The Praedyth moved silently through the swirling depths of the Warp, its sleek hull cutting through the shifting currents of unreality like a blade. From the command deck, Servius watched the endless chaos outside through the reinforced viewport, his sharp green eyes tracking the roiling miasma. The Warp was alive with motion—shadows that twisted into impossible shapes, streaks of light that burned and faded like dying stars, and faint whispers that brushed against his mind like ghostly fingers.

  But the Praedyth moved with purpose. Servius’s claws tapped lightly against the console as he monitored the ship’s systems. The ship’s system had proven stable so far, though its mechanical tone lacked the warmth or reverence of a machine spirit. The ship's intelligence was efficient, calculating, and deeply pragmatic. It had no loyalty to him—only recognition of his authority as the one who had purged its systems of the lingering taint of Chaos.

  “Approaching designated coordinates,” the Praedyth’s voice announced, flat and precise. “Entering the Sarynth Expanse. Subspace distortion increasing by 14%. Scanning for navigational hazards.”

  The Sarynth Expanse had loomed in Servius’s thoughts ever since the ship’s databanks had identified it as a potential destination. The name carried weight, even in the Warp. A region known for its fragmented worlds and forgotten ruins, it had long been abandoned by the Imperium—and for good reason. The Expanse was a graveyard of consumed planets, shattered stations, and scavengers too stubborn or desperate to leave.

  “Visuals,” Servius commanded.

  The main display flickered to life, casting a faint glow across the dimly lit command deck. The Expanse stretched out before him—a vast region of suspended devastation. Fractured planetary masses drifted in the void, their surfaces marred by jagged scars where the Warp had twisted them into mockeries of their former selves. Here and there, ancient voidcraft floated aimlessly, their hulls blackened by fire and corruption.

  And at the heart of it all, glowing faintly like a wound in space, was the region’s anchor—a massive, shattered moon tethered together by strands of raw Warp energy. Servius’s tail flicked once, sharply, as he studied the chaotic tableau.

  His eyes locked onto the shattered moon at the heart of the Expanse. It loomed like a wound in space, its jagged fragments held together by tendrils of raw Warp energy that pulsed faintly, almost like veins. He couldn’t look at it for too long without feeling the Nexus stir in the back of his mind—a faint, nagging ache that reminded him of its presence. Whatever secrets this place held, they wouldn’t come without a price.

  “Energy signatures detected,” the Praedyth reported. “Localized activity suggests semi-organized factions within the Expanse. Probability of armed hostilities: 78%.”

  Servius exhaled slowly, his claws retracting as he leaned back in the pilot’s seat. “What kind of factions?”

  “Scavengers, raiders, and remnants of Chaos-affiliated groups,” the ship replied. “Minimal large-scale organization detected. Primary threat levels originate from individual outposts and rogue psykers.”

  The mention of psykers set Servius’s ears back, a faint growl rumbling in his chest. Rogue psykers in the Warp were always trouble—dangerous to themselves and everyone around them. If there were any in the Expanse, he’d need to avoid them, or eliminate them quickly if avoidance wasn’t an option.

  “What about resources?” he asked, his voice sharp and practical.

  “Localized concentrations of salvaged materials and energy sources detected,” the Praedyth answered. “Majority of assets are concentrated within outpost clusters along the central axis of the Expanse. Highest yield located near the primary Warp anomaly.”

  Servius’s eyes narrowed. “The shattered moon.”

  “Correct,” the vessel confirmed. “Potential risks include psychic interference, structural instability, and hostile forces.”

  The cat-like warrior studied the display for a long moment, weighing his options. The Expanse was a powder keg, but it also represented opportunity. Supplies, information, even allies—if he played his cards right, he could gain something of value here. But he had to tread carefully. The Warp didn’t offer second chances.

  “Take us in closer,” he said finally, his voice steady. “Target the nearest outpost cluster. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

  “Adjusting course,” the Praedyth replied, the ship’s engines humming as it shifted trajectory.

  Servius watched the Expanse grow larger on the display, the fractured moons and floating debris casting long shadows against the Warp’s ever-shifting glow. The faint ache in his fingertips reminded him of the Nexus’s presence, its threads coiling tighter as they brushed against his soul. Something in the Expanse resonated with it—something important.

  The Praedyth slid into the shadow of a massive asteroid, its angular frame blending into the fragmented terrain. Ahead, Servius spotted the outpost—a cluster of makeshift structures cobbled together from salvaged voidcraft and station debris. Flickering lights dotted the base’s perimeter, casting eerie glows across the warped metal.

