The Imperial landing party found a seemingly empty research station shrouded in dim light.

“There is nothing like the call to General Quarters. The thunderous blare of claxons sounding, the clamor of running feet and shouting voices, the booming vibration of hatches slamming shut . . . it makes a navy man’s heart soar.  The machine spirit of the ship stirs with anger, hatred, and a lust for battle.”—Admiral Miros Aspey. Imperial Navy (Retired)

* * *

Talgor System
Lagos Sector
Incident Date: 6 941 744.M41

After-Action Report, Search Mission,
Research Base Epsilon

+ + +

In a dimly lit corridor of Research Base Epsilon, a long-dark bulb flashes green on a control panel next to an exterior airlock.

Next, if anyone were there to hear, the grinding of poorly lubricated gears announces the heavy airlock hatch is about to open.

When it does, there is no one around to see a heavily-armored man walk through the hatch and into the corridor.

The man is bent low, providing a smaller target, and he wields a shotgun that swings left to right as he surveys his surroundings.

Determining there is no immediate threat, his body appears to relax ever so slightly. “Corridor empty,” he says into his helmet vox. “No hostiles in sight.”

Three more armed men pass through the hatch, spreading out and keeping their weapons at the ready.

Sergeant-at-Arms Hugo Fisk, a grizzled, highly experienced voidsman who served under Lt. Gadden.

These men are Navis Breachers—large, brutal men trained for close-quarters fighting, whether they are boarding an enemy ship or defending their own from attack.

Behind them, Lt. Varis Gadden appears. If one could see beneath his void armor, his appearance is that of a young officer, nervous but earnest. He holds a laspistol in one hand, a power saber in the other.

Next to him walks another Breacher. Nothing of his face can be seen behind his air-tight combat helmet, but he is a grizzled veteran of the Imperial Navy.

He is Sergeant-at-Arms Hugo Fisk, a respected non-commissioned officer (NCO) with considerable experience in landing parties.

Today, he serves under Gadden, although both men know the NCO is there to babysit the young lieutenant and make sure the officer doesn’t do anything stupid.

On a private vox line, Gadden reviews his plans with the older NCO.

“I’m sending Sergeant Abnett with half the landing party to search the living quarters and secure the base’s power generator. We’ll work our way forward to the operational center..”

To the young officer’s relief, the NCO offers no objection.

“Solid plan,” Fisk says. “May I suggest we split our squad party. You take half down the port corridor, while I take a fire team and move down the starboard corridor. That way, we’re not grouped into a single blob of men that can be taken out with a single plasma blast.”

“Do you really think someone would use a plasma gun in these tight quarters?” Gadden asks.

“My opinion is that anyone aboard this station is dead or going to die. What do they have to lose if they melt part of the station? Why do you think we’re wearing armor? ”

Gadden can think of no retort to that logic. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

* * *

It’s been 32 hours since the cruiser, Stellar Sword, entered the Talgor System and intercepted the emergency beacon of Research Base Epsilon.

“Still no reply to our hails?” asks ship’s captain Husea Truxton, looking down at a data pad that offers very little information about the research station or the planet where it resides.

“No, sir,” his executive officer says.

Navis Heavy Shotgun

“Hmm. The data banks offer little help. The plante has no name—its essentially a large rock without an atmosphere. The base is properly registered, but there’s nothing about who operates it, what its does, or how large the staff. That’s a bit odd.”

“We’re close enough for sensors to tell us more,” the executive officer responds. “It’s a small outpost and can’t house more than 40 or 50. Power output also is low. Life support must be at minimal levels.”

“Life signs?” Truston asks.

“Unclear,” the exec replies. Unless their communications system is down, it’s likely they’re all dead.”

“Maybe. But we’ll send down two squads to deal with any surprises. As I don’t see any threat to the ship, we’ll take the opportunity to blood one of our junior officers. Give Mr. Gadden command of the landing party. Let’s see what he does with it.”

* * *

As he advanced his Breachers toward the operations center, Gadden is nervous. No one has communicated—or challenged—the naval party’s presence. It’s creepy. Where is everyone? If they’re dead, why are there no bodies?

The dim lighting only accentuates his sense of dread. One squad of men already has secured the engine room—with no signs of life—and a tech priest attached to that squad has attempted to restore power to the lights. But it hasn’t worked, and Gadden is forced to advance with ceiling lumens glowing at minimal emergency levels.

It would be less disturbing, Gadden thinks, if someone would show up and start shooting. At least the waiting would be over.

The lieutenant activates a private command channel on his vox. “What’s happening, Mr. Fisk?”

“Same thing to report as five minutes ago, sir. No sign of anyone. Did find a lukewarm cup of recaf. So someone was in this area in the past hour.”

Gadden knew it was unnecessary to say it, but he couldn’t help himself. “Be careful. Don’t overlook any place where men can hide. I don’t want us to be ambushed. And remember: We don’t actually know what’s going on here. The crew may not realize we’re navy. Don’t be trigger happy.”

Click here to read Part 2 of this adventure.

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The artwork of the spooky station corridor was created using AI from NightCafe Creator.

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The Corvus Cluster is a Warhammer 40K blog documenting our gaming adventures in the fantastical sci-fi universe of Games Workshop.