The holo link crackled and shimmered, resolving into the sharply defined image of Magos Darius. His face was almost impossibly symmetrical like a sculpture made from flesh, not metal. Pale skin stretched taut over sinewy muscle, his eyes gleamed with a restless, manic intelligence. Despite the uncanny perfection, there was something oddly warm beneath the cold surface.
"Cassian," he said, voice quick and uneven, like a man who hadn't quite slept in days, "the first of my successful experiments, it has been a very long time since we last saw each other."
Cassian smirked, despite himself. "I'd say I'm the lucky one, considering who I owe my survival to."
Darius leaned forward, eyes narrowing with sharp amusement. "Ah, yes that surgery I did to you on the arbites project at that time. Any mutations? How does it feel to be my proof of concept?"
"Like walking a razor's edge at the beginning," Cassian admitted. "But it worked. Mostly."
"Mostly," Darius echoed, like savoring a fine poison. "Tell me everything. Every glitch, every adaptation your body made against that virus."
Cassian took a breath. "It mutated. Twice. But my neural pathways somehow, they fought back. Not just resisting, but twisting the virus' code. My body adapted to it and now I have all its advantages with none of its side effects."
Darius's grin widened, his voice almost a whisper now. "Good. I need every scrap of that data. I need to see how your neural pathways are restructured after so long. Don't worry in return, I will send you a gift when the chaos on his side is over."
Cassian flicked a switch and the data stream began. Even if there were no gifts, he would have still uploaded the data, as it was a deal they made in hive desoleum when magos did that surgery on him.
He only sent data regarding his neural pathways and brain activity, no need to send more.
The holo link flickered and then cut. After, he uploaded his data.
Cassian exhaled, feeling the weight of a mentor's gaze still pressing on him, even from light years away.
—
Few Days Later
On the bridge, the void ahead shimmered. Warp spill bled faintly against the Geller field. Spire didn't look up. Cassian noticed it, though. It was always there, faint, like a stain you couldn't clean.
The Mechanicus fleet was forming around them now. Still out of visual range, but close enough for vox confirmation. The Ship adjusted her position, letting the escorts form up around her like teeth in a closed jaw.
"Fleet cohesion confirmed," the comms officer reported.
"Transmit formation data to Forge flagship," Spire ordered. "We enter Orar system together. No isolation. No gaps."
Cassian leaned closer to the display. The world they were heading toward was already marked in red.
"What do we know about the civilian centers?" he asked.
Spire's voice was flat. "Nothing. Assume they're already compromised."
"PDF?"
"Either dead or broken."
Farron stepped forward now, eyeing the system scan. "We'll need to assess for any salvage or extraction ops. And quarantine protocols. If there's Chaos, there's corruption."
Spire didn't answer immediately. His eyes were scanning something else. Internal fleet positioning. Vox traffic. Power reroutes. It was all there. He had to weigh everything at once.
Finally, he said, "We burn what we can't save. Orar is not to fall intact."
Cassian didn't flinch. He simply understood. That was the war now.
"Make ready," Spire said finally. "Two hours to system edge. Stand to alert. I want full weapons cycling. And tell the Navigator: no margin for drift. We're not losing another hour in the void."
Cassian stayed on the bridge as the lights dimmed slightly for combat protocols. Farron moved off to check tech-readouts. Spire remained seated, motionless except for his eyes.
The silence that followed wasn't peace. It was more like preparation.
---
The Dauntless class cruiser shuddered as the last pockets of warp turbulence cleared. The Ship emerged from the Warp with a heavy groan, its hull rattling under the strain. The crew snapped to alert, fingers tightening on controls, eyes sharp on the viewscreens. Cassian stood steady on the bridge, breathing the recycled air, feeling the weight of the sector pressing in.
"Status report," Admiral Spire demanded.
"Warp field stable, sir. Sub light engines active. We've arrived in the Orar system. Sensors show no immediate threats," the helmsman replied.
"Good. Open comms to the local battlegroup," Spire ordered.
Static crackled, then a sharp voice cut through the feed.
"This is Captain Compel Bast of the Indomitable Judgment. Identify yourselves."
Spire stepped forward. "Admiral Spire aboard the Ship. Responding to distress calls from Orar. We've been delayed by warp turbulence, but we're here now. Expecting to join your forces."
Bast's voice was blunt, no room for pleasantries. "Acknowledged, Admiral. We're stretched thin but holding. Orar's a mess. Chaos forces are entrenched. Our regiments have taken heavy casualties. The nearby systems are falling one by one. Viridan is dark. Shale Primus contested. Vossen lost its atmosphere weeks ago. We're the only battlegroup with combat ready ships in this system."
Spire inquired. "What's the situation on Orar itself? Enemy strength? Locations?"
"Chaos cults have spread through the southern continent. Warp tainted beasts roam the wastelands. We've confirmed two major daemon incursions one on the surface, one in orbit near the old agri-ring. Ground forces are locked in a desperate trench war, bleeding men daily. Without reinforcements, this line will break."
Spire narrowed his eyes. "What about the Imperial Navy support? Fleet strength?"
Bast's tone sharpened. "Barely functional. Most of the fleet is damaged or obsolete. Only a handful of ships with heavy weaponry remain. We rely on macro lance batteries in orbit, but they can only hold so long. We need every gun we can get."
Spire's voice was steady. "We'll link tactical data. Coordinate ground recon and orbital defense. We'll join you as soon as we can."
"Understood," Bast said. "Prepare for docking and briefing. The sooner you're on the ground, the better."