  Through the viewport, Servius could see figures moving along the outpost’s walkways—human silhouettes clad in scavenged armor, their weapons glinting faintly in the dim light. They were armed, but their movements lacked the discipline of a professional force. Scavengers, then. Survivors clinging to life in the depths of the Warp.

  “Energy signatures suggest minimal defensive capabilities,” the Praedyth reported. “Small arms, improvised turrets, and a single power source of unknown origin.”

  Servius’s tail flicked again as he considered his approach. A direct assault would be pointless—he didn’t need to kill these people unless they gave him a reason. But walking into their base unannounced could also be a problem. Scavengers were rarely the trusting type, especially in the Warp.

  “Open a comm channel,” he said, his voice cold but deliberate.

  The Praedyth complied, the display shifting to show a frequency spectrum as the ship transmitted a signal to the outpost. For a moment, there was nothing but static. Then, a voice crackled through the speakers—rough, suspicious, and tinged with hostility.

  “This is Outpost Krelos. Who the hell are you, and what do you want?”

  Servius leaned forward, his green eyes narrowing as he spoke. “The name’s Servius. I’m not here to fight—just looking for supplies and information.”

  There was a pause, the speaker crackling faintly. Then, the voice returned, sharper this time. “You’re in the wrong place for charity, friend. If you’ve got nothing to trade, you’d best move along before we decide you’re worth more dead than alive.”

  Servius’s claws flexed against the console, a faint growl rumbling in his chest. “I don’t think you’re in a position to make threats,” he said, his tone icy. “If I wanted you dead, your outpost would already be ash.”

  Another pause. This time, there was a faint edge of unease in the voice. “Alright, alright. No need to get hostile. You want to talk, you come down in person. Unarmed. We don’t deal with cowards hiding behind their ships.”

  Servius smirked faintly, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “Fine. I’ll see you soon.”

  He cut the transmission, the Praedyth’s voice chiming in almost immediately. “Tactical analysis: probability of ambush is high. Recommend alternative approach.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Servius muttered, standing from the pilot’s seat and checking the straps on his gear. “Keep the ship ready. If this goes wrong, I’m not sticking around for the cleanup.”

  “Understood,” the ship replied, its tone as cold and pragmatic as ever.

  Servius strode toward the ship’s exit, his tail flicking sharply behind him. The outpost loomed ahead, a den of scavengers and opportunists. Whether they would prove useful allies or unfortunate corpses remained to be seen.

  The Sarynth Expanse was just beginning to show its teeth.

  Servius descended the boarding ramp, his boots clicking softly against the metal as the stale, acrid air of the outpost’s docking bay hit him. The smell of machine oil, burnt wiring, and human sweat was oppressive, clinging to everything like a second skin. Overhead, the outpost’s dim lighting flickered erratically, casting jittering shadows across the jagged walls. The sound of muffled voices, clattering tools, and occasional laughter drifted through the docking bay like a phantom of distant normalcy.

  His green eyes swept the area, noting the worn condition of the bay’s equipment. Rusted scaffolding creaked faintly in the artificial gravity, and long-abandoned cargo crates were stacked haphazardly along the walls, their markings faded and illegible. A group of armed scavengers loitered near a heavy sliding door that led deeper into the outpost. They watched him with predatory intensity, their weapons slung but ready, fingers twitching near triggers. Their armor was mismatched and poorly maintained, a mix of salvaged flak plating, leather, and scavenged Astartes scraps that didn’t quite fit their wiry frames.

  Servius strode forward confidently, his tail flicking once as he deliberately kept his hands visible, showing he wasn’t holding a weapon. He had left his plasma pistol, rifle, and grenades aboard the Praedyth, but his knife was still strapped across his chest. He didn’t intend to be defenseless—not here.

  One of the scavengers stepped forward, a stocky man with a cybernetic eye and a jagged scar running from his forehead to his jaw. His voice was gravelly, likely from years of breathing in poorly filtered air. “You’re a bold one, walking in here alone.” His metal eye whirred faintly as it focused on Servius. “What’s your game?”

  Servius stopped a few paces away, his sharp green eyes locking onto the scavenger’s mismatched ones. “No game. I told you already—I’m here for supplies and information. That’s all.”

  The scarred man grunted, his cybernetic eye clicking faintly as it scanned Servius’s gear. “And you expect us to believe that?” He gestured toward the knife strapped to Servius’s chest. “Walking in armed, tail twitching like a cornered feral. Smells like trouble to me.”

