[center][h2]The Price of Hesitation[/h2][/center]

Xepherial loomed over the faint glow of the console as [i]-chip[/i] displayed everything it immediately knew about [i]The Rigged Fortune[/i], which wasn't nearly enough information, and only only managed to amplify Xepherial's uncertainty by an order of magnitude. The strange ship seemed almost dead as it floated in place, transmitting no signals and taking no action. An uninteresting waiting game, this was, and Xepherial debated the value of wasting any more time on it. 

Just as his hand moved to give [i]-chip[/i] the order to start communicating, another blip appeared on the screen. Xeph's hand paused. It was a second ship, a very small one that would probably have been missed completely by the Thunderhawk's limited senors if it weren't for a sudden infrared burst that had flared from it. It was landing on the other side of the hulk, disappearing from view behind some jutting wreckage. 

Xepherial wasn't known for speaking to himself, and so he didn't verbalize his intense curiosity. Something had just happened to that little craft. It must have been an explosion, or perhaps there was fighting aboard. A sense of urgency grew as he immediately began...

**PROXIMITY ALERT**

An alarm went off and the screen text went blood red as [i]-chip[/i] screamed a dire warning. An extremely large, unidentified object shaped like a spear was on a direct collision course with the Thunderhawk. There was no time to ask where in the warp it came from, which was undoubtedly an accurate statement, because evasive action was immediately required. Focused as a space marine would be, even in a state of panic, Xepherial engaged thrusters and felt the gunship lurch forward with all its might. Through the rearview imagers he saw the thing in the last milliseconds before the collision, like a screaming bolt flying at the camera with unexpected speed, its nose alight with plasmafire like a flaming torch, yet all this terror was maliciously muted by the perfectly silent void of space. 

The thunderous roar of tearing metal was deafening just before air pressure was lost and the silence of space claimed [i]-chip[/i] and its occupant. The explosion of the left wing engine was laughable compared to the much greater blaze of the meltaweapon drill as it passed by microseconds earlier. The back quarter of the Thunderhawk and left wing were severed off as some prominence of the passing spear of death carelessly smashed through it. Xepherial had been completely unable to secure himself and was sucked out into the blackness of space as air pressure was lost, throwing him clear of the dangerous, spinning remains of his former companion. [i]-chip[/i] was no more. 

Long, out-of-use mechanisms on Xepherial's power armor quickly kicked in, responding to the aberrant sensor input on his life support and environmental detectors. The thermal waste disappators on his armor's power generator automatically directed themselves to negate his rotation and stabilize his orientation in zero-gravity. The emergency oxygen supply and air purification system quickly surged into his helmet, which thankfully he always wore, and the suit's cogitator set the internal temperature to a cool 18 degrees C. 

Xepherial was miraculously unharmed. Stunned with awe, he watched at the monstrous spire sank deep into of one of the hulk's corpse-ship components. Looking back, his heart sank with grief as the body of his own craft careened into the blackness, bleeding small flares of blue oxygen as its morbid sendoff. Xepherial mourned his brave, doomed machine ally and felt a debt of penance weight upon him for its' loss. 

With no other option, Xepherial directed himself to land directly upon the metal surface of the spacehulk. Magnetized soles on his armor allowed him to walk unhindered upon its surface. He glanced up in the direction of the [i]Rigged Fortune[/i], his auto-sensory display pointing it out. Was he about to be blasted into oblivion?