This time the goal is 800 stones. Keep at it guys.
Cassian started exploring the city, his pace steady but unhurried, eyes scanning everything. The streets were wide and unnaturally clean. Buildings loomed on either side, tall and pristine, the architecture sharp and efficient. No grime streaked the walls, no beggars lingered in the alleys. There was no stench of waste or the usual filth that clung to hive cities like a second skin. It felt… sterile. Clean
The people moved in quiet, orderly streams. No jostling. No loud conversations. Even the market stalls he passed seemed subdued, the vendors speaking in polite tones, almost hushed. The air carried no urgency, no chaos. It should've been calming. It wasn't it was unnerving.
Cassian kept his face neutral, but his hand hovered near the laspistol hidden beneath his coat. He'd left the armor behind, trusting Magos Farron to keep it secure, but the weight of its absence made him feel exposed. Vulnerable.
He kept walking, weaving through the crowd, just another passerby. No one paid him any attention. Even the guards, clad in crisp uniforms and standing at regular intervals, barely spared him a glance. That in itself was unsettling. In any other Imperial world, a newcomer would draw suspicion. Especially someone clearly armed. But here? Nothing.
Cassian clenched his jaw and let his mind reach out. The Warp stirred at his call — subtly. His senses drifted across the crowd, brushing against the minds of those around him.
The first mind he touched felt… empty. Not hollow. Just focused.
"The work is almost complete."
He blinked. His eyes darted across the crowd, searching for the speaker. But no one was talking. Just the quiet shuffle of boots and murmured conversations. He pushed deeper.
"The stars aligns. His will shall be done."
Another mind.
" I need more time."
Cassian's breath caught. He pulled back, heart beating a little faster. The whispers faded, replaced by the soft murmur of the city. He looked around again, slower this time. The people kept walking. No hesitation. No fear.
He tried again, brushing against another mind.
"I will understand."
And another.
"Understand."
Cassian's pulse quickened. It was truly eerie, normally when he brushes against people's mind they have everyday concerns, prayers to emperor even in thoughts. Thinking about their family, next meal….not whatever this is.
He withdrew, the Warp slipping from his grasp. The city rushed back in — the soft footsteps, the gentle hum of conversation. Everything looked normal. But it wasn't.
He stood there for a long moment, watching the crowd pass him by. No one stared. No one whispered. They just… walked. Calm. Purposeful. Like puppets being puppeteered by some eldritch entity.
Cassian let out a slow breath, forcing himself to relax. There was no immediate threat. No sign of Chaos. Whatever this was, it wasn't something he could fight. He'd have to watch. Learn about what is happening in this planet before committing to a course of action.
For now, he moved with the crowd, his unease simmering beneath the surface.
—-
The meeting room aboard the Imperium Bellum was quiet, save for the low hum of the ship's engines. The recycled air carried a faint metallic tang, the kind that clung to your tongue after too long in the void. The crew had gathered around a large metal table, their faces lit by the dim lumen-strips lining the walls. Captain Corwin stood at the head, arms folded, his expression unreadable. Lieutenant Reynald sat to his left, fingers drumming a slow, steady rhythm against his thigh. Soren leaned against the bulkhead, his usual smirk absent. Magos Farron stood off to the side, still and silent. Alara Warren sipping recaf.
Cassian lingered near the wall, arms crossed. His gaze swept over the room, studying the faces of the crew. These were hardened men and women — people who had stared into the dark and lived to tell the tale. Veterans of warp travel, of close calls and near disasters. They didn't spook easily. Yet there was a tension in the air, subtle but undeniable. No one wanted to be the first to speak.
Finally, Corwin broke the silence. "Alright. Let's hear it. What do we think of this place?"
The question hung there, heavy and unanswered. Cassian shifted, pushing off the wall and stepping forward. He could feel their eyes on him, waiting. He took a breath.
"There's something wrong with this planet."
Corwin's gaze sharpened. "Explain."
Cassian ran a hand through his hair, trying to piecing his thoughts together without giving away that he is a psyker. "It's not just the cleanliness. It's the people. I spent hours walking through the city, watching them. They're too… calm." He shook his head. "It's like they don't feel fear. No tension. No wariness of strangers. Even the guards didn't seem concerned about us."
Soren snorted. "Maybe they're just polite."
Cassian ignored him. "It's more than that. Every person I passed had this… focus. I could see it in their eyes. They're all thinking about the same things." He hesitated, glancing around the table. "I can't explain it, but it's there."
Reynald shifted in his seat, brow furrowing. "You felt it too?"
Cassian blinked. "What do you mean?"
