Chapter 93: Cypra Mundi, Dinners, Dates, and Dire Warnings
POV: Nicole
I excuse myself after my little psychic divination performance, feigning exhaustion from the use of my powers, when in reality I’m just worn out from socializing with a hangar full of sharp-eyed transhumans. I think Baldos is the only one who noticed I am just scampering off to relax, and he isn’t going to say anything.
I make a small detour to visit with Lael on my way back to my personal forge. “Hey, Lael! Want to join me for a bath in, say, an hour?” I ask Lael, before I notice the Sisters standing behind her. “The sisters can come too if they want,” I add hastily with a shrug. Lael is happy to agree, though oddly, I can sense that the various Sisters are quite wary of me at the moment.
“Certainly, my Lady,” Lael replies politely, giving me a soft smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “I am pleased you remembered to tell me… this time.”
I let out a small huff and blatantly ignore that last bit as I preen a little, “I’ll see you there. I need to swing by my workshop,” I say as I depart for my forge.
The trip is brief, and I skip past the automatic doors and hidden defensive emplacements.
With a mental flick, I send an impulse and command string over the noosphere. I tell the simple spirit of the Forge and those within the doors themselves to seal behind me. AME pops out of hiding and happily darts towards me, “You’re back!” She chirps and nuzzles against me. I give her a few pats before I reach down for the tesseract and use it to release the Scarabs. I assign them the small task of adjusting the Xenophase blades and give AME a nice sliver of Auramite to nibble on as a treat for not eating anything within the labyrinth.
“I’m going to the baths with Lael. I will be back after.” I tell AME firmly, giving her a knowing look. “Don’t bother the scarabs while I’m gone, AME. Actually, see if you can check on the C.A.T. and see if it's finished with its mapping task, we may need it later.” I tell her as I flex my technomancy briefly, directing my power armour to detach from me. The glittering scales slide off me like water, the larger pieces emerge from under my robe, and levitate over onto a nearby armour stand where the suit reconstitutes itself. Checking the time, I hum, “I have just under an hour to spend checking on a few of my personal projects.” I clap my hands together and get to work.
—----
I am a little surprised to find only Lael, the Sister Superior, and the Sister-squad in the baths when I arrive. While it will make this next chat a great deal easier, it’s still a little odd.
Lael follows me with her eyes as I prance over to the cubicle and strip down. I keep my necklace on and, after a moment's hesitation, grab one more object on impulse, my tarot deck, which is held gently by the clamps of my Mechatendril tail. Lael grabs her basket with the various toiletries, her sidearm obviously resting between the bottles. I notice the Sisters all seem rather tense, even as Lael coaxes me over to wash me.
“So, you all have been rather tense. Something on your minds?” I ask the Sisters as I settle in and let Lael brush my hair. A few of their micro-expressions indicate that they are a little jealous, nervous, and uncertain. Lael repeatedly rebukes their attempts to attend to and wash her while she insists on attending to and bathing me personally.
One of them, Sabrella Swift, glances at Lael, hesitating before she speaks up. “Rumors have started to make the rounds. Is what you said in the hangar true, Lady Cavalerio?”
“That depends, do you want the short answer or the long answer?” I ask her, tilting my head. “The short answer is yes, the long answer… well, how much do you know about divination?” I inquire with a small smile, as my tail slithers around to reveal the tarot cards held within.
“Little. Though I think I… we would all prefer the long answer,” Sabrella admits as she soaks in the warm water with us.
I nod and pick up the ornate gilded deck and idly start to shuffle while Lael lathers my scalp. “Alright. Well, as part of my long answer. We’re going to play with the Emperor’s Tarot a little,” I say with a giggle.
Several of the sisters look uncertain, but I pluck the top card and reveal the majestic Emperor card to them for a moment before I put it back and keep shuffling. “All of you were cleared by Lord Striker, you have the clearances. Luckily, no one else is present, or they would need to leave,” I say as I stretch briefly.
I take a deep breath, “Divination is never an exact thing. Many view the skein of fate as threads or liken it to a river. I have the rather rare position of being outside most means of divination. This allows me to see a great many things, however, the moment I choose to act on information that affects ripples in fate and can cause changes. The further away I am, or the less I do, the more accurate things become. If I had said nothing and let things play out, they would likely come to pass exactly as I expected.” I pause to sweep my eyes across the assembled sisters, my expression serious, “Several of those outcomes are unacceptable to me, so I will endeavor to change it even if it twists the outcomes to one I do not know.”
“Now, one of the four major chaos gods, a faction we’ve had two interactions with recently, considers fate their domain. Some prominent figures of that faction have crossed our paths. One was the Heretek Eligael, which my nature obscured us from, he thought his divinations were foolproof and set in stone. In the end, he was ruined because he failed to see. Another figure of the faction is the foul greater daemon we’ve met in passing twice now, they are known as ‘The Schemer.’ But divination itself is simply a discipline of Psykana. It is a tool, albeit a fickle one,” I admit as I ripple shuffle the cards.
