Herald of the Stars: Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Seven

It takes little effort to slip into Lyre’s implants. Like most people, he didn’t read the fucking manual and set his rosette as a trusted item and linked it to his MIU to save himself from having to enter a password every time he uses the rosette’s advanced infiltration features.

Lyre’s MIU is a rather basic one with minimal security. He doesn’t know any better and whomever he acquired it from didn’t care enough about it to explain how dangerous an improperly configured MIU can be. Normally, one would have to directly plug into an MIU to tweak its firmware and override the power usage limiters, or corrupt its files in some other manner.

For someone like me who actually can build an MIU from scratch, I can use the trusted status of Lyre’s compromised rosette to access the MIU’s firmware remotely and upload a malicious update.

Rather than do something quick and obvious like fry Lyre from the inside out with a power surge, I link the malicious update to Petitor Veritas so that the update will only trigger once Lyre has completed thirty days Warp travel.

One of the functions of an MIU is to assist with sleep. I’ve used that multiple times while E-SIM is updating or repairing me to make the process quicker. For a normal human, it can allow for an efficient sleeping schedule in a variety of different patterns. From the MIU’s logs, I can see that Lyre uses his to function on four and a half hours of sleep a day in three ninety minute sessions all without having to resort to stims.

Sleep is a remarkably morbid process and at our deepest moments of rest we come quite close to death. The malicious update I install takes advantage of the sleep assist function to give his heart an irregular beat while he sleeps and induce a heart attack. At first glance, it will look like he died in sleep. Unexpected, though not implausible.

I don’t want it to be obvious that someone targeted Lyre. Once he is dead, I can have Raphael take over Lyre’s void ships, not only recuperating my investment into Lyre, like the Rune Casters and augmented Tempestous Scions, but adding new vessels to my fleet for as long as Raphael continues to work for me. This could potentially reduce the amount of resources I need to invest in Raphael as I can refurbish Lyre’s old fleet to meet my obligations to Rapahel, rather than build him a fancy cruiser.

If anyone investigates properly it will become obvious this was an assassination. Lyre has a pacemaker fitted to his MIU so that he can lie better. I can hack the pacemaker and turn it off, or even have it assist in inducing a heart attack. I can’t get the pacemaker to delete its logs though as they’re on a separate system.

After a moment’s consideration I decide to just have the pacemaker turn off as Lyre doesn’t always use it and make the process look like he accidentally disabled the automatic revival function at the same time, one that’s supposed to prevent the type of heart attack I’m attempting to induce.

It’s not guaranteed to work. Lyre might survive the attempt, or someone might notice in time to intervene. It depends how he is guarded while he sleeps. I add a back up so that if the heart attack plan doesn’t work and someone attempts to help him, his implants will overclock and fry him. At that point, all subtly will be thrown out of the airlock. It’s better than letting him live though.

I am unsure what the consequences of my elimination of an Inquisitor will bring. I do know that it will look like someone who could get close to him was the culprit because of the tricky nature of hacking an MIU.

To close possible leads towards me, I ensure that once the update triggers it will remove the trusted status of his rosette and mess with the logs so that it looks like the rosette was never trusted in the first place. I also have the rosette set to update and remove my backdoor to itself and its charging cradle.

Last of all, I have the malicious update appear as if it was uploaded during the time that I was in quarantine and Lyre was meeting in secret with Abbisine, Thalk, and Calligos. I include a small snippet of the meeting, like a part of a corrupted file that’s been written over, where Lyre declares that Saint Alpia is a demon and Thalk acts outraged and threatens to kill him.

Before I leave, I swipe all of Lyre’s private notes and other documents and assign a mind to reading them over. I set most of the files to corrupt themselves, leaving only snippets like the corrupted meeting file. I also set up traces of my hacking through Thalk’s void ships. Lyre’s accounts of slaying the Rogue Trader scion, then destroying the void ship, upsetting the navy’s plans, are left mostly intact.

I continue to muddy the waters for several minutes, making sure to implicate Abbisine as well. Calligos I leave squeaky clean, with all of Lyre’s files on him only keeping their parts of their name and none of their contents.

All three of my scapegoats have significant political backing and none of the evidence that should remain will allow for more than an implication. Whatever might come their way they should be able to weather without too much trouble.

Just before I disconnect, the mind I set to going over Lyre’s files points out a better plan. Apparently, Lyre intends to follow me to the Lathes, giving me a far larger range of potential scapegoats.

I quickly remove all of the fake traces I left in Thalk’s vessels and set the assassination to either one month after Lyre arrives at the Lathes, or a year from now. The false update trace is altered to one week before the assassination. That should give more than enough time for Lyre to arrive at the Lathes, traverse the system, then throw his weight around, and piss off somebody important. Hopefully he will die before his false words bring too many enemies against me.

With my hacking complete, I disconnect from Lyre’s MIU and ensure I leave no traces.

Lying face down in my sleeping pod, I feel terribly guilty about what I have done, as if I am committing to a path I can never walk back from. It doesn’t matter that Inquisitor Lyre Hamiz is my enemy, or that Logis Abbisine, Thalk von Styrvold and Caligos Winterscale are, at worst, irritating acquaintances. I still feel bad about what I am doing: killing a man and potentially wrecking the future of three others. It doesn’t change my determination that this act of murder is required to safeguard my family and Fleet.

