Kratos5627
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Silent Extraction
🕑 Added 2025-03-26 03:30:07 +0000 UTCThe distant hum of the Imperator Bellum’s engines had become background noise to Cassian. It was a constant, steady rhythm—one he had long since learned to tune out. In the dim light of the machine bay, where the sacred incense of the Mechanicus still clung to the air, Cassian focused all his efforts on the mind before him.
Lex Mechanicus—one of the ship’s lesser technosavants—stood rigid in front of him, his posture unnaturally stiff. The Mechanicus robes hung loosely over his augmented frame, the glow of his ocular implants flickering erratically as Cassian’s influence took hold.
The man wasn’t unconscious, but he wasn’t truly aware either. A careful balancing act—Cassian’s telepathy sinking into the depths of his mind, extracting layers of knowledge without triggering alarm. Not invasive enough to cause distress, but deep enough to siphon what Cassian needed.
Repair schematics. Maintenance protocols. The inner workings of the ship.
Every piece of information was carefully plucked from the Magos’s mind and stored away in Cassian’s own. The techniques, the proper rites, the alignment of circuits and the prayers to appease the Machine Spirit—Lex Mechanicus knew them all.
And now, so did Cassian.
He exhaled slowly, maintaining control. The Warp was a treacherous thing. Power flowed through him in threads, subtle tendrils of influence wrapping around the Magos’s consciousness. He had learned to keep his touch light—to guide, not to crush.
This was an experiment, as much as it was a necessity. His telepathy had grown sharper, but it still required practice. The crude application of brute-force mind control was beneath him now.
As he probed deeper, flickers of foreign thoughts passed through the link—static-like fragments of prayers to the Omnissiah, memories of mechanical rites performed in reverence. But then—
“Attention, crew of the Imperator Bellum.”
The ship-wide vox announcement shattered his focus. Cassian’s eyes widened, his mental grip slipping in an instant. The backlash hit like a hammer.
A spike of searing pain tore through his skull, blinding white agony lancing behind his eyes. The Warp recoiled, its touch briefly unrestrained, and for a moment, the air around him seemed heavier, charged with unseen static.
Cassian staggered, gripping the metal railing beside him. His breathing was sharp, ragged, his fingers twitching as the psychic strain clawed at his nerves. His vision swam—black spots eating at the edges.
Damn it. Too much.
He had overreached. Not enough to cause real damage, but enough to leave him reeling.
“—Approaching Kara Varn. Estimated arrival: twelve days. All personnel to remain on standby.”
The announcement concluded, but Cassian barely heard the rest. His mind was still ringing, his skull pulsing with the aftershock of psychic exertion. He forced himself to steady his breathing.
In. Hold. Out.
A practiced rhythm. He focused inward, drawing upon the meditation techniques he had developed. The Warp’s corrosive power gnawed at his mind, but he anchored himself to reality, shutting out the lingering remnants of pain.
Slowly, the migraine dulled. The tension in his muscles eased. The sharp, grating pull of the Warp receded.
“My mind is my own”
By the time his vision cleared, Lex Mechanicus was still standing in place, motionless, his mind unaware of the violation that had just occurred. Cassian straightened, brushing sweat from his brow.
Good. No permanent damage.
His telepathy had grown more skilled, but there were still limits. He had extracted knowledge, experimented with influence, but maintaining control under stress—that needed work. The ship-wide announcement had thrown him off, proving that even now, he was not yet perfect.
His grip on his abilities was strong. But it needed to be unshakable.
With a silent command, Cassian withdrew his influence. The Magos’s head tilted slightly, as if waking from a trance, his mechanical eyes refocusing.
Lex Mechanicus blinked. “I… seem to have lost my train of thought.”
Cassian gave a small smile. “Long hours will do that.”
The Magos considered his words before nodding. “Indeed. The Omnissiah’s work is unending.” With that, he turned away, continuing his duties as though nothing had happened.
Cassian exhaled, shaking off the remnants of Warp exposure. He had what he needed.
Twelve days.
Twelve days until Kara Varn.
---
Seven days passed.
Cassian spent most of that time in quiet focus, honing his telepathy and refining his control over the Warp. Each brush against a mind was smoother than the last. His, his touch was lighter, almost surgical. The headaches still came, but they were dull aches instead of blinding spikes.
By now, the Imperator Bellum had settled into a familiar rhythm. The ship’s crew went about their duties with the quiet urgency of men and women who had been stranded in the void for far too long. Resources were thinning. Morale had dipped. People rarely spoke unless necessary. Cassian noticed the shift, but kept to himself.
But that didn’t mean they ignored him. Over the past six months, his presence had grown harder to overlook even with his telepathy.
Even when he tried to blend in, eyes lingered. Whispers spread. The Arbite who wore power armor. Some looked at him with respect. Others with caution. It made little difference to Cassian.
What mattered was that the crew itself had noticed.
---
A junior officer, barely out of his teens, found Cassian in the lower decks and passing along the message. An invitation from the captain himself informing him to be present at an important meeting at captain’s quarters.
The quarters themselves were dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of recaf and stale incense. The room was spartan—bare walls, a steel desk, and a single flickering cogitator screen. Dialys Corwin sat at the head of the table, his scarred face visible to all present in the meeting.
Around him stood the ship’s senior crew. Lieutenant Commander Reynald leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, face unreadable. Hal Bretch, the ship’s navigator, sat hunched in his chair, eyes closed probably due to staring at literal hell to chart courses everyday. Chief Chirurgeon Alara Warren stood near the door, her gaze distant, as if reminiscing. Lieutenant Soren, was quiet, he stood at Corwin’s right.
