The ship moves
The Ship is the Imperium.
The Imperium is the Ship.
The Ship is the Emperor.
The Emperor is the Ship.
All is the Ship.
The Ship is All.
The Ship Moves.
Yet another variation on the future of Warhammer 40K created by the Anons of /tg/.
In the not too distant future of 40K, the Imperium's borders have shrunk, devastated by wars, disease and famine. For a brief, shining moment, the Emperor awakes upon His Golden Throne and orders the construction of a massive ship, its keel 1AU in length. What remains of the Imperium is stripped to build The Ship, with Holy Terra itself hollowed out and fitted with massive cogitators and command system, the Imperial Palace itself becoming the bridge. All that is left of humanity is brought aboard this ark of civilization. Here humankind lives and dies in the bowels of its massive holds, whole world's worth of people living in single compartments. The combined psychic presence of humanity lies under the aegis of the God-Emperor's power, thwarting Chaos. Only the God-Emperor, now the God-Captain, knows where The Ship is going.
In other words, it's just battlestar galactica reworked for the Warhammer 40k setting.
- 1 Notes
- 2 Components and Location of note within The Ship
- 3 Xenos of The Ship
- 4 The Primarchs
- 5 Part 1
- 6 Part 2
- 7 Part 3
- 8 Part 4
- 9 Part 5
- 10 External Links
In a recent thread (Part 5) Some new lore was added to the fray.
1.) Mankind IS working with Xenos scum, under direct orders from the God-Captain. (Eldar, Tau and Necron and a small fraction of Dark Eldar)
2.) After much, much, debate it was decided that Human-Xeno inter-personal relationships would be officially decriminalized. However it is greatly frowned upon and only encountered deep into the Grey Areas of The Ship.
3.) All Space Marine Gene-seeds have been slightly modified so that the God-Captains Angels of Death might produce human offspring in the more traditional sense. They are also given sanction to start families as a means of keeping them psychologically grounded given the relative rarity of large scale wars. They still have other duties to attend to. (Example: The Blood Ravens chapter now works as the Guardians for the Vault of Mankind, where all Holy Relics are stored for safekeeping until Journey's End.)
4.) EVERYTHING must be recycled.
5.) Xenos we are NOT allied with are on the Ship and still pose a threat, those being mostly Orks and Tyranids.
6.) Those left behind will be forever remembered as the Captain's finest.
Components and Location of note within The Ship
The Big Bang Bottles
A construction of a strange alien science. First envisioned by their creator as a source of inexhaustible, clean and efficient agony that could revolutionize the Dark City. A universe would be created in a contained environment, sped up until life inside was advanced enough to feel pain and then they could just live off of the collective suffering without the need for all that messy slave raiding. Sadly by the time the project started bearing fruit the denizens of the Dark City had decided that they quite like all that slave raiding. To make matters worse it seemed that none of the universes created were complex enough to allow life to develop. The only thing they were good for was the high energy output once they got started. Sadly they were expensive to build and start, took up a lot of space and the Dark City already had more reliable sources of energy.
Rehabilitated Dark Eldar wishing to start again in another galaxy bartered passage on The Ship in exchange for building a few of them to power The Ship. Each required a small star to warm up but once started worked perfectly.
Big Bang Bottle is almost certainly not their real name but nobody really cares.
The Dyson Spheres
A vast series of colossal and arcane pillars that seem to suddenly cease to exist at a certain height. Observers state that they feel the columns continue on, as their eyes tell them they cease. In reality, these pillars do continue on much further, extending through stabilised warp rifts, into the warp itself. At the peak of every Pillar sits a captive star, encased within a Dyson sphere. These are used alongside the Big Bang Bottles to supply the unfathomable demand for power that the ship ever requires.
The largest single component of The Ship and the most massive single piece of psyco-plastic ever made in the history of the galaxy. It stretches from one end of The Ship to the other in a great web. The nodes where strands merge and mingle were often former Craftworlds that were incorporated into The Ships construction. The Infinity Circuit houses the collective dead of the eldar, their sleeping God of Death and also acts as a deamon deterrent as it did for the Craftworld. It is also used as the ships inter-com although use is restricted to the God-Captain, the Captain's Council and occasionally the Inquisition unless there is some sort of emergency that threatens The Ship as a whole.
Billions of Gellar Field generators, the Infinity Circuit, masses of Cadian Pylons and the presence of the Never-dying God-Captain. Further more the ship only skims the surface of the warp in the manner of the Tau ships of yesteryear and the wake it creates tends to mutilate and deflect all but the most terrible of daemons.
The vast musical workshops of the Bone Singers. They sing into existence raw material from pure nothingness. It offsets the lost material in the not 100% efficient recycling. The fresh matter is then handed over to the Forge-shrines of the Mechanicus to be consecrated and purified before being made into spare parts.
The sovereign domain of the Adeptus Biologis. It is their sacred duty to preserve the seeds of the Old Galaxy so that once they arrive at Journey's End they may terraform dead worlds and have the Imperium live again as it should have been.
The Helmsman's Throne
The throne upon which the God-Captain sits as he guides The Ship through the inky black. It was once known as the Golden Throne in an age long since past.
The Space Hulk Cloud
As The Ship travels through the warp, the massive amount of turbulence it generates sweeps up thousands upon thousands of space hulks, forming what looks like a cloud of dust around The Ship.
Xenos of The Ship
- They, and their vassal peoples, were given passage upon The Ship for their technical expertise. Without them it is doubtful that the millions of warp-drives upon The Ship would have been synchronized through the Infinity Circuit successfully. For this, as well as the services of their repair and maintenance teams, they are tolerated.
- Their numbers even when combined with their vassal peoples is, when compared to the teeming masses of humanity, very low.