  Servius’s smirk was faint, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “If I was trouble, you’d already know. I could’ve left this entire place as rubble. Instead, I came to talk. Your choice if you want to make that a mistake.”

  The scavenger’s companions shifted uneasily at Servius’s tone, their hands inching toward their weapons. But the leader raised a hand, silencing them. He tilted his head slightly, studying Servius with a mixture of suspicion and reluctant curiosity.

  “Alright,” the scarred man said finally, his voice laced with grudging respect. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But guts don’t mean you get a free pass.” He gestured toward the door behind him. “You want to talk, you’ll do it with our boss. She decides whether you leave here breathing.”

  Servius inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Lead the way.”

  The scavenger nodded toward two of his men, who flanked Servius as they walked through the sliding door. The air grew heavier as they moved deeper into the outpost, the flickering lights casting uneven shadows across the narrow corridors. The walls were reinforced with scrap metal, bolted haphazardly into place, and the faint hum of machinery reverberated through the structure like the pulse of a dying animal.

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  As they approached a larger chamber, the muffled sounds of conversation grew louder. They stepped into what passed for a central gathering area—a wide, open space with tables scattered across the floor and more scavengers lounging around them. The air was thick with smoke from poorly rolled lho-sticks, and the dim light gave the room a grimy, oppressive atmosphere.

  At the far end of the room, seated on a makeshift throne cobbled together from salvaged pilot seats and ceramite plating, was a woman with short-cropped silver hair and a mechanical gauntlet that hummed faintly with energy. Her eyes were sharp, calculating, and she carried herself with the air of someone who had survived countless fights to keep her position. A massive autogun rested against the side of her throne, within easy reach.

  The scarred man stepped aside, motioning for Servius to approach. “Boss, this one walked in claiming he wants to trade. Thought you’d want to hear him out.”

  The woman leaned forward slightly, her sharp eyes narrowing as she looked Servius over. “Well, well,” she said, her voice smooth but edged with steel. “You’re not like the usual rats who come through here. Tail, ears... what are you, some kind of mutant?”

  Servius didn’t flinch at the question, though his tail flicked once in irritation. “Does it matter?” he replied evenly. “I’m here because I have something you don’t. A ship.”

  The room went quiet at his words. Scavengers exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from curiosity to skepticism. The woman’s gaze hardened, and she gestured toward him with her mechanical hand. “You’ve got a ship? And you’re offering it to us?”

  “Not quite,” Servius said, his tone cool. “The ship’s mine. But I can use it to bring you things you need. Weapons, supplies, maybe even a way out of this sector if you’re interested.”

  The woman studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that. Walking in here, making deals like you’ve already won. But boldness doesn’t guarantee survival. What’s stopping me from putting a bullet in you and taking the ship for myself?”

  Servius smirked faintly, his sharp green eyes locking onto hers. “You can try. But the ship doesn’t take kindly to strangers. You’d never get it off the ground.”

  The woman leaned back in her throne, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that. You’ve got my attention. But if you’re lying, you won’t leave here alive. Understood?”

  “Crystal clear,” Servius replied, his voice steady. “Now let’s talk business.”

  The woman on the makeshift throne leaned back, her mechanical gauntlet resting on the armrest, each metallic finger humming faintly with stored energy. Around the room, her scavengers shifted uneasily, their weapons held tight as they studied Servius with predator-like wariness. Servius ignored the tension. His sharp green eyes locked onto hers with the calm indifference of someone who’d walked into worse places and survived.

  "Alright, Cat," she said, her tone dripping with both mockery and curiosity. "Let’s say you’ve got a ship. A real one, not some patched-up coffin. Why don’t you tell me what you’re really after? Nobody walks into Krelos without a reason, and I don’t take kindly to liars."

  Servius’s tail flicked once, sharp and deliberate, as his smirk widened just enough to show teeth. "What I’m after is simple. Trade. Supplies. Information. You’ve got the bodies and the salvage, but you’re boxed in, stuck living off scraps. You need someone who can move between drifts and bring back what you can’t reach."

  She tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing. "And you’re that someone? You think you’re going to just stroll out into the Warp, past every raider and daemon between here and nowhere, and come back with gifts for me?"

  "If I couldn’t, we wouldn’t be talking," Servius replied coldly. His voice cut through the room, silencing the faint whispers of her men. "I’m not here to beg, and I’m not here to lie. Your people wouldn’t survive five seconds on my ship. But me? I can get you what you need. I don’t need your trust. Just your cooperation."

