The rampant dick-measuring contest between Stephen and Diamond is interrupted as the entire ships seems to shake unexpectedly. Alarms go off as all important personnel are called to their stations. Even those clones who were primarily used as foot soldiers used their basic training to try and assist the team, reinforcing places where a hull breach might occur, and compensating for the damage the ship was taking. Clearly the ship had entered combat mode, as all weapons personnel were also called to station. As such, Diamond would find herself forced to choose between her concern for the ship, or her desire for petty vengeance.
On a more macro scale, the Clone Fleet had been thrown into utter disarray. Despite being hidden from any known means of detection, they had been unable to shield their souls from the pervading influence of the Warp. They had weathered through the earlier cataclysm that had decimated 20 hive worlds, not counting Tor-6 itself, and yet now they had become a target themselves. Reality split and rippled around them, as a Warp Storm formed at their exact location. Perhaps this was caused by Malal's earlier visitation, the other Chaos Gods attempting to chase him down, and eliminate his following. Or perhaps this was caused by the clones' effective survival of the earlier catastrophe, their leaders using psionic resistance to shield themselves from the Warp's influence. Or perhaps it was merely another cruel whim, a meaningless link in Tzeentch's grand plan for multiversal domination. But regardless of the indirect cause, the clones - and everybody on board of the clone ships - was currently in enough shit to build a new planet.
As the sensors cleared up, the leading caste found itself in a different universe altogether. They were no longer traveling through the vast emptiness of space, but rather seemed to move through an equally vast purple universe, filled with infinite clouds of Daemon, great stars burning red blue and green. Entire solar systems existed here, forming from the collective consciousness of the multiverse's denizens, billions of souls burning into nothing to fuel war engines the size of stars. Daemon so massive they could never have manifested in the materium, devouring entire worlds or contemplating the most intricate of theoretical realities. A beautiful madness, filled with beings so diverse they made humans look monotone. Hypothetically there existed 'realms' within the Warp, domains of the Chaos Gods, the shattered remains of the palaces of the former Gods. And yet, practically, there existed no such order. Everything was all over the place, a shattered mirror of the order of the natural world, where locations could switch on a whim, and reality was always what it seemed, for exactly as long as you were looking at it.
Of course, the entire panorama was dominated by a single sight. An unspeakably brilliant light, far in the distance and yet close at once. Those of the crew who looked directly at it were blinded, and yet could not stop looking. It was like a star, vast galaxy-sized rays of light slicing through the impure domains of Chaos. Worlds scorched to nothing, armies of Daemon annihilated in moments. Infinite armies of angelic beings matched the Daemon in combat, a relentless war that made any physical counterpart look mild by comparison. The 10.000 year war of order versus chaos, the war between the God Emperor and the Chaos Gods. Beings of unspeakable power clashed, their energies tearing the fabric of reality itself, and the entire thing was a spectacle so beautiful, one could only behold it once without being blinded.
Of course, entering the Warp without a Gellar Field was a dangerous prospect. Now more than ever, as the Emperor lay dead. And yet, these ships flew peacefully, not a single Daemon touching their ships, not a single whisper penetrating their minds. There was a bundle of light around them, like a comforting hand, like the gesture of a benevolent God. And even as the malevolent forces of Chaos sought to rip the clones to pieces, their bodies were burned to ashes. Slowly they were guided away from the titanic battle, away from the entity that so defied the Ruinous Powers, the pillar of Order in this realm of Madness.
It was a short journey, perhaps 10 minutes in total. But for those who had experienced it, it felt like an eternity. It would change lives, and leave marks that would never leave. Those who had been blinded by the lights would see nevermore, and yet they would find themselves resistant to the whispers of Chaos for the rest of their lives. Touched directly by a being of pure order, granted guidance by a God of Man. For who could fall to temptation, when they had witnessed true beauty?
Regardless, they emerged in another universe once more. They floated through the familiar vastness of the galaxy, and yet all sensors indicated their location had changed immensely. There was no hint of the Dominion signals that were inescapable in Tor-6, and the signals that could be intercepted seemed to all emerge from a single planet. Primitive radio signals, conveying messages on a variety of subjects. The weather, the president, and a variety of other confusing things. But perhaps most important of all, there was no hint of the influence of Chaos in this universe, nor of the oppressive forces of the Dominion. It seemed like wherever they had been dumped, they would not be in any immediate danger. Although there was no telling what the Ruinous Powers were doing back in Tor-6.