- Early on in the ships design it became abundantly clear that even if the entire Imperium was stripped down and used in the construction of The Ship it would not be enough. They needed a means of generating building material on site. Sadly the only people that the Imperium knew of who could do this were the Eldar. For this reason, and their continued supply of fresh repair material, the Eldar are tolerated.
- Early on in The Ships construction a band of Dark Eldar brought forth the designs for the Big Bang Bottles. After these were incorporated into the design they were, reluctantly, granted a place aboard The Ship. Thankfully most Imperial Citizens can't tell the difference between them and the Craftworlders. Sadly the Craftworlders can and the two do not like each other at all. It is unsure how many of them are on board as they keep to their Enclaves around the Bottles and do not suffer visitors gladly.
- Unlike the Tau and Eldar their existence has not been made known to the general public. When it became abundantly clear to them that their Empire was never going to arise from the ashes in a galaxy desolated by all out war between Orks, Chaos and Tyranids many of them bartered passage in exchange for inertia and momentum manipulation technology. These technological marvels allowed The Ship a much more rapid acceleration and departure. They are also responsible for the Cadian Pylons scattered about The Ship. Many of them, to pass the time, perform maintenance duties in places where the living can not go.
- Their dwelling places, although not off limits to the public, tend to be in the irradiated areas of the ships as they like their privacy.
- When asked about them the Mechanicus maintain that they are just highly upgraded tech-adepts.
- Managed to infiltrate The Ship almost certainly as spores. Tend to be found in the many vast uninhabited areas of The Ship. They range from undernourished sickly things barely better than weedy feral grots to fully fledged, battle ready orks with looted weapons or weapons built from scrap stolen from The Ship. Although no WAAAAAAGH!!! has ever threatened the integrity of the colossal vessel, they have proved difficult to remove entierly.
- Genestealer cultists got on board along with many other refugees. In the fraught time of departure there was not enough time to gene-scan everyone, and within a few hundred years pure-strains were spawning in the Unmarked Regions. Thankfully their psychic beacon can't penetrate the interference of the warp wake. The task still stands that they must be exterminated before Journey's End, lest they draw the Tyranids to the New Galaxy before the Imperium Reborn can have chance to get ready for them.
- There are other, more feral, bio-forms on The Ship also. Various variations of Lictors and other stealthy ambush hunters crept aboard possibly during construction. They are feral things that have long since gone native. Whether this is because they can't hear the song of the Hive is unknown. Often found as pets and war-beasts kept by the Genestealer cults.
- The Hrud are on board. Nobody knows how.
- The Umbra have taken up residence near many of the warp drives. They don't seem to do anything if you leave them alone.
- Lacrymole and Simulacra are, sadly, probably on board somewhere given their ability to disguise themselves as human.
Several of the Primarchs are on board the Ship.
- Leman Russ, Jaghatai Khan, Corvus Corax, and Vulkan came forth from the Warp during the construction of the Ship to help lead Mankind in its retreat into the Ship. The four's roles are unknown, although it is said that Leman Russ leads his Wolves to defend the civilian populace from all possible threats.
- After Mankind allied it self with the Eldar, they used their Xeno magics to heal the Primarch Roboute Guilliman. Although their magics could only do so much, his body is brittle and worn, leaving him only able to command, never battle. He helps manage life aboard the Ship so it isn't total anarchy.
- Sanguinius, although killed at the hands of Horus, was reborn as The Sanguinor. His position on the ship is unknown at this time, although it is believed he helps keep the Xenos in line.
- Rogal Dorn, as it turns out, faked his death so that he may take control over the Adeptus Custodes, and now commands the defense of the Hull with the remnants of the Imperial Fists that did not stay behind to defend the Ship as it departed.
- There is a legend among the people of the Cargo bays that two figures came aboard the Ship just before its launch and have remained there ever since. No one has ever gotten a good look at either of them, but accounts all say that one of the two always say 'Hydra Dominatus' before vanishing. In their wake there is always a game of Chess that ended in a stalemate. This is all legend of course, something that is told to new recruits of the Cargo Bay guardsmen to spook them.
- There is also a very interesting legend among the civilians of the Maintenance crews, who work closely with the Iron Hands chapter, that their Primarchs skull was recovered shortly before the launch, and they are now using mysterious Necron, Eldar, and Tau machines to restore him to life... again, this is nothing more then a legend.
- Lastly, there is Lion El'Jonson, who was awoken at the same time as the Emperor to help defend the construction of the Ship. He now leads the Dark Angels to fight any Heretics that might be found on board, what little there are that is.
- Of the Traitor Primarchs, only one's fate is known for certain. Angron sits outside the ship, beating on the hull in a futile display of rage.
Junction 344-68B was my home. I mean, it wasn't much of home, but still.
It was perched on the edge of corridor 65, built into the bulkhead, 3 miles of city climbing up the ironcliff like a vine climbing an orchard wall. My family lived at the bottom, in the shanty habs that bordered the corridor proper, in tumbledown fibreboard houses half buried in the encroaching Flakesands. We scratched a living servicing the Smeltships when they came back from mining the Rust Dunes, or thieving from the uphivers when they came down all covered in rust cowls to collect their goods from the trawlcaptains.
I used to hear stories from the traders about other places, places where the Plasma lights didn't work and the environmental systems were so cold, people had to live over vents to the engine cores to stop themselves freezing. Places where you couldn't even see the ceiling and where it rained water instead of oil and forgeash. Some even said there was places where you could see outside the ship. Look out of the inky black and see things they called stars.
The preachers told us not to listen to those folks. Said they was crazy. There aint nothing outside the ship. How could there be.
Then the Guard came calling and I learnt better.
