Kratos5627
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First Contact
🕑 Added 2025-03-27 03:30:03 +0000 UTC
The trek to the city was quiet. Too quiet.
Cassian’s boots crunched against dry soil, the weight of his power armor making each step sink slightly into the earth. The sun hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the barren land. The city loomed ahead, a sprawl of metal and stone rising against the horizon. From a distance, it looked intact — not the crumbling ruins they’d feared. That alone was unsettling. After months adrift in the void, they’d braced for the worst.
Cassian shifted his grip on the Godwyn-pattern bolter. Beside him, Captain Corwin marched in silence, his hand resting on the pommel of his chainsword. The others followed in a loose formation — Reynald, Hal Brech, Alara Warren, Soren, and a small squad of armed crewmen. Their eyes darted across the landscape, scanning for movement, but there was nothing. No wildlife. No wind. Just stillness.
As they neared the city’s edge, the quiet gave way to sound. Faint at first — the distant murmur of voices, the hum of machinery. Then, as they crested a ridge, the city opened before them.
It was alive.
People moved through the streets, going about their business with a calm, unhurried air. Automobiles rumbled past, their engines purring smoothly. Market stalls lined the main thoroughfare, vendors hawking wares to passing citizens. Children laughed as they darted between the legs of adults. The buildings were tall and clean, their facades showing little sign of neglect. There were no signs of war. No signs of Chaos.
Cassian tensed. It felt wrong. After so long on edge, this… normalcy was unsettling. He felt Corwin stiffen beside him. The others slowed, eyes scanning the crowd.
“Weapons down,” Corwin muttered. “No sudden moves.”
They advanced cautiously, boots echoing against the stone streets. Heads turned as they passed. People slowed, eyes widening as they caught sight of Cassian’s armor, the seal gleaming in the sunlight. Whispers spread through the crowd, but there was no panic. Only curiosity.
A group of men approached from the far side of the square. Their clothing was crisp and clean — high-collared jackets, polished boots, and subtle sigils of office pinned to their chests. One man stepped forward, tall and lean, his dark hair neatly combed. He raised a hand in greeting.
“Welcome, travelers,” the man said, voice smooth and measured. “I am Magistrate Kalen Rho. You’ve come a long way, I imagine.”
Cassian studied him carefully. The man’s eyes were sharp, but his posture was open. No weapons. No guards. Just calm, polite curiosity.
Corwin stepped forward, offering a nod. “Captain Dialys Corwin of the Imperator Bellum. We’ve come seeking aid. Our ship is in need of resupply.”
The magistrate’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering across his face. “I see. You’ll find the people of Kara Varn are not without hospitality.” He gestured towards the city. “Please. Walk with me. We can discuss what aid we may offer.”
Corwin glanced at Cassian. Cassian gave a slight nod, lowering his bolter. The others followed suit, though their grips remained tight. They fell in step behind the magistrate, eyes scanning the crowd as they moved deeper into the city.
The streets were clean. The air smelled faintly of metal and ozone, but it lacked the usual stench of industry. People watched them pass, some offering polite nods, others whispering behind raised hands. Cassian caught snippets of conversation — idle chatter, trade negotiations, children arguing over sweets. Normal. Almost too normal.
As they walked, Rho glanced at Corwin. “You mentioned your ship is in need of supplies. May I ask what brought you to our world?”
Corwin hesitated, then shrugged. “Warp storms. We were cut off. Needed a place to dock.”
Rho nodded slowly. “Yes… the storms. We’ve been isolated for some time. Communications have been… difficult.” He glanced at Cassian. “You wear the armor of the Inquisition. Should we be concerned?”
Cassian met his gaze. “Not yet.”
Rho’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement. “I see.”
They reached a large plaza, where a fountain bubbled quietly in the center. Benches lined the square, occupied by people reading data-slates or sipping drinks from metal canisters. Rho stopped, turning to face them.
“I understand your caution,” he said. “But you’ll find no enemies here. Kara Varn is a civilized world, Captain Corwin. We are a people of order and tradition.”
Corwin studied him for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. “Good.”
Rho smiled faintly. “Come. Let us speak further. I believe we may be able to help one another.”
