Herald of the Stars: Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Three

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I restore my aura protection and Abbisine scrambles upright. She stares at my arsenal of weapons currently pointing at the ceiling, then departs immediately. Thalk and Ephrine follow her out, expressing their gratitude for a fine party. Only Chaplain Riordan remains.

“Do you require any assistance, Magos?” A light smile plays over his face. “Perhaps a light spar to bleed off the energy of your firm defence?”

I sigh, “I have found that it is a rare individual with a genuine offer for aid without need for compensation and with a practical solution to the issue at hand. I’ll be alright, thank you, Riordan. I am more worried about Alpia. She will need a lot of rest and help and I am one of the few people in the Fleet who can do so.”

I start putting my weapons away and bleed the power from my spells and continue, “A consultation with Librarian Aengus when he is free would be welcome. I also need to speak with Odhran and Lir. I received one hell of a vision from the Emperor, or rather six of them, you could say, and they need to know what’s coming. If you can’t wait, speak to your own navigators, they’ll certainly have seen something.”

“I will do so,” says Riordan. “Until next time, Magos Issengrund.”

“Aye, a peaceful evening to you too, Chaplain Riordan.”

Surrounded by our bodyguards, my family and I rush through the decadent corridors of Ardent Bane. Crew and civilians peer at us out of doorways as we pass, with many of them kneeling or muttering prayers when they catch sight of Alpia.

If I ever manage to harness gossip as a form of FTL, Humanity will rule the universe.

“Bedwyr,” I vox on a private channel, “I need you to expand my personal guard. A new company for each family member, including Quaani and Annette. I know my boys now have Navy commissions, but I doubt Thalk will mind three companies of power armoured troops defending his flagship.”

“Perhaps a full battalion, or maybe even a regiment for Alpia?” voxes Bedwyr. He sounds faintly amused, but I can tell he is being serious.

“She’s a junior member of the Psy-Errants already. As much as I would love to coddle her, they will look after their own and she won’t gain the respect of her peers if she gets too much outside help.”

“Then I suggest that you drastically expand the Psy-Errants. Right now there are two modified Armigers, thirty Vanguard Armour, and seven companies of supporting Heralds. You could add three battle automata companies within the week to bring them up to battalion strength, then go from there. The psykers in the company already have their own bodyguards and minders. Expanding the number that they all get would reduce any claims of favouritism.

“They’d all know why they have an increased budget and new toys, but when everyone gets to play with more stuff, they’ll be more likely to treat Alpia as their blessed icon of fortune. If they don’t already on account of her wings, Aldrich. Quite frankly, I think you are seeing this the wrong way. They will see guarding the Saint as their honour and duty. It is good that you see Alpia as your daughter first, and do not want to accidentally alienate her, but at this point you're being ridiculous.”

I groan, “This new paradigm is yet to sink in. You’re right Bedwyr. What’s more is if I don’t give her enough attendants, someone is going to take offence and try to take the job from me. They’ll do that anyway and fail, but at least that will prove the point.”

“That poor girl is never going to get a boyfriend now,” voxes Bedwyr.

“As her father, I cannot decide if that pleases or distresses me.”

“We all heard your speech, Aldrich. It’s already playing through the Noosphere and has done wonders for morale. Our people are reassured by your firm stance. Just avoid the fiction forums,” Bedwyr chuckles, “A lot of people want to call you Daddy.”

I poke Bedwyr’s mind with a slightly overpowered telepathy probe, and he stumbles slightly, though his armour prevents the involuntary movement, causing a micro-hitch in his step. A normal human wouldn’t notice, but to every Herald, who can detect the active vox connection between Bedwyr and I, it’s clear he just got the equivalent of being cuffed round the back of his head by his boss. Bedwyr gets a lot of subtle glances over the next minute and I’ve probably spawned a whole host of new rumours.

I vox, “I think it would be best if you headed a sweep through the Noosphere for corruption. In your free time.”

“Will do, Magos. I know what you're getting at, but it’s actually a pretty good precaution.”