They were looking for fighting men and Emperor bless me, I volunteered. People don't usually come back from a stint in the Guard, but I had a head on my shoulders that yearned for travel, and a brain too young and dumb to realise that was a bad idea, so I signed my cross on the sheet they gave me and got me a uniform in return.
I got travel as well. God-Emperor did I. They took us in airships across the Rust Dunes, gathering men all the way, from habs like Outlet-35, Irongate, Rifttown and a dozen I hadn't even of. They said we was mustering for a crusade in Sector-585. That didn't mean much to me but I was damn sure the newly formed 56th RustCrawler Rifles would kick ass when we got there, even if it took us a year to haul our green behinds to the fight.
Which it did.
I spent 5 months on a boat. Do you know what a boat is son? It travels on water if you can imagine such a thing. I travelled on boat the size of a city down a waterpipe the size of hive. I saw things from that boat I can barely describe. Whole hives built out over the water, like mushrooms growing out of a condenser pipe, full of folk with different colour skins. I saw things living in the water that still give the jeebies in my dreams. And sometimes the pipe opened up, flowing through rooms with ceilings so high you couldn't even see 'em. Just a blue you thought you'd float away into. Yeah, scared the shit out me the first time too.
They taught us how to shoot in the ranges, how to get chewed out by the sergeant for not drilling in time, how to polish your boots and chant the Imperial creed. When we mustered out on the field at the end of that boat ride, we weren’t boys any longer. We were the Guard. We were proud. We were stupid.
But nobody ever said you have to be clever to fight.
We met other regiments then. CabinHivers from upship, covered in chains and gang tattoos. Bearded Hyruns who hadn’t even known they was on the ship till the recruiting ships had landed in the middle of their villages. Stiff backed Pretars. Spoilt bastards the lot of them, but I lost three teeth when I said that to their face.
So we mustered out, marched up and down the field, drilled, saluted all so that the bigwigs could inspect us or whatever it is they do. We obviously passed the test because they put us on the Train.
God-Emperor, the Train! Imagine a cathedral tower the size of a city, laid on its side and put on rails. 4km of spiked turrets, gargoyles and guns. An iron sheathed prow like the beak of a rusthawk. One of the ratings told me she’d been a Navy ship once, unimaginably long ago. Before the ship. Before the exodus. The thought awed me. Still does.
They put us in the holds, but we lucked out and got a view anyway. Once the Train had carried gun batteries big to level planets, but they been stripped out millennia ago. Now there was just a gallery where you could look out on the Ship as the train rolled by. When they weren’t drilling you, or shouting at you, or searching your bedclothes for contraband, you could just sit and watch. We saw, cities glimmer in the dark, oceans of oil, and coolant, and water and on top of it all floating towns chasing whatever lived down there. We saw whole agri-spheres covered in crystal glass like a jewelled planets. The glow of Forgehold 34-786 where they cast tanks in moulds the size of houses. We went through gates, and locks and elevators large enough to make a man feel like an ant next to a mountain.
Once we even came to an area of quiet pines and solemn mountains, stretching as far as the eye could see, and in the distance a single spire of black granite. Someone said that’s where the Astartes waited. Where they watched. After that no-one went into the gallery for a while.
It never pays to be too curious about the angels of death.
We spent 6 months on that train. Waiting, watching, wondering where the hell we were going. Then one day we got our answer.
We were going to Ravengate.
My first impressions of Ravengate was that it was big. But big doesn’t do it justice. My father was big. My mother got big when she stopped exercising and kept eating. Big implies some kind of largeness, like you could stand up against it and compare yourself to it. Compare yourself to Ravengate and you’d just be lost. A Gate, city, and fortress all rolled into one, the hive was a hundred miles of steel, and artillery and trainports. It stretched up the bulk head like a iron door studded with a million rivets, each a city, each a weapon. I remember the train pulling into a siding alongside a dozen others just like it. I watched as a million men disembarked beneath the unmoving glare of the titan legions that strode the ground like metal gods. I remember looking up and seeing a hundred more stations just like it crowded round the oval gate like piglets sucking a teat. I saw the might of humanity gathered for a war in the belly of her own creation. God-emperor it felt good.
This was the crusade that they’d talked about. The liberation of Sector-585. The commisars told us it had been taken by the Orks centuries ago. They’d boiled out of the bowels like a wave of filth, vermin infesting the shadows of the blessed Ship. At the time nobody had the resources to do much about it. So the Ravengate had been sealed and held. The Orkish tide stopped. Now they were going to be cleansed. About damn time.
I don’t remember much about the next few days. I remember the tram rides through the gate itself. A few days in a maze of steel, and firepower. The grim set faces of the RavenGaters who’d been fighting the Orks since they were old enough to stand. I remember watching a speech by Lord-General Perrus and not being able to hear a word he said but cheering anyway. The first look of the from the low mound of RavenGate where it protruded from the sector floor at wastes of 585 themselves; a torn and broken ground or rock and iron, dirty with the scars of two hundred years of artillery. Being literally sick with fear in the mess tent, and the Commissar’s surprisingly comforting hand on my shoulder. The rest’s a blur, a whirl of orders and preparations, waiting and nerves. I don’t even remember the order to attack.
I remember the war though. Such a thing’s hard to forget.
Do you know how I killed my first Ork. The Primer says they’re stupid gutter rats, big dumb animals primed for slaughter. Strong but stupid. What they don’t tell you is that they use every ounce of that strength to try and kill you dead, and that they are really really fucking strong. This particular one took half my squad with it. Guardsmen Kanth was the first to die, head blown of by a gun bigger than my torso. It killed Ren with knife made from a tank door. It just head butted Godis but that was enough.
Then I shot it between the eyes and turned its head into fried meat.
