Herald of the Stars: Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Nine

A toast to Harvey Hatton-Shaw, Dominic Moreau, B O X, Connor G, Mobious, Gavin Turlock, and Kenneth c King for sponsoring Herald of the Stars. Cheers!

We finish our surf and turf in silence. Once we are done, the plates are whisked away and Lyre props his elbows upright upon the table, clasps his hand together and rests his chin on his hands.

“I have several threats that a Rogue Trader or Magos Explorator would profit from eliminating,” says Lyre. “I could not say if they are the greatest current threats to the Imperium in this region of space, but they are significant.

“The first is Ulthyr Ellarion, an Aeldari corsair. He recently raided the Drusus Marches, disrupting trade across the Calixis sector. There is a large bounty on his head. While this is not an immediate issue for you, there is a moderate weight of evidence that Ulthyr Ellarion has connections to the Crow Spirits, another group of Aeldari corsairs, only these corsairs are based in the Koronus Expanse. Should one group be active, the other is likely not far behind. There is a bounty on them too.

“There is weak suspicion that the Crow Spirits are related to Whisper of Anaris, but the Navy has no definitive proof of this association, nor do we know how they are related to the vessel. Whisper of Anaris is an Eldar ghost ship. It was last spotted among the Foundling Worlds. This vessel is known to help or hinder Imperial vessels for no known reason.

“Whisper of Anaris is said to have been owned by Anaris, an Eldar Farseer. This Farseer’s body has perished and he has been reduced to a soul stone. What is unusual, however, is that what remains of him is active on Footfall within the Xenosium. Those who care to treat with him are promised fanciful treasures and issued dire portents in equal measure to seek and destroy his Craftworld Lu’Nasad, which has been lost to corruption.

“You may find wealth and ruin upon locating Lu’Nasad. Do not engage the Whisper of Anaris unless threatened. Be wary of sudden Aeldari corsair raids at all times.”

“Well!” says David, “That is a vital chunk of information. Thank you, Commodore Horthstien, for allowing us to know it, and Adjunct Hamiz for your detailed Aeldari threat warnings.”

Raphael expresses an abrupt laugh, “My skilled Adjunct isn’t quite done yet. This is all information that Battlefleet Koronus has permitted for us to share with our partners and allies. It weakens the Imperium when we lose population, infrastructure and vessels to well known threats.”

“A more enlightened view than many officers I have encountered,” says David.

Mattius says, “I am unhappy to learn there is more than just Orks out there, but as you say, Commodore, ignorance does not serve the Imperium.”

I can’t quite believe the sheer hypocrisy I am hearing. The Imperium never shares anything! The fictional, or possibly prophetic records that were on my lanyard said as much, and the real records on Distant Sun confirmed how important secrets are. Just what is going on here? A gamble, maybe, to see what work they can get others to do for free?

“We thank you for the information,” says Brigid.

Lyre sits up straight and folds his arms as desert is placed in front him, three bite sized mousses, each with a unique design. I look down at my own. I have a cog, a mini Sword-Class frigate, and a skull.

Brigid has an amethyst coloured jelly, a gold dusted pocket watch assembled from cut sponge, and a lily crafted from marzipan.

“How charming!” says Sciéno, “did you choose these designs, dear?”

“No, no. It was all the chef. I think he really wanted to go out with a bang.”

“A talented man,” I say. “I’ve never been to a feast with customised desserts before. Even our more adventurous chefs could not bear the inefficiency.”

Mildred smiles, “Are you stereotyping your own personnel, Magos?”

“Absolutely,” I say. “I am sure they do the same to me where I can’t hear them. Replacing one’s body with machines does not remove the temptation to gossip, sadly.”

Confusion flashes across Lyre’s face. I think he’s trying to figure me out, but my unusual behaviour, for a Magos, keeps throwing him off. It suddenly hits me that Brigid is probably trying to do the same thing too with the somewhat vapid front she’s putting on. It never hurts when your opponents think you are a tad derpy.

In my case, that might actually be true. I’ve spent far too long in charge to worry about such things and my social-fu has dropped off the prow of a void ship. Assuming I had any in the first place.

