thinking for another time, once the trials of the here and now were completed.  Behind him, one of his command squad - who had taken to calling themselves his Blades walked up.

"Captain.  The Master of the Forge sends word that Septimus has been successfully entombed in one of our recovered and unmanned Dreadnaughts.  He has been awoken, and is still adjusting to his new condition - but he has asked to see you." Barabas Verge reported.

Turning, the edge of his heavy cloak, a deep blue like the deepest depths of the Aleran Seas... when there still had been Sea's on Alera, stirred.  "I suppose I should see him then."

"They are in the Wrath's Forge, just aft of the primary Armoury Captain." 

"Thank you, Verge."  The Captain of Alera's First Company responded simply, before turning back to the view port.

Verge, who now that the Wrath had returned to Normal space and would remain so for some time had removed his armour for the first time in almost a quarter centery, nodded to the Captain's back, and turned to return to his meditations, his heavy robes shifting only slightly as he departed.

Behind him, Octavian watched the last of the burnoff fade to nothing, and tapping his fingers against the top of his helmet, still maglocked into place at his belt nodded to some unheard statement and turned, heading for the lift at the rear of the bridge.  "Admiral, keep me appraised of the situation."

"Aye my lord."

It was time to see what Septimus would have to say.

******

Out in the void of space, the Thunderhawk approached the derelict destroyer, and with grace that belied its great size, pivoted so its hull was parallel to the derelict, then slowly eased down, before locking onto the docking umbilical with its ventral hatch.

A solid amber light went green, indicating a solid magnetic seal to the team that waited in the assault bay. 

"Good Seal.  Cristos, time to join the team and get your clankers up." Marius ordered via vox link

"On my way Sergeant." the Tech Sergeant replied as he removed himself from the Command Alcove he'd commandeered as the ranking Tech Marine aboard the Thunderhawk.  Instead of  simply climbing down the access ladder to the assault bay, he activated his Servo-arm, and with the ease one might use a limb they were born with, lowered himself through the hatch, and dropped to the floor.  A whispered vox command on a side channel brought his small 'squad' of Battle Servitors up from their rest state.

Kneeling by the floor hatch he tapped a few commands, "Releasing gravity plating in three seconds.  Recommend you activate magboots."

Around him, nine clicks were heard as magnitized bootsoles locked against the floor.  For his own stability he locked his servo arm to one of the recessed handgrips around the lock as the gravity plating was shut down. 

"The lock on the farside is not responding, probably due to the atmospheric venting.  I will have to try to override the safeties, otherwise we will have to cut our way in."

"Do it." Marius ordered.

Cristos bent to the task and a moment later the inner hatch, followed by the hatch on the ship opened.  The air in the assault bay vented rather violently, and a saftey hatch that lead to the upper cockpit slid shut with a clang, though the inhabitants were hardly bothered, sealed in their armour.

However, as the hatch clanged all the way over, the sound reverberating through their boot soles in the sudden vaccumm every battle brother heard, and felt a psychic scream rip at their conciousness.

Marius shook it off first, years of battle helping him to gird his mind against the intrusion without so much as a concious thought.  His voice grated through the vox as he expelled the mental intrusion, "Team, report."

Arvic was the first to respond, having been mostly silent on the net, "Apothecary ready, Sergeant.  I'm getting a spike in neuralogical activity from Cristos, Lar, and Pavil."

"Xax up." Another of the Fist responded.

"Ullar reporting." Marius's second within his squad reported. 

The vox was silent for a moment, the rest of the team unresponsive, as Pavil and Lar began to move towards the hatch, and Cristos appeared to be trying to pull himself through the hatch, but was restrained by his Servo-Arm, almost as if he had forgotten it was there.

"Pavil, Lar.  Report." Marius ordered as he stepped forward himself, whatever had hit them a moment earlier had done something to those three, that much was clear.

Silence continued to reign on the vox until Arvic broke in, "I do not think they can hear us.  Their brain activity resembles what I might expect to see in a mind that was deep in a rest cycle, Sergeant.  Whatever that psychic attack was, it has them thralled, I can attempt to tranquilize them."

"So ordered, Apothecary." Marius replied as he placed his free hand, his power sword maglocked to his armour, on his brother terminator's shoulder.  Pavil turned, with a warcry, and slammed his powerfist into the Sergeant's armour. It clanged off harmlessly, as it had not been activated - they tended to keep them deactivated until entering combat - it only required a mental command and it reduced accidents, it had its desired effect however, and Marius released his hold on Pavil's shoulder, and the Terminator clad Marine stepped forward again. 

