Herald of the Stars - A Warhammer 40k, Rogue Trader Fanfiction Chapter One Hundred

I laugh, “I wondered if anyone would ask, Uurad.”

“There is an extra sothing to your presence,” says Uurad, “that goes beyond a re size increase, yet sohow it seems familiar to .”

“That is remarkable. Before I tell you, what do you sense?”

“May I inspect you a little closer, Magos? I may have to touch you.”

“Sure. I am curious as to what you might find. No sneaking samples though.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“So you say. Alright. Spin up those chadendrites and I’ll give you a twirl.”

My council chuckles and Uurad winces a little, though he does comply. He has four chadendrites, two between his shoulders either side of his spine and another two directly on top of it on the inner curve of his lower spine. One is a dical chadendrite, with six precursor chemicals that can get mixed into a wide variety of general purpose drugs. His other three are a sensor chadendrite and two multi-purpose ones, which can fold out into multiple different tools.

I widen my stance and hold out my arms as Uurad waves the dical and sensor chadendrites near my body and uses the caras on his multi-purpose chadendrites to peer closely at my face and hands.

Urad folds his arms and purses his lips. “Excuse , Magos,” he says, then steps close and hugs , resting his forehead against my chest. He holds for fifteen seconds, then lets go and steps back.

“Well now,” Uurad, “There is nothing unusual about your body that I could asure, yet your presence, when I held you, made feel,” he sighs, sowhat exasperated, “for lack of a better word: ‘clean’. Spiritually, that is. There is a slight charge about you, common to psykers, that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Yet it is not the chill of the warp, but the peace of an auto-temple I am reminded of. Even my machine-spirits ceased to chatter when I placed my head against you. It is most strange. I do not know what to make of it.”

“I thought it was my new height that had everyone staring.”

My council states multiple negative denials.

“What is going on here, E-SIM? I thought my gellar field prevented the usual emanations of the warp.”

Everything is functioning as intended. Logis Uurad’s tools did not pick up on any warp phenona.

“Then what’s with this ‘sixth sense’ that everyone is picking up on?”

I do not know.

“For real?”

Indeed, Aldrich. ‘For real’. I am not all knowing. Just really close.

I hold back a scoff and look at the people surrounding . They are attentive, waiting for an answer.

“I know what I did, and what I thought were the consequences, but apparently there is more to it.”

Arch-Deacon Eochaid Ó Buadhaigh says, “What did you do, Magos, that has had such a profound effect on your stature and presence?”

I sigh, “You all know that Quaani is sick and that we cannot depart safely until he is cured without great risk to our only navigator?”

Eochaid says, “We are aware, yes.”

“Well, I prayed to the Emperor for help and he blessed with the knowledge and tools to fix the problem. My new height is part of that. The Emperor rarely expresses his will directly more than once a century, though his presence can be channelled by the most devout of his clergy, astropaths, and the sisters of battle. This bodes well, for he would not have granted the knowledge we seek had our actions been lacking. During the impartation of knowledge, it seems sothing else was left behind as well.”

There are smiles all round and several mbers lower their shoulders and sigh. Only Uurad and Eochaid really buy into the hype around the Emperor. The others attend services and prayer because it is expected of them. However, it is always pleasant to have one’s efforts acknowledged.

My council is aware of how important my statent is and most of them are able to calculate the level of power reaching so far would theoretically require. If they take my words as truth it is a profound demonstration of all I have been telling them. Knowing your boss, and all the records he brought with him, are not complete fabrication, must be washing away a worry they couldn’t afford to contemplate.

“Well, how about you pray again? You never know until you try,” says Uurad.

I close my eyes, turn, and bow to the Throne on Terra. Next, I cross my arms and link my thumbs and hold them to my hands to my chest, spreading them like wings. Holding the image of the Emperor in my head, a golden baby sleeping on an infinite golden throne, I pray for guidance. It is a generic prayer, a request for courage to soothe doubts and ease minds.

There is a small tug in my chest and I tug back. I receive an image: a drop of golden blood plumts from the sky onto a great web of uncountable silver cords. The cords seemingly stretch on forever, leading who knows where, though many are frayed or cut off. The drop spreads through the web, ignoring so cords, yet racing along others. A tiny bead trickles along an unusually thick cord that I know belongs to . The bead falls upon my third eye and I grasp my head in pain and fall to my knees, yelling.

It feels like magma is flowing through my veins and I try to push the pain away. Remarkably, it works and I hear gasps around . I open my eyes and see I am alight with a shroud of golden flas, as are my small council.

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The flas are warm and comforting. For a brief mont, I know peace. Determination to complete my next task in the Emperor’s na fills , then fades as the shroud evaporates after a minute.

“What was that?” says Eochaid.

“That was the Emperor,” I say. “His divinity made manifest to grant us courage. The courage to face our enemies and vanquish them, be it those within or beyond the borders of the Imperium of Man, or even the doubts we hold about ourselves.” I scratch my cheek. “No idea how I managed that, it’s an astropath soul ward discipline.”

New options available.

“I’ll look at those after the eting.”

“Truely?” says Uurad.

“Yes.”

I suspect that if I was in imperial territory there would be much bowing and barrels of snotty tears. Instead, I observe calm incredulity.

“That is not what I expected from today,” says Commander MacCrane.

“None of us did,” mutters Dollch.

“What now, Boss?” says Erin.

I shake my head and smile, “Plans haven’t changed. The eting has ended and it is ti to return to work.”