He doesn’t know that Alpia’s aura purges corruption, but I’m not going to tell him that. No need for my people to get complacent.

“To confirm, one new company for each family member,” I vox. “Acolytes at a minimum, so that means the new Rogue Pattern power armour for everyone, including Mark III MOA shields with their Luminen Barriers, and a good mix of weaponry. I want bolt pistols as side arms with anti-demon rounds for everyone. Fuck the expense. Just don’t waste them.

“For Alpia’s company, I’ll make a set of blessed rosarius and let her choose some heraldry to go on it. Really crank up the symbolism and company honour.

“I’ll also see if the Sisters of Battle are interested in supplementing Alpia’s bodyguard company, but they might be rather uncomfortable being around so many psykers for Alpia’s day job. Any other equipment and ideas I will put in your hands, Bedwyr. Loncenta will sort the expansion of the Psy-Errants. They are technically internal security and come under her banner. I’ll credit you with the idea though.”

“Acknowledged Magos. Be gentle.”

Cheeky bugger.

We arrive at the hangar and take a shuttle to Torchbearer. We land in our private hangar, saving us from more pointing fingers and hushed prayer. Torchbearer’s navigator spire has been refurbished and fortified as part of its ongoing refit with all the gizmos and protocols one would expect from professional paranoiacs. If it wasn’t for the immense speed of Imperial cogitators and motors, getting in and out of the spire would be incredibly annoying and inconvenient.

My family has absolutely no privacy, but at least when I’m within the spire, it is one of my minds behind the all seeing eye, rather than our staff. E-SIM blurs out anything it knows I won’t want to see. A service I am most grateful for.

One would think that protruding from the edge the hull is a rather vulnerable spot to rest one’s head, but the spire is so small compared to the rest of the vessel it is extremely difficult to target. Not only that, given the power of void ship weaponry, anything that can punch through multilayered void shields, twenty metres of ferrocrete, ceramite, and plasteel composite armour, and two layers of adamantium alloy hull, is going to mess up one’s voidship, no matter what it hits. Logical placement of vital systems can only do so much.

Imperial vessels survive because they think only having tertiary redundancies are for chumps, have huge amounts of mass that take a long time to dismantle, and have massive crews that can withstand horrendous casualties and still have enough people to remain functional. For example, all my vessels have five watches, three of which are on the active duty rota at any time. We could lose eighty percent of our crew and still fight, and that’s not including the additional sixty percent population of civilians and servitors, plus the Heralds, all of whom can fill crew roles in a pinch.

Like the wooden ships from the age of sail, it’s similarly difficult to sink an Imperial vessel. You can pound them to a non-functional state, or banish parts to new dimensions, but actually blowing one up takes more firepower than one needs to turn a planet to glass. By that point, whether one dances in the moonlight atop of the hull in their dressing gown, or hides in the armoured combat bridge buried in the centre of the vessel, matters little. They either hit you, or they do not.

This is why boarding and raming are such popular tactics. It is arguably easier to capture a vessel than it is to destroy one and, failing that, crashing into their engines or weapon batteries at least takes the enemy out of the fight long enough to escape or capture them.

My mind reluctantly drags itself back from the tangent it threw itself into to escape the absurdity of the last thirty minutes as my family and I pile onto the sofas, apart from Alpia, who has to sit on the floor.

Dawn Garnet, rushes over and sits on Alpia’s knee. Fial, in an unusual display of humour, sits on Alpia’s other knee and hugs her. She absently strokes both the cyber mastiff and Fial’s hair for several minutes while we all sit in silence before she startles slightly and looks down at them both, then starts laughing.

“Alright,” says Alpia. “I’m OK for now. You can get off, you little gretchin.”

Fial pokes Alpia’s ribs only to hiss as his finger snaps, he leaps up and yells, “Alpia! What the hell was that for?”

“It wasn’t me!” shouts Alpia.

I say, “It’s not her fault. Saints are known to have an aura of invulnerability around them. They are difficult to injure.”

“Oh,” says Fial. “Sorry. I guess you are still getting used to your new powers.”

“Just give me your hand, you lovable twit.”