We finish our desserts to polite acclaim, then Lyre continues with his informal briefing.

“After the Aeldari, the next threat you must watch for is the renegade Karrad Vall. In 794.M41, Karrad Vall emerged from the Maw with a substantial fleet and bombarded Footfall. They were driven off by Calligos Winterscale’s fleet, but not before they captured hundreds of people, whom they likely sacrificed for an unknown purpose.

“Karrad Vall is an unusual threat because he has been present for a long time, first showing up in early M.40 in the Gothic sector. No Imperial agent has seen his face or collected a genetic sample, so collecting his bounty is tricky, nor do we have a complete roster of all his vessels. The only common theme is that all his vessels are cobbled together, spiky junk that are far more effective than they should be.

“In the wake of Karrad Vall’s reemergence, a congregation of the Astral Knives travelled from the Calixis sector to the Koronus Expanse in 795.M41. These are assassins and mercenaries for hire and they’ve taken up residence at Footfall. They are chasing Karrad Vall, likely because their creed compels them to seek and ritually assassinate the enemies of the Imperium. They are a volatile group who have been expelled from the Calixis sector. There is weak evidence that Tanthus Moross, administrator of Footfall, has ties to the Astral Knives.

“Last, In 805.M41 we received weak data that Karad Vall had founded, or perhaps conquered a lost world called Iniquity in the Dioskouri system. This system is rumoured to be Spinward of the Cauldron, somewhere between Bastion, Foulstone, and Footfall. He seeks trade to build his petty kingdom. I will not tell you what he offers, though you will be damned and hunted should you take him up on it, rather than burn his world to ashes.”

“Should we come across any cultists they will be purged,” I say, “and their vessels propelled into the closest sun without any personnel ever setting foot upon their cursed halls.”

“That seems like a terrible waste of metal,” says David. “Can you not purify and recycle such ships?”

“Probably, but you never know what you might find on vessels that may have been empowered by sacrifices and other ruinous powers. I will not risk good workers on such an endeavour, better to just burn it all.”

Lyre says, “Magos, if you had to recycle dangerous vessels, how would you go about it?”

“I could contain the metal, and retrieve most of it once it has been purified. Some would boil off and be lost. A large array of mirrors and wide scale gravitational manipulation could work. Everything would have to be blessed and warded, including the finished ingots, that I would probably store for a century, and bless every day, just to be sure. Warded servitors for labour with no remote piloting would be essential.

“No data would be stored and no human would ever look at any images of the interior, and preferably the exterior of the vessels. The Servitors would have to be as close as possible to Abomnibal Intelligence as is permitted and be frequently replaced so that everything can be fully automated.

“It would be a substantial undertaking and would not be worth the effort unless you had dozens of vessels to dispose of. I would also request a Sororitas Order to oversee the operation. The facility overseeing the breakers yard would require the strictest possible security and be heavily fortified.

“For additional security, the breakers yard and the overwatch facility would be rigged with melta charges for back up, and manoeuvring thrusters to send everything on a one way, irreversible trip to the sun with no escape shuttles permitted. Honestly, finding someone willing to work in those conditions would be near impossible. This is why I would rather throw them into the closest sun.

“Not only that, I wouldn’t really want to have to tow corrupt vessels to a specialised breakers yard in the first place. That would take custom vessels, probably with blind, deaf, and dumb crews, if you wanted to do it properly, and a company from the Sisters of Silence. By that, I mean the crew would need some kind of autistic implant so that they could function, but never experience the world as they used to. A manner similar to an Electro-Priest would be most likely. Really, there is no such thing as being too careful when sacrifices have been made to unknown entities for unknown boons.”

For the first time since I’ve met him, Lyre’s smile reaches his eyes. “That was much more extensive than I was expecting.”

I shrug, “Half measures are for the dead.”

“It sounds like you are speaking from experience,” says Sciéno.