If that sounds unduly skilled I should point out I had my eyes closed and was shitting my pants at the time. But it died and I didn’t, and like anything, once you’ve done something once it gets easier. It also helps to have a few hundred thousand friends on your side follow your example. And follow they did.
Can you imagine what it’s like to hear a half million artillery guns fire at once. To feel your diaphragm rumble to the sound of an angry god. To hear the scream of a rain of steel and fire so loud it makes your ears bleed. To sing the same song of praise as million other voices and mean every word. To feel a million lasguns heat the air to a furnace so every step is through an oven that blackens your skin and makes your hair smoke. To kill in the name of the Emperor, to watch Sgt. Sando get his Hero of the Imperium medal for gutting their Warboss with its own power klaw, then feel the joy of survival as you watch them break and run. That’ll stay with me all my life.
Of course that was just the start. There was more battles, more killing. I was there when we broke the Kult of speed after three months of running battles on the Kodyi Plains beneath the perpetual twilight of a malfunctioning plasma light. I lost an ear in clearing of Debris Warren Godlin, in the dark tunnels beneath the collapsed hive. I got promoted during a defence of the Imperial Artillery Corp’s Lance batteries in Orkish counteroffensive, where a hundred thousand men died just so they could keep firing in support of an offensive on Ork held positions on the other side of the sphere 6, 000km straight up. I got busted back down again for getting trashed celebrating the news Astartes strike teams had severed the support chains of the Ork fortress of Mork’s Town and sent it and all its inhabitants to a fiery death in the reactor core 300 miles below.
And I remember my surprise when a kid, green out of boot, called me a vet for the first time and realising it was true.
But most of all I remember the end. Two years after marching through that gate, we stood at the edge of Sector-585. The histories will talk of the Astartes facing down the Warboss Mragga Thzrat and the liberation of Esme City. They’ll talk of the burning of the Rok-yards in Docking Bay-743Theta. They won’t recall the patrol of the remnants of the glorious 56th. How we chased a bunch of fleeing boyz for three hours in the darkened rat maze of corridors beneath 743Theta. But I will. I remember every ork I shot, every shadow I jumped at. I remember because that chase, it led me there.
The preachers say there’s nothing more than the ship. But they’re wrong.
In that place we found a window, somehow intact and whole, ancient beyond measure, the thin pane of glass all that separated us from the nothing outside. For the first and only time in my life, I saw the stars, saw the stars stare right back at me. They’re beautiful you know. Each a diamond fit for a queen. But there also cold and cruel and jealous. Jealous of the Ship, of the Emperor’s light and of the glory of man. We walked in their light once. Now we walk in our own, and for that they hate us.
Let them hate. We need them no longer. In this Ship we have found a future. In this vessel we shall sail the void until long after the stars have grown cold and dark. We shall endure the endless night and rise anew. This is the Emperor’s plan, the Imperium’s course. It is the fate and duty of humanity to endure against a universe that wishes otherwise.
In the end there is just the Ship, our home, our salvation...
The Ship Is All.
The Ship Moves.
(Sorry guys, it gets a lot more spread out and becomes a bit of a fucking mess after part 1. Most of these from now are just going to be from individual posts, hopping around plot points and narratives.)
Let us ponder the Mysteries.
What is the God-Captain? What is the Omnissiah? What is the Imperium? What are we, the people? What is the Ship?
The God-Captain is neurally networked to the trillion trillion cogitators and servitors that permeate the length and breadth of the ship. One with the machine spirits, He is the Omnissiah. They are the mind and soul, and the body is the very decking beneath our feet. He is the Ship.
We, the masses of humanity, souls more numerous than the fabled stars, are the Imperium. And the Imperium is the Ship.
And so, the God-Captain, the Omnissiah, the people, and the Imperium are one, and are the Ship.
The Ship is all.
The ship moves.
The bad news is that that entire Section of Bilge Deck 1643 was jettisoned into space twelve years ago, due to a nearly complete infestation of fork-tongued bloodworms.
The only reason we can communicate at all is that even after all this time, that Section still hasn't cleared the length of the Ship. We estimate that it will go beyond sensor range in approximately twenty eight more years.
Its not terribly surprising you didn't know, there were several hives within that never received word.
Death by bloodworms is not pretty. I suggest facing them head on if you see them first. That way you die a nearly painless death.
Well, that's a lie. But you will die sooner.
This is Communion relay DU5573-A, signing out. May the Captain be with you.
We are conceived to dream of it because it is magnificent.
We are born to create it because it is glorious.
We live to maintain it because it is the flesh and bone of the Omnissiah himself.
We die to defend it because it is the culmination of all that we are.
We are the Adeptus Mechanicus, and this is our most sacred creed.
The Ship is All.
The Ship Moves.
An empty and cavernous hold currently occupied by a small collection of traders and merchants, bartering to any wandering passengers who happen to enter their hallowed hall. The hold is in actuality a currently unused sewerage hold, and the inhabitants do not realise the peril that creeps ever nearer with each flush.
Deserts of Rust, formed by the air systems in concentrated amounts in areas where the air grows stale.
Tales of the Air System stirring near the vast Rust Deserts are usually tales of horror and mutliation as people recount the effects of hundreds of millions of microscopic rust particles being driven into the flesh of men, stripping flesh from bone and pitting what was left...
An enormous primeval wilderness region carefully designed to provide oxygen and scrub CO2 for the rest of the ship.
The Fishermen of the 0G seas.
What was once meant as a reserve for the aquatic life of a 1000 worlds is now a number of bubbles of water floating across the sector while men with jet packs harvest the sea's bounty.
Where the floor IS lava and people live in cities and walkways suspended above it.
