Work Text:
A moment of laxity spawns a lifetime of heresy.
Thought for the day
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The golden chain of his rosette dug deeper into the skin of his neck with every step. The badge pressed into his chest making it hard to breathe; the building pressure and crushing heaviness of it threatened to send him to his knees. Heinrix stumbled down one of the Patient Fortune’s corridors and caught himself against the wall. He inhaled deeply. Sweat droplets formed and slid down his temple sending a chill through his body. For a moment, he's convinced he's infected by some foul disease the Archenemy conjured up on ruins of that Black Ship. No, the decontamination and sterilization ritual was carried out on them all. There was no corruption to be found here.
Various crewmen passed him by. He sees the way they look at him. Fear. Disdain. Hatred. Even now, there was a barely concealed contempt in their eyes. He dared not give them the satisfaction of seeing him in this weakened state. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself off the wall and hurried on.
Alarms blared from above. Strobing lumens began to bathe the chamber in intermittent red light. The binharic static prayers of the tech priests accompanied by their sacred bells echoed throughout the hull from the vox broadcast. The hairs on his arms raised as he felt the Geller Field rise. The ship begun its preparation to leave the material universe and venture into warpspace. Pressure built at the back of Heinrix’s head, spreading a throbbing sensation throughout his skull. The pulsing lights disoriented him and he focused on each step lest he once again lose his balance. More voidsman scurried about him as they rushed to their positions, their faces blurring together. Faces. With each intermittent flash between light and dark, images of faces burst in his mind. Each a remnant of the past.
Cold grey eyes looking down at him in shame as he's dragged to the Black Ship.
Imperial guardsmen eyeing him with distrust. Suffer not the witch to live.
Calcazar's harsh and measured gaze.
Scores of them flash by. Faces he’d pushed down deep within and willed himself to forget. Expressions of pain and pleading that morphed into hate during their final moments as he turned their own bodies against them. Innocence proves nothing. One face sets themselves apart. Eyes as dark as the void look at him not with disgust or rage—but concern and…affection. It’s a foolish hope. He blinked the vision away.
His hand seemed to burn where she touched him, despite the layers of gloves and bodyskin suits that separated their skin.
He's close to losing control. He cannot allow himself to be in such a state when the ship enters the warp. He needed rest and then, potentially a priest.
The corridors and halls seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Finally, when he's sure he's reached his limit he arrives at the sanctity of his quarters. The door is still swinging closed as he unbuckles his belt, letting his sword and pistol drop to the floor. His cape and spaulders are next. The hum of the ship’s warp-drive roars as the Patient Fortune finally sails into the immaterium.
Before he knew it, his bed rushed up to meet him.
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...nrix
Heinrix drifted in that place between sleep and consciousness.
Heinrix…
Slowly, he became more aware of himself and his surroundings. It was hot; his clothes and hair clung to his skin with sweat. The hum of the ship’s drive was no longer an echo of background static around him but an active sound he could focus on. He was on his stomach, his body lying dead weight on the mattress.
A hand gently grasped his shoulder. Heinrix bolted upright up and grabbed the visitor’s wrist.
“Heinrix!”
Evangeline sat on the edge of his bed, a concerned look on her face.
“Eva— Lord Captain?” The words sputtered out and he dropped her hand. She is here? In his room. Sitting on his bed. How in the Emperor’s name had he not heard her enter? He ran his still gloved hands through his hair. He must have been out hard.
“Heinrix, we were worried for you. You seemed unwell earlier. You’ve been ignoring our vox calls for hours.”
He couldn't argue with that. He’d been unwell. He glanced around his room. Everything looked as it should, except for the presence of the Rogue Trader. How rare it was for him to be this close to her in private. Even their games of regicide never felt this intimate. He swallowed. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and her hair lacked its usual neatness. strands of black hair have fallen out of her updo and framed her face. It looks soft. He wonders what it would feel like between his fingers. She was always entrancing, but at this moment she was bordering on irresistible.
