Introduction

The following sample is from a science fiction short story. It was written and submitted for a competition held by the Black Library - Games Workshop's own publishing label. The story was based around the crew of a trade vessel in deep space. Unusual sensor readings and a Captain bent on making profit lead them to a planet on the fringes of Imperial territory. The complete story, had it been written, was going to be a cross between 'Alien', 'The Thing' and a few of my other favourite horror movies. Though the characters were of my own devising, the general background to which they lie is the intellectual property of Games Workshop Limited. Had I actually got through to the final I would have completed the story. As it stands, the story is unfinished although I do intend to revisit the Captain at some point. Please enjoy this extract.

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The transport ship Vindigo was old, far older than its current crew and only held together thanks to the constant attentions of its resident engineer. The Vindigo was supposedly an Imperial ship many centuries before, some even claiming a rich heritage within the Adeptus Astartes. Though nobody knew this for certain, the ship bore a huge number of exterior wounds. Its current small crew, a rich assortment of tradesmen and pirates alike, used the vast ship to transport weapons and supplies between systems on the Imperial frontier.

Captain Tortuga was by no means an old man; slender and clean shaven, his appearance was at odds with the vessel he commanded. He had risen to the debatable position of captain of the Vindigo through sheer tenacity and a keen ability to exploit any opportunity for trade. This had led to many unpleasant confrontations in the past, with not all customers leaving happy, or indeed alive.

He sat on a high backed chair within his private chamber, slumped over a half empty bottle of some blue liquid. He couldn't remember its name, or where it had come from but the Captain always made sure he didn't go thirsty. To the right of him was a large viewing port; the endless darkness of space offering little comfort. Despite the affects of the drink, Tortuga was not about to let his guard down. He sat facing the door and the laspistol next to his chair remained within easy reach; as did the extra two he carried beneath his long coat. These were precautions he prided himself on, well aware that he had made few friends during his career thus far. A series of heavy footfalls approached the door, Tortuga raised his head.

"If you've just come to tell me my ship is falling apart, save me the details...." Tortuga trailed off as the door opened and a large figure entered.

Gamari Krom regarded the Captain with cold eyes; at almost seven feet tall the man was an imposing figure. He had once been a proud member of the Imperial Guard, his homeworld not dissimilar to the infamous jungle world of Catachan. Now too old for active duty he spent his days as a private contractor, a gun for hire who worked for the highest bidder. For the last few years this had been Tortuga and though their bond had never been close, they respected each other's abilities. He shook his head, his necklace of Orks teeth rattling against his dark skin.

"That stuff is weaker than Grot's piss." rumbled Gamari with a smirk.

"If you have anything better, please go ahead." Tortuga replied as he threw the bottle to him.

Gamari ignored the comment, catching the bottle one handed and draining its contents with a few easy swallows. The Captain did have a point; trade had been slow over the last few months and without any decent leads they were running low on resources. He reached up and ran a hand over his shaven scalp.

"Is there any reason you're here Krom? Perhaps you have a message for the Captain?"

The sarcasm was not lost on Gamari and he ground his teeth, the sound almost audible above the rooms' extraction fans. He placed the bottle down onto a nearby table then looked up, a serious expression on his face.

"We've picked up something unusual on the long range scanners. Energy signatures consistent with a large habitation..."

"By the Emperor, we should investigate at once!" cried Tortuga. "Energy signatures, well there could be a whole city out there! Who knows, maybe we're not the first men in space after all." he chuckled as he got up from his chair and made his way toward the drinks cabinet.

"It's coming from the Harabian cluster." replied Krom.

The Captain stopped in his tracks and as he turned a thin smile creased his otherwise smooth features. Some of his contacts, unsavoury characters at best, had spun wild tales of artefacts and treasures to be found in that region of space. He had dismissed them at the time; there had been more immediate opportunities but now, with things as they were...

"Set a course and hold position just clear of the outer moon. I don't want to attract any more attention than we have to. Besides, this could just be another trap." he said turning back to the cabinet.

"What are you going to do?" Krom said, raising an eyebrow.

"Pay my respects to the man in the throne." and he opened the cabinet.

Inquisitor Seraphon was surrounded by darkness but his senses told him he was not alone. The cool air made his skin prickle, dampness covering him like a heavy cloak. Now there were footsteps, quiet at first but steadily growing louder. They were heavy, slow; whatever moved out there was making little effort to conceal its approach. Then they stopped.

Flames, bright as solar flares surrounded him on all sides. He was not scared, he was of the Emperor's Holy Inquisition and nothing would break him. Yet the feeling of danger was overwhelming; he needed to move yet there was nowhere to go. Now, finally, shapes began to resolve themselves from beyond the ring of fire. Large, bulky figures were simply striding through the flames, seemingly oblivious to the heat. The newcomers appeared to blend in with the darkness despite the flames around them. An armoured hand gripped his shoulder.

The Inquisitor awoke from troubled dreams. He lay within a permanently chilled capsule, the environment specially adapted for preservation of his numerous implants. As his eyes snapped open, the internal sensors reacted to his awakening; power cords disconnected and receded back into hiding. A light flashed in the corner of his vision - one of the many terminals lining his desk. With one button press he was elevated to a sitting position, the capsule now acting as a mobile chair. Looking at the terminal it dawned on him; this was the signal he'd been waiting for.

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