Personally, I'd stay away from Corridors 49^10 through 49^11. I hear there are bounty hunters dressed in medieval armor there, reading to cut you down just for crossing into their borders. I heard a rumor that they are in fact chaos cultists worshipping some abomination of a "God"; and that the Inquisition is preparing to launch a crusade through access hatches #13750^8 through #15888^8 - might just be a rumor, though.
The Tau are running certain parts of the engine room. They were the only people with the technical expertise to design the reactor who were sane and willing enough to help us. Provided they don't rock the boat, so to speak, they get to come along for the ride. Just don't ask them to explain how things work. The moment they start talking the tech-priests start twitching. Turns out they wanted outs as much as the next person.
Sadly the next person turned out to be the Eldar. To build something of such vast size and mass you need to be able to create things from nothing. As they were capable of 'singing' matter into existence they got offered the job of providing the raw material for the construction. In return they come along. They even threaded a colossal infinity circuit through the ship. Infinity circuit also works as The Ship's intercom. They are now mostly employed in the business of making spare parts for the repair teams.
The repair teams are, of as you would expect, mostly ad-mech. There are rumors that some of the repair teams, the ones that go to the irradiated places and other such places that men can not walk, are necrons trying to start again. Ad-mech inform everyone that this is bullshit and that they are just heavily upgraded with blessings. No necrons were allowed on The Ship. The necrons also agree to this story.
The eldar inhabitants of The Ship can sing base material into existence. There are parts of the ship dedicated to the cultivation of food, be it plant, animal or fungus. These 'agri-decks' are fed by the bodies and biological waste of the crew and further bulked out with fresh matter sung up by the eldar. For the eldar it is an unglamorous but proud job for without them the ship would eventually starve.
My job aboard the Glorious Ship is a simple one, but never the less impotent.
Every three years, I am to report to the bridge, activate my station and say into the comm system, a system that spans the entire ship, so that every single person can hear my voice for a few brief seconds. I am to say how far we've come. It is a job that has been passed down my family for generations. My father before me had, and his father before him and so on and so forth for near twenty generations. Because of this my family has lived very well off, just outside the bridge in an extremely nice loft. I have a wife and three children. And today is my last shift, before I pass onto my oldest son the job of the Speaker.
"Ladies in gentlemen of the Imperium of Man, we have traveled, three trillion seven hundred sixty billion nine hundred twenty million one hundred seven thousand two hundred and fifty mile light years since our voyage began."
And with that, I step away from the microphone, power off my station and return to the Tram station where I will be taken home and greeted by the Imperial Inquisition, who will release me from my duties and have my name written into the Book of Nobility. As my father had done, and his father before him, and so on and so forth for twenty generations. ________ This was the last recorded log of Motics Talpala before his untimely death from a broken tram in the market district.
Ogyrn now man the cargo holds and do lots of heavy lifting. Also they assist the security teams when needed. Tribes become work-teams and Bone 'eads become Foremen.
Ratlings, due to their size advantage, are in charge of the ventilation systems.
Fish-people now repair and maintain the water-cyclers.
Squats of the Engineers Guild plan and execute the big level repair work as their brothers and sisters in the armed forces keep the peace and go on truly inspiring ork killing sprees.
I hate my job, I know I shouldn't say that. Because I'm lucky to be alive, and am reminded of that every day of the street preachers. But Emperor damn-it, I hate, HATE, HHAAAAATE have to be part of the crew that has to has to clean up have the Ship Marines put down a rebellion. This time is was down in Sector Kal-Thrax 7651-A or ah, an Engineering housing distract. They let the Wolves loose to take care of it, and in all my years of service to the Clean-Up crew I have never seen something to messy. Took us hours to load them up all the bodies, or ah, parts of the bodies up into the Tram took us even longer to throw the bodies into the recycling furnace. But you do what you gotta do, in service to the God-Emperor, and the survival of The Ship.
But I suppose its not all bad, my Companies secondary duites are keeping track of the Adhuman communities in Sector Ral-Meth, No-Mar and Il-Bit I personally love going to No-Mar, the whole community is full of Homo sapiens hirsutus, or Felinids... or, if you need it spelled out, Cat people. And their women are hotter the recycling furnace after a level six purge!
But we only do that once a year, so its not all great... still, gives us all something to look forward to. Might be the only time of the year any of us get laid.
> The ship is moving! The ship is underway!
The vox channels crackled with chatter and the holotables kept track of the vast Chaos forces taking the planet. We were the last surviving planet that stood in the way of the spear point that made the advancing hordes of chaos. Cultists by the millions were mowed down by auto cannons and heavy bolters while shells rained down from the heavens. Our forces were remnants of others, a single company of Imperial Fists, and the Doomed Chapter arrived when the cultists reached the walls. Even now they stand on the parapits, flames in the night as the surviving Imperial Fists stood guard next to them. Then there was the regiments whose planets had been overrun, all retreating to a single point in our galaxy. The last ship came months ago, all hands on board dropping into orbit as the auto pilot ran the ship right into the chaos fleet and detonated itself.
> EMPEROR'S NUTS, THEY ARE COMING WITH EVERYTHING!
Ah... the display has more foe than friendly now. I suppose it's time.
This planet used to hum with silent activity. Now the air is full of bolter fire and the cries of the dying. I stand now with the bulk of the marines, my Commissary Cap barely hitting their shoulder. Doomed and Imperial stand side by side with PDF's of countless planets, and the remnants of almost extinct regiments. > They're past the main entrance. Weapons teams are dry. The Emperor Protects.
The space marines charge their weapons all at once, an adrenaline pumping sound. The ragged IG put fresh belts in their automatic weaponry while Ogryn grip their weapons eagerly.
