Herald of the Stars: Chapter Three Hundred and Eleven

For the next two weeks, the Stellar Fleet sends wrecked void ships into the silver rift. We record images of the Star Child floating in the centre of the rift and note the stabilizing effect His presence has on The Maw. The opportunists in the system are quick to flee once we start pulling away their cover and we let them go. A few daring officers in their hulls demand answers. The Stellar Fleet, however, maintains its silence.

I have not been feeling like myself, more so than usual, and my therapist has been unable to help. Brigid noticed the change and commented on it, but so long as I keep heading to confession to help figure out what is wrong, she seems content to let things be.

We depart for Port Wander and, with the Warp calm and clear, Quaani steps up to pilot Torchbearer to our destination. As we travel, I continue my work with JK-404. 

One afternoon, I stand lost in thought, surrounded by banks of cogitators, intricate glassworks, and multiple benches covered with half-solved engineering challenges. 

Even with a guide, understanding how to make myself smarter without harming myself is a frustrating task, especially without E-SIM available to guide my thoughts in the right direction. One does not simply read millennia of scientific papers, then recreate all the experiments and hope to arrive at the correct solution in a hurry.

My mind wanders off-task and Alis Riccal’s screams, as the Star Child channeled enough power through me to turn a lesser man to mush, pop into my head. Annoyed at my lapse, I realise that I have become stuck on solving one task in the hope that solving it will make the rest of the Materium make more sense. Not only is that a ridiculous thought, my focus has led me to push away any consideration towards checking my own soul. 

I’ve been injured so many times, either through cybernetic transformation or the insidious persistence of my enemies, that I shy away from looking at myself lest I be reminded of my own pain. A rather late revelation, considering the conversation that I had with Balor on my shuttle. I was so busy pushing my ideas on him that it never occurred to me to turn my philosophy upon myself, despite the subject matter!

Putting my work on hold, I head to the laboratory’s break area, a rather morbid area filled with displays of JK-404’s intricate dissection work from xeno fauna to modified humans. Her work on Ork bodies is rather thorough.

Did you know that an Ork orgasms every time they pull the trigger of a gun? I didn’t. Now, thanks to JK-404’s displays, I am freed from such ignorance and regretting every moment of peering too closely at her hobbyist’s collection.

I light some incense and a candle, then plonk my heavy metal arse on a large cushion in front of a small shrine. My cybernetics filter out the mental stimulants wafting from the censor on the altar. I close my eyes and turn down the sensitivity of my auspex, then focus on my third eye.

I turn my eye upon myself and see my soul lurking in the Warp. Like Victorian London fog it swirls and obscures itself and others, tiny lights burning against the lurking shadows of the Immaterium. Luminescent threads connect me to 37 psykers and my daughter, their thoughts seeping towards me in gentle whispers.

Alpia’s power blazes with all the subtlety of a blue hued star, revealing my carefully obscured soul to all who dare gaze upon it, only to be promptly blinded for their boldness.

The eyes upon us are numerous and I detect the malicious gazes of Daemons, Farseers, and ancient Tomb Lords prodding at us, hoping that we will reveal our secrets. Alpia, however, remains steadfast, almost uncaring, swatting away subtle spells and esoteric technologies automatically.

Quaani has taken us as deep as he dares and I see the Gellar Field on the Jericho constantly flickering. The only reason they’re not knee deep in Daemons is Alpia’s presence. Even then, the janky vessel is shedding souls, leaving a long trail of dead pilgrims and Penitents who are swept away in the fierce currents of the deep Warp.

Tentacles and claws reach into our wake, snatching up the soulful morsels before they even realise that they are dead. Even with Alpia nearby, the Emperor does not respond to their cries and Alpia seems deaf to them. 

I just feel numb, unable to muster sympathy, or the will to expend my own power to help them. I fear that my touch would consume them and the thought of the unnatural hunger it triggers concerns me. Neither are the hours of cleaning up the aftermath a good use of my time.

I press through the fog and it parts for me, revealing the desolation of my soul. What was once green hills and a modest house by the beach has been scoured to oblivion. Sand dunes fill a seemingly endless plane, without a drop of life. I find myself unconcerned at the catastrophic damage. How peculiar.

Alis stands on the beach, staring out at the Warp. In her arms she cradles two books, radiating the pure, unfathomable strength of The Emperor of Mankind. I flow down from the sky and create an avatar of myself just out of Alis’ vision, then walk along the beach towards her.

Alis spots me, jumps slightly, turns towards me. Her eyes widen and she sprints in my direction, clutching the two books to her chest. She slides to a halt in front of me, barely staying on her feet, her face a picture of panic.

“Lord Captain! I am so sorry about your house! I swear it wasn’t my fault! One moment I was in your library and the next everything was burning all around me. Only these two books kept me safe.” Alis thrusts out her arms, “Here, I have been hanging on to them for you.”

I take the two books from Alis’ hands and say, “Do not fear, Alis. I am glad to see that you are unharmed, even if I, apparently, am not.”

No wonder I was feeling so odd. My soul is sand and ash and I am no child of Arrakis, even if there are monsters beyond my shores.

Alis runs her hand down her Stellar Fleet uniform, flattening out the crinkles, then straightens her jacket. My gaze flicks towards the titles of the two books.

‘Warlock Pacts and You’

‘Soul Cultivation for Paranoid Weebs’

“I thought I was imagining things when I saw those titles,” says Alis. “What’s even more odd is that I’ve spent long enough reading the stories you left for me that I actually know what those terms mean. M3 fiction is most odd.”

