Author's Note: I did not invent the Warhammer 40,000 universe, nor many of the concepts contained within. All elements of Warhammer 40,000 beyond the characters and explicit setting of this story (the Hive Bosporus and a few mentioned planets) are the creation of Games Workshop.
This is the second and final part of this story of love, revenge, swords and monsters. Enjoy!
Jornan and Ruby were about two hours into their progress through Sub-Factory-39 Ajaxsis when Ruby suggested: "Maybe we should ask a native for directions?"
Jornan looked at her -- his brow furrowing as he snapped his gaze from her beautiful face to the grungy surroundings. Acid-rain had condensed along the roof, causing the leering gargoyles that dominated the upper reaches of each corridor to slump and slouch as if they had become tired by their long duty watching over the souls of the Imperium. The floor tended to metal grating -- making it all too clear that they were walking over thrumming pipes filled with aetheric fire drawn from the electrodynamic minarets and that a single misstep might consume them in a blast of tech-sprites. He looked back at her.
"I'm sure if we just keep heading this way we'll be fine," he said, nodding. "Besides. I'm a Rogue Trader. Well, Trader-Elect. We're
born
to navigate the unknown." He advanced forward to the next intersection and looked left and right. He rubbed his chin -- deducing that the best way to go would be to the
left
-- he noticed less odious scents from that direction. He started that way before realizing that Ruby wasn't beside him.
He turned back and saw that Ruby had asked a green and gold clad hiver. The hiver pointed straight down the junction, then made a throwing gesture -- his rising and falling hiver cant lost to the faint whistle of the wind that streamed through the corridor. Ruby nodded, handed him a few thrones, then walked over to Jornan.
She smiled and booped his nose with her finger.
"That way," she said, nodding to the right.
Jornan scowled.
"Take this as a lesson, oh honorable Trader-Elect," she said, quietly, stepping closer and whispering in his ear. "Sometimes, it
is
okay to find the treasure map before throwing yourself into the Warp."
Jornan scowled even harder.
"Come now, Jornan, you look like you've eaten a prune," Ruby said, slapping his chest as she started towards the right. Jornan followed after her. They walked past a series of chambers that contained hivers who did a job -- it seemed that mostly they were occupied in adjusting hololithic displays, or moving about glimmering glyphics with immense hapatic-response gauntlets. Their function -- or if they even had a function -- was unclear to Jornan. But he didn't like the fact that the route that they were taking lead them immediately to a set of stairs -- wide ones, with built around a statue of some long forgotten Imperial Saint, her hands lifted to the heavens, her eyes covered with a sculpted bandage.
She seemed to be crying -- but that might have been pollutions caked on her cheeks.
"I'm not sure if that hiver knows quite where they were directing us," Jornan said.
"Well-" Ruby stopped, then turned back. She narrowed her eyes. "I thought I saw something." She said, when Jornan looked at her questioningly. "Something mov-"
She grabbed his arm. "Come on! Move! Move! Move!"
Jornan didn't question. He ran with her down the stairs -- the two of them taking the steps two or three at a time. They came to the first landing and Ruby had drawn her pistol. This time, Jornan saw the darkness -- it moved like a paintbrush had marked its progress as it swirled out of a vent-shaft that ran along the side of the stairwell, then slammed to the ground to their left. Ruby didn't pause -- she simply lifted her pistol and fired five rounds into the inky blackness as it surged to its full, three meter height. The rounds hit -- then sparked off the wall behind it. The creature didn't even shudder.
In the light of the passageway, Jornan saw
what
stood before him in hideous, hideous detail. It wore a patchwork outfit that seemed more like condom-sheath than actual clothing. It had no arms, and yet, it had many -- its body was less a
body
and more a mass of undifferentiated tissue, connecting and joining and rejoining and morphing and colliding again and again. But seated at the top were a pair of eyes and a single hideous skull-face. A human face. A crecent moon smile -- white as the rest of the creature was dark -- spread across its mouth.