> Chaos breechin' in'te sectors. Make ready. Emprah P'tects.
Even within this sanctum we could hear the fighting. Soon it was quiet and us last few watched the bay doors of this tomb. A statue of the Emperor stood behind us, the last thing to probably see us alive that didn't have a tentacle for a dick. > BOOONNNNNGGGGGG A heavy shell impacted the doors, a great dent blossoming in the metal. We all hunkered down behind our makeshift bulwark, the space marines murmuring their death prayers. Except the flaming Doomed ones, they just watched the doors silently. > BOOOONNNNNGGGG > BOOOONNNNNGGGG > BOOOONNNNNGGGG > BOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNGGGGGGKRRRRSSSHHHHHHTTT The shell broke through and molten metal sprayed every where, and the filthy hordes of chaos poured through like puss from a wound. As bolter rounds, cannon fire, and even a las cannom beam poured around me, I calmly switched on to the open vox channel. With a flourish I drew my sword, and picked an old favorite: > GLORY TO THE FIRST MAN TO DIE!
Then we charged. All of us. We were all going to die as brothers, on the attack, for the future of mankind.
I laid there amongst the bodies. I had lost my hat some where in the brawl. My sword was shattered trying to block a blow from a Slaaneshi daemon and things went black till now. I remember the Doomed Company, their flaming armor suits swatting daemons and chaos marines like flies. It was a fearsome sight until a Greater Demon tore the doors apart and stomped in... that's when the real killing began. > kksssshhhEmperor....Emperor save our souullllsssssssshhhhh There was an Imperial Fists marine on me, his weight had broken my leg. The poor giant's helmet was cracked and i could see him looking at me. He mouthed "Sorry" and grinned at me. I grinned back. He reached down, pulling his bolter pistol to me. I nodded and grabbed it, pulling it up to my chest. Together we fastened my broke leg to his good leg, and worked each other to stand up. We both felt better standing, a few pills my way didnt hurt either, and viewed the carnal blood pit that was once our last stand. The daemon spawn had charged through, pushing most of the Imperial Guard under them while the space marines dueled. There was no sign of the Doomed Marines, not even a body to be seen. However what we did see was that a few Imperial Guard were still alive, even a few space marines were twitching under the sheer amount of bodies. We both worked in tandem, and together we scrounged up 8 IG and a grand luck of 9 space marines, including their Captain. We were all in different stages of wounded but we were armed and we were ready. > Kkkkkkrrrrrsssssshhhhhsssshhhhhhhhh Guess they found the last survivors, vox was quiet.
With me, my third leg, and the Captain, we led our way through the mountains of bodies to the hanger doors in the hope there was some sort of craft still left intact. No one had been able to leave with the roaming attack ships, but it was sure as hell better than waiting here. Before the doors a Slaaneshi demoness was fucking a Cadian soldier, his hands tied with entrails and mouth gagged with another man's fist. The Captain, enraged, tackled the daemoness and pounded her with his metal fists untill she was just goo on the ground. The Cadian lay there in shock, unmoving. One of the surviving IG wore the same armor as he, and with a short prayer plunged a knife into the man's brain. > PpppppppsssshpshpshERRGERGGHHHHHERHERHRHRHEHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRH My vox exploded with digital chatter and i looked around, finally spotting a jivving servo claw. With some effort we pried the thing from the body mound and found it attached to a tech priest. A lucky find, I hope. His vocal servo was shattered but he did his best with hand gestures and bursts of binary. The things we saw enroute to the hanger doors were just a glimpse of what was to come on other planets: Men and women on spikes, skinned alive, bursting with nurgle rot, flayed and still moving as the air stung their organs. Its must have been a merry hunt, for no other daemons remained to torture their quarry further, moving on to fresher victims. The long corridor had some surprises, as we picked up 2 more IF space marines, and 7 more IG. Together we stalked slowly through until we finally came into the hanger. Laying cockeyed, but intact, was one of the Thunder Birds. The Tech Priest burbled some binary and gave us the thumbs up, so we loaded onto it, priming weapons systems and firing up the engines. The Tech Priest glurgled and burbled happily as he sat at the controls, the Captain taking the copilot seat and my third wheel gave me a proper splint.
LOCATION: DELTA VAULT HOME OF: BLOOD RAVENS CHAPTER DAYS SINCE DEPARTURE: 3652
///LOG NO. 680 OF GABRIEL ANGELOS - CHAPTER MASTER///
Its taken some time, but we have successfully cataloged all relics of the Vault we've been assigned to. Vault Omega. Our new home. Now that the cataloging is complete... We're not entirely sure what to do. There are no more relics to collect,... the Dreadnought, Jonah Orion suggested we become the scribes of the Ship, and keep document of important events in our sector of the ship. This is an... admirable goal. Yes, I think this shall be our new mission. Guard the Holy Relics of Man, and document the happenings if Sector Keler 384 On a more personal matter I have been informed that the Eldar craft would our Battle Barge was attached to when we jumped through the Warp remains have been found in a cargo hold in the aft section of the ship. The tale of how this came to be... is for another time.
I was asked, along with my honor guard to investigate the crash site. according early scans, the Eldar have made the remains of their Craftworld into a city of sorts. Since Mankind is now allied with the Xenos, it would only make since to find them. Although my Brothers and I still greatly disdain the scum, but we must agree with the God-Emperors wishes. The Eldar are now our Allies, and we must make amends, for the betterment of the Ship.
As of right now, my Battle Brother-Honor guards are now on a tram to the Cargo bay that is the home of these Xenos. It should take no more then 8 months to reach it. In the mean time, we shall enter stasis to speed the process along. On a side note, the Craftworld we dragged along with us, was Biel-tan. I wonder if Macha was on board when we made the jump.
