Herald of the Stars: Chapter Three Hundred

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The Hermitage was dumped in this swirl of calm space by Rogue Trader Trame Lathimon, next to a much older station of unidentified origins called The Conclave. 

According to the priests left behind, the Ministorum paid Trader Lathimon to ship the priests and their fancy missionary outpost to somewhere in the Koronus Expanse. The actual destination has long been lost, as has the reason why Trader Lathimon lost his temper and booted the Ministorum lackies from his void ship.

The two stations were eventually connected to reduce collision accidents and pool resources, yet the purpose of both stations remains separate.

The Hermitage bears some resemblance to a Benedictine Monastery, with multiple structures, connected by armourglass sealed cloisters and multiple glass gardens.  It perches upon a large, sausage-like asteroid, nine kilometres long and two across, that has been hollowed out like some stone age cave dwelling, covered in tiny pinpricks of light.

The Hermits that remain on the Hermitage, beg for supplies from passing ships in exchange for Imperial Cult services, such as confessions, indulgences, and blessed trinkets. 

The Conclave is a remote neutral ground for Rogue Traders to negotiate with each other, or for agents of all factions to pass encoded messages left in dead drops around the station.

Brigid and I take a walk around the conjoined void stations during our scheduled leisure time and make a game of trying to spot the hiding places of all these messages and guessing the contents.

Were it not for the Ardent Bane, the vessel I seized from Trader Modren, I would declare The Hermitage the most opulent expression of Imperial Gothic architecture I have ever seen. The amount of resources wasted on this station rotting within the boundaries of the Warp likely cost the donations of centuries of pilgrims to a shrine world, somewhere between one and two SRC, I estimate. 

For our entire visit, Brigid can’t stop clicking her tongue at the wasted resources while staring wide-eyed at the exquisite carvings of Imperial Saints, angels, and other Imperial Iconography. Everything is crafted by hand, not machines, and it is those small flaws in perfection that keep the station looking Human. 

Each strike of the chisel is a prayer to the Emperor and, to my third eye, there is a golden sheen covering every surface within Abbey and upon the exterior stonework. The exterior is pitted though it is from micrometeorite strikes and constant grinding against the energies of the Warp yet this faithful bastion endures. Both Brigid and I admit that the Hermitage is an impressive structure.

I find The Conclave more interesting as I spot many similarities to the design language of the Federation station that I clawed my way out of. The Conclave has been recycled and rebuilt multiple times over the millennia, yet hints of rounded corridors, ancient alloy mixes, and the radioactive diamond powered emergency lighting remains. Most of the original asteroid has been removed as the interior is all plasteel and armourglass.

We stay for five days as the Imperial Navy’s Tech-Priests scramble to repair their systems, refusing every offer of help. The Jericho and the Black Ship are less prideful and welcome the Stellar Fleet’s expertise and manufacturing. One is constantly close to falling apart and the other can’t afford to have the slightest breach. The Stellar Fleet receives a moderate windfall of rare metals and hydrocarbons in exchange for their assistance.

The days of wanting to help everyone for free have faded rapidly in the face of overwhelming decay and suspicion. I can no longer afford to let my generosity compromise my family's safety, or take the support of my people for granted. There is increasing resistance within the Stellar Fleet to my generosity, even if they are divided on the reason, such as philosophy or practicals, and I see no need to rile up my crews and civilians without good cause.

My day with Brigid is a pleasant distraction from my thoughts and emotions as they rush hither and thither. Constantly wrestling with fear, exhaustion, caution, and an overwhelming desire to be done with this wretched passage as soon as possible becomes so tedious that I manage to numb myself against my growing anxiety.

Praise the Omnissiah for extensive and obligatory pre-jump rituals or I am sure my apathy would have led to an error or two!

I spend several hours every day with Quaani, pouring over his old family's maps, and technique books, despite having long since memorised them. One can never be quite sure when they might spontaneously redraw themselves. The busy work and companionship keeps my mind from spiralling and stops Quaani from feeling useless. Annette joins us with young George from time to time and his burbling laughter and wonder at every little thing provides great solace to my scarred soul.

The Imperial Fleets scrub their decks and overtax their recyclers as my own people enjoy their routine, unharmed by the perils of the Warp. Over the course of the fifth day, each vessel signals its readiness and I climb back into my tank. This time, I make sure to wear my No.1 dad pink dressing gown for good luck.

We dive back into the Warp and our second jump is just as harrowing as the first. The five stations of passage: The Hermitage, Witch-Cursed World, The Battleground, Zone 15, and The Temple, are random in their location, though they do have preferred places. For example, The Temple and Zone 15 tend to be closer to Port Wander, whereas the others are usually closer to Footfall. 

When shelter from the Warp storm is required, one goes to the closest eye of the storm they can divine and there they will find one of these damned locations and pray for deliverance. It is possible to traverse the whole passage without making a single stop if conditions are good. We are not so fortunate as we attract Daemons and Warp lightning like Bloat Flies on Grox shit.

Our next desperate stop is at The Battleground. The Battleground is an area of three hundred thousand kilometres, filled with wrecked void ships, both Xenos and Human. A great silver-edged crack looms in the centre. It is rumoured that this rift spits out derelict vessels though no one has the pict recordings or auger readings to prove it.