They all stare at me pensively, but I shrug and continue. “So yes, I can be certain of some things. Lord Guilliman’s return as the Imperial regent, Tyranids attacking Baal, the Nachmund gauntlet… And I can say with certainty that the most important figure in the Mechanicus right now is Archmagos Belisarius Cawl. But closer events? Like our immediate future? Nothing clear or useful. Which is why we have the Tarot,” I give the freshly shuffled deck an affectionate pat.
“Let’s start with something simple. We’ll see what the cards say about our near, middle, and distant futures.” I suggest with a small smile.
The Sisters still look nervous, but Lael peeks over my shoulder to watch as I draw the first three, using some minor telekinesis to hold them up out of the water.
“Near future: The Magos, The Mutant, and The Sword. Fairly obvious, yes? The Mutant can mean a few different things, but it’s most likely Genestealers in this case. They will do something before we leave; there will be conflict.”
“Middle future: The Daemon. The Labyrinthine Path. The Martyr.” I frown and stare at the three cards for a minute.
“Is something wrong, Lady Cavalerio?” Sister Lash inquires.
“I… have no idea what this means,” I admit with a shrug. “I’ve never seen or heard of this combination before. I will have to ask Lord Astrovas later.”
Lael hums as she continues combing my hair, but refrains from commenting.
“Far future: The Despoiler, The Great Eye, The God-Emperor. This is obviously referencing Nachmund, the conflict with Chaos there, likely Vigilus. However, I expected Guilliman's Wrath, not The Emperor. Curious,” I admit with a pensive expression. “This is our general future, however, if you like, you can each draw. I’d recommend four or five cards for a simple array.”
Lael reaches over and puts a hand on the deck. “I will draw,” she says after none of the Sisters volunteer.
I call out the cards as she does: “The High Priest, The Kraken inverted, The Assassin, Death.” I turn to peer up at Lael with a smug grin as she glares at the cards. “So… you need to save the Cardinal from assassins, specifically Genestealer assassins… Honestly, that sounds like a problem for you girls, so have fun! Meanwhile, I’m going to have dinner with Lord Drakios,” I say before yelping sharply when Lael firmly pinches my cheek.
—----------------------------------------------------
POV: Greg Olds, former Guardsman, father of Princeps candidate Robin Olds.
Greg adjusted his cloak, the tailored garment hung over his leave uniform perfectly. His rank insignia and medals were removed, of course, Greg didn’t want those getting nicked by a bold or desperate guttersnipe.
“McStabby, you sure you want to come with? We’re just going to explore the station a bit. Robin is slated to go planetside in a few days for some kind of fancy training, and I wanted to get a feel for the planet, or at least the orbital ring. This place is bloody massive.” Greg muttered as he patted down the concealed holster for his las-pistol.
The fact that he was allowed to carry a weapon with him on and off the ship still felt a little bit surreal, much like how he felt seeing his account balance. By any metric, be it a guardsman or a typical hiver, he was a relatively wealthy man, and that was only from the stipend of being the father of a Princeps-candidate, along with his new base pay.
“Yes, I will accompany you, friend. I am unsheathed.” McStabby whispered, twirling a small blade before it vanished away into one of his many pockets.
“Well… We’re all glad you are free of your duties to come with us.” Doc said politely as he adjusted his satchel under his own cloak.
Greg let out an amused snort, “Right. We’ll get you a new knife or something if we find one you like, I owe you one. The priority is grub. Feisty wants to see what fare the locals have for sale. Supposedly, one of the other planets here is known for spices.” Greg explained as they made their way off the ship.
They had all gotten the message loud and clear from both Lord Drakios himself and Lady Cavalerio. When they came back, everyone went through the checkpoints and got scanned. Attempting to bypass a scan would earn the lucky offender a bolt shell to the skull.
He glanced back up at the Skitarii and power-armoured Drakios House Guards, his eyes drifting to the large blue forms of Star Dragons Astartes manning the main entry point.
Yeah… Message received loud and clear. Besides, it wasn’t like the scan took long. He’d waited in longer lines for paperwork.
“How can you idiots not be excited? This is Cypra Mundi! The Cypra Mundi!” Clank whispered in awe as he gestured to the planet they could see out of one of the viewports. The massive Forge World was an impressive sight.
“Ehh, more exciting for you and the Mechanicus,” Greg said with a shrug, “Though I will admit the amount of traffic here is wild.”
“It’s the capital of the segmentum!” Clank sputtered indignantly.
“Yup!” Bill nodded, “Even our fleet is small fish around here.”
“Ehh, I dunno about that. According to kitchen gossip, Lord Drakios is having dinner with Lord High Admiral Spire tomorrow. I also heard he sold some shiny trinket to a giant metal spider - or something - for a whole fleet of ships,” Feisty whispered conspiratorially.