///LOG NO. 682 OF GABRIEL ANGELOS - CHAPTER MASTER///
We have arrived at the sight of the the crashed Craftworld. It is now I realize that this is, in fact not an Eldar Craftworld, it is a Void Stalker, which is the second largest type of Eldar space vessel.
A large amount of The Xenos seem to have reset back to a primitive state at a shocking rate. I think it might have been their exposure to the Warp. They've split into several warring tribes, the dominate of which is a tribe that call themselves The Web Walkers. We've established a small base camp on a large, unused landing bay several miles above the wreckage of the Eldar Ship. Cyrus has volunteered to lead a small force down. Personally I'd like to have Captain Talpaisis, but he was called away on a mission by the Chapter Apothecaries.
///LOG NO. 683 OF GABRIEL ANGELOS - CHAPTER MASTER///
Sargent Cyrus and his scouts have reached the outer perimeter of Eldar Territory. They were not met with hostility, instead they were met with a festival in their honor. The Primitive Eldar said that the Bolts for told their coming. When asked what 'The Bolts' were, the leader of the Eldar took them to a storage crate that had been drawn on. The bolts that held the massive crate together we all connected, the Leader said that with these they could see the future. Cyrus asked why they relied on the 'Bolt's' and not the wisdom of the Farseer. The Leader looked at him confused and said he had never heard of such a thing. Cyrus and his team humored the Eldar with their festival before moving onto the the next tribe.
I am extremely curious as to what they will find.
///LOG NO. 684 OF GABRIEL ANGELOS - CHAPTER MASTER///
The scouts have moved on to the next the next tribe. The last one proved futile in most every manner. What ever strange Warp powers have effected them has reset them to a point well beyond the mental reach of my Battle Brothers. Perhaps with aid from Librarians or Apothecaries, they might improve, but until then, it has been decided they shall remain where they are. I am hopeful that the other Eldar tribes will bare better fruit then this one.
On a side note, I should state that this Void Walker was a subcategory of the Craftworld Biel-tan, this raised me curiosity on our search greatly. Many, many years ago I... knew an Eldar Witch from that world. A farseer by the name of Macha. I felt a strange connection with her. Jonah Orion, long before his internment in a mighty Dreadnought, told me that it is possible our destiny were intertwined. I never understood what that meant. I just assumed he was joking with me, but after meditating on the manner, I believe he may be right. Perhaps Macha is on this remains of this Void Walker... Perhaps it was the will of the God-Emperor that the Fleet of the Blood Ravens and a Fleet of the Biel-tan met on that fateful day so long ago... well.... for the Imperium it was long ago, for us, it was a mere ten years ago.
///LOG NO. 685 OF GABRIEL ANGELOS - CHAPTER MASTER///
The second tribe better then the first, these ones still remembered their past, but has lost all their Farseers in the crash. When asked if Macha was among them, they claimed she was the leader of the Red Sleepers to the far north. The tribal Eldar then attacked Cyrus and his team. The tribe was quickly dispatched. Whatever advanced Eldar weaponry they had had before was replaced with simple spears and bows made from bits of metal found all around the massive cargo hold. I dare say, that these Eldar remind me much of Orks in some ways. Perhaps with out the broken speech.
As for the mobile team, I ordered Cyrus and his team to come back to base camp. When they return, we shall mobilize to this camp. Before the Primitive Eldar attacked, they claimed that the Red Walkers have amazing weapons and armor. This gives me hope that not all Eldar are not effected by... whatever Warp taint has spread to the others.
///LOG NO. 686 OF GABRIEL ANGELOS - CHAPTER MASTER///
I suppose it is time I explained how this Void Walker ship came to be... The Blood Raven chapter fleet was on an exploration to the galactic North-East, near the Ghoul Stars. We were on a quest for relics lost to Mankind over the years. During our exploration, the Void Walker ship appeared out of no where from the Webway, and with out hesitation opened fire. We responded with all the fire power that can be expected from and newly armed Space Marine Chapter Fleet.
Master of the Forge, Martellus had recently equipped the Retribution with an interesting Eldar defense weapon system. He called them Boarding Hooks. They shot from the sides of our mighty vessel into the Void Walker, they were like massive Drop Pods, only they had a Adamantium robe attached to them, this was to keep the Eldar ship from re-entering the Web way and escaping. We lost fifty brother using those hooks. they did not die on impact... to be clear, they did not die on impact... In fact, I'm not sure they died. When we received the message about the Ship, we decided to pull out. I order Martellus to withdrawal the hooks, and out Battle Brothers to board them so we could make our escape, but it all happened to fast.
When we made the Warp jump, the hooks were still embedded in the Eldar Ship. Dragging it into the Warp with us. It was there, we were lost. For us, it seemed like such a short time... a few months, at the most. But when were emerged, nearly 9000 years had passed... the ship was finished, and nearing ready to launch. We thought our Brothers on the Eldar Ship dead, the let it go, to drift among the stars. We boarded the Ship, and took our place.
///LOG NO. 687 OF GABRIEL ANGELOS - CHAPTER MASTER///
We have arrived at what we believe to be the Red Walkers base. It looks exactly like what a normal Eldar Camp would look like. We have yet to make official contact with them, as if these Eldar are not effected by the strange Warp aliment that the others are effected by, they are in all likely hood to open fire. Not that this is an issue, as we could easily wipe them out. But under the Orders of the God-Emperor we must try and work with this Xenos. I remember Macha being reasonable, so perhaps this will be... simple enough.