Now that was dangerous thinking. His eyes narrowed.
“Why are you here, Lord Captain? This is hardly appropriate behavior.” An ice-cold tone lined his words. He’s acutely aware that his sword is laying on the floor across the room. Heinrix preferred not to use his powers during a warp jump, but sometimes it was necessary.
Hurt flashed across her face, soon replaced by anger.
“This is my ship, van Calox. Only I deem what is appropriate and what is not,” she said sharply.
Heinrix felt a pang of guilt stab through his chest. How many times had they done this? She'd extend an offering of concern or genuine interest, only to be rebuked and met with suspicion by him. No doubt she was just as exhausted from today’s events as he was, and yet she took the time to check in on him. He wondered how much longer this could continue before he pushed her away for good.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I—of course, Lord Captain. But why? Why not send someone else to check on me? Surely you have more important matters to attend to?”
“Truly, you’re not this daft. Isn’t it obvious, Heinrix?”
Her straightforwardness caught him off guard. They’ve been dancing around, well, whatever this was for months now. Never has she dared to be so bold as she was now. The casualness of her appearance, her relaxed posture. The way she was leaning towards him. That gleam in her eyes.
His mind went blank.
He sputtered, unable to reply. She spared him further embarrassment and continued on.
“Earlier…on the Black Ship. I saw what it did to you. I was worried. I… wondered if you wanted comfort.” Her hand found his, like on the surface of the planet. Once again, the leather of the gloves stopped them from actually touching, but the effect was just as electric.
Conflicting emotions raged within him. Eva shouldn’t be here; they’re crossing a line they won’t be able to come back from. Then again, perhaps they crossed that line months ago, when he’d afforded her a conversation. Or when they’d begun playing regicide every week. He squeezed his eyes shut. The events on the Black Ship had shaken him. He told himself it was the rot and filth that unnerved him. The horrifying fate of crew and prisoners who became twisted by chaos and cursed with unending suffering and undeath. It was lie. It was his own memories, his own weakness that scared him.
He can feel the warmth of her body as Evangeline slid closer to him. “I want to comfort you, Heinrix.” The words are a whisper and he feels the softness of her breath on his ear. The touch of a hand caressed up his thigh. A shiver and intense feeling of heat flushed through his body. For no particular reason, he’s reminded of all the times he’d boiled people’s blood in their veins. He wanted nothing more than to touch her. To kiss her. To have her, here and now. What would be the harm? Was it so wrong?
He leaned in, closing the shrinking gap between them, and froze.
The human body is a well-developed machine. Heinrix was an authority on that machine equal to that of any tech-priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus when it came to an inorganic one. The flow of blood, the rush and smell of hormones, the beat of a heart. All critical pieces of information vital to manipulating one's biological energy and processes. Years of training instilled in him the habit of attuning himself to another's biology.
Evangeline von Valancius had no heartbeat.
‘van Calox! Backup requested to the Lord Captain’s quarters immediately! The Lord Captain is in danger!” Abelard’s frantic voice chimed in through the vox emitter looped through his belt on the floor.
His eyes snapped open and he’s on his feet in an instant.
He was alone. His heart pounded in his ribcage and adrenaline pulsed through him. The energies of the warp rippled across the air. Faint purple runes floated about before flickering in and out of existence. He took a shaky breath and ran his hand through his hair. He glanced at the bed, the blankets were rumpled from where he slept and where… someone—something had sat.
That was close, too close.
‘van Calox!’ Abelard’s voice blared through the vox again, this time muffled with the sound of screeches and the rev of a chainsword.
There was no time for self flagellation. That would come later. He rushed to the door, picking up his weapons and belt as he went. Rage and hate boiled up within him, burning away any weakness and sentimentality he allowed himself to indulge in.
May the Emperor have mercy on those who get in his way for he will have none.