Love Can Bloom - The Complete Edition: A Warhammer 40K Heretical Fanfiction

Chapter X - 10

It is clear to see that Wraithbone is the stuff of miracles. Understanding it should be a priority, as it would greatly simplify logistics." - Attributed to a Space Wolf Librarian, shortly before his investigation by the Inquisition.

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Wraithbone is a special and marvellous substance. Suitable for most any purpose and possessing a tensile strength superior to steel, it can be pulled from thin air and recycled indefinitely. It is notable as one of the few pleasant things to emerge from the warp on a regular basis. Psychoconductive, it can not only transmit psychic energy, but it can also function as a shield generator and communication hub, all without any additional equipment.

And of course, there's the oft lauded property of psychoplasticity - it being malleable using only one's mind. Intricate and delicate works, such as vehicles and weapons, are difficult for the uninitiated to produce. These items require a finer touch that all but the most talented beginners lack. But wraithbone is not so difficult to work that a novice can't play with it. Being roughly manipulable by any average psychic, performing a field repair on cracked armor is a breeze. It may not be perfect, but it's sealed. The ease by which it can be manipulated scales with power, while precision. . . it scales with practice.

Taldeer was not very practiced.

The procedure required the sum of her concentration. Liivi lay on his back, holding his breath. Cool wraithbone owed like molten metal into a small incision, directly above his broken rib. It was to form an internal cast that wrapped around the bone. If it went well, then Liivi would no longer have to fear puncturing his lung every time he fired a weapon or laid on the ground. If Taldeer made a mistake, then he could suffer horrendous internal bleeding and/or a punctured lung.

There was nothing to risk which wasn't already an immediate danger.

An anatomy text LIIVI found with the medical supplies made it clear where the tendons attach to the bone, and thus where gaps in the cast had to be. The shape and thickness of the rib was certainly easy to understand, looking at the pictures. But now, as the last dribbles of wraithbone seeped in through the incision, Taldeer was feeling slightly nervous. Of course, doubt was a distraction, and there was no time for distractions. If it was wrong, and the tendons wouldn't attach correctly, so be it. At least the rib wouldn't puncture his lung, it would just hamper movement a bit. They could deal with it when they got o world, back to her people.

And if they didn't get o world, well, it wouldn't matter then, either.

Fate flowed around her ankles in subtle eddies. She danced an impromptu tango with it, reacting carefully to its movements, following its lead. She could visualize the shape of the wraithbone. Subtle changes were made to accommodate the shape of the rib, drag it back into place. Optimal possibilities became clearer. Slightly thicker here. Thinner there.

It was then that she felt the ripples of a great splash beyond the horizon. The Farseer was uncertain of what it meant. She sighed softly and pressed forward, finalizing the cast.

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This was about how Private Scry Shenken expected he would die. Well, former private.

He held his breath, laying at against the wall next to the door. Sure, the other half of the house was on fire. But better to be with the house fire than with whatever was outside.

The last of the screams was interrupted by a squelching sound. There was only the noise of his breathing, the crackle of flames, and the sounds of distant fighting. As silent as it could be in a village attacked by Chaos.