  A low murmur rippled through the scavengers, and the woman raised her mechanical hand, silencing them with a faint hum of power. Her smirk returned, edged with amusement and skepticism. "You talk big, Cat. But talk’s cheap out here. You want a seat at my table? Prove you’ve got teeth."

  Servius tilted his head slightly. "What kind of proof are you looking for?"

  She gestured toward a wiry man at her side—Jek, his scarred face as sharp as his laspistol. "Tell him about the shipment."

  Jek stepped forward reluctantly, his gaze flicking between Servius and the woman. "We’ve got a stash out near the asteroid belt," he said gruffly. "Weapons, fuel, food—months of work. A gang of raiders hit it, made off with half. We’ve tracked them, but their base is fortified. Too many guns for us to take head-on."

  The woman leaned forward, her gauntlet’s hum filling the room like a faint growl. "Bring it back," she said, her voice razor-sharp. "All of it. You do that, maybe we’ll have a deal."

  Servius’s sharp eyes narrowed, his tail flicking behind him. "I’ll deal with your raider problem," he said, his voice cold. "But I’m taking a cut. If you think I’m doing this for free, you’re as desperate as you look."

  The woman laughed, sharp and harsh. "You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that. Fine. Take your cut—if you live long enough to claim it. But don’t think we’ll come save you when you choke."

  "I won’t choke," Servius replied, his tone ice-cold. "Now give me the coordinates."

  Jek nodded, stepping forward to hand him a battered dataslate. "The raiders are holed up in an old mining rig," he said, his tone cautious. "It’s heavily fortified, and they’ve got a few light craft patrolling the area. If you’re going in alone, you’d better have a damn good plan."

  Servius took the dataslate without a word, his sharp claws brushing against its surface as he scanned the coordinates. The mining rig was a short jump away, just far enough to be inconvenient but close enough to be within reach.

  Servius turned without another word, his tail flicking sharply as he strode out of the room. The scavengers watched him go in tense silence, their whispers following him down the corridor like ghostly echoes.

  Back aboard the Praedyth, the familiar hum of the ship’s systems greeted him like an old companion. The command console lit up as he stepped onto the bridge, the navigation display already highlighting the coordinates of the raiders’ base.

  "What was the analysis?" the ship asked, its voice cold and mechanical.

  Servius dropped into the pilot’s seat, his claws flexing against the console. "We’ve got a job. Raiders on the next drift over. Get us ready to move."

  "Understood," the ship replied, its tone as unflinching as ever. "Jump calculations underway. Prepare for departure."

  The engines thrummed to life, the ship’s sleek frame shuddering faintly as it prepared to break free of the asteroid’s shadow. Servius’s sharp green eyes narrowed as he stared out into the void, his mind already working through the angles of the mission ahead.

  The scavengers wanted proof. They were about to get it.

  The Praedyth slid out from the shadow of the asteroid, its engines humming with quiet precision as the ship glided into open Warp space. The coordinates Jek had provided were locked into the navigation system, a faint glowing marker on the tactical display indicating the mining rig's position within the neighboring Warp drift. It wasn’t far, but "not far" in the Warp was a relative concept. Even short distances were fraught with potential danger.

  Servius leaned back in the pilot's seat, his sharp green eyes fixed on the faint glow of the navigation display. The ship’s cold voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “Route plotted. Estimated time to destination: seven minutes at sublight speed. Anomalies detected near target coordinates—likely remnants of mining activity, but potentially hazardous. Recommend caution.”

  Servius’s tail flicked sharply behind him, his claws tapping idly against the armrest. “Noted. Keep scans active. I want to know if anything starts moving out there.”

  “Understood,” the ship replied. Its voice was mechanical and devoid of inflection, a steady monotone that echoed faintly through the otherwise silent bridge.

  As the ship powered toward the mining rig, Servius began mentally cataloging his equipment. His bolt pistol was secured in its holster, a fresh magazine slotted and ready. The knife strapped across his chest gleamed faintly in the dim light of the bridge, its power field dormant but ready to activate at a moment’s notice. He had grabbed a small bag of frag and krak grenades from the fortress before leaving and had brought his longlas, though its low power pack would force him to conserve shots.

  The prospect of taking on an entire band of raiders alone didn’t bother him. It wasn’t the first time, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. But something about this job had his fur bristling. The scavengers at the outpost were opportunists, not idiots. If they hadn’t dealt with these raiders themselves, it meant the mining rig was a harder target than Jek had let on.

