899.M41 – Amerikon Sector The planet **Vandis IV** slowly rotated beneath the Hidden Talons’ fleet.
It should have been alive.
Imperial records listed the colony as home to nearly eight million citizens, its vast promethium refineries supplying fuel to dozens of nearby systems.
Astropathic contact had ceased twelve days earlier, and every attempt by the Imperial Navy to re-establish communication had failed.
From the bridge of the *Talons of Terra*, Chapter Master Asterion Corven watched the world in silence.
“Orbital scans,” he ordered.
Master of the Fleet Decimus replied immediately.
“No orbital defenses.” “No hostile vessels.” “No vox traffic.” Chief Librarian Kaelen frowned.
“The Warp is…quiet.” “Too quiet.” Corven nodded.
“Prepare First and Third Companies.” — Within the launch bays, Thunderhawk gunships rumbled to life.
One hundred battle-brothers assembled in disciplined ranks.
Their Vantablack power armour seemed to consume the light of the launch bay, while the silvery-black raven’s claw upon each left shoulder gleamed faintly under the lumen strips.
Captain Lucien Voss addressed his warriors.
“We descend not as conquerors.” “We descend as the Emperor’s judgment.” Bolters were checked.
Chainswords growled to life.
Veteran Sergeant Darius slammed a fresh magazine into his bolt rifle.
“For the Emperor.” Three hundred voices answered.
**”From the shadows.”** The Thunderhawks launched.
— The city of **Helios Prime** came into view.
Smoke drifted lazily between towering manufactorums.
The streets were empty.
Thousands of civilian ground vehicles sat abandoned where they had stopped.
Market stalls remained stocked with food.
Servitors continued sweeping deserted streets, their simple programming oblivious to the disappearance of their masters.
Captain Voss stepped from the Thunderhawk.
“Perimeter.” The Space Marines spread through the city with practiced precision.
Brother Matthias entered a hab-block.
Breakfast still sat on a table.
Untouched.
Brother Severan found an administratum office.
Data-slates remained open.
Cogitators still functioned.
No bodies.
Brother Galen searched a school.
Books lay scattered across desks.
Children’s coats still hung by the entrance.
Yet not a single person remained.
— Hours passed.
The Hidden Talons searched block after block.
Nothing.
No blood.
No signs of battle.
No corpses.
No survivors.
Captain Voss opened a vox channel.
“My Chapter Master.” “The colony is deserted.” “Evidence?” “It appears the population simply…” He hesitated.
“…vanished.” — Meanwhile…
Chief Librarian Kaelen entered the colony’s cathedral.
The massive shrine to the God-Emperor stood untouched.
Candles still burned.
Incense drifted through the air.
He closed his eyes.
Reached into the Warp.
Nothing.
No psychic screams.
No lingering fear.
No corruption.
Only…
Silence.
A silence so complete it made his secondary hearts beat faster.
Then— A whisper.
*”Look up…”* Kaelen’s eyes snapped open.
He looked toward the cathedral ceiling.
Nothing.
But his instincts screamed a warning.
— Brother Cassian examined the colony’s astropathic relay.
Its machine spirit remained active.
Power levels were normal.
He recovered the final outgoing transmission.
The recording began.
A young astropath appeared, her face pale with terror.
> “Unknown vessel entering orbit.” She looked over her shoulder.
> “No Imperial registry.” > “They’re hailing us.” The transmission distorted.
A deep voice emerged.
Calm.
Almost kind.
> “Do not fear.” > “We have come to save you.” The astropath’s expression changed.
Confusion.
Then horror.
She screamed.
The recording ended.
Cassian replayed it.
Again.
And again.
Each time, hidden beneath the static, another sound became clearer.
Heavy footsteps.
Power armour.
— Outside the city…
Scout Sergeant Varian surveyed the surrounding plains through magnoculars.
“Movement.” Brother Oren crawled beside him.
“I see it.” A lone figure walked across the wasteland.
Human.
Barefoot.
Wrapped in torn Imperial robes.
Captain Voss ordered the Thunderhawk forward.
The figure did not flee.
As the gunship landed, the Hidden Talons disembarked.
The man fell to his knees.
“My lords…” He was elderly.
Starving.
His beard reached his waist.
Captain Voss knelt before him.
“You are alone?” The old man nodded weakly.
“I hid.” “From whom?” “They came from the sky.” “Who?” The old man’s hands trembled violently.
“I…” “I never saw their faces.” “Were they xenos?” “No.” “Chaos?” “I don’t know.” “Were they Astartes?” The old man began to cry.
“Their armour…” “It was black.” Every Hidden Talon became perfectly still.
“They moved like shadows.” “They spoke like brothers.” “They wore the Emperor’s armour…” “…but they served something else.” Captain Voss exchanged a glance with Veteran Sergeant Darius.
Space Marines.
Or something pretending to be them.
— The old man was brought aboard the *Talons of Terra*.
Within the Apothecarion, Apothecary Leon examined him.
“No mutation.” “No taint.” “No disease.” Corven entered.
The survivor struggled to stand.
“My Lord Astartes…” Corven gestured for him to remain seated.
“Tell me everything.” The old man closed his eyes.
“They arrived without firing a shot.” “They gathered everyone in the city square.” “They promised protection.” “They said the Emperor had abandoned us.” Corven remained silent.
“They spoke with such certainty.” “So many believed them.” “What happened next?” The man’s breathing became ragged.
“They looked toward the sky.” “So did everyone else.” “What did they see?” “I…” The old man’s voice broke.
“I don’t remember.” Corven leaned closer.
“What happened after that?” The survivor whispered.
“When I woke…” “…everyone was gone.” — Later that evening, the Chapter Council gathered in the Strategium.
Captain Voss presented his findings.
“No evidence of orbital bombardment.” “No evidence of mass execution.” “No signs of Warp breach.” Chief Librarian Kaelen added quietly, “The survivor’s memories are damaged.” “Intentionally.” Master of the Forge Hadrian looked up from his data-slate.
“The colony’s orbital records show an unidentified cruiser entering orbit.” He activated a holographic image.
The ship appeared only briefly before disappearing into static.
Its silhouette was unfamiliar.
Ancient.
Imperial in design.
But its transponder had been deliberately disabled.
Corven studied the image.
“It wanted to be seen.” Captain Voss nodded.
“And then forgotten.” Before anyone could respond, the bridge vox chimed urgently.
“Chapter Master.” “Report.” “A Scout frigate has detected a drifting escape pod beyond the outer moon.” “Life signs?” “One.” “Identity?” The bridge officer hesitated.
“The pod’s transponder identifies the occupant as…” He checked the data twice.
“…Lieutenant Garran.” Corven’s crimson lenses narrowed.
“The same officer whose recording was recovered from Listening Station Epsilon-Seven.” Captain Voss looked up sharply.
“Impossible.” “The station fell forty-nine years ago.” The bridge officer answered quietly.
“My lord…” “The pod’s life-support indicates it was launched…” “…less than twelve hours ago.” Silence gripped the Strategium.
Something in the Amerikon Sector was playing with time.
Or with the truth itself.
Either possibility was enough to concern even the sons of Corax.