"Naughty, naughty, Melichor-daughter," it said, in a voice that was purely human -- and all the more malevolent because of it.
"Melichor?" Jornan whispered.
Ruby drew her pistol back and fired again -- this time through the creature's head. Or she would have, if its skull hadn't simply dropped to the center of its 'chest' region. The bullet thumped into flesh and went through as smoothly as if it had struck butter. The creature started to move forward -- flowing like a cancer, leaving behind a thin trail of blackish ooze. Jornan saw that those eyes were...in the end...oh so very human. The delight was utterly familiar -- the delight of a fresh snack, in the eyes of a beggered child that he had once tossed a throne too while visiting one of his father's factory-farms. He was filled with a sudden, indescribable terror.
But despite that terror -- the instinctive fear of being
eaten
-- his hands did not shake as they yanked the pistol from Ruby's hands. He crushed the impeller circuits with his fingers, pressing wire to wire. A low whine started to sound and he lobbed the pistol, barrel first, into the creature's body. The slow moving projectile
stuck
and he grabbed Ruby and tackled her down the stairs. The two teenagers tumbled -- head over heels -- as the whining sound of the maglev impeller's feedback loop filled the air. The creature clutched at its belly.
And then the build-up of magnetic stress-forces became too great and the metal frame of the pistol shattered like a krak-grenade.
The two teens came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. There, Ruby groaned -- and sat up, looking terrified. But no darkness swooped down on them. No teeth came to chomp and chew. Instead, she only saw Jornan, rubbing his ribs. "You okay?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, blinking. "What did-
how
did?"
"I, uh, grew up on a agri-world," he said, grinning at her weakly. "Before my parents picked me up to be trained in the Trader's arts. We improvised a-ah bit more than I think the Cogboys would like. From time to time."
Ruby flushed, looking to the side. "I-, uh, I won't tell them. If you don't." She flashed a smile. Then, terror filled her eyes again. A terror she quashed a moment later. Jornan knew that she was Melichor. Now, she just had to see what his reaction was.
Jornan rubbed the back of his head again. "So, uh, what in the warp is a Melichor?" he asked. "And why did that thing
know
you?"
Ruby spluttered like a rekaff pot on boil.
Before she could say anything more, though, several forms came out of the darkness. They were dressed in rags and metal armor. They bore pipes and they bore knives and they bore guns. They gathered around the two teens and one of them -- a tattooed man with a wild profusion of green dreadlocks -- knelt down to look into Jornan's eyes.
"Well, well, well," the narco-ganger said. "Looks like we have two pretty helpless noble-brats. Don't you need some help, bratties?"
Jornan slowly lifted his palms up. "We don't want any trouble, good sirs, madames." He nodded to the women of the group. As they looked just as psychotic as the men, the 'madames' simply made them look more furious.
The narco-ganger punched Jornan in the face. He hit the ground -- groaning -- and the narco-ganger stood up. "You got no guns, you got no swords, you-"
"Actually," Ruby said, remaining on the balls of her feet, her knees bent, one hand pressed to the floor for balance, the other lifted up -- palm spread. The narco-ganger looked at her. Then the top half of his head vanished. Ruby's left hand -- the one that had been near the ground now held a smaller, sleeker looking stub-automatic. She rolled forward and Jornan kicked out -- catching another ganger in the knee. That man went down -- his kinfe hitting the floor. Jornan grabbed for it and wished dearly for his shield belt as he surged to his feet and buried the knife in the throat of one of the ganger-women before she could bring her shotgun to bear.
He yanked his knife free, pirouetting out of the blood spray as Ruby's automatic barked -- once, twice. She sent one ganger to the ground, but the others with firearms were diving for cover. One with a pipe swung it at Jornan's head. Jornan parried. His knife hit the ground -- but it was joined by several of the man's fingers and the pipe, slicked with blood. Jornan wrung his hand and the man, his combat-drugs surging into his body as he activated his implanted stim-injector with a spine-cracking twist of his neck, tackled him against the wall.