The comm cut. The bridge was silent for a moment.
He looked out at Orar green and scarred, a world holding on by its last breath. The war was real here. The fight was far from over.
---
Deck 3 Forward Hangar Bay – Ship
+01:47:12 After Transition to Orar System
Mechanicus scurried under pressure, sparks lighting the interior like short-lived stars. Sentinel walkers were already being offloaded, their legs still twitching from mag-clamp release. A trio of Chimera transports were mid-rollout from cargo hold C. Every movement was clocked, timed and controlled. There was urgency in those movements.
Cassian stood near the hangar bulkhead, helmet under one arm, listening to the briefing piped through the vox. His own team was preparing for immediate drop. No acclimatization. No waiting for the rear echelons to get comfortable.
Faevelith had joined them only moments earlier, still wearing her sealed research rig. She hadn't even changed out of it. A filtered respirator hissed at her throat.
"Orar's orbital signature is unstable," she said quietly, reading the environment scan over her shoulder. "Ion buildup in the mesosphere. If they start atmospheric bombardment, it'll scatter debris across the entire southern continent. Glass half of the surface before anyone even lands."
Cassian nodded. "Assuming they haven't already started."
A servitor rolled past, dragging a pallet of autocannon munitions. Farron followed it with his eyes before speaking.
"We land at Gravenhold. Bast's stronghold. He has defensive lines on the western slope, but he's losing bodies faster than he can rotate them. He wants us to stabilize the line, reinforce the bastion, and if we're lucky push back toward the generator fields. That's the only reliable power keeping their defensive grid from folding."
Cassian's reply was short. "We're not lucky."
The ship gave a low hum as the engines shifted load. A warning klaxon sounded, and red light flooded the hangar.
++Landing Procedure Initiated++
++Deploy Teams to Drop Bays One through Six++
The Ship's hull opened along the spine. Gunships moved to launch rails. Valkyries roared to life. The whole ship was a mechanism, a tool, not a place of rest. Below them, Orar's cloud layer was already seething black smoke drifting from a dozen firestorms, city blocks burning so hot they glowed in orbit.
Cassian secured his helm. His voice filtered into the squad net, sharp and steady.
"Drop in twelve. Load weapons, final checks. We land, we reinforce, we don't die."
---
Gravenhold, Orar – Primary Command Bunker
+02:32:00 After Transition
Captain Compel Bast wasn't what Cassian expected.
Tall, yes. Imperial bred posture. His carapace armor was old but freshly polished, painted in the deep red of Orar's planetary regiments. His left eye had been replaced by an augmetic so old it buzzed faintly when he turned his head. He stood over a tactical holomap, pointing with a baton made from a broken lasrifle barrel.
"This ridge line is gone. Eaten by a warp rift three days ago. Nothing left but gravity distortions. We had a gun battery there. Not anymore."
He didn't greet them with ceremony. Didn't ask for rank or clearance. He simply talked. Pointed. Explained. As if Cassian and his team had already been part of the defense force for months.
"Our southern approach is where you'll drop. Enemy sightings include cultist militia, mutated heavy infantry, and something… bigger. We lost a forward scouting squad to it. Only one survivor. She bit off her own tongue before she'd speak."
Farron leaned forward. "You have footage?"
Bast shook his head. "Vox units melted. Literally. But from the radiation and pattern burn left on her gear, we think it's daemon hosted."
Faevelith narrowed her eyes. "What class of warp signature?"
"Indeterminate. It didn't trip standard alerts, but it drained an entire squad's auspex power before appearing."
Cassian looked at the map, studied the fallback line near the power substations. "We'll drop behind the failing line. Patch their losses. Anchor the flank. Buy you time to repair the relays."
Bast gave a hard nod. "We've got two thousand civilians trying to evacuate through those relays. You hold that ground, or they don't get out."
Cassian turned to Farron and Faevelith.
"We'll split into two teams. I'll take the substation and reinforce the guard elements. Farron, take the ridge line, reestablish artillery coordinates. Faevelith—"
"I'll find the breach," she interrupted. "Whatever slipped through the veil, I'll identify it. Then you burn it."
Cassian didn't argue.
Bast watched them with a soldier's silence. Then, finally, he spoke again, low and hard.
"If you break, this city dies. If this city dies, the southern hemisphere goes dark. If that goes dark, Orar is lost, and we lose the corridor to the Forgeworlds."
Farron smiled thinly. "Then we don't break."
Cassian turned to Bast. "Signal when evac begins. If the line is going to fail, we'll need time to fall back."
Bast's reply was short.
"There will be no fallback."
---
Surface Deployment Zone – Orar South Ridge
+03:21:44 After Transition
The gunship shook as it descended. Flak peppered the undercarriage. One round punched a hole through the port side only shrapnel. Cassian didn't flinch. He was already reading auspex scans.
"Contact within 700 meters. Hostile signatures dense. Multiple heat blooms. Unnatural spread pattern."
They landed hard. Ramps slammed down. Troopers poured out. Cassian moved with them, boots sinking into dust and ash. The ground was scorched. Burned corpses lay against shattered barricades. The wind screamed.
Then came the first roar.
Something large. Too many lungs.
Faevelith looked up, visor scanning. "That's not a human voice."
Farron barked into the vox, "Establish fallback node at Point Theta. Heavy weapons dig in now!"
Cassian raised his rifle. "We hold. Eyes up."
The sky was bleeding.
The battle has started.
—
Word Count: 1958
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