Turning Point -Warhammer 40k Fan Fiction

Chapter 8 - Acclimation

            The four large screens at the front of the bridge switched to internal readouts as the Isis traversed the warp.  Joseph nervously read the same few screens over and over to avert his mind as the rest of the bridge crew left their seats to busy themselves with other duties around the ship.  Captain Vin Holson was conversing with a servitor, standing and pointing to a readout near his chair.

         “Joseph… Joseph?”

         A voice rang out beside him.  Quickly turning, he saw the beautiful Grace vying for his attention.

         “Joseph, I think it’s okay to unbuckle now.  We’ve safely translated to warp,” her gentle words came out with a smile.  A bit embarrassed, Joseph hurriedly unfastened the restraints on his lap and stood up.  “Captain wanted me to introduce you to the ship’s doctor.  Come with me and I’ll take you to sickbay.” 

         Falling into step behind her, he couldn’t help but appreciate her feminine curves.  He almost let himself become entranced by the way her hips moved from side to side as she walked.  Before she could turn and notice his stare, Joseph collected himself quickly and nonchalantly asked the first question that popped into his head.

         “So, Grace, what brought you to this ship?”

         As they made their way to an elevator, she turned and smiled.  “You mean to the Captain?”  Joseph nodded.  “It’s a bit long… and complicated.  Maybe one day we’ll have that conversation.”

         Joseph raised an eyebrow at her response, and decided it was best to let the subject die, for now.

         They stood silently in the cramped space as the creaks and moans from the metal elevator sang of their descent to the lower levels of the Isis.  Trying hard to avert his eyes from her beauty (mostly in fear of being caught), Joseph instead decided to whistle an anonymous tune.  As if totally aware of the situation, a smile never left Grace’s face.

         “The Doc’s rather young looking, but don’t let that fool you.  He’s actually much older.  Oh, and he is a bit on the strange side, so try not to take anything personally.”  Before Joseph’s answer could escape his lips, the elevator doors swept open to the sick bay. 

         Several servitors hurriedly scurried past the opening and into the open expanse of the room, sending a quick jolt of panic in Joseph.  He immediately began to take in the details of the room, a habit that his Father had ingrained in him.  He saw several large tables, a couple of which Joseph figured to be surgical stations, evenly distributed on the opposite sides of the area.  Various medical devices and tools Joseph did not recognize were strewn about in a somewhat haphazard way.  What looked to be a short, balding man in his early forties was busily reading some holo-displays in the far right corner.  Grace began to walk in this direction.

         They walked up to the short, odd looking man, waiting for his attention to fall in their direction.  Seemingly oblivious to their presence, Grace politely cleared her voice.  Startled, the little man jumped in his place.

         “Oh!  Grace, my dear.  I didn’t see you come in.”  A smile found its way on the man’s face.

         “Doc, I want to introduce you to a new crew member, Joseph Vintros.  Joseph, this is Doctor Phanton Wells.”

         “Pleased to meet you Dr. Wells.”  Joseph held his hand out in greeting.  The Doctor grabbed his hand in return and shook it vigorously.  Joseph allowed a polite amount of time, and then tried to gently pull his hand back.  The Doctor’s sturdy grip held on stoutly.

         “Please, call me Doc.”

         At once, Joseph’s thoughts went back to that of his Imperial Guard unit.  The kind face and sharp features of Doc Hendricks materialized from his memory.  A sudden rush of emotions overtook Joseph, and he felt light-headed and faint.

         “Joseph?”  Grace’s voice seemed to be calling out leagues away.

         The two surprised crew mates caught Joseph as he fell forward.  Moving him over to one of the tables, they laid him across the cold metal surface.

         “Hmm, doesn’t seem to be anything physical.  All of his vitals are stable, and blood flow seems adequate.  It could be stress induced,” Joseph heard the Doctor analyzing.  Joseph barely registered the medical instrument the man held in his hand and swept over his body.  A sudden pain in his arm broke him from his dream like state.

         “I’ll run a few extra tests, and this sample will come to use later on I’m sure.  A person in our line of work never knows when you might need more blood synthesized.”  As soon as the Doctor took the needle out of Joseph’s arm, one of the servitors rushed over and sprayed coagulant over the wound, instantly stopping the blood flow.

         “Thanks Doc.  Joseph, are you okay to walk?”  The look of pure concern on Grace’s face instantly lifted Joseph’s spirit.

         “Yeah, I think so.  I just need to clean up a bit and catch a few hours sleep.”

         “C’mon then.  I’ll get you to bed,” she said with a smile.

         Joseph couldn’t help but smile big in return at the prospect of just such an action.