Fial takes a step back, but Alpia is far faster. She grabs his arm, then kisses his hand. Gold and silver light blooms around Fial’s finger and it straightens with a crack.

Fial grimaces, “Thanks.”

Alpia pats his hand, “There there, let big sister Alpia kiss away all your boo boos.”

“Oh, come on! We’re the same age!”

“Kids,” I say. “Now is not the time. I’m completely spent and need to stop suppressing Alpia’s aura. Get comfortable, or you are going to faceplant when I drop the protections until Alpia can pull in her wings and at least reign in the obedience aspect of her new powers. I’m going to put on a holovid while she practises to distract us all from the sensation and not embarrass her too much.”

Fial stomps over to an empty sofa and hurls himself upon it.

I continue, “The rest of you should all practise throwing it off if you can. Alpia isn’t the only being out there that can force you all to kneel, and I won’t have my family bow to anyone but the Emperor, and maybe the Machine-God and the Eldar deities. That’s just good sense. Everyone else can shove it.”

Brigid kisses my cheek, “We are all aware of your remarkable diplomacy skills dear. Now stop grouching and let us admire Alpia’s new skills. She went through a lot to get them and deserves to show off a little.”

“Yeah, go for it Alpia,” says Dareaca, “Show us all the cool shit you can do!”

I stop shielding everyone from Alpia’s aura. Their eyes go wide. Fial’s face gets pressed into his sofa. Dareaca and Luan gape in awe. Brigid smiles, then slaps her cheeks, and shakes her head, only to look back at Alpia and start smiling again. It looks like she almost threw it off, but is too proud of Alpia right now to really put the effort in.

I grin, “Looking good, Alpia. You said you thought you could bring your aura down earlier, but were too tired. Can you do it now? What does it feel like?”

“Oh my gosh, forget all that, you were so embarrassing earlier Dad! Did you have to say all those things?”

“I looked cool, right?” I say.

“Yeah, OK, you were pretty cool. It’s nice to know I’m loved, but I could have done without a declaration to the whole Fleet!”

“Uh huh. Are you going to stop grinning like a loon? You are quite literally radiating happiness, so at least you’re doing something with that Aura. Come on. Work with me a little before your brothers choke on a bug or something. You should have a few new senses. Start your breathing exercises and pick through them until you find the one you want.”

“OK, I’ll try.”

“I know you’ll succeed. You just have to practise.”

“That’s enough encouragement, Dad. Don’t overdo it or it will lose effect.”

I snort, “I doubt it, I’ll be quiet for a few minutes though. Talk to me when you have something.”

Alpia closes her eyes and begins her breathing exercises. After a minute or so she says, “Do you remember the time you taught me to wiggle my eyebrows?”

“I do!” I laugh.

“Well, it feels a bit like that. There are new muscles, but I don’t know which one does which because I don’t have proper control of them. Similar to what you did with my eyebrows, I need you to hold all but one power down for me so I can lift them one at a time. I could do them all at once, but that strikes me as unwise.”

“You already have the healing figured out though, and we know you have an invincibility aura and wings. What makes the others different?”

“I already know how to heal from biomancy, so I recognise that one. The other two are obvious powers, but I don’t actually have any control over them yet either. I can move the wings, but I haven’t tried to fly or make them disappear yet.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Alright, I’ll use our soulbond to help you interact with the other two bonds you have and we’ll isolate your powers one by one until we find the aura.”

Imposing my will upon Alpia’s other bonds takes some finesse, but neither she nor her patrons oppose me. A couple of minutes later, I say.

“I’ve got them. Pull very gently on your blessing.”

Alpia complies, then squeals, “Oh my gosh, they’re so cute! Is this what you see all the time, Dad?”

“See what, Sweet Pea?”

“The Machine-Spirits!”

“That’s a handy power for quick diagnostics. What else can you do with it?”

“I can talk to them without using my MIU.”

“You have technopathy.”

“Is that what it’s called? Awesome.”

“I can’t do that. It’s a good power. Let that go and we’ll try the next one.”