“I am, first and foremost, a Tech-Priest of the Machine God and the Omnissiah. What good would I be if I did not know how to protect the temples and congregations of our God and his prophet? While I am officially a Magos Explorator, I am also a master of augmetics, aetherics, and arcanotech, with a broad understanding of many other disciplines.

“I have no desire to experience a second Gellar Field flicker event ever again and have sought much knowledge to make my vessels and crew as impervious to outside influences as possible. That includes sensible operating procedures, such as the one I outlined for salvaging hazardous vessels.”

David grimaces, “My Gellar Fields have never failed me, but I have heard tales of what happens. They seem most fanciful, but all end in death. With a common theme like that I can understand your caution.”

“Have your precautions proved successful?” says Raphael.

“It is hard to prove a negative,” I say. “There have been no further Gellar breaches, no mutations, no outbreaks of plague, mysterious disappearances, symbols daubed upon the walls in blood, raving psykers, or outbreaks of ultraviolence. The unity of our faith and community has kept us pure and untainted by the madness of the galaxy.

“These things are a matter of time and power though. While I am constantly working on my protections, I am sure that something will come along that can break them one day. Until then, I shall remain vigilant in my watch and dedicated with my prayers to the Emperor. Should the worst happen, I can only hope my faith will protect me, or my end is swift, though that's what the self-destruct protocol is for. I don’t expect the Emperor’s Mercy from my enemies.”

Mildred and Mattius seem confused about my little speech, but unwilling to admit ignorance when everyone else at the table clearly knows what I’m talking about, even if no names have been mentioned.

From Sciéno, I pick up the barest hint of disgust and David’s thoughts are lousy with disdain. Raphael and Lyre’s emotions echo with doubt and distrust.

“I have one final threat for you, Purser Issengrund,” says Lyre. “After an undisclosed event in 812.M41, Fenksworld, Calixis Sector, the Ordo Xenos put the whole of the trans-sector organisation, Beast House, under scrutiny. Their leader, Solkarn Senk is wanted for questioning by the Inquisition. You should avoid dealing with the Beast House. It would do your fleet no good to be swept up in the wake of such investigations. You would be better served reporting on any information you have on the Beast House to the appropriate authorities immediately upon encountering them.”

Mildred says, “Who is the Beast House?”

“Traffickers in xenos beasts, weaponry, and slaves of all species for blood sports,” says Lyre. “Not something any devout Imperial citizen should go chasing.”

Mattius nods, “We have enough troubles with Orks. I do not want to look for more.”

“Well, as enlightening as this has all been,” says David. “We have come to the end of the meal. I have a special drink for you all to try for the final toast as we watch the end of the performance above us. We will have to go through the problems of the Calixis Sector another day, Magos.”

“I am quite content with everything that has already been shared, Trader Modren.”

“Excellent, though I doubt it will give you pleasant dreams.”

I say, “Forewarned is forearmed, or at least justifies the funding for more armaments.”

Mattius gives an embarrassed laugh, “You don’t do loans do you, Magos?”

“You can arrange a meeting with High Factor Eire Lobhdain and Chief Purser Issengrund for that another day, Governor. My Herald Primarus, Maeve Muire, may also wish to speak to you about some ice world training. I am sure that between the three of them you will find some common ground.”

“Thank you for your generosity, Magos Issengrund.”

“You are welcome, Governor Stigstaff.”

“I too, would be interested in seeing more of what you have for sale,” says Raphael. “Your Vanguard Armour might not be right for us, but I am certain that you have something that could aid the Navy.”

“I would be delighted to sit down with you for another discussion, and perhaps tour your vessels to see what might suit you best,” I say.

David clears his throat.

“Ah, apologies, Trader Modren, for holding up your final toast.”

“No, no,” says David, with an amused tone, “far be it from me to stand in the way of trade.”

A small glass is placed in front of each of us with a lightly bubbling liquid. Like everything else, I give it a quick scan and immediately detect some unusual enzymes. They’re not poisonous, and quite harmless by themselves, but it only takes me a moment to cross reference the enzymes with the xeno flora we have consumed for me to realise the trap.

Really, I can’t decide if I am disappointed or impressed.