Unlike The Hermitage, we’re not the only vessels sheltering among the wreckage of The Battleground. Our augers detect one Mechanicus aligned, Goliath-Class factory ship scavenging a Defiant-Class light cruiser. A Hazeroth-Class Privateer of undeclared allegiance tries to hide from our augers behind the hull of a wrecked Imperial Heavy Transport and a Vagabond-Class Merchant Trader quickly slips deeper into the debris field, ignoring all hails.

Calligos told me that Rogue Traders who scavenge from these wrecks are looked down upon by their peers as the wealth available in the Koronus Expanse is considered much greater and a better use of a Trader's time. He said that I am too great to be burdened with the moniker of ‘Scavenger’ and didn’t want me to ‘make the error’.

Exploring these ancient hulls is barely deemed acceptable by a rookie House and considered a ‘mistake that every trader makes on their first visit’.

No one quite knows when the first vessels started gathering at The Battleground as one cannot reliably date the alloys the vessels are made from when they’re constantly bathed in Warp energy from the sliver rift and surrounding storms. 

However, the location earned its current name when Traders Trame and Ettimus Lathimon, yes one of them is the same fellow who tossed The Hermitage from his holds, fought over who was the better Rogue Trader with his brother. The two brothers hated each other and perished along with their opposing fleets in a disgraceful display of pride and fratricide.

The priests at the Hermitage love to crow about the fleet engagement between the two brothers, claiming that it was a demonstration of the Emperor’s divinity and His swift judgement upon, unrepentant, impious souls.

Having learned my lesson about exploring wrecked vessels during the Plague Zombie purge, I don’t go haring off for archeotech. Instead, I put the Moth-Class factory escort ships to good use, ordering them to use their scraping and specialist manufacturing facilities to break down a Siluria-Class light cruiser. We don’t need the resources to replenish the strike-craft and torpedoes we expended during the engagement with Karrad Vall as we have plenty of reserves. However, I see no harm in topping up though while we’re waiting and all this scrap is lying around unclaimed.

I’ve heard that scavengers often compete for resources within The Battleground. Given the size of our combined fleets, I am not surprised in the slightest when no one bothers us.

Instead, eighteen hours after we arrive, I receive an unexpected message from E-SIM.

++Good day, Aldrich. The object that has been drifting towards us for decades in the Warp has come in range. I would invite you to investigate the relic with me, yet I find myself in need of assistance. I am under attack by Marabas, or Gibbering Moon as you speak of him to avoid notice.++

“Welcome back, E-SIM. You have awoken under defence protocols, correct? How are your energy reserves? What assistance do you require?”

++I have. Repair protocols are also active. Reserves are steady. There is no shortage of Daemons to consume. I could keep fighting for decades before I run dry. However, the longer this conflict continues, the greater the chance of something going wrong occurs. 

++It is also imperative that we secure the archeotech site I am within before Marabas does. He appears to be more focused on attempting to subsume me, but that could be a lie. 

++I need you to manually install some power cables for me to power up the archeotech. It has defences I can requisition but my programming forbids me from doing so without Human oversight. 

++I suggest a subtle approach to avoid notice for as long as possible. Hostile forces are considerable. Your private shuttle, with your best troops, will be sufficient for the task. You will also be required to participate as no one else knows how to interact with another data structure. Assemble your team, open the way, and I will ensure that you appear inside on of my hangars.++

“I need six hours for optimal deployment. Is that acceptable?”

++It is. I look forward to seeing you again in person.++

I call up three of my four Close Protection Companies, my one Psy-Erants Company, an Engineering Company, a Reconnaissance Company, and two Battle-Automata Companies. After some deliberation, I mobilise a Vanguard Armour Company and an Armour Company. If E-SIM needs me to move power cables, they’re no doubt colossal and tanks would be handy for hauling.

Next is deciding how secretive I want to be. I can put a block on Stellar Corps personnel to prevent them from talking about the upcoming operation, much like I did for future knowledge, as this is going to involve revealing E-SIM. 

I can’t put a memory block on the Barghests or the Order of the Valourous Heart, yet I’m about to head into the sort of battle they’re most suited for. Their transhuman minds and zealous faith are, in some ways, better suited for facing Daemons than my warded troops.

Alpia would also be handy. I love to keep her from harm as much as possible and disrupting her officer training again is annoying. On the other hand, the last time I tried to purge a Zombie Plague with inadequate support I was badly injured. The same happened when I didn’t involve Alpia with exorcising the Liber Heresius from Quaani. My assault on the Necron tomb on Kinbriar could have used a Saint as well, though Alpia wasn’t canonized at that point. I did drag Alpia and the boys into a fight on Dying Light and we achieved victory because Alpia was there to decipher the Warp ritual.

I am uncertain if Alpia's presence would have invited further disaster on the three occasions where she was not present. The only fights that ever go well for me are fleet battles. However, in every infantry scale engagement where Alpia has not helped, either because I kept her away from it or she hadn’t been born, I’ve nearly died. 

One victory with Alpia on the front lines isn’t enough data for a proper evaluation. I must, however, acknowledge that there is an increasingly significant pattern that involving Alpia is better than not, no matter how much I wish to keep her from harm. Also, not bringing a Saint to fight Daemons when you have one assigned to non-urgent duties is the height of stupidity, especially when one is about to dive head first into another feathered plot.

If I’m bringing Alpia, it seems silly not to drag the Sororitas along as I’m paying for their support. If the Sororitas are there, I might as well bring the Astartes too for much the same reason.

I’d best spike my tea with laxatives because I need to prepare a galaxy class mushroom story to keep my secrets this time. That, or keep the exposition to myself!