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The cultists surge forward in a wave of flesh and claws and hunger; the four exiles meet the wave unflinching as the rocky shore, battered and worn but still holding fast. They fight in silence, without war cries to cow the enemy or even audible breaths on the squad vox. Their battle is not heroism to boast of, simply one in an endless series of missions to stop the spread of contamination across the galaxy. This ship is tainted, so they cleanse it.
Bail Sharr switched to his faulty, half-functional chainsword as soon as the enemies got close enough to reach. He doesn't care for its balance or its untrustworthy machine spirit, but finding more promethium for its motor is far easier than restocking their supply of bolt shells. Most of the remaining population of the ship must be here, brandishing scavenged laspistols and improvised weapons when their limbs haven't turned to scaly claws, but none of them carry anything heavy enough to seriously threaten the exiles' armor.
The boom of Shadow's boltgun ceases. Bail Sharr looks over to see one of the cultists make a wild overhand swing, bringing down a cleaver toward Shadow's arm. Shadow's hand lashes out and grabs the cultist's hand in a crushing grip, taking control of the weapon and its wielder both. He breaks the exiles' line by lunging into the massed assault, swinging the cleaver in a wide arc that sends blood flying. His own serrated blade is in his other hand as he sways and weaves between amateur blows, striking to maim and dragging the cleaver's hapless wielder in his wake. He's too fast for mortals to keep up with. The cultist takes blows in his stead, yanked or twisted into the path of blades that sought Shadow's blood. Its howls of pain and anger rise over the incomprehensible chanting of the others.
The exiles' vox is no longer silent. The rest of them fight with the Carcharodon restraint, giving no voice to their grim work, but Shadow in this mood breaks with decorum to hiss and purr as he wounds his foes. He grunts with effort as he swings his living shield around, and with satisfaction as he severs the tendons of an inhuman third arm. Neither Blood Eye nor Talon reproach him, but Bail Sharr can see their displeasure in the sharpness of their movements. He redoubles his efforts to bring this massacre to its end.
Shadow's shield goes down, leaving a bleeding arm in his grasp, and he laughs. Sharr and the others are closing on his position through the last of the horde, finishing off cultists that he maimed and left to bleed. He throws the arm at the largest cultist still standing, a nastily mutated creature with chitin plates on its forehead, and pulls off his helm. His teeth are bared.
"Void brother," Blood Eye says sharply, but Shadow isn't listening. He springs on the cultist like a beast, knocking it to the ground.
"The Blindness," Talon mutters, even as he crushes another skull.
This isn't the Blindness, at least not as most of them would know it, but Bail Sharr has no desire for a debate. "Leave him to me. These creatures must have a controlling force. See if you can pinpoint it while I bring Shadow back."
They both nod, and Talon stifles a salute. Bail Sharr can't be the leader they clearly need, but at least when he forgets himself they aren't offended. He unlocks and removes his own helm, turning to where the last xenos cultist lies pinned.
Shadow is crouched over its prone body, possibly crushing its hips. He's holding the bloody wreck of one of its hands, and as Bail Sharr watches he bites one of the fingers off. The cultist thrashes and gurgles, purplish foam at the corners of its thin lips. Shadow spits the finger onto its chest in contempt.
Bail Sharr steps up and crushes the cultist's head under his boot. Shadow's head snaps up instantly, bloody teeth bared, looking for a moment ready to fight him. "This is not necessary," Bail Sharr says, not acknowledging the threat.
Shadow's hands clench and unclench, fighting his own nature. "Nor is your intervention." Bail Sharr hears the accusation: you care inappropriately for an exile.
"I want us to succeed," Bail Sharr says. He offers Shadow his hand. "Get up."
He can see the moment when the bloodlust leaves Shadow's heart, the slackening face and loosening grip on the corpse. Shadow clasps his wrist and stands, silent, looking down as if in shame. This is what caused his exile, Bail Sharr is sure of it. Shadow has the dark heart, the blood curse that makes some few of their number crave pain and terror before the kill. His Shiver, seeing the signs, must have thought him a liability and cast him out.
Bail Sharr turns away. "With me." He backtracks through the hulk, but not far. There was a medicae station on this deck, not equipped with the surgery and geneseed storage of a true apothecarion but instead intended to assist with rehabilitation of seriously injured warriors. The lumens come up when they enter, this section of the hulk still fed with power from some source. Shadow follows soundlessly, asking no questions when Bail Sharr finds the flotation tank in the back of the station and turns its heat up a few degrees from its blood-warm default.
This is an unsafe place, but they're part of what makes that the case. Bail Sharr puts his weapons down in easy reach of the tank and gestures for Shadow to do likewise. Shadow complies, and follows Bail Sharr's example when he starts to remove his armor.
Ceramite plates laid out in two neat series, bodygloves left beside them. Bail Sharr boosts Shadow into the water first, and watches the minute but unmistakable shift in expression as he sinks into it. The third-eyelid membrane slides over his black eyes and his lips part as if tasting the air. Steam rises gently off the water's surface.
Bail Sharr climbs in with him, sinking into the heat with only a momentary flicker of guilt. Immediately, he can feel the warmth encouraging tight muscles to loosen, and he exhales low and long. The meditation pools on the White Maw, on all the Carcharodon ships, are almost cold enough to freeze. The chill is a reminder to remain vigilant; a Carcharodon is not vulnerable to the soporific effects of hypothermia, senses only sharpened by the discomfort. This, on the other hand, this warmth that buoys him up and soothes aches he'd been ignoring, offers the enticing promise that vigilance and duty can be set aside. He doesn't deserve that respite.