I squint at the covers. I am being trolled again by an immortal child. 

“Oh? How far did you get?” I say.

“I read the whole library.”

“How?!”

Alis grins, “Time here is strange, Lord. There is always enough time to do everything, yet when there is nothing to do, time does not pass at all. It’s like a dream, but more practical. It took me a while to get the hang of it though. For time to stop, I too, must think and do nothing.”

I hum, “I see. Do you have a favorite book?”

Alis points at ‘Soul Cultivation for Paranoid Weebs’, “My favorite of those types of stories was ‘Lord of the Mysteries’, it repeated itself less often than others of that type and was half the length because of it, yet felt no shorter despite using fewer words. One’s eyes get good at glazing over superfluous text when you read enough of them. It was also the only one that had a setting I could understand. The grungy city and struggle for power was much like the void station I was born on.”

“Ah, getting paid by the word. Twas the death of good fiction and stalwart journalism while I was a child. Not all bowed to such inevitability and so the occasional gem did float to the top of the trash. At least, it did for those with the determination, and time, to sift through the muck. I remember reading many such stories, though I cannot recall the passion I once had for them. I am pleased to hear that you have been expanding your horizons.”

“There’s not much else to do here, Lord,” Alis shrugs.

“Fair enough. Step back a little. I’m going to crack one of these books open. It is unlikely they will harm you after all this time, but one can never be sure with the Emperor’s gifts. Even the smallest mote of his power burns the most robust of minds.”

Alis says, “Yet you dare all the same.”

“He would not have left them within my soul were they not for me to read.”

“As you say, Lord. I’ll just go for a walk or something, maybe see if I can spit far enough to hit a Daemon.”

I wave Alis off and open Warlock Pacts and You. There is no great fanfare and a quick skim informs me that this is the same knowledge He smacked me over the head with many years ago. There have been some additions and revisions though. The knowledge is more thorough and delves into concepts I was not aware of, if only to warn me away from them.

The book teaches how to gather souls for the Emperor and send them on to Him along my soul bond, keeping them safe, as well as how to form soul bonds with other psykers. New entries explain how to better defend myself from compromised soul bonds, how to sever them if needed, and ensure loyalty with subtle commands. 

This knowledge is a blunt display of power, as this is exactly what he does with me. Even with E-SIM freed, the thin golden strand linking the Emperor and I continues to tug at my chest.

Reading the text strikes me with a little inspiration and I realise that I could use the methods outlined within its pages to gather the souls of my enemies for my own consumption. I was too focused on not eating everything within my mediocre range, and annoyed at the destruction of my Warp Tap, that I did not consider using the Emperor’s gifts to improve my strength and skills.

That revelation, at least, comes as no surprise. I am always wary of the Emperor’s gifts; I tend to dismiss them as an option without further thought unless my hand is forced by circumstances far beyond my control.

Additions to the tome include how to petition the Emperor for assistance, rather than the miracle tab in E-SIM’s HUD that I had before. As always, the Emperor is greedy for souls and the nature of His aid is uncertain. He was never going to give up his favourite juice box without a fight, however. At least I won’t have to sacrifice a whole Hive City like some Chaos Cultist to get Him to pay attention like I thought I might.

The book also explains how to channel His power to cleanse people and items of corruption, or seek and detect the subtle machinations of the Ruinous Powers. I can do something similar with my Navigator powers and Eldar Warlock training from Ylien. These methods rely on my own strength and, more often than not, like with Quaani, my ability is lacking for the situations I stumble upon. It’s a lesson in how to do the same thing in a different way, one that encourages me to step away from Aeldari teachings and, hopefully, avoid another situation like Quaani’s.

Most important, however, is a follow-on discipline from gathering souls. Warlock Pacts and You provides me with two options, though I am only allowed to read the details of one, once I have chosen.

First, is how to take a soul and turn it into a warrior to defend my soul. Option two is how to take a soul one owns and put it in a prepared body in the Materium, resurrecting an individual. 

These options are intended for Alis and, I suspect, key spells that the Emperor uses to create Imperial Saints. It does, however, raise the question why the Emperor needed three doses of Resurrection Serum to revive his sons if he already has a spell that can do it. 

Then again, restoring a Primarch to life, one that’s been slain by a cursed blade or other treachery, must be far more complex than shoving a mundane soul like Alis’ into a Servitor frame or blank clone. If it was easy to counter the curses of the Ruinous Powers, the Emperor wouldn’t be stuck on his throne after taking Horus’ blade through his chest.

I pick option two as I don’t want Alis wandering around my soul forever and get an answer to my question, assuming that my singular data point from a bias source is reliable. Resurrecting a Human requires that you have a soul bond with them, apparently. That’s not what the Drukhari Haemonculus knowledge taught me, but then, that only works on Aeldari; Haemonculi are not a reliable source either. I wouldn’t still be puzzling over Alis if I could use tainted Drukhari arcanotech.

As far as I know, The Emperor never bothered with binding His sons or, more likely, their special souls made it impossible to bind them. I suspect that it was a defensive measure that backfired. If He had bound them, they wouldn’t have been so difficult to track down after they were scattered by a Chaos plot, nor would they have betrayed them. He also would not have needed my help to bring them back either as He would have been able to use this resurrection spell.

No wonder the Star Child gave Birdbrain such a good smack.