Uurad coughs, “Just like that? A literal miracle from the Emperor, a channelling of divine power, and we continue our lives as if nothing happened? That’s groxshit, Magos! You confird my beliefs before my eyes. I felt His power upon my very soul, and yet, and yet... Nothing! What are we to do?”

“There is no greater task one can do than preserve and grow the might of the Imperium, to uplift her peoples and grant them wonders,” I say. “Perform your tasks, murmur your prayers, and don’t be an arsehole. You are representatives of the Emperor and your behaviour should reflect that. He will be watching. I will be acting.”

Taking inspiration from the services I attended at school as a child, I gather the last of the power invested in into my palm and golden flas flicker about it. I draw my thumb in a wide V-shape between the brows of each mber of my council. Exerting my will, the simple shape ripples and turns into a tiny, golden, double headed eagle tattoo with onyx eyes and silver tipped feathers. Its claws hold my crowsbeak style hamr-pipe.

“Go in peace in the na of the Emperor.”

My small council interlink their fingers, hold them close to their chest, and stick their thumbs up, making the ‘Sign of the Cogwheel’, and give a deep bow. They linger for a minute, thoughtful looks on their faces, then depart.

I sigh and continue to watch the grand construction for thirty minutes, letting my thoughts flow. Drills and chanical maws aren’t great for ditation, but watching everyone act with purpose reminds that life goes on and I have cast my die. Now I have to live with it. As to whether my critical was a one, or a twenty, I will have to wait.

“Alright E-SIM, show the data.”

Check your interface. There is a new tab under tools.

I read the new option and gape at the na and prices: Miracles.

“What is this, ‘Pray to win’ or was ‘the first taste free’? Holy shit this is ridiculous.”

There are dozens of powers I can purchase that are more inline to what a sister of battle would be granted, or a space marine librarian, but they are all one ti use and incredibly expensive. There are also mass blessings and purification options too. An individual blessing is the act I just perford with the imperial eagle and is the least expensive option at one hundred souls per person. It affirms purity and obstructs corruption. I’m also all out of souls.

“Sonofabitch. No wonder that baby-faced leech smirked at . He’s as greedy as the demons! How much of that power actually goes to his chubby cheeks and how much do I actually get from the exchange? No, wait, that’s not quite right.” I clap my hands once. “I know what this reminds of: The Greater Good. Or is that death and taxes?”

I sigh and read over the descriptions. “Well, that doesn’t change that this is absurdly useful, they are incredibly powerful, and my existence will probably cause a civil war. A chanicus navigator who can bless the people with genuine miracles? That’s at least three factions I offend just by existing. Those tentacle fuckers are going try and canonize after a vivisection and I will, alas, discover that, in the presence of multi-faceted human greed, a Writ of Trade is rely a strip of fancy velum, not the political and physical adamantium plating I so desperately need. Well, E-SIM, do you think this changes my goals?”

No, Aldrich. If you remain here you will not discover or acquire the resources and technologies you need to survive at a fast enough pace. Too many know of your existence and want you gone. We know this from your previous encounters with chaos and the eldar. You have to take risks. It is ti to go.

“Yeah, you're right. I didn’t have to build up Marwolv like I have. Although my professional pride won’t let bodge a job, or leave one half done, the truth is I could have left Marwolv at any point. I didn’t because I am afraid of what is out there and wanted to mitigate my risks as much as possible. However, no matter how much ti I spend preparing, it will never be enough. It’s ti for one last stretch. One last chance to improve myself and my fleet while I wait for my eye to grow, and then we will go.”

Acknowledged.

“Thanks, E-SIM for always being there to help .”

You are welco, Operator.

I return to orbit and focus on building out the infrastructure in the system so that no longer do my resources have to be towed in at speed and at great expense by Erudition’s Howl, but instead can be sent on decades long journeys by tiny, efficient thrusters placed by fleets of D-POTs, or simply be nudged by D-POTs to a new, and eventually capturable orbit.

There, these asteroids and cots are to be refined by distributed installations slowly orbiting the sun, their machinery powered by great mirrors and grand luxnets. Once sorted, the concentrated minerals and frozen gases are spun at great speed and flung into the void towards their destination, either Marwolv or Goibhniu Yards, the new void station being built out in the Kuiper belt near the Mandeville point.

Not everything will be sent to these solar refineries as there is no point in sending cots too close to the sun, for example, and it is better to have them directly supply Goibhniu Yards, or the three grand spires on Marwolv, once they are finished.

I also establish mining bases on Marwolv’s three barren worlds and make plans to crack all the minor moons in the system and grind them up for resources. This might sound like overkill, but I’ve only discovered enough asteroid tal to build twenty-seven Origami Pattern void ships. That’s not enough tal to build even one grand hive spire, let alone three. While I can synthesise almost unlimited tals from gas giants, that takes ti and energy. It is much cheaper and faster to mine it while I can. Any of the seven systems within ten light years for a non-FTL trip is worth the effort if I can build or trade for a big enough vessel.

For a Universe-Class Mass Conveyor travelling at zero point five gravities that’s a twenty six point six years round trip, Marwolv relative ti, not including the years spent filling and unloading the twelve by one point three kilotre vessels. Even tricking out a Goibhniu Yards sized station with engines capable of zero point two gravities would only take approximately thirty-four point three years, Marwolv ti. Both would be an imnse undertaking yet it would take catastrophic losses before the option becos unviable.