I find myself sympathising with Lyre’s choices to a far greater degree that I believed possible. I just can’t bring myself to criticise him, as if my defiance to avoid hypocrisy is my path to justification, and possibly forgiveness for my sins. Not only that, reflecting on this act of murder makes me feel stupid. I know my choice is logical. I know my emotions and thoughts are foolish and hold no bearing on the necessity of my act.

There is no need for guilt yet I cannot shake the soul deep feeling that a vital part of me just died. The final anchor that held me to my past life sundered by an act that should never have become necessary at all. It’s almost as if, no matter what happens, Lyre gets the last laugh as his sins catch up to him, and drag us both into the muck.

May Inquisitor Lyre rot in the depths of the Warp for what he has forced me to become.

An hour later, I crush my lingering depression and wipe the tears from my cheeks.

There is work to do.

I fashion better implants for my snake mutations, arrange for new squads of penitents, and have a brief conversation with Quaani, giving him access to my ritual knowledge. It’s good to see him awake at last. He isn’t doing well though and clearly has a lot on his mind.

Like me, I suspect that his contact with the Liber Heresius and the conflict between the Emperor and Tzeentch has left some uncomfortable scars.

A day later and I am back in the action, slaying zombies, this time with my armour and weapons, and using the penitents who die along the way to practice my soulphage abilities.

The next four months pass quickly in a blaze of endless action as I sweep through hundreds of vessels without rest, save for brief moments of meditation to renew my Warp batteries.

By the end of my destructive frenzy, I’ve learned how to shove a soul from an injured body or feeble mind. I can also cut myself off from all souls, or consume all souls. Consuming souls selectively remains beyond me. I do, at least, manage to eat enough feeble zombie souls to recover some of my reserves. I won’t be buying any more technologies from E-SIM, but I do have a few miracles in the bank if I am forced to call on the Emperor’s favour once again.

I briefly meet with Alpia during the second month of my campaign to check that she is alright and see if she can cure my snake mutation. Alas, it is not within her granted powers, so I swallow my pride and look at the price for having the Emperor remove the mutation. The option doesn’t turn up in my list of available miracles and I have the sinking feeling that the Emperor is planning something big again, or perhaps too busy dealing with his latest stunt of creating hundreds of Saints. Maybe he’s too tired holding back six black crusades. Either way, I doubt that he will help me with this.

I don’t like His silence because right now I’m the Emperor’s favourite source of snacks and one of the few people he can direct around the Imperium. Unlike almost everyone else, I can survive my brain melting out of my ears from a Revelation, and not just because I stuck my noggin in an armoured compartment in my chest.

Occasionally, I chat with Alis Riccahl, the dead woman hiding in my soul. I’m too busy to help her right now and she’s not in danger so she will just have to wait.

At the end of the four months, the placement of the bombs, at least, is over.

Once everyone is out of quarantine my family and I gather in Torchbearer’s observation dome for the detonation of the bombs. I watch the countdown in my MIU, keeping my fingers crossed that all will go well and suppress the constant flexing of my muscles from my four months of constant combat.

Luan, Dareaca, and Fial quietly chat with each other, complaining endlessly about all the regulations and etiquette they’ve been forced to learn. Luan, I overhear, has managed to get a girlfriend. Dareaca and Fial are teasing him remorselessly about it.

Alipa stands behind Brigid, wrapping her arms around her mother and clinging to her. Alpia is still the picture of good health and a whopping four metres tall, yet she has a long stare. She’s not really looking at the giant cluster of flickering lights and groaning hulls.

Annette is close to Brigid as well, standing to the left and slightly behind my wife, as if Annette is more of a handmaiden to Brigid than a member of our family. Annette’s hand’s rest on her swollen belly. It’s a miracle she hasn’t popped yet.

Quaani is missing, unable to attend. I haven’t seen him yet and he’s been making excuses not to meet up.

Bedwyr Keane stands to my right, his face fixed with a small frown and his mind lost in thought. He’s been busy watching over Alpia and forming new bodyguard companies.

Force Commander Odhran and his honour guard are present, as is Canoness Ephrine Stern. Thalk von Styrvold is attending with a small retinue, standing next to Ephrine and exchanging a few polite words: praise for her actions and commiseration for the deaths of twenty-two Sororitas.

All of the Stellar Fleet Command are here, as are my Captains and their senior officers.

The countdown in my MIU reaches zero and the bombs detonate. Multiple hulls rupture as liquid reserves flash boil and explode, sending several void ships into dangerous spins. The reaction was expected, as there was no way we would manage to locate and drain every bit of fuel, water, and other volatile compounds.

Hundreds of D-POTs swarm the mass of groaning hulls, attaching cables and burning reaction mass until they stabilize. There are a score of collisions between the massive vessels and a small number of D-POTs are hit by debris as they prevent a cascade of collisions killing us all. I am unhappy with the casualties. It feels wrong to celebrate that they’re within the expected range. At the same time, I’m just happy all of this is over.

I’m back with my family, the mission was a success, and Lyre will soon be corpse starch. The construction of Charon, my new shipyard, is going well. Facilities to recycle the contaminated hulls are well underway. Integration of new personnel is finally picking up pace. Sure there are no shortage of minor problems. These aren’t things I need to deal with though.

Unlike Lyre, I have people for that.

Torchbearer, Distant Sun and my four escorts are ready to depart. As soon as the Warp settles we’ll be out of here.