Cassian exchanged a glance with Corwin, then fell into step behind the magistrate once more. For the first time in weeks, the tension in his chest eased.
But not entirely.
—-
The plaza was quiet, save for the soft trickle of the fountain and the distant murmur of city life. Magistrate Rho stood before the visitors, hands folded neatly behind his back, his expression calm and welcoming. The crew, Cassian among them, kept a respectful distance as Captain Corwin stepped forward to speak.
Corwin studied Rho carefully. The magistrate had been polite, accommodating even — but something about the place sat wrong. The city was too clean. Too quiet. The people too orderly. Still, he pushed the unease aside. They needed fuel and supplies, and these people weren’t pointing guns at them. That was more than he could say for most worlds they’d visit.
“Magistrate,” Corwin began, his voice even, “we appreciate the hospitality. It’s more than we expected after so long in the void.” He glanced around the plaza. “Your city… it seems untouched. We’d heard rumors. Warp storms. Civil unrest.”
Rho’s expression shifted, just for a moment. Barely noticeable. Then the polite smile returned. “Ah, yes. The storms. They’ve made communication… unreliable, to say the least. As for unrest, you must be referring to the uprising.”
Corwin frowned. “Uprising?”
Rho waved a hand dismissively. “A minor disturbance. Thirty years ago now. Workers in the lower habs grew restless, as they sometimes do. Economic pressures, labor disputes… nothing extraordinary. The Enforcers handled it swiftly.”
Corwin raised an eyebrow. “From what we heard, it was more than a labor dispute.”
The magistrate chuckled softly. “Rumors tend to grow in the telling, Captain. I assure you, it was a local matter. Order was restored, and Kara Varn has enjoyed peace ever since.”
Cassian frowned behind his helmet. Thirty years wasn’t that long. For a uprising, even less. There should have been scars — damaged infrastructure, signs of conflict, something. But the city looked pristine. Almost unnaturally so.
Corwin shifted his weight, eyes narrowing. “And the rest of the planet? We tried hailing your authorities. No response.”
“Ah.” Rho nodded, as if he’d expected the question. “The storms have made off-world communication… difficult. Even planetary vox traffic can be unreliable at times.” He gestured vaguely towards the sky. “It’s unfortunate, but we manage.”
Corwin’s jaw tightened slightly. The silence stretched.
Finally, he exhaled, shifting gears. “We’re in need of fuel and supplies. How quickly can that be arranged?”
Rho’s smile widened. “Of course. Kara Varn is a trading hub. We can accommodate your needs.” He tilted his head slightly. “Might I ask how long you intend to stay?”
Corwin hesitated. He didn’t like giving out information so freely, but the truth was simple enough. “Long enough to refuel and make necessary repairs. Travel hasn’t been kind.”
Rho nodded thoughtfully. “Understandable. The storms have been… unpredictable.” He clasped his hands together. “We’ll assist where we can. Your crew is welcome to make use of our facilities. I’m sure you’ll find the city quite accommodating.”
Corwin offered a tight nod. “Appreciate it.”
The magistrate smiled again, then inclined his head. “If there’s anything else you require, simply ask.” He turned smoothly, gesturing for them to follow. “Come. I’ll arrange accommodations.”
As they walked, Corwin leaned towards Cassian, keeping his voice low. “Thoughts?”
Cassian frowned beneath his helm. “Feels… off.”
Corwin nodded. “Agreed. But we don’t have much choice.”
Still, they needed fuel. Supplies. Rest. Whatever suspicions lingered, they’d have to wait. For now.
—-
The crew returned to the ship in silence, each step echoing through the metal corridors as they made their way to the briefing hall. The air inside felt stale, recycled too many times, the hum of life support a constant reminder of how long they’d been drifting. Word spread quickly — by the time Captain Corwin stood before the assembled officers and nobles, the room was full. Faces, pale from months without natural light, turned towards him with quiet anticipation.
Corwin kept his tone even, steady. “The planet’s safe.” He paused, considering his words. “As safe as it can be.”
A ripple of relief moved through the crowd. The nobles, draped in what finery they could still muster, exchanged quiet glances. For them, safety meant more than just survival — it meant a return to comfort.
