Warp travel

At the sight of Sien's hostile expression, the Captain swallowed involuntarily.

But Sien quickly caught himself. There were some things he should not reveal too openly around anyone outside his Chapter.

"I understand."

Taking the written orders transcribed by the Scribe Servitor beside him, Sien strode off the Bridge, leaving the Captain rooted to the spot with a worried, bewildered expression.

Perhaps his most pressing headache was not how to deal with the approaching Inquisition and Adeptus Mechanicus.

It was how to explain the situation to Iax and ask him to remain aboard the ship until someone else arrived to take over.

After all, Iax was unlike any ancient creation Sien knew of.

Most relics of Ancient Technology were ordinary machinery, weapons, equipment, or even tanks and other machines, but none possessed independent consciousness or acted entirely of their own accord.

But Iax was a Machine Intelligence.

He could act independently and possessed his own will and objectives.

What mattered most was whether Sien could persuade him to accept the arrangement.

After all, Sien could not beat him.

In fact, nobody aboard the entire Oberon Battleship could beat him.

Even the Iron Warriors, demigods like Sien himself, were mere fodder before Iax, cut in two with a single stroke. From the outset, Iax had never regarded them as anything special, instead giving them an insulting label.

Inferior Biochemical Genetic Soldiers.

That Duel had led to everything that followed, and it had also given Sien a clear understanding of Iax's condition.

Sien was worried that if he failed to persuade Iax properly, Iax might become angry or feel deceived, triggering some unforeseen disaster.

After all, Sien had promised to help him reach the Chapter monastery and apply for permission for him to consult historical records in the Chapter's archives.

As Sien walked back toward his squad's temporary quarters, light flared along the side of the long corridor.

Light reflected from the Gellar Field shone through the corridor's portholes into the ship.

As the ship fully entered the Warp, everything beyond the Gellar Field grew bizarre and surreal.

Phantom planets twisted and flowed like liquid, the stars dimmed, and all manner of unnameable apparitions drifted through the surrounding space, circling outside the ship's Gellar Field.

They were too close to the Great Rift.

The power of Chaos spread everywhere. Entering the Warp here required considerable courage—and a sufficiently large ship.

Only Imperial Battleships could travel through the Warp alone.

Other vessels—Cruisers, destroyers, and frigates—usually had to form fleets and correct one another's headings to avoid losing their way in that space seething with malign energy.

Perhaps it was because the Iron Warriors traitors had just attacked, or perhaps there was some other reason.

This voyage was unusually stable.

Surging Warp energy streamed around the hull, yet never touched the ship's Gellar Field.

The Warp daemons they normally had to guard against showed no inclination to attack.

Even the Navigator on the Bridge sensed something strange.

Smooth.

Far too smooth.

So smooth that it felt unnatural.

Becoming the Captain of an Imperial Battleship was itself proof of extensive command experience.

In his decades of service in the Imperial Navy, the Captain had never experienced such a peaceful voyage through the Warp.

Even the simple voyage he had taken when he was first selected to leave his homeworld and become a junior Imperial Navy officer had not gone this smoothly.

He clearly remembered the Warp daemon attack they had encountered while traveling from the Imperium's frontier toward its more central regions.

It had only been an Imperial destroyer, and there had only been a few dozen daemons.

But this was how his commanding officer had warned them back then.

The Warp teemed with disorder and turmoil, and every voyage carried enormous risks.

Daemons eyed every ship that entered the Warp hungrily. The damned creatures were everywhere, and their movements could not be predicted.

They had to remain alert for attacks that could come at any moment.

If they were unlucky enough to encounter an attack by a large horde of Warp daemons or any traitor Legion, their best bet was to bite down on their identification tags and pray for a dignified death.

If the ship happened to be discovered and salvaged by the Imperium someday, perhaps the "dog tags" in their mouths would make things a little easier for the medical officers tasked with identifying the bodies.

Although he had encountered daemon attacks on almost every voyage during his decades of service, most had amounted to no more than a small group suddenly appearing and charging straight at the ship, only to smash themselves to pieces against the Gellar Field.

The worst incident had merely involved a small band of Khorne daemons breaking into the hull.

By then, however, he had already become Captain of a Lunar-class Cruiser.

His ship had even been carrying a Company of Salamanders, who were hitching a ride to another sector.

That experience had also been his first firsthand glimpse of the terrifying combat prowess of Space Marines.

Of course, the Salamanders were not the only Space Marine Chapter he had encountered, but they were certainly the Chapter he had felt most comfortable around.

Those warriors were full of humanity and even possessed considerable compassion. Their Chapter Chaplain had been willing to give a simple blessing before battle to the Astra Militarum troops accompanying them into ground combat.

The Captain pulled himself out of his wandering thoughts, looked toward a nearby Servitor, and called out his instructions.

"Keep a close watch on the Auspex. Report any anomalies immediately."

"As you command, my lord."

The Servitor's dry, faintly mechanical voice rose from the console below.

"Navigator, confirm our heading. We're too close to the Great Rift. One navigational error, and we'll be beyond salvation!"

Perhaps because of psychic power, the Navigator's voice sounded somewhat ethereal.

"My lord, our heading is correct. The psychic beacon is clear."

After answering the Captain's question, the Navigator paused, then spoke again.

"My lord, in all my years as a Navigator, I have never seen the beacon so clearly."

The Navigator's words only deepened the Captain's unease.

The apparently calm route ahead seemed filled with an inexplicable dread.

It was as though this were a road to hell, where even daemons would restrain themselves and wait in silence.

Meanwhile, elsewhere aboard the ship, Sien stared at Iax in shock.

"I need to confirm once more that you understand everything I've said."

Iax extended a finger and pointed at the written orders in Sien's hand.

"I understand that you are being reassigned separately. An organization called the Inquisition will arrange for someone called a Heretic Inquisitor to come here with some members of the Adeptus Mechanicus and make contact with me. I cannot leave with you. I must remain aboard this ship and await further arrangements."

"I am a Machine Intelligence. I possess independent intelligence and extensive stores of recorded information. Even in ancient times, this universe operated in much the same way. No one is entirely free to act as they wish, and I will not blame you. On the contrary, I appreciate your honesty. You have made no attempt to deceive me."