The Tech-Priests scrambled through the clean, orderly systems of the ship, frantically searching for any trace of the Machine Spirit.
For the first time, they were utterly at a loss. Even the nearby naval armsmen could read the deep bewilderment etched onto their augmented features. Once the data-links were severed, the first words from every priest were eerily identical:
"Where is the Machine Spirit? How can a vessel of this magnitude simply be hollow?"
Fortunately, following Axion's intervention, control of the ship had finally returned to the hands of the Imperial Navy. To their astonishment, the crew found the vessel's responsiveness far sharper than ever before. The common ratings could only attribute this to the Machine Spirit being greatly appeased; they remained blissfully unaware that the entity they so revered had been purged by Axion like so much digital refuse. Meanwhile, the Tech-Priests remained in a state of melancholic confusion, obsessively pondering the fate of the vessel's soul.
As the power throttles were thrown to their limits, a multitude of maneuvering thrusters erupted with streams of kinetic energy. The counter-thrust finally tore the cruiser free from the clutching mass of the space hulk.
Now fully disentangled, the cruiser revealed the true extent of its devastation. The prow had vanished entirely. A full third of the lower hull was missing, and a jagged, gaping rent marred the forward dorsal armor of the upper decks. The entire vessel looked like a broken monument to a lost war. Twisted armor plating and the violent sparking of severed conduits sang a silent dirge for the violence of the collision.
"Captain, we have lost our bearings."
The first officer approached the Captain's side to deliver the grim news that everyone had been dreading.
"Where are the Navigators? Have them re-fix the Astronomican. Find the nearest warp-vein and translate into realspace immediately."
The first officer shook his head. "I have already tasked the Navigators. All three report that after psychically peering into the tides, they can find no trace of the Holy Light. Conversely... the Cicatrix Maledictum has never been clearer."
"One Navigator has already succumbed to psychic corruption from staring into the Scar," the officer continued. "He was executed on the spot by the Ultramarines standing watch."
The Captain nodded grimly, offering no further comment. That they could not see the Astronomican suggested they were still trapped north of the Great Rift, though the clarity of the Cursed Scar indicated they might not have drifted entirely off course. The execution of the fallen Navigator was a grim necessity; to spare him would be to leave a corrupted bomb ticking in the heart of the ship. No one could say when a vision might seize him, tearing open a rift that would vomit the Neverborn directly into their midst. Should a daemonic tide wash over the decks, none would survive.
"If the Astronomican is lost, so be it. Find the nearest warp-breach and return us to the materium. Once we have compared star charts and re-established our position, we will make for the nearest Imperial facility. We need a refit."
The first officer nodded silently in acknowledgment.
Upon the high dais nearby, a Navigator, crowned with a specialized psychic-amplification cowl, panned his gaze across the roiling madness of the warp. Soon, a faint, miniscule glimmer caught his attention. Compared to the blazing majesty of the Great Beacon on Terra, this light was so feeble it was almost negligible, flickering like a candle guttering in its final moments of life.
Nevertheless, the news heartened the crew. Guided by the Navigator, the ship successfully tore through the veil of the Immaterium, emerging from a local weakness in space back into the cold reality of the physical universe.
With the translation complete, the lingering daemonic entities on board were cut off from their source of warp-energy. The Imperial defensive lines, which had been pushed to their limits, suddenly surged forward. Within moments, the remaining horrors were banished back into the Empyrean.
…
Calanthus arrived on the bridge, his gaze sweeping over the ratings busy with star-chart triangulation before settling on the Navy Captain. His severe expression made the officer visibly tense.
"My Lord, has something happened?"
Calanthus stared into the Captain's eyes, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me, did you personally issue the command to open fire earlier?"
The Captain blinked, then slowly nodded. "I did. Is there an issue?"
"Has the warp-taint rotted your mind?" Calanthus roared, his fury erupting. "To fire in those conditions! Had you triggered a chain-reaction magazine explosion, we would all be dust and echoes!"
The Captain's face went deathly pale as the weight of his actions finally registered. They had sought an orderly extraction, not a suicide pact.
Looking at the trembling officer, Calanthus realized the truth: the Captain had been influenced by the Warp. His rational judgment had shattered, likely fueled by the bitter resentment of having to abandon the personnel on the destroyer. That kernel of discontent had been magnified by the omnipresent malice of the Warp, leading to a reckless, nihilistic urge to strike out regardless of the risk.
Now that they were back in realspace, the fog had lifted, leaving the Captain to realize the magnitude of his folly.
"Emperor preserve me... what have I done?"
"Hmph. How a man of such weak character became a Captain in the Battlefleet is beyond me," Calanthus spat. He turned and strode off the bridge. As soon as they found a port, he would report this to the Inquisition and have the man taken away. To ensure the ship remained stable, he needed to find the ship's Ministorum Priest immediately to lead a rite of purification and steady the minds of the mortals.
"Hm? What's the trouble?"
Hadrian entered the bridge, caked in drying gore. He had just seen Calanthus storming down the corridor in a state of high agitation. Since the collision, Hadrian had been in the lower decks, personally commanding the defensive actions. The tactic of using Primaris Marines to plug hull breaches while supported by Naval ratings had been his design, a strategy that had cost several boarding shields. However, the shields wielded by the Astartes were infinitely more resilient than the standard boarding pavises of the Navy.
Though the battle had only just concluded, Hadrian felt it necessary to report the results to Calanthus, specifically the performance issues of the new Primaris reinforcements and the mounting material losses. But it seemed Calanthus had no appetite for reports at the moment.
For the ship's company, the most pressing concern remained their location. The collision in the warp had thrown them off their heading, and in the Immaterium, distance was a fickle thing. A minor deviation could result in overshooting by an entire sub-sector, while long-range drifts could leave a ship lost in the lightless corners of the galaxy.
The impact with that Imperial derelict had cost them precious time, and they had drifted far without a beacon. They were fortunate to have returned to realspace at all. Now, all eyes turned toward the Navigator's report, and the mystery of that flickering, dying light he had followed.