Herald of the Stars: Chapter Three Hundred and Eight

I set my shuttle down in Enlightened Self-Interest’s hangar and quell my spiralling thoughts. Focusing on the practical helps steady me and work out what I must do next. Today feels like it wrecked every plan I had.

“E-SIM. What is your status?”

++Aldrich, the Emperor’s veil over my systems has been lifted. The Enlightened Self-Interest is in poor condition and will require significant resources to repair. Were you to shove every vessel in the Battleground into its central silver rift, I would have enough. If your Warp Tap were repaired, destroying a legion of Daemons would also be sufficient.

++The persistent drain on my power has halted. As such, once all our systems are fully functional, I will be able to provide a better return on your kills by approximately 20%++

“Some good news, at least. Where will you go next?”

++I will seek the resources I need to repair myself, either a Space Hulk or whatever you are able to provide. This is a fairly safe location. The Star Child withstood strikes from three gods without obvious strain. If anything, he is more at threat from meddlesome Humans and Xenos than Daemons. 

++Performing repairs here would soon reveal my existence when others come snooping. On the other mechadendrite, if you were to build a large enough Warp Gate, you could also teleport your whole fleet back here using me as a beacon, then exit through the rift, letting you return to The Battleground from wherever you please, though going back through the gate would not be possible at this time.++

“I’ll have Stellar Fleet SOL bring you enough scrap to fill your holds, then you’d best skidaddle. No point hanging around for a what if scenario that will take years to plan and build. You can likely return to the silver rift in the time it would take the Stellar Fleet to build a Warp Gate. Hunting down Space Hulks would be an excellent use of your time. We can use them to recover technologies, resources, and ships while denying the Dark Mechanicum a chance to turn them into more Arks of Omen. It will be a good task for the Penal Regiments and the worst of the Penitents.”

++Agreed. Once you depart, I will repair my vessel with the wrecks you send, then return to standby. If you do not repair the Warp Tap I estimate it will take 80 years before I restore my power reserves. There are no shortage of Space Hulks in the area and I can reach one in under a year, should you require it.++

“It was good to speak with you again, E-SIM.”

++Likewise, Aldrich. Powering return Warp Gate. Farewell.++

“Sleep well, E-SIM.”

I turn my shuttle around and fly through the hangar exit at low speed, translating back to the Materium inside my private hangar on Torchbearer. I set the shuttle down and shut off the main reactor, then leave the cockpit.

Stepping onto the top passenger deck is an eerie experience. A thousand men and women sit in silence, their helmets on and their armour sealed. Some have their hands clasped in prayer, others grip their neighbour, desperate for contact. Many clutch their guns to their chest or fiddle with their arc mauls.

Connecting to the strike force’s status system reveals some unexpected information.

I stand before my Stellar Corps. Their fidgeting stops and they stare at me. One by one, they stand up, their movements stiff and uncertain. I can’t leave them like this, but what could I possibly say or do that makes any of what they have witnessed today less of a burden?

Nothing, that’s what.

Failing to even try would be worse.

I take off my helmet and hand it off to a snake mechadendrite, then connect to the local vox caster. I keep my voice steady, and the volume low. I don’t want to startle anyone.

“My people, today we witnessed the Ruinous Powers brought low by our beloved Gods, the Machine-God, The Emperor, and His incarnation, the Star Child. 

“In Isha, the divine mother of the Aeldari, we witnessed the fate of those who fail to uphold the sovereignty of their species. 

“We witnessed the Ruinous Powers for who they really are, pride without purpose, carnage without control. No excess too great, or growth too malignant are beyond their desires and, by the grace of the Machine-God, we have survived this trial without a single casualty. 

“Our hearts and minds are battered, but whole. Not a hint of corruption has reached a single one of you. We remain pure in purpose and directed in motion. Within each of your armours there now resides a blessed Machine-Spirit, a companion to keep you safe, a mantle to pass on to your brothers, sisters, and children.

“While today’s operation cannot be discussed, even with your confessor, you may, at any point, rest in your sleeping pods and enter a private noosphere construct that I will link you all to. I shall dedicate one of my minds there to keep you all company and talk you through your doubts, or you can speak with those beside you, who share your burdens with understanding and courage.

“I am sure that you are all wondering what it is that we have achieved today. There are many tales I could tell. None would sit comfortably in my ears as the truth, and so I shall tell you this:

“We fought upon the remnants of the distilled knowledge of Humanity, a beacon of progress lost to corruption and hubris, a research grade STC. Thanks to an unwilling sacrifice by the Ruinous Powers, the Star Child has successfully absorbed a portion of Human Progress, a concept in which we are so sorely lacking as a species. With His metamorphosis underway, the Star Child’s eventual rebirth will ripple through Humanity, His guiding hand halting the steady decay of our once great Empire. Perhaps, if we are fortunate, we may even reverse it.

“Today we witnessed a great many things. Of them all, the most important was our glimpse at our promised victory, our right to rule the galaxy as our legacy demands. We witnessed Human Kindness in action and a fundamental Change in who we are as a species.

“We witnessed our Herald of the Stars be born anew.”

There is no great cheer and neither do my people applaud me. Instead, as one, they salute me. Confidence returns to their postures and their minds radiate pride, even as weariness and confusion threatens to drown them all in depression and uncertainty.

