Warhammer 40,000: Stavrakis- The Hunt For Valakt

Nightmare inside

It was during the fourth week that my physical strength started to deteriorate rapidly. 

I was taking meals more regularly than before, but my sleep patterns were still disturbed. Each night I dreamt. Waking nightmares, each and every one of them. 

They all began the same: A Savannah. Large open spaces, brown grasses and rushes. Clusters of tall open branching trees clustered around the largest bodies of water. I knew the world immediately. It was on this world that my mentor had died, killed by the Tyranids. I would stand in a cluster, surrounded by Kroot and Tau. The lake in the centre was not water though, but a Tyranid spawning pool. The sickly green goo would bubble and froth, then randomly become placid. All the while I would feel oppressed and confined. I could hear a dull chittering sound in my mind, and my ears were filled with ringing and clashing. The pond bubbled again and a birthing pod surface violently. 

The Kroot and the Tau destroyed it, the sound in my mind masking the sound of their gunfire. My master walked up to the edge of the pool. For some reason, in my dream world he was wearing civilian clothes. Then suddenly he transformed. He was wearing Terminator armour. He turned into a hulk of a man, a large power fist on the left, with a storm bolter on the right. The armour was painted silver grey. I exulted at the sight of such holy wargear, figuring that the Tyranid menace would soon be at an end. 

But it was a nightmare, plaguing my periods of rest ceaselessly. In the real world, a Tyranid Lictor had assassinated him. In my dreams, he willingly walked into the pool, sinking with each footstep deeper, deeper... deeper. My exultation turned to manifest horror. Some nights I woke at this point. My heart would pound, pumping more and more adrenaline through my system setting my nerves on fire. 

I twitched and grabbed my laspistol out of my bedframe to comfort me. My reactions would become far worse once the nightmares continued past that point. My mentor would drown in the pool, me unable to save him. The scene would change suddenly and without warning. I was fighting the Necrons in their tombs. I recognized this as well. Designated Tomb 064-A. I remember it clearly. So vividly. I was attached to a Deathwatch task force intending to collapse the now active Tomb. With me were Gro'Kna, as always. Edmund was there as well. He was wearing a non-astartes compatible set of power armour, and the bolter he was wielding spat death at the incoming Necrons. 

Then a wraith materialized out of the wall and sliced his armour to ribbons. I remember I screamed and punctured its power core with my Rapier. As I ran to my fallen Interrogator, he looked at me. 

Not with his eyes, but with the eyes of a Hive Tyrant. His whole body changed and mutated until it was as large as an Astartes dreadnought. I looked around frantically. All of the necrons had sprouted Tyranid limbs and were advancing on me, and me alone, for I was suddenly alone. They pinned me down, helplessly as genestealers and flayed ones alike tore at me, ripping, shredding, tearing, cutting. Then the Hive Tyrant towered over me. I realized I too was changing. My skin was molting, my limbs fusing into solid bony blades and my jaw...

I wake up at this point, thrashing and shouting. My sheets and pillows steamed and lumped, drenched in sweat. These nightmares violated everything I hold dear as a human and as an agent of the Inquisition. I would always wake weaker than the night before. Returning to sleep was out of the question, and the fatigue and shock of the dreams always lingered for longer. It was in this fourth week that my condition reached a critical point, and I was forced to seek help.

I stood outside the holding cells. Here was the prize of this ship, the stasis cells. It was Wednesday during the fourth week. Or was it Thursday? I had lost track of the time. I had been so busy. 

They had tracked the rogue Inquisition ship to a translation log on the opposite side of the planet. It had plotted a warp course leading directly away from the planet towards the galactic core. I planned to chase after it once I was done here. In the meantime, Lex had acquisitioned a fast scout cruiser from the Astartes and had set out after it already. She meant to plot its course exactly and figure out exactly where it was headed. 

The going would be slow. Valakt could double back on his course, make many smaller jumps and obfuscate his heading. I wished her a safe journey.

I scanned my Rosette at the door, letting the inbuilt security codes do their work. The door slid open with a silent woosh. On the other side was a long, wide corridor. The walls were made of a red steel. A room was built-in at regular intervals on either side. The stasis cells were small, some being only 5 by 5 paces. 

Others were larger, up to 15 paces. In place of doors, the entrances were void shielded. I breathed in the cold, biting air, and stepped in. I made doubly sure the blast door had sealed behind me. The long slender illuminator tubes winked and shuddered randomly. In these cells, were locked some of my greatest assets. The more agreeable elements in my employ were allowed free reign over an entire upper deck. 

But down here... the more violent, the mysterious, and sometimes downright insane were kept. All destined to one day be used in the name of the Emperor. Hm. Walking the length of the corridor, I considered the impact of my conduct on my reputation. By all rights, the very fact that I use the Imperiums Xenos enemies against themselves would brand me an outright Radical inquisitor. I knew with some certainty that there were Inquisitors assigned to keep watch over me, in case my radicalism led to Heresy.

The truth is, I have never tried to defend or explain my methods to anyone. I am completely aware that my actions are suspicious, and that my methods might endanger the lives of me and all of my associates. However, my eagerness to get shit done outweighed any misgivings I have ever had. I saw Kalanaar ahead at the end of the corridor. And Yarlon. What now?