Fighting With Faith- Thirty-First Entry

His staggering footsteps and gasping breath echoed around him, off the mountain slopes. His clothes were tattered and torn, resembling none of the spick and span uniform of the Asat Imperial Guard attire he once adorn smartly. It way long past midnight and it was near pitch black, save for the luminescent moons hung high above. He had managed to slip past the sentry guards unnoticed, and now he had been half sprinting, half staggering along a rough and unkempt part of the mountain slope for the past two hours. He was heading to the vast warehouse now a mere five hundred metres away from him.

He is Starut.

A Genestealer warrior suddenly sprang up from a shrub of bushes ahead of Starut, flaring its nostrils and cocking its head inquisitively to its side. Starut, recognising the creature before him, continued his pace, all the time keeping his gaze set firmly into the Genestealer’s glaring stare.

There was no where to run to, with heavy growth of alien flora and fauna at both sides of the path. The path itself was being overgrown with certain tough shrubs and plants. It seemed the mountain itself wanted to cover up this hidden passage.

Starut, now mere two steps away from the creature, raised his hands and uttered something in a guttural tone, never conceivable in human verbal communication.

The Genestealer immediately sprang back into the bushes, and gestured with its head for Starut to proceed down the path. It was not an enemy.

Starut managed to flash a smile at it before proceeding past it. A door could be seen from where he was now, further down the path. Starut soon reached it and tapped lightly on the wooden door, obviously not part of the huge Adamantium building itself.

His tapping was answered by the wooden door opening by itself, to reveal a dimly lit rectangular room. It looked like a tactician room with maps, data slates and stolen vox casters laid about. Robed cultists could be seen walking around purposefully, some with data slates or laspistols grasped firmly in their hands. There were tables placed around the room, with groups of cultists huddled around it.

“You’re late.” A voice said, coming from the gloom of the room. A figure then appeared from the dim backdrop and walked towards Starut.

“Greetings fellow Alken. I bring important news. No use of lamenting whether I’m late or not; I’m here.” Starut retorted, flashing Alken, a long sought friend, a smile. However lately, since Starut had been picked to infiltrate the Asat Guard division, Alken seemed jealous and somewhat envious, using any chance to nit pick Starut. The chance to do something life threatening for the Mother Fleet was something very rare and often nigh possible. However the rewards for it were worth it.

“Follow me.” Alken seemed to sneer as he turn his back on Starut and the closing wooden doors which seemed much more powerful and heavier then it seemed to begin walking deeper into the room.

Starut was led to a wooden table which seemed to be the biggest in the room, situated in the back of the room with another set of wooden doors near it The wooden table beneath his hands also didn’t feel like wood; it felt like a metal but overcoated with wood. . Around the table, Starut could recognise some familiar faces but couldn’t take his eyes off some of the mutants that were present too.

They look horrid.

Alken cleared his throat. He seemed to have noticed Starut’s weird glare at the huddled mutants and sought to bring his attention back.

“Fellow Starut, what news you bring?” Alken asked, a sinister smile spreading across his thin, gaunt face, revealing an ominous set of sharp, serrated teeth no human should have.