To Marius's left, Arvic released his magnetic soles and sprang forward, and grabbed the heavy plate that fully encased the back of the Terminator's head, as he attempted to access one of the ports along the back of the armour that had been designed to allow medications to be administered with his narcathium.

He was successful, and the gyros of the heavy Terminator armour rocked forward as the marine within fell unconcious, kept upright by its gyros and magnetic boots, Arvic pushed off his unconcious brother in an attempt to repeat the action on the other Terminator.

Paratus

The primary briefing theater aboard the Wrath was an impressive sight with enough room for an entire company in standard armour, and four massive nests for the Old One's in their Dreadnaughts to be included in such briefings.  Today however the incense wreathed around the five massive armoured forms of Sergeant Stephland and his Squad, the Fist of the First.  Seated behind the massive terminator armour was Apothacary Elyas and Tech Sergeant Cristos.  All were attentive, with their helmets off, except Yse who as far as Octavian knew, was unable to remove his helmet, which was not uncommon for a Tech Marine.

Looking each in the eye he intoned the rites that initiated the ancient cognators in the briefing room's holo-projector, and after a moment, a shaky image resolved itself after a moment, of the Gladius Destroyer Summa Sapientia

"Brothers, we have been through a great trial.  And there are more to come... however the Sapientia has suffered at minimum a gellar field failure... but it is possible some of the fiends that have plagued us for years had somehow gotten aboard - or simply that other warp creatures have.  She translated with us, so there is hope, though there are no life signs - our Brother's who were aboard should have been in armour yet, and they may have put themselves into statis.  Even if they have not survived, recovery of their gene-seed is of paramount importance, if we are to survive as a Chapter." the Heir apparent began as he tapped a few commands into the cognator

The image on the holo shifted, zooming into the port docking hatch.

"All of the exterior portals are reading as closed and locked, and there are many rents in the hull, but after a short descussion earlier with the Magus, and the Admiral - we have determined that entry through one of the docking hatches would be the easiest, and prevent any further damage to sections of the ship that may still be under pressure.  You will take a Thunderhawk, hard dock with the hatch, and if possible, access the ships cognators to grant access.  If not, you will cut your way into the ship.  Once aboard your goals are straightforward."  He swept a hand towards the image, "Recover our brothers, and any other survivors at best.  At worst, recover their gene-seed, and determine the salvagability of the Sapientia.  However, the survival of your team is of the utmost importance.  We cannot afford to lose the lives of *any* of our brothers, and certainly none of your geneseed, at this venture.  We will maintain a Teleport lock on the entire team if at all possible - but it will fall to you my Brothers to make the hard choices, as always."

"Captain... I understand your reasons, but... honor dictates that if we can reach those brothers we *must*." Sergeant Stephland stated solemnly.

"I agree.  But today you must weigh the value of their lives against the Chapter as a whole... and as weak as we are, we cannot spend our lives for honor alone.  If we are to rebuild, we need every brother who can serve to stand with us. Until we have claimed a new recruiting world - that is the stricture we must live under." Octavian replied, sadly.

"I understand."

"I am sending the seven of you, because I can send no fewer."  He nodded, "Are there any other questions?"

Silence reigned, except for the occasional crackle from the holo-projector.

"Then may the Emperor watch over you.  Sergeant Stephland, the mission is yours."

"Yes Captain." Marius replied as he stood, and slid his arm into the heavy flamer's control column which magnetically locked to his armour with a snick, "Brothers, make any final preparations you require, our departure is in fifteen minutes."

Solemn nods were the only reply as each Marine stood up and locked his helmet into place, and hands checked wargear by feel and memory.  Finally Sergeant Stephland looked to his Captain, "We'll bring them back, sir."

"I have no doubt."  Octavian replied as Marius locked his helmet into place.  "May his eyes be on you."

"And you, sir." 

With that, the entire terminator squad turned as one, with impressive grace considering their side, and trooped out of the theater towards the forward docking bay.  Behind them, the Apothecary and the Tech Sergeant both nodded to thier Captain and then fell in.

There was little more that he could do, short of joining the mission himself - and there was far too much yet he had to see to before he could finally consider resting for the first time in a month.  Turning he headed in the opposite direction, on his way to the bridge to monitor the mission.