Cassian remained silent, as he walked into the meeting room.
Corwin cleared his throat. “We’re closing in on Kara Varn.” His voice was low, rough with disuse. “Five days. Give or take.”
A silence settled over the room. Cassian folded his arms, listening. Corwin tapped on his cogitator, and a grainy holo-map flickered into view. A planet hung suspended in the air, spinning slowly in the dim light.
“Kara Varn,” Corwin continued. “Civilized world. Or at least, it was.” He leaned forward, his gaze sweeping across the room. “Last transmission was twenty, maybe thirty years ago. Reports of uprisings. Cult activity.” He exhaled sharply. “After that, silence.”
Soren grunted. “Could be dead. Or worse.”
“No way to know,” Corwin said. “But it’s our only shot. Supplies are running thin. We can’t keep crawling through the void forever.” His eyes darkened. “If there’s anything left down there—food, fuel, shelter—we need it.”
The silence deepened. Cassian glanced around the table, watching the others carefully.
Reynald shifted in his seat. “Assuming the planet isn’t a death trap.”
“Assuming,” Corwin agreed. He turned toward Lurran. “Chief Enginseer?”
The hunched Tech-Priest tilted his head, the soft whir of servos filling the air. “The ship’s sub-light engines will hold,” Lurran rasped. “But we lack the resources for long-term repairs. If we don’t dock somewhere soon…” He trailed off, the unspoken truths hanging heavy.
Corwin nodded grimly. “Suggestions?”
Soren shifted, arms crossed. “We approach slow. Scan the surface before we commit. If there’s a threat, we don’t land.”
Reynald frowned. “And if there’s nothing? What then?”
“Then we pray,” Corwin muttered. His gaze shifted to Cassian. “Arbite?”
Cassian straightened. He hadn’t expected to be addressed so directly, but he met the captain’s gaze. “We don’t have the luxury of choice,” he said quietly. “If there’s a chance of survival down there, we take it.”
Corwin studied him for a moment, then nodded.
“Agreed.”
The meeting ended without ceremony. As the others filed out, Cassian lingered for a moment, watching the holo-map spin slowly in the darkness.
Kara Varn.
Another dead world. Or maybe worse.
Either way, they were heading straight for it.
—-
The ship shuddered as it made contact with the planet’s surface. The Imperator Bellum had docked far from any civilization, nestled into a barren stretch of land that stretched endlessly beneath a rust-colored sky. The void shields hummed faintly as the ramp lowered, and a dry wind howled through the open hatch.
Cassian stood in the embarking bay, checking his weapons one last time. The hiss of his power armor’s servos filled the silence as he moved, the Mark VII plates shifting seamlessly with each motion. The armor’s black sheen drank in the dim light, the Inquisitorial seal on his pauldron glinting faintly. The weight of the Godwyn-pattern bolter was familiar in his hands, the cold metal resting against his armor like an old companion. The melta gun hung from a mag-lock at his hip, a brutal promise of destruction. Across his back, his chainsword purred softly, dormant but eager.
He caught the occasional glance from the crew as they passed. Some eyes lingered longer than others — cautious, curious. Power armor wasn’t unheard of, but seeing it worn by a man who wasn’t Astartes… well, it turned heads. Cassian ignored them. Let them stare.
The air tasted wrong. Even through his helmet’s filters, he could feel it. Stale. Heavy.
A voice crackled over the vox. “Contacting local channels. All frequencies.” The comms officer’s tone was strained. “Still nothing. No response.”
Cassian glanced at the others. Corwin stood at the edge of the ramp, his scarred face unreadable. Reynald checked the charge on his laspistol, expression tight. Hal Bretch hunched slightly, the navigator’s gaunt features drawn even paler than usual. Alara Warren stood a little apart, eyes scanning the horizon. Soren was silent, as always, his gaze sharp.
“Radio silence,” Corwin muttered. “Never a good sign.”
“No.” Cassian shifted his grip on the bolter. “It’s not.”
The crew had debated their approach for hours. No signals, no signs of life — just a dead planet under a dead sky. Fuel was running low. Food supplies were thinning. The Imperator Bellum couldn’t stay in the void much longer. Whether they liked it or not, they had to land. And if there were cultists… well, cultists needed food too.
Corwin glanced at the crew. “We move in a small team. No sense in risking everyone.” His eyes settled on Cassian. “You’re with me.”
Cassian gave a slight nod. No arguments.
The ramp lowered fully, the hydraulic hiss fading into the dry wind. Cassian stepped out first, boots thudding against cracked earth.
The landscape stretched out before them, barren and quiet. Jagged rocks jutted from the ground like broken teeth, and the horizon shimmered faintly beneath a hazy sun. There were no sounds. No distant hum of machines. No calls of wildlife. Just silence.
Cassian shifted his bolter, scanning the terrain. The land sloped downward, leading into a shallow valley where twisted metal and rusted debris hinted at long-abandoned settlements. Farther out, dark shapes loomed against the horizon — half-crumbled structures, maybe. Or a city.
Corwin stepped up beside him. “We move in pairs. Scan the area. Look for signs of life.” He paused. “Or death.”
Cassian fell into step beside him, the soft whir of his armor’s servos the only sound as they moved forward.
—
Word count: 2019
Comments
Kratos5628
I explained in previous chapters how he got the power armour.
Daniel
Hmm Astartes are rare af in general. They would be an eye catcher anyways, wouldn't power armor be more commonly seen on "normal" people? Like certain officers or sorotias?
Armo
Chaos, Tyrranids, regular noncompliant world, or something else? Next time, on Warhammer Ball Z!
Rowan
More ^,...,^
IgnisPrimus
Thanks for the chapter!
