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There Will Be Games

Both Guardsmen glanced in the Tech-Hospitalier’s direction and then averted their eyes.  Reymalden took a seat near Tulley, his visor twisting the fire’s reflection.   Holm raised a strip of meat and offered it to the priest.  As expected, the priest shook his head.

 

“I have already eaten, captain.”

 

Tulley looked at Reymalden, then to Holm; an inquiring look on his face.

 

“Since you won’t dine with us, and my corporal’s too hesitant to ask, why do you have to wear that thing?” Holm asked.  Reymalden looked at him with a frigid stare from unseen eyes.

 

“It is none of your concern.  Your question is immaterial and irrelevant,” Reymalden responded coldly.  “What is relevant is that we find more Lyths.  Three will certainly not be enough.”  He turned and stared at Tulley.  “Your conclusions about my behavior are severely lacking, Corporal Tulley.  I am very aware of the daunting task we have ahead of us, but unlike you I see no need to prattle on about it with every passing moment and with every breath.”

 

Tulley was on his feet in an instant.  “Why, you –“

 

“Gentlemen, please –“Holm started to interject before he noticed that Reymalden was not paying attention to either one of them, but to a point just to the left of the captain.  Curious, he turned to look.  Horrified and startled, he drew his autopistol and aimed it at what he saw.

 

It was small, about the size of a man’s skull.  The thing had two draconian heads, squamous skin glittered eerily in the fire light.   Its finlike wings flapped nosily at the human’s reaction to its presence.  It hissed warningly at Holm, who was cocking his gun to fire.

 

“Captain Holm,” Reymalden said in a hushed whisper.

 

“What?” Holm asked, turning to the priest while keeping his weapon pointed at the beast.  Reymalden said nothing, but pointed at a place just behind the captain.  Quickly, Holm turned to look.

 

Standing on his seat, barely a meter away, stood a slender, tall being that was clearly not human.  His dark, tattered clothes swayed slightly in the wind and his dark eyes regarded the human with cold calculation, anticipation.  On his right hand, Holm noticed that the stranger was wearing something that looked like a cestus, but with cruel scalpels extending from each digit.   Disregarding the animal, Holm twisted his body to turn and fire.  The alien’s face broke into a contemptuous sneer, as if he had already knew that the human would react that way.

 

With blurring speed, Holm’s opponent brought his armed hand up and then downward in an overhead strike; the blow heading straight for the human’s face.  Reacting with agonizing slowness, Holm ducked his head and covered his face with crossed arms.  A burst of pain erupted at the top of his skull and coursed all the way down through his extremities, lightning searing every fiber and every nerve of his body.  Screaming, Holm fell to ground and convulsed.

 

Unnoticed by the others, the beast watched the scene of violence and purred.

 

“You son of a bitch!”  Tulley yelled as he grabbed his Lasgun, went to one knee, and fired.  The round took the alien through the left eye, sending skull and brain matter flying everywhere.  The body fell backwards and disappeared into the darkness.  Tulley then spun to the area where the creature sat.

 

It was no longer there.

 

A wild upswing in the wind suddenly manifested itself.  On the wings of the zephyr rode an insidious, insane cacophony of voices.  They were screaming, pleading, and shouting unintelligible nonsense.  With each passing moment, the pitch and volume of the voices increased.  Tulley screamed for his captain, but it was as if he never said a word.  A brusque pressure on his arm caused him to react.  It was Reymalden who grabbed him.  He said nothing, but pointed to the retracting gangway.  Tulley tried to shrug off the priest’s grip, but it would have been easier to remove a metal shackle.  Again, Reymalden pointed to the gangway and pulled the Guardsman in tow.  They barely made it to the gangway and got inside.

 

“What in the Emperor’s name is going on?” Tulley shouted at Cifpa, who was powering down the hatch controls, over the din that still invaded from outside.

 

“Warp wind.  Very dangerous!”  Cifpa yelled.

 

“Open the hatch!  Captain Holm’s still out there!”

 

“NO!” Cifpa shouted.  “If I open it, we all die!”

 

“OPEN IT!” Tulley screamed, leveling his Lasgun in the Navigator’s face.

 

“Kill me and you ALL die if you ever get off this planet!” Cifpa yelled back.  Tulley lowered his weapon and punched the wall.  The wailing wind buffeted the ship for what seemed like an eternity before it died down.  As soon it stopped, Tulley shoved the Navigator out the way of the hatch controls and activated them.  He ran out even before the gangway lowered to the ground.

 

The camp was in a shambles, equipment was strewn everywhere and the blown out campfire sent up tendrils of smoke into the air.  Tulley pulled out a flashlight, turned it on, and began to look for his captain.  Reymalden also left the ship to assist him.

 

They saw that Holm was no longer where they saw him last.  They also discovered that the intruder’s body was gone.

 

They found Captain Holm, wedged up behind some crates too heavy for the wind to move.  He was barely conscious, and his breathing was labored.  When Tulley tried to pick him up,   he drew back his right hand in pain.  Blood seeped from numerous wounds in his palm and fingers.  With an unsteady hand, Tulley played the light across the captain’s left arm.

 

Holm’s left arm no longer looked natural, the skin was a sickly hue of purple and green.  Spines protruded from its entire length.  The captain was in no better condition than his arm.  Sweat covered his face and his skin was drawn and pale.   He blearily locked his gaze on the Tech-Hospitalier.

 

“I require the Machine God’s blessing,” Holm said just before he passed out.

 

+++EST 7352LOGNAV-HES DEATH SPIRAL+++

+++Journal Date: ETAC Day 3

+++Author: Trader Jil Velstrak +++

+++Thought for the Day: Ask Not a Question of the Eldar, for They Will Give You Four Answers, All of Them Right and Each Horrifying to Know+++

 

Our camp was attacked tonight by a lone alien. Very few details are forthcoming from the Guardsmen.  Understandable, really, for Captain Holm was injured yet again.  How the man can walk a straight line without injuring himself is beyond me.  From what I have heard from the crew, seeing that Corporal Tulley maintains his distance from me, Holm will undergo the Rite of Pure Flesh.  Tech-Hospitalier Reymalden’s earlier care of the captain was not sufficient, apparently, and now he is replacing the captain’s injured arm with a bionic one.

 

Youvesti’s pet is still causing strife with the other crewmembers.  With the increase in my Engineer’s skill and attention to his work has caused me to throw down the gauntlet.  No, the pet stays.  If the bastards do not like it, then they can happily fend for themselves outside the protective confines of the Death Spiral.

 

I end this entry with a sign of hope.  Reymalden and Youvesti have told me that they have configured the Lyths in and around the ship. Tomorrow, they wish to test their theory that the stones will be able to weaken the grip of the Daemon that holds us. I am not a praying sort, but I will do so tonight.

There Will Be Games
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