Clank winced. “That ‘spider’ would be the Fabricator General, Lord Aptimos Mundi Phi<0.05,” he glowered. “But yes, that news is all over the Noosphere. Lord Drakios sold an STC to the Mechanicus and was rewarded handsomely,” Clank continued with a hint of wonder in his voice.
“Yeah? Well, I heard there was a whole bunch of Astartes here yesterday. The big blue captain was passing out relics ‘till Lady Cavalerio herself came by. Then, when the angels finally departed for some reason, they all left in a hurry,” Doc muttered as he adjusted his brand-new glasses.
“Couldn’t you just get your eyes fixed?” Clank asked him, confused.
“Well… yes, but I like wearing them. I feel uncomfortable without them, and I’d rather not replace my eyes if I can help it,” Doc admitted.
Clank shrugged, “Suit yourself. Could get new ones grown, you know, from the Biologis. So… we’ve technically got access to most of the station. Are we going to try the middle decks, the upper decks, or the lower ones?”
The group shared a look, and Greg hummed in thought, “We could afford to visit the upper decks, but it’ll be pricey, and we’d be out of place. The middle decks will be busy, and the lower decks… well…” He trailed off.
Feisty grinned, “The lower decks always have all the good shit. Might get mugged though.”
McStabby hummed, “It is the duty of the faithful to punish the wicked. A blade drawn in avarice is a blade wasted and a life poorly spent. The Emperor’s faithful must be the blade to excise the rot.”
“You’ve been a lot more verbose since you started going to mass,” Bill muttered.
McStabby merely nodded contentedly. Greg did a double-take; he noticed that McStabby was wearing a Body Glove beneath his scarlet trousers and fatigues.
“Right. To the lower decks. You rats know the drill.” Greg muttered, getting an offended sound of protest from Feisty, which he ignored. “Keep your purses close and your weapons closer,” Greg said as they made their way through the station. Greg had a good feeling about this trip.
—---------------------------------------------------
POV: Archmagos Alechemys Rhydan Korr
Korr stood alone in his private receiving chamber, and he stood proudly before the massive full-length one-way Armaglass window. A handful of his servo skulls flitted about, each one once a trusted ally or peer that had fallen during his rise to Archmagos. Various relics and accolades adorned the walls while the space was mostly empty with an archeotech holotable and a pair of ornate chairs flanking it.
Korr turned as Archmagos Doll made his way inside. “Archmagos.” He greeted, inclining his head.
“Fabricator Locum,” Doll replied as his gaze and Auspex soaked in the room around him.
Korr made his way to the smaller chair clearly designed for his chassis and sat down. “Do you prefer Akellonon or Doll?” he inquired as he gestured to the remaining seat.
“My peers tend to call me Akellonon while my close friends call me Doll,” Doll replied as he made his way towards the offered chair.
Korr nodded, “I prefer Korr in less formal settings. I will admit I underestimated you, Akellonon. Not even my most generous or outlandish predictive engrams came close.” Korr sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Yet it is your conduct that vexes me the most. Men have been made Archmagos Exploritors for less than you gave away for free this day. There is generosity, and then there is whatever this is. I do not understand what game it is you are playing, Akellonon. You are working to expand your fleet's resources, yes, but even with your dogma, you seem to be throwing advantages away.”
Akellonon studied Korr for a minute and then finally shrugged. “Perhaps I would have played a more exacting game if this had come to me in the time before the formation of the Cicatrix Maledictum. But times change, Nihilus is burning all around us, and Cypra Mundi needs those files more than I need the capital.” Doll held up a hand. “It would be best if we cover your commission before you continue to pry into my goals.”
Korr bristled briefly before he acquiesced and nodded, “That is permissible. But, we will return to the topic afterwards.” Korr said firmly.
Doll nodded, linking himself with the holotable before he asked the question. “So, what is it that you seek from me, Korr?”
“I already have several of your implants that I procured at auction, along with a few other neural enhancers. However, I lack the centerpiece and keystone to tie them all together,” Korr admitted as he forwarded the full data on his implants and biometrics to Doll.
Doll’s eyebrows rose as he pulled up a hologram of Korr’s head. “A full neural interface linkage suite? We’ll need to link your cortex implant, calculus logi upgrades, MIU, memorance implant, and… is that an engram vault and a synaptic redundancy web?” Doll stroked his chin considerately. “You are certainly not asking me for a minor piece.”
“Can it be done?” Korr asked, leaning forward.
Doll flicked his hand and began to work. Korr sat in awe as he watched Doll begin designing and modifying the base parts. Korr was entirely silent as he watched a true artisan at work, the complex design bloomed and took shape before him. Doll was entirely focused on the task, the image flickering so rapidly as it went through thousands of iterations and adjustments each second.
An entire hour passed before Doll finally relented, examining the design hovering before him with a critical eye. To Korr, it was absolutely beautