This story is an unofficial story based, without permission, on the Warhammer/Warhammer 40,000 intellectual property owned by Games Workshop Ltd.
Nathan Salvanfor stood tall, dressed in his long black trench coat, staring into the blackness of space from his window as his reflection stared back. Was it his face he saw or the face of a radical? One who had become so obsessed with the capture of the Necrosphere, a device so powerful it could destroy whole worlds by its mere presence. The darkness of the room blanketed out much of his features except the filthy red glow from the bronze armour he wore across his chest and the letter 'I' just below his neck. Salvanfor was around one hundred and fifty years in age yet he had the face of a man in his mid forties, a lifetime he'd spent with the Ordo Xenos. What was it about the Necrosphere that had him so obsessed with its capture? Yet once in his grasp the Inquisition will demand he destroy it and what fool in his right mind would destroy a weapon so powerful? Salvanfor had searched for the Necrosphere ten years and in that time he'd been accused as a radical. The Ordo Hereticus had warned him if he were to use it they would hunt him down for treason. Yes they would execute him just like they were doing to the Spectre Knights. He had been personally sent by the High Lords of Terra to retrieve it, once his spies had located its location. Because they had refused to destroy it, Lord Taharan of the Ordo Hereticus had oust them as excommunicate a year ago, sending the Grey Knights after them, destroying their fortress and their fleet; leaving a handful left. They must have spent five months hiding down below on the planet Kylle, which under the circumstances was a good place to hide. But like all good things he had tracked them here and then he requested the presence of the Crimson Fists who were more than eager to come to his aide and slaughter their battle brothers; for the Spectre Knights shared the same Primarch as the Crimson Fists, Rogal Dorn. The Spectre Knights had been founded during that time which today is known as the Dark Founding. Captain Syakotus had proved his worth by slaughtering the first of them moments ago, but once he discovers why he's slaughtering his battle brothers what will he do? Destroy the Necrosphere himself or worse? And that could be a big problem.
"Master?" came a gruff voice from the door as it opened and the figure stepped inside his darkly lit chambers. Through the reflection in the window the figure approaching him wore a black cloak and hood covering his face. "What can I do for you Prill?" Salvanfor asked in his deep voice which seemed to echo around the whole room as he turned to face him "Master our Astropath has picked up a communiqué from the Ordo Hereticus. They are heading this way and will arrive in seven hours," Prill announced as he stood besides his Master. Salvanfor turned to face the doorway, causing the light to shine across his face, revealing the many scars and down to his boots that had a dusty metal plate across the shins of his legs "Is my Cutter ready for departure Prill?"
"Yes Master, the three Death Watch Marines are also ready in the hanger too."
"Good," said Salvanfor, as both men stepped from his chambers into the corridors of the Running Death, revealing the holstered needle pistols on either side of his thighs as the back of his coat flung up with his sudden movements. Prill lagged behind, the sound of the pistons in his mechanical legs seemed to echo throughout the corridor, yet stopping momentarily for him to take deep breaths with his respirator that hung from the back of his black cloak.
"What shall my Master do now?" he asked.
"Why I shall take what is rightfully mine of course, the Necrosphere." Salvanfor laughed as both walked down the long narrow dimly lit corridors, listening at the clanging feet of the working servitors behind them.
"But the Ordo Hereticus demand you to destroy it. I fear that is why they be, coming to ensure you do," Prill argued.
"Fool. We shall be gone long before their arrival and the Necrosphere shall be in my possession."
Though Prills eyes were hidden behind the dark shadow of his hood, Salvanfor still felt them burning at him "But that is treason my Master, are you to betray the Inquisition for this Necrosphere? They will hunt you down and take the life from your flesh."
"Enough!" Salvanfor shouted with an echo that travelled down the corridor. "They betray me, I betray no one! Remember that Prill." Silence fell about both men as they headed towards the hanger. "I have served the Ordo Xenos all my life and for what? Nothing!"