  The Praedyth broke through the last stretch of Warp mist, the glowing outline of the mining rig coming into view on the main display. The structure was massive, a hulking industrial relic that floated amidst a debris field of shattered asteroids and ruined machinery. Its jagged silhouette was illuminated by faint, flickering lights, casting eerie shadows across its corroded surface.

  “Visuals confirmed,” the ship intoned. “Target identified: mining platform Theta-47. Structural integrity: compromised. Active energy signatures detected—multiple small craft and scattered life forms.”

  Servius’s ears flicked at that last detail. “How many?” he asked, his voice sharp.

  “Approximately thirty human-sized life forms,” the ship replied. “Energy readings indicate small arms and a handful of light vehicles. Defensive turrets located on outer hull—four in total, two active.”

  Servius studied the display, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he took in the tactical data. The raiders had fortified the rig just enough to make it defensible, but their numbers were manageable. The real challenge would be taking out the defensive turrets without alerting the entire base. A head-on assault was out of the question—he’d need to be surgical.

  “Deploy cloaking screen,” he ordered, his voice cold and steady. “Take us into position near that debris field. I want to use the wreckage for cover.”

  “Deploying cloaking screen,” the ship acknowledged, its tone as clinical as ever.

  The Praedyth’s hull shimmered faintly, the ship’s energy signature dampening as the cloaking system activated. The sleek vessel slid silently through the void, weaving between the shattered fragments of asteroids and mining equipment that floated aimlessly around the rig. The debris provided ample cover, the jagged edges of rock and metal shielding the ship from the rig’s sensors.

  Servius leaned forward, his claws dancing across the console as he activated the external cameras. The mining rig loomed larger now, its rusted walls marred by the scars of decades—or perhaps centuries—of neglect. The two active turrets swiveled lazily, their targeting systems scanning the surrounding area for any signs of intruders. Servius noted their positions on the tactical display, his sharp eyes narrowing as he calculated the angles.

  “The turrets,” he muttered to himself. “They’ll be the first problem.”

  “Analysis complete,” the Praedyth chimed in. “Defensive turrets powered by localized energy cells. Vulnerabilities detected in targeting systems. Recommend precision strikes to disable without alerting base.”

  Servius smirked faintly, his tail flicking behind him. “That’s the idea.”

  He stood from the pilot’s seat, his movements fluid and deliberate as he grabbed his gear. The longlas rested in its case, its sleek design carefully maintained. Servius strapped the rifle to his back and checked the seals on his grenades before stepping toward the ship’s deployment bay.

  “Maintain cloak and hold position,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’ll handle this personally.”

  “Understood,” the ship replied. “Good luck, Servius.”

  Luck wasn’t something Servius relied on. He moved to the airlock, the faint hum of the Praedyth’s systems fading as the outer hatch slid open. The cold void of the Warp greeted him, its oppressive silence broken only by the faint vibration of his mag-boots against the ship’s hull.

  He stepped out onto the Praedyth’s exterior, his movements deliberate as he secured his tether line and began his approach. The debris field stretched out before him, a jagged expanse of ruined metal and shattered stone that offered ample cover. Beyond it, the mining rig loomed like a sleeping beast, its flickering lights casting eerie patterns across the void.

  Servius moved like a shadow, his lithe frame weaving through the wreckage with practiced ease. His longlas was in his hands now, the scope’s reticle glowing faintly as he scanned the rig’s defenses. The two active turrets were positioned on the upper levels, their barrels swiveling in slow, predictable arcs. Servius tracked their movements, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he calculated the timing of his shots.

  He settled into position behind a jagged fragment of asteroid, his longlas resting against the edge of the rock. The first turret came into view, its targeting sensors glowing faintly as it scanned the void. Servius adjusted his aim, his claws flexing against the trigger as he steadied his breathing.

  The shot was silent, the beam of energy lancing through the void and striking the turret’s sensor array with pinpoint precision. Sparks erupted from the damaged system, the turret’s movements faltering before it powered down entirely. Servius shifted his aim, lining up his next shot as the second turret came into view.

  Another beam of energy, another precision strike. The second turret sputtered and fell silent, its barrel drooping like a lifeless limb. The rig’s defenses were blind now, their watchful eyes snuffed out before they could sound the alarm.

  Servius exhaled slowly, his sharp eyes scanning the rig for any signs of movement. The raiders inside would still be a problem, but for now, the path was open. He deactivated his mag-boots and kicked off the asteroid, his lithe form gliding silently toward the mining rig’s outer hull.