///LOG NO. 688 OF GABRIEL ANGELOS - CHAPTER MASTER///
We have made official contact. The Red Walkers opened fire as first, but when our young Librarians steps forth and created a Force Dome, allowing us to walk right into the camp. I demanded to speak with their leader. They brought me Farseer Macha, as I had suspected they would. She in turn demanded to know what in... what ever her god's name is, was going on. We called for a ceasefire and I spent the better part of the day explaining to the Farseer and her Xeno tribe why they were on the Ship. At first they found it hard to believe but, thankfully one of our Librarians brought with him a data slate containing a copy of the Treaty made up that allied Mankind with the Eldar race. They spent a whole day reviewing it, as it was quite lengthy. When they returned to us, they asked why we had come. I explained that they were welcome to come with us so they might rejoin society. They were... hesitant. Their first worry was their brothers and sisters who were effect by the Warp. I was unsure, but the Librarians steps forth once more and offered, that, with the help of any 'Xeno Witches' in his own words, they could repair their broken minds. After much debate, and at least two executions of Eldar who were to resistant to the idea, Macha agreed to join us on our voyage home.
///LOG NO. 689 OF GABRIEL ANGELOS - CHAPTER MASTER///
I have contacted the Ordo Xenos to let them know that at least a thousand Eldar need transportation. My self, the non-primitive Eldar and my Battle Brothers are returning to Vault Omega to cataloger some of the Xeno relics that Machas tribe had been holding onto. After that... perhaps some well deserved rest.
Year after year guarding this single tunnel. A job that lacks excitement, monotonous, unappreciated and worst of all Fuckin Boring! We're supposed to keep Orks from using this tunnel to infest the rest of the ship. As I've already said, it's boring. Not even the arrival of the Orks breaks the monotony. It happens every few months, we usually outnumber the Orks and even if they outnumbered us we'd still crush their attacks. Orks usually reach up to our shoulders and are frail and malnourished, the most dangerous weapon I've ever seen one yield was a crude ballistic based weapon that jammed about 20 seconds into the firefight. During the first threat level 5 incursion I've seen in my life a single Ork managed to weather the firepower and reach our lines. I gave it a single whack with my Lasgun and its head caved in like an egg.
The commanding officer says that those things are one of the reasons we left our home galaxy. I can't imagine them being a threat. I told him that myself. He said that in our galaxy, Orks stand taller than a man, are able to walk off missing limbs and serious injuries and thousands of them is considered a minor infestation. He said that at this place they don't have any place to grow or become strong and that we're ensuring that they never come to the new galaxy that we reach where they become dangerous. Granted the officer then admitted that he finds it hard to believe as well. All we have is the word of our teachers at school that it used to be that way.
We're not supposed to go into the place to clear out the Orks. We just let the ship itself clear them out. It depressurizes the area so they all drown from no air and then raises the temperature to fry any spores. How many times have I written this in my journal? Better flip back. This is the 34th time I've told it this. It's sad when you write in your journal to break the monotony but then realize it's so bad that the journal just explains the same thing over and over again.
About a week ago something interesting happened. A group of Eldar neared our position. One of them reached up to my stomach, she's probably a child. She smiled and waved before her parents ushered her away before I could wave back. We apparently used to be at war with them. None of us really felt anything about that. The stories said that the conflicts were brutal but centuries on this ship have pretty much caused all enmity between our species to wither and die. I later found out that they had gotten bored with their own role in keeping the ship functional and had swapped to the relatively mobile job of transporting materials around the ship. Maybe I'll try to find a different profession later on, the Foreman said that we could automate everything but we don't because leaving work to do gives everyone something to keep themselves occupied.
>Sector 1242, This is the Bridge. Why have we recieved word of a 30% drop in efficiency? 16 minutes later >Sorry bridge, gear 14 of sub sector 346 experienced wobbling from inertial stresses. Hive City on top of said gear collapsed, now the entire population is clogging the whole mechanism. >Flush it with plasma at once, this incident is costing us a whole .001% thrust capacity.
This is Engineer 14039 of group 4095, heading down to fix a leak in a waterpipe. ETA to site currently 1 week, traveling by boat down the pipe.
ETA now 1 week 5 days, boat has lost sight of the edge of the pipe during hurricane. Fortunately, the size of the boat (2 km in length, 600 meters in breadth) has discouraged the local leviathans from attempting to consume us. The boat travelling with us was a third our size and was not so lucky.
Arrived at leak site. Collaboration with the other 3000 engineers sent to the site has resulted in the discovery of the cause of the leak: A Niddhoggr. Waiting on low yield thermonuclear device from surrounding provinces to eliminate the creature.
Its not all bad in the Mid-Ship Realms.
There ere disturbances in the Infinity Circuit and some of the Ratling Vent Teams reported sounds and vibrations that should not be in that area. They could hear the sounds of war and activity in a part of the ship not officially inhabited.
Given the sounds of war they assumed that it was some ork activity going on.
So the Captains-Council commissioned an Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos, got them a task-force of Crimson Fists and Valhallans and sent them on their merry way.
When they pried open the pedestrian door to that unknown realm they were met with a semi-circle of las-rifles, sandbags and gas-masks.
Last anyone had seen of the Kriegers was during The Ship's departure when the very last of their kind committed suicide-charge boarding actions with micro-nuke back packs against an orkoid armada. One last gasp of a dying breed.
But at least some of them must have made it onto The Ship. Enough of them to currently be settling an area twice the size of Madagascar known as the Kriegen-Reich with a population estimated in the low billions.
They practice war. It is all they are for. Even after absolution was given they can't do anything else any more as everything else was taken from them. And hey are horrifyingly content with this. In any case, so they say, the God-Emperor (and they are one of the last people left who use that name) will maybe need soldiers when they reach Journeys End. So until they are needed they will practice and wait and keep the old ways alive.
The Inquisitor returns to the council some time latter and has the official maps updated.