Eribos and Oriana, but Eribos especially, felt something, a presence intrude upon their personal link. Like walking in on someone else’s lucid dream; it was on the edge of their understanding…a presence, angry, frustrated and feeling trapped…and, well, bored.
“That you Z man?” Erebos reached out to the presence.
Eribos felt a bit of confusion coming from the presence, “What, who, huh? Z-man? Who said that? I’m getting stir crazy. Oh, give me a BREAK! What’s goin’ on?”
The amount of stress he felt from this unknown presence was alarming. “Calm down and breath, if that is what you do? I am called Erebos and you have tuned into my frequency. Who are you, or what, and what has you so alarmed.”
The gruff voice answered, “You are in my head? Frequency? Did they implant a comlink in me? Well, what the hell. I’m a frakkin’ prisoner. Can’t move my arms or legs or else I’d rip them apart and the bastards that left me
Erebos sighed. Why couldn’t anyone speak so he frakin understood them. “No I am not in your head, not an implant anyway. I felt the presence of your thoughts invading mine and decided to say hello. I can tell that you are more than a little tense, shall we say and decided to poke my nose into it and see if I could help.
Now that being said or thought as it is, Who has you? Tied up where? And of course why?”
The voice said, “Okay, I’m either insane, The One is speaking to me, or you are telling the truth. You don’t sound like something my brain would make up, nor like the One’s dogma, so I guess we share a bit of a connection. How, why, I don’t know.”
“So, here it is. I’m a member of the Marschok, a holy strike force. We were told some pathetic pink-skins had got in the way of the Keys of the Sacred, whatever THAT is. They are like a virus we were told, so, we went there to sweep them aside. I got shot in the back by someone, probably my whole codex – bastards. Ripper cannon tickle, but a few dozen heavy bolters really hurt. Jealousy I guess, I’m tougher than their entire strike force. Heh, I even ripped out of the pinkos jail for a bit until they hit me with their Librarians.”
“So, I think I’m in a ship. Warship. I feel less of a contact with my shadowsoul so, I think I’m in hyperspace. I am of the clan Vin, Mr. Voice. My spawnmother called me Melorpalitar. Mel for short. You are Eribos, right. Gladtomeetyah, voice in my head. I didn’t really want to do this anyway.”
Erebos decided to try something new. Shadow soul huh. Well I am the master of all things that are dark and shadowy. Making himself comfy he reached out with his mind, and the darkness searching for Mel. Let’s see how far I can push this. I can move through shadow maybe I can pull him through it.
Nothing concrete happened, though Eribos felt the beginning of a tug of ‘something’, but it was very, very weak. “Hey,” said Mel, “I feel wierd. You still there?”
“I’m here. I need you to try something for me. Open up your mind and concentrate on me, and on walking through the darkness to me. It’s a lot To ask and a long shot. But hey, you have the time right now.” Again Erebos reached out toward Mel focusing all his energy on him and moving him through shadow to him.
Instead of what he had planned, briefly, VERY briefly, Eribos saw Mel through what he believed a was a shadow in the prison cell. Whatever Mel was, he was humanoid, midnight blue skinned with red eyes that glowed slightly. His arms, legs, neck and waist were restrained with industrial strength pneumatic couplers which held him stationary and up off the floor facing a secure pressure door. Everything was heavy-duty and very familiar looking, like an interior pressure hull of a starship. Mel suddenly looked right at him; but then the vision disappeared and Eribos found himself alone in his room; the contact was gone and he was incredibly exhausted.
One thing he remembered was the door. Something written on the door – ‘EAS Churchill Maximum Security Cell 2′. Mel’s red glowing, alien eyes had faded. No contact remained.
“Well shit.” Erebos whispered as unconsciousness claimed him’