"But Master, that was your calling, to serve the Divine Emperor. You pledged your life to him and the Inquisition." Prill stopped behind his master.
Salvanfor stopped a few steps further away from Prill and turned to face him. He stopped again to reach inside his coat with his hand to pull out a large, fat cigar; he then bit off the end and lit it as he put the thing in his mouth, looking at Prill as his hood fell back. Prill was more machine than man, a thing of wires formed in the back of his metallic skull and metal augmentations. Salvanfor could see the rotted flesh stretched and pinned across what he called his face, the face of a man 1,100 years in age, all of which spent in the service of the Imperium. Prill had served four different Inquisitors in his life including Salvanfor's old mentor, Inquisitor Fenton Greisens; who had been executed by the mysterious Eldar sixty years ago, of which Prill had spent at Salvanfor's side ever since, giving him advice, wisdom, and knowledge. But lately all he'd become was intolerable and irritating. Quoting the rules of the damned Inquisition and worse telling Nathan Salvanfor what he could not do.
"Master you must not betray the Imperium," Prill begged. Salvanfor turned away and carried on down the corridor followed by Prill.
Salvanfor entered the metallic and lowly lit hanger, stepping over cables spread across the dirty grey floor covered over with oil stains. As he puffed on his cigar the smell of fine tobacco drifted across the hanger and upwards. Chains hung from above, some with hooks and others with small crates, and the smell of burnt rubber seemed to linger about. As he took in a breath of air, his mouth was left with the after taste of oil. Servitors clanged about, moving the crates out the way of the gun cutter and cleaning the oil stains from the deck. In the centre of the hanger, the gun cutter rested, ready for take off. 'Red Princes', was engraved on the side of the dirty, rusted red hull of the cutter. Standing at the opened ramp on the underside of the Red Princes were three Space Marines coloured in black armour, holding their bolters tight against their chests. The right shoulder carried the chapter logo that they'd come from, they were Death Watch Marines. Salvanfor often fought with them under his command, yet today would be the last time.
The one standing at the front wore the insignia of a black fist on top of a yellow background. His left arm was decorated silver with the insignia of the Inquisition on the shoulder pad and some form of litany written all around it. The three of them wore their helmets, letting the reds of their eyes glow in the low light of the hanger. Salvanfor ran his hand gently across the side of the rusted hull feeling the bumps and laser burns. The glass of the cockpit was also dirty and stained with smoke blots. As Salvanfor looked on, he bent below to feel the underneath. He stopped to admire the two large lascannons below the cockpit then he went to the ramp were the Marines stood awaiting him. Salvanfor walked up the ramp followed by Prill and the three Marines.
Inside the cutter it was claustrophobic and dark with very little light, but that was how Salvanfor liked it. "We are ready to go Nathan," Hayler, his pilot, told him in her soft voice as he sat in the co-pilots seat besides her; which Prill stood behind. "Then close the ramp up and take us out," Salvanfor ordered.
The ramp closed and Hayler let the aft engines fire up. They watched the hanger doors open and the Red Princes lifted up as the belly thrusters ignited and slowly drifted out the hanger into the blackness outside. The Red Princes turned as it slowly drifted away from the hull of the Running Death. At the correct distance, the rear thrusters ignited and the cutter took off to enter orbit of Kylle.
"Prepare yourselves for atmospheric drop in ten seconds," announced Hayler, as the underbelly thrusters ignited once they'd reached orbit of Kylle. Moments later, they were in the clouds, and could feel the storm hit them, rocking the hull of the Red Princes "Switching to orbital thrusters now," she announced again, watching Salvanfor grip the sides of his seat tightly, which brought a slight smile to her youthful face. The storm raged against the hull with such violence that they were shook side to side with the turbulence. Prills cybernetic hand reached above his head and locked fingers around the bar above to keep him steady as they were rocked about.
Hive World Terra