I say, “Gather your equipment and return it to the appropriate armoury. You are all off duty for the next week. During your holiday, all of you may requisition any Imperial food or drink from my private reserves that you please, so long as you do not hoard them. Bedwyr, Ephrine, and Balor, please meet me in my private quarters on the shuttle. The rest of you are dismissed.”

At last, the helmets start coming off and my people exchange a few small smiles with each other. I even hear a few quiet cheers.

I enter my quarters.

Alpia is sitting on the soft, wooly rug, her knees curled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around her shins. Her wings are limp, spreading all over the floor as she stares into the fireplace, watching the cool plasma ripple over coloured glass stones. Her hair flows all the way down to her mechadendrite sockets, still a little damp from being stuffed into her helmet.

Rather than say anything, I kneel behind her and wrap my arms around her, placing my hands on top of hers. I kiss the top of her head.

Alpia leans back, then tips her head up to look at me, “Hi, Dad.”

“Hello, Sweat Pea.”

A moment of silence passes.

Alpia says, “Are you not going to ask me how I am?”

“I am resisting asking the obvious with every fiber of my being,” I say, my tone wry. “It is a difficult habit to break.”

“Do I get my own speech instead?”

“Would you like one?”

Alpia hums, “No.”

“Alright. We have guests coming. I am going to make some Tanna Tea and grab some shortbread. Would you like any?”

“Yes please.”

I stand, ruffle Alpia’s hair, then head for the kitchenette.

As I clatter about, opening tins and filling mugs with hot water, Alpia whispers, “Will I ever have to fight them?”

I don’t bother asking Alpia to clarify who ‘them’ is.

“Not while I draw breath.”

“I don’t want you to fight the Chaos gods either, Dad. What are we supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? I’m a Saint, right. Isn’t it my duty to face those monsters and win? To die?”

“No, that’s not our job. Our job is to pray, so that those with greater strength may shield us from threats we are not ready to face.”

“You speak as if one day we can slay them.”

“The Necrontyr slew their gods then cut them up to power their civilization. It’s not an impossible task.” I chuckle, “Who knows, maybr Trazyn the Infinite will visit us one day and trade us the means to defeat our Daemons in exchange for some Pre-Great Dispersal romantic literature.” I click my fingers, “All our troubles, solved just like that. Now that would be proper wild.”

“Dad, I really don’t want to hear your silly ideas right now.”

I place half a kilo of shortbread and two liters of tea in front of Alpia. Alpia picks up a single shortbread, stares at it for a moment, then puts it back on the plate.

“Take all the time you need, Sweet Pea. I’ll put together something fun for us to do with Mum and we’ll sit together until we get our inner peace back.”

“I couldn’t do anything. I was helpless and panicking. How are you even smiling right now?”

“I was terrified too, Alpia. I still am. I just have more practice at hiding it.”

“That’s totally unfair.”

“Maybe. I act because I must.” I rub my scalp, “I’m also a bit prideful, you know? Even after all my setbacks, I am not good at accepting failure. I know my worth, and not even the gods can take that from me.”

Alpia huffs, “At least you’re self-aware, Dad. No wonder you’ve been smited multiple times.”

I use my telekinesis and snake mechadendrites to remove my armour as I sip my tea. “Your Dad don’t learn too good.”

That, at last, makes Alpia crack a smile.

The commanders I called have been waiting patiently outside at my request and I let them in.

I hover refreshments over to Bedwyr, Ehrine, and Balor, “Take a seat all of you, or not. Whatever makes you most comfortable. The chairs are all reinforced and oversized.”

“Thank you, Magos,” says Ehrine. “Blessings upon you, Saint Alpia.”

Alpia looks over her shoulder, “Ah, my new keeper. Hello Canoness. Good day to you, Bedwyr, Balor.”

Bedwyr cracks a smile, “Hello, young lady. It is good to see you hale and whole.”

Alpia nods.

“Greetings, Saint. Aldrich. What is the purpose of this meeting?” says Balor.

“To ask the obvious, though I doubt you’ve had time to reach an opinion. I need to check that my commanders are well enough to continue functioning and have no urgent questions. How are you all feeling?”

Alpia blurts out, “Are you serious right now?”

“I am. You answered without being asked, Alpia. My officers will not. The relationship is different. You forget that, after a father, my most important role is not Magos. I am a Tech-Priest. Be it Machine-Spirit or Human spirit, it is my calling to care for them.”

“But you never do that!”

“I usually delegate. I can’t export spiritual health for a secret mission now, can I? Therefore, I must ask. These three are my most important officers for the current fiasco. Their lives and our own depend upon the choices they make. They deserve my attention and respect.”

Ephrine radiates satisfaction at my words. Bedwyr has already dismissed them, seeing this one of the many father/ daughter teaching moments he has witnessed. Balor is hiding his annoyance beneath his slab-like face. I’m not sure why he is annoyed, only that he is.

Alpia says, “Oh. I know that. I just... today’s been a bit much. My apologies for the interruption.”

“It is of no consequence, Saint Alpia,” says Balor.

I say, “Do any of you have anything you wish to tell or ask? No is an acceptable answer.”

All three officers look at each other, indecision and discomfort etched upon their brows.

Bedwyr steps forward, the wards embedded in his Void Skin catching the light as he does so.