But Shadow is barely a void brother, his body almost scarless, his bare face boyish. He has never been in command of a full company only to let them down with his weakness. He has likely never even truly fulfilled the malevolent promise of his genes. He closes his eyes for five long seconds as he sinks deeper, until the water is up to his neck.
They could stay like this. It would likely be enough to bring Shadow out of the post-manic numbness. Instead, Bail Sharr reaches for him and pulls him close. Shadow feels pliant, unresisting, allowing Bail Sharr to entangle their limbs in the water and hold him. His skin is smooth, barely scarred and entirely without the denticle patches that decorate Bail Sharr's jaw and shoulders.
"Breathe deeply," Bail Sharr says. He makes his own breathing audible to demonstrate, then drags his nails over Shadow's back. Akia needed this kind of grounding sometimes after a battle that hadn't satisfied him. Simple sensory experiences to center him and not let the dark heart's passions overwhelm him.
After a few long, slow breaths, Shadow's hands come up through the water to hold on, his fingers digging into Bail Sharr's back. "I still want to bite. To rend."
"That never ends," Bail Sharr tells him. "Even for one whose lineage traces clearly to the Forgotten One."
Shadow growls, pressing his face into the hollow of Bail Sharr's throat. His breath huffs against Bail Sharr's pulse. "Aren't you going to stop me?"
"Only if you lose control."
Shadow bites him, clutching tighter like he's trying to steady himself. Bail Sharr twists in his grip and takes hold of his nape to move him just enough that he's biting down on roughened denticle instead of unchanged skin. Shadow doesn't fight him over it, staying where he's put and worrying at the tough sharkskin. The pain is barely enough to register as such. Bail Sharr keeps holding on, kneading Shadow's nape on either side of the port.
Touch is as rare and frowned on as warmth. Bail Sharr shouldn't be letting himself indulge in it, but it should help Shadow with the disconnect that follows the dark hunger. He can't exactly delegate this to Talon or Blood Eye. He doesn't command them, and for all he knows, their Shivers were like Shadow's and would have nothing to do with a brother of the cruel blood.
Shadow pushes closer yet, his flesh against Bail Sharr's along the length of their bodies. Bail Sharr chooses to let this continue—even when he feels Shadow's hips rocking, grinding his hardening cock against Bail Sharr's thigh.
They are the predators of the Outer Dark. They desire nothing but to hunt the enemies of the Void Father. Nothing distracts them from the blood they seek.
They are exiles, cast out from the chapter to fend for themselves in their duty.
"Here, little brother." Bail Sharr slips a hand between them and takes Shadow's cock in his grip. Shadow makes a sound like an animal trying to ward off a threat. "Be at ease," Bail Sharr says.
He's not sure if Shadow heeds him or even can right now, but the deathgrip of the teeth in his shoulder eases as Shadow thrusts into his hand. Bail Sharr feels no desire for similar stimulation; the conditioning he endured as a neophyte was successful in that regard. Akia retained all of his appetites, though, and Bail Sharr remembers how much relief it brought him to be able to slake them. If this helps bring Shadow back to fighting form, it's easy enough to provide.
It's such a strange moment—such an unfamiliar rite to share, even if he's done it before. The skin of Shadow's cock is so soft against his calluses. The closeness of their bodies without the excuse of training. The way Shadow lets his emotions slip and trusts Bail Sharr to keep them in confidence. Bail Sharr presses his cheek to Shadow's temple. More contact, for once, feels right.
Shadow sobs once at the moment of climax, hips jerking as he spills his seed in the water. He shudders violently for roughly twenty seconds, then stills. His elevated heart rate starts to slow as he slumps against Bail Sharr's chest.
Before he seems quite calm, he says, "Should I?" with his hand sliding down Bail Sharr's abdomen.
"No," Bail Sharr says, catching his wrist. He doesn't want to explain, to draw attention to the differences between them. "Offering does you credit, but we need to make ready to support our void brothers when they return."
Shadow studies his face for a moment, as if there will be anything to learn there. Eventually he nods.
They climb out of the tank, water sluicing down off hardened musculature. The cool air of the ship is sobering after that rare warmth. That's appropriate; they need to put comfort aside. It served its purpose and now they have a hulk to cleanse.
Bail Sharr helps Shadow with his armor, settling the backpiece across broad shoulders and aligning penetration points with interface ports. Locking away the hungry young man inside the shell of the void warrior.
When Shadow returns the favor, he pauses at one point with his hand on Bail Sharr's chest, looking him in the eyes. It's almost a human moment, as far as Bail Sharr understands such things. He braces for an awkward request that he'll have to refuse.
"Thank you, Blind One," Shadow says. "For taking the time to help me."
Bail Sharr nods. "We all need to be at our best."
Shadow says no more, only helps with the rest of Bail Sharr's armor.
As his helmet locks into place, the displays come to life. Bail Sharr blinks through to get the squad locations—Talon and Blood Eye are together, condition green, and not moving. He activates the vox. "Brothers. How goes your search?"
"We've found what seems to be the center of this outbreak," Blood Eye reports. "It's big and nasty enough to be a challenge for the whole team."
"Copy that." Bail Sharr looks at Shadow, who nods. "We're on our way. Any snags on the route?"
"Not anymore. Just get here before this damn xenos sniffs us out."
"Will do." Bail Sharr beckons to Shadow and they leave the medicae station, heading through the dead ship toward their comrades' ident runes. Shadow lopes along behind him, carrying the legacy of the dark heart, savagery always near the surface. Dangerous.
But they all are. It's the role of void exiles to bring that danger to as many of the Void Father's foes as they can before they fall. Bail Sharr will take whatever allies he can in that mission, and he will keep them fighting with all he has.