“We’ll begin refueling and resupplying immediately,” Corwin continued. “The locals have been… accommodating.” He didn’t mention the unease that gnawed at the back of his mind. No need to stir panic.
Cassian stood at the edge of the crowd, arms folded, watching the faces carefully. Relief. Hope. Foolish emotions. They were too eager to believe things would be simple. Too quick to forget how quickly things could turn. He turned and left before Corwin finished speaking.
There was something he needed to do.
—
The Magos’ workshop was a cold, sterile place. Machinery whirred softly in the dim light, red optics glimmering in the shadows. Cassian stepped inside, the hiss of the door sealing behind him. Magos Farron stood at a workbench, hunched over a disassembled servo-skull, mechadendrites shifting and clicking as they worked.
“Magos.” Cassian’s voice was quiet but firm.
Farron turned, the red glow of his optics sweeping over Cassian’s armored form. “Interrogator Vail.” The voice was metallic, distorted through the vox. “Assistance required?”
Cassian hesitated. He didn’t trust anyone. Not really. But if there was one person who wouldn’t betray him, it was Farron. The Mechanicus didn’t deal in secrets or politics. And they were aligned.
“I need you to store my armor,” Cassian said, stripping off his gauntlet and placing it on the workbench with a heavy thud. “Keep it secure.”
Farron’s optics flickered, scanning the Mark VII power armor. “Inquisition stock. Sacred. Why relinquish it?”
Cassian exhaled slowly. “Because I can’t walk around in it without drawing attention. And I don’t trust anyone else.”
The Magos clicked softly, a sound like metal scraping on metal. “Understood.” He gestured towards a reinforced vault at the back of the workshop. “It will be safeguarded.”
Cassian stripped the armor piece by piece, each movement deliberate. He placed the Godwyn-pattern bolter beside it, followed by the melta gun and chainsword. Each weapon felt like a part of him — leaving them behind made his skin crawl. But it had to be done.
He kept a laspistol. Small. Discreet. Easy to draw. He checked the charge, then slid it into the holster beneath his coat.
“Thank you.” Cassian’s voice was quiet. The Magos only inclined his head in response.
As Cassian turned to leave, he paused. “If anything happens… if someone tries to take it…”
Farron’s optics flared red. “They will not succeed.”
Cassian nodded and stepped out into the corridor.
—
The return trip to the city was quiet. The crew moved in a loose formation, flanked by armed guards. Cassian walked near the back, eyes scanning the horizon. The terrain was barren — dust and rock stretching out in all directions, the sky a pale, washed-out blue. The only sound was the crunch of boots against dirt.
As they neared the city, the silence shifted. The distant hum of life reached them first — the soft murmur of conversation, the faint clatter of machinery. Then the buildings came into view, rising from the dust like silent sentinels. The city loomed before them, its towers casting long shadows across the ground.
Cassian kept his hand close to his laspistol as they passed through the gates. The city was alive. People moved through the streets with purpose, their faces calm, almost content. It felt wrong. No city in the Imperium felt this… normal.
Corwin led the group through the main thoroughfare, his expression unreadable. The people watched them pass but said nothing. Cassian met their gazes, searching for any sign of fear. Of suspicion. There was none.
They reached the central plaza once more, where Magistrate Rho waited. The same polite smile. The same calm demeanor. Cassian watched as Corwin stepped forward, exchanging pleasantries. The captain spoke of fuel and supplies, of repairs and rest. Rho nodded along, accommodating as always.
Cassian’s gaze drifted across the plaza. The people moved through their daily routines, unbothered by the presence of armed strangers. No signs of fear. No whispers of rebellion. Just… life.
It felt wrong.
But for now, there was no danger. No threats. Just a city, alive and untouched by the horrors of the galaxy.
For now.
—-
Word count: 2165
Comments
Rowan
I saw that post! Gib!
Darth Bane
Better to be careful the genestealers would be able to since him doing that.
Rowan
How this man hasnt ripped through one of their minds yet is beyond me. More ^,...,^
Darth Bane
My money is on genestealers.
Kratos5628
Maybe, cassian's luck is full of shit. That is what I can tell you.
Tyler T
So….this world is absolutely fucked, right?