         Interrogator Harris Falten fumbled with the ochre blue data pad lying on his lap.  Waiting impatiently in the slightly chilly magistrate’s room for a bit over an hour heightened his already mounting anxiety.  The aged gray walls and lack of décor in the large room only added to his impending sense of dread.  The local magistrate, a gaunt and withered old man, sat behind the desk at the back of the room, staring at an undisclosed spot on the wall.

         Hearing the bass of a man’s voice outside in the hallway, Falten quickly jumped to his feet and took a few paces to stand in front of the magistrate’s desk.  Taking a quick peek at his clothes, he tried his best to stretch out any wrinkles.  Watching the door open, the Interrogator swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

         “Inquisitor,” Falten said, bowing deeply to show his master a proper greeting.  “I have spoken with the Guard Liaison and the Magistrate.  I have taken liberties to compile an official report of the situation for you.” Correcting his posture, he held out the data pad to the approaching Inquisitor.

         Inquisitor Ahriman Tycos grunted in displeasure as he jerked the data pad out of his servant’s hands.  Standing almost a foot shorter than Falten did little to take away from his commanding presence.  The still fresh wounds from his battle on the hive world of Tysanus gave his already scarred face a stern and bitter look.

         “How many times must I suffer from your incompetence Falten?  Why was this farm boy allowed to escape the bar when you not only had the drop on him, but two squads of a Guard unit at your disposal?”  Tycos’ voice boomed with anger, and Falten imagined a fabled Dragon with fire coming from his breath as the only equivalent.

         “My Lord, it is believed that he had help from elements of his old unit that were there at the scene.  As well, the boy has displayed extraordinary talents in combat and evasion.  He escaped only with the help of an outside party.  He took off in an unregistered land speeder, of which we found two replicas fleeing the scene.  They were both scanned and found to host no signs of life, so they were subsequently destroyed.”  Falten tried to remain confident in his report, but the hard stare and evident anger from the Inquisitor shook his nerve.

         “Just who is this outside party?  Did you find anything pertinent or worth while?”

         “My Lord, I’ve commenced a search in the planetary records for all registered craft that have left the planet in the past twenty-four hours.  Once we narrow down the list and manifests, we’ll have a better idea.”

         “This is a waste of time.  Anyone capable of escaping like that would not be sloppy enough to fly in a registered craft.  With the war this close to the planet, it would be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.  No, it’s time to open up the resources on this.  I want trackers sent to nearby systems.  Notify the guild, and inform the Guard of his status.  This is now an official Inquisitorial matter.  Magistrate, come with me.”

         Nodding, Falten grabbed his communicator and set about executing Ahriman’s orders.  The gaunt Inquisitor turned and walked out of the room, the older magistrate scurrying about to catch up with him.  Waiting an extra second to make sure they were gone, Falten let out a deep sigh of relief.  A quick chirp on the vox unit in his hand notified him that the party he was reaching out to answered.

         “This is Interrogator Harris Falten, on behalf of his excellence Inquisitor Ahriman Tycos.  We are in need of three tracker teams.  Subject is a traitor Imperial Guardsman.  Surname Vintros.  Full name, Joseph Arian Vintros.  Notify the guild and set up the accounts for payment.  Access code Delta six-six-one Beta.  The Emperor protects.”






         Joseph awoke several hours later, already feeling a bit better after showering and changing into better smelling clothes.  His dreams, already hazy with dim machinations of the past few days seemed even stranger than usual.  He had heard that being in the Immaterium could do strange things to a man’s dreams.

         He glanced around the small cabin, noting to himself that he would be calling this home for a good while.  Not entirely cramped, the gray and metal room had very little aesthetic value.  The bed was comfortable enough, much more than even he was used to in the Guard. 

         He noticed his bag lying in the far corner.  Some of its contents were spilled out along the floor during his haste to find sleep.  Scooping them up and placing them onto the bed, he found the small picture of his him and his Father.

         He picked the frame up, silently staring at the lean and proud visage of his Father with an arm around the younger Joseph.  Taken years ago on the family farm, he could still remember the hard work and time they’d spent building the store house in the background.  It had only been a couple of days since they’d finished it when the picture was taken.  Recalling that it was Gregor who had taken the picture, Joseph felt tears welling up.

         Now everything was different.  Somehow, the exciting and peril filled life he had as a Guardsman detoured into something much more dangerous.  Now an outlaw and without any recourse, he was stuck on a ship traveling through the warp to Emperor knows what destination.  He was truly under complete control of fate.

         Wiping away his tears, he grabbed the belt off of the bed and strapped it on.  Holstering his prized las pistol inside of the belt, he closed his bag and placed it onto the floor.  Looking at his reflection in the mirror near the door, he noticed that his appearance seemed different.  Not quite able to place how he saw himself differently, he just assumed it matched his already strange feelings.  Taking a deep breath, he walked to the door of the cabin.  Closing his eyes for a second, he re-opened them as he walked outside into the hallway and began his new life.