I pace around my cabin as my shuttle returns me to Red Knoll, landing upon the Vanguard Class vessel with deceptive ease. Exiting the large shuttle, I frown. There are new scorch marks within the hangar that bristle with the tainted energies of the Warp. My auger throws repeated warnings and my mind as it highlights bloody residues and adamantium needles embedded in the plasteel of the deck.

  I am met by Odhran and his four battle brothers. They surround me, their large bolters held close to their chests and their heads turning slightly back and forth. Kylian, Darrah, Nuada, and Eoghan’s armour all have new claw marks and Odhran’s breastplate has been cracked and resealed with ceramite paste. Each of them has a gundog trotting beside them. Some of them look a little scorched and battered, but it is only surface damage. I’ve no idea what happened to Odhran’s oversized cyber mastiff though.

  Seeing how many strikes they have taken in the last nine days, guarding my family, humbles me.

  “Thank you, Odhran, Kylian, Darrah, Nuada, and Eoghan for your earnest vigil.”

  None of the marines speak, or break their stride, but I see their shoulders relax slightly and they seem to gain a little extra energy, their weary steps lengthening as they stand a little straighter.

  “This way, Magos,” says Odhran.

  “Hello, Odhran. To my family please.”

  “Prepare yourself. Your family lives, but they are not unscathed.”

  I chew on my bottom lip, “I did not expect the fighting to reach so far.”

  “Red Knoll did not have its Gellar Field up. It is not normally required in realspace. Warp entities appeared all over the ship. The Tech-Priests managed to restore the field after only fifteen minutes, but that was more than enough time for the hostile entities to amass a substantial force. It took some time to hunt them all down once their reinforcements were cut off.”

  “Fifteen minutes is impressive. They must have cut a lot of steps.”

  “There was some discussion about it,” Odhran says, sounding faintly amused.

  “Are you pleased to fight alongside your chapter again?”

  Odhran sighs, “They may be my brothers, but they are not my companions. It is a wound time has caused, not one that it will heal. I did not expect this, assuming that, when battle was joined I would know where they all are, but that did not happen. The minor psychic link between the chapter and my squad has been uncomfortably silent.”

  “Would you like me to find a way to restore it?”

  “No, Magos. If it returns, I shall celebrate it, but we work for you now. Divided loyalties will only lead to trouble.”

  “I know you didn’t tell me about the link before because it’s classified, but I cannot imagine what it was like waking up the first time we met and feeling nothing. You must have already known your brothers were...unavailable, while I was explaining what had happened, yet you didn’t so much as twitch and focused on saving us both from the cultists and xenos. It must have been difficult for you.”

  “I understand what you are attempting, Magos, but this conversation is unnecessary. I am a Transhuman Space Marine. We do not process our difficulties like a regular Human, especially when threats are near. We have more in common with the Mechanicus, who are rather free with their surgical knives, than the rest of the populace. Not that you ever seem to change, unlike the rest of your order, or any of the Tech-Priests you have trained.”

  I hum, “The way you describe it I would have more success describing colours to a blind man than discuss emotions with a Space Marine. I am not convinced, but this is not the place to poke holes in sensitive places.”

  Odhran grunts.

  The halls of Red Knoll are filled with hand woven tapestries, each scene showing the death of a Barghest marine in vivid detail, often alongside the auxiliary troops. In every macabre scene, the subjects’ helmets are missing, even when the background is naught but stars, or deep within an ocean. Each final expression is one of determination, a last battlecry upon their lips.

  The auxiliaries are depicted differently, their faces identical to each other, with only a name tag to remember them by.

  I gesture to the tapestries, “These are superb works, though I cannot tell if they are intended as inspiration or a warning. Who weaves them?”

  “The survivors,” says Odhran. “It is a chapter tradition. Only the most valiant and respected get a place on these walls. The remainder are still woven, but are used as a funerary shroud and burnt with the remains, and occasionally as a replacement for them when no corpse is available.

  “The art itself has no special meaning. Every individual understands the message that means the most to them when they look at these tapestries, a message that might change during their decades of service. Instead, meaning is born from the act of weaving.” Odhran pauses and I sense a moment of reluctance, then resignation from his rigid emotions. “It is how we say goodbye.”

  “Singing and weaving. I like the traditions of your chapter.”

  Odhran doesn’t respond, his hand briefly flexing against his bolter.

  I smile a bit at Odhran’s contradictory nature, as I finally realise that having two traditions that focus so strongly on collective work really shows how tightly knit the Barghests are. No wonder Odhran is rather sore about the loss of the psychic battlelink the rest of his chapter. I know I brought him back from the dead, but I didn’t do it for his loyalty, I revived him because I needed his help and he saved my life, yet he and his squad give me their loyalty anyway, even when it costs them.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Most of Red Knoll is dimly lit with soft, yellow light. To my great surprise, some of it comes from real scented candles, not the imitation ones used in the Stellar Fleet to limit smoke inhalation and reduce fire risks.

  The Medicae Deck, however, is completely different, the daylight bulbs giving the extensive hospital an uplifting aura that immediately perks me up. The walls are a dark, ocean blue with white trim and a brass cog mechanicum stamped into the walls every twelve metres. Cherubim Servitors are docked above each door like gargoyles. They occasionally take flight, ferrying medical supplies back and forth, or scanning every person that passes them.

  I spot a room with half a squad of Heralds standing outside and my pace picks up as I barely stop myself from running to the room. I remove my helmet while the door guards double check my credentials, then let me through.

  The door opens and I rush inside. Dareaca and Fial are sitting at a small table next to Luan, playing cards. Luan is sitting upright in a hospital bed, an empty sleeve pinned to his chest. His cheeks are thin and a nutrient drip is plugged into one of the two armoured ports on his neck. With his remaining arm, Luan reluctantly spoons soylent viridans into his mouth, pulling a face with every mouthful.

  Opposite Luan is Alpia, she is unconscious and attached to several machines, including a Vitae Supplement. Brigid sits next to her on a rather uncomfortable looking chair, holding Alpia’s hand.

  Brigid has also lost a huge amount of weight and I detect multiple fatal wounds on her chest. Like Luan, Brigid is hooked up to a nutrient drip. A walking stick lies across her lap.

  In the far left corner is another person hidden behind a white curtain. She is out cold and hooked up to several machines as well. Two small children are sleeping beside her, one curled up at her feet and the other resting on her stomach. The woman’s hand lies limp upon the head of the child lying on her stomach. All three individuals are navigators.

  Everyone who is awake snaps their heads towards the door, then relax.

  “Dad!” says Dareaca “You’re back!”

  I grin, “I am.”

  “Hi, Dad,” says Fial. He puts down his cards and he and Dareaca stand up, then move towards me.

  I smile at Brigid and I see all the tension flow out of her body. I give Fial and Dareaca a hug, then walk over to Luan’s bed and give his shoulder a squeeze.

  “That’s quite the injury you have there.”

  I suppress my growing panic at Luan’s injuries. A missing arm isn’t a big deal, but it is hard to tamper down my instinctive reaction to his severe wounds and weakened body.

  “Ah, it itches so much!” says Luan. “Growing a new arm sucks. Those Regenerative Hormones you spliced into our whole family are a right bitch. I lost so many bits I’m practically a skeleton!”

  I snort, “So long as you live, I do not care. Still,” I draw slightly on the Warp and place a mental block on Luan that will slowly erode over the next week, preventing him from feeling any discomfort. “There you go.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s way better than the weird drugs the chirurgeons gave me.”

  “Good. Now give me a moment to say hello to your mother, then you can tell me all about your fancy new scars.”

  I walk up to Brigid, then kneel next to her, and place my arm around her shoulder. I give her a gentle hug, blocking the kids' view, then give her a long kiss.

  “Aldrich, I am so happy to see you.”

  “Brigid, love, seeing you puts my fears to rest. I did not know that you had been hurt. Let alone so badly. What happened?”

  “A raid by the Dark Mechanicum, I think. They sent Daemon Engines, Maulerfiends, maybe, but I am not sure. The creatures looked like mechanical bears with four mechadendrite tails and a single horn on their snouts. There were a lot of Dark Skitarii and mad slaves too, but there was not a single reported sighting of the controlling Mechanicum members. It could have been a Traitor Marine Warpsmith, too, I suppose, but we didn’t see one of those either.

  “The enemy teleported into the main hangar on Red Knoll while we were shuttling reinforcements and casualties back and forth. The boys and I were on board, helping with the injured Heralds and leading the penal regiments in prayer. The enemy forced themselves aboard the shuttle and tried to take it, likely to escape.

  “I have heard that they were the remnants of the forces dislodged from the Nova Cannon, but this rumour has not been confirmed. We shredded the infantry with little trouble, even though most of the Herald’s on board were already badly injured.

  “The Dark Skitarii and slaves just didn’t have the armour to withstand our Marwolv las weapons, especially the new carbine variant we’ve been issuing. It’s so much easier to use on a void ship than the las rifles were and the small drop in power didn’t make any difference in practice. My only complaint is that the shorter design means the optional bayonets can’t keep something big at arm’s length. I know we all have those new arc mauls, but there isn’t always time to draw them, which is how I got injured.”

  “I know you did your best, Brigid. What happened next?”

  “We didn’t have the heavy weaponry to take out the Maulerfiends, nor could we start tossing grenades in such close confines. The micro-missiles and other attachments were still useful though, and did slow them down. That gave Odhran’s squad a chance to hold the fiends back in melee, while the boys and I piled on las and bolt pistol fire until they died. If it wasn’t for the Machine-Spirits checking our fire so we couldn’t accidentally shoot each other, there would have been a lot more casualties.”

  “Good. I’m pleased that system worked against corruptive foes.”

  Brigid smiles at me, then shudders, “Even so, the fiends almost killed us. Their tails had a deceptive reach and we had little room to manoeuvre. There was sorcery upon them and each blow cracked our power armour far more than it should have. Eventually, it gave way.”

  “Well done. I am impressed that you did not panic or cower. It is far better to risk death than capture.”

  “Oh, I was panicking the whole time and really wanted to run away, but I knew you and Alpia were relying on us to keep bringing in fresh troops and the enemy gave us no respite. I discovered that, when it comes down to it, no matter my fears, I hate the thought of losing even more. It is a revelation about myself that I would have been happier to never discover.”

  I take her hand in mind then kiss the back of it, “Who’d have thought your competitive streak would be so handy?”

  Brigid gives my hand a squeeze then bursts into tears. She leans forward and presses her face against my armoured chest. Dareaca and Fial rush over, then stand around not really knowing what to do with themselves. Luan tosses his empty bowl onto the side table and hobbles over, clinging onto the nutrient drip stand, then gently rubs his mum’s back.

  Brigid’s tears are gone in less than a minute and she sits back up and wipes her eyes, “Thank you boys.”

  I smile at my family, “How about one of you tells me about Alpia?” I glance at the machines, “She is stable, at least.”

  Warhammer 40k Lexicanum, , and . I've also enjoyed opinion pieces such as: , The via Gamespot, and . While not strictly 40k, they are good for inspiration and IRL explanations.