The lieutenant leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "Not the way you're describing, but… there's a stillness here. It feels wrong. Like the city's waiting for something." He glanced at Corwin. "I've felt it before. Back on,hive right before the rebellion."
Corwin's expression darkened. "Anyone else?"
Alara hesitated, then spoke softly. "It's too perfect." The others turned to her, and she shrugged. "Every city has its shadows. Even the most well-kept worlds have dark corners. But here? There's nothing. No graffiti. No signs of wear. It just doesn't feel… lived in."
Soren scoffed. "You're all jumping at shadows." But the tension in his jaw betrayed him.
Corwin sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's not just that." He looked around the table. "The nobles and civilians on board are already settling in. Desperate for a place to belong. After drifting through the void for so long, they'll cling to any sense of normalcy. They'll make excuses. Ignore the signs. Even the officers are starting to relax."
Farron finally spoke, his mechanical voice breaking the silence. "The planet offers resources we cannot afford to overlook. Refueling. Repairs. Food." His optic lenses whirred softly as they focused on Corwin. "Prudence is required, but panic is inefficient."
Cassian frowned. "I'm not suggesting we panic. But we need to be careful." He met Corwin's gaze. "This planet feels wrong. I don't know what it is yet, but we shouldn't let our guard down."
The tension in the room settled like dust in the quiet that followed. Captain Corwin stood at the head of the table, arms folded, eyes scanning the faces of his officers. The hum of the ship's systems filled the silence, steady and unyielding. No one spoke at first — each of them weighing their thoughts, considering the strangeness of the city they'd walked through. Cassian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the cold metal surface, watching Corwin carefully.
"Alright," Corwin said finally, his voice low but steady. "We're in agreement. Something is off about this planet. But suspicion isn't a plan." He glanced at Reynald. "We need a course of action. Thoughts?"
Reynald shifted in his chair, fingers tapping against the table. "First thing's first — we don't draw attention to ourselves. No sudden moves, no paranoia. We keep things calm. As far as anyone outside this ship knows, we're here to refuel and resupply. Nothing more."
Corwin nodded. "Good. Arbite?"
Cassian spoke up. "We can blend in, but we need eyes everywhere. The city is clean, almost unnaturally so, but it's more than that. The people… they don't act right." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It's like they're all thinking the same thing, moving with the same purpose. I'll keep watching. I'll move through the streets, keep my ears open, and see what I can pick up."
Corwin considered that. "Alone?"
"I move quieter alone." Cassian met his gaze. "I won't be noticed."
The captain's eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. "Fine. What else?"
Reynald spoke again. "We stagger our movements. No large groups. If anyone's watching, they'll notice a squad moving through the streets. But one or two people at a time? It won't raise any alarms."
Soren leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed. "And what exactly are we looking for? Weird behavior? Hidden symbols in the walls? They're polite, Captain. Maybe that's just how they are."
"Maybe," Corwin said quietly. "But we don't take chances." He glanced at the others. "You've all felt it. That itch at the back of your mind. Something isn't right."
There was a murmur of quiet agreement. Even Soren shifted uneasily.
"I'll keep to the markets," Reynald offered. "People talk when they trade. If there are rumors, I'll find them."
Corwin nodded. "Good." He turned to Farron. "Magos?"
The Tech-Priest inclined his head slightly, optics whirring. "I will monitor communications. The planet's vox network is… unusual. It is worth further analysis."
"Do it." Corwin turned back to the table, scanning the faces of his officers. "We're here to refuel and resupply. That hasn't changed. But we keep our eyes open. We rotate shifts — two people in the city at all times. No more, no less. Cassian, you'll be the primary observer. Reynald, you'll coordinate rotations. Soren, you stick to the docks. Keep an ear on the shiphands. They always know more than they let on."
Soren smirked. "Aye, Captain."
"And the rest of us?" Reynald asked.
"Keep the ship ready. We're guests here, but that doesn't mean we're safe. If we need to leave, I want us ready to fly in minutes, not hours."
The lieutenant nodded.
Cassian leaned back in his chair, watching the others carefully. There was unease in the room — subtle but there. These were hardened voidfarers, used to danger and uncertainty. The fact that they were uneasy spoke volumes. Cassian's own suspicions still lingered, but he pushed them aside for now. There was work to do.
Corwin took a deep breath, looking around the table one last time. "Alright. We keep quiet. We stay sharp. If anything feels wrong, we regroup and reassess. Understood?"
A chorus of quiet nods followed.
The meeting ended without ceremony. One by one, the crew filed out, each lost in their own thoughts. Cassian lingered for a moment, watching Corwin as the captain stared at the empty table. Finally, he turned and left the room, the hum of the ship's engines following him into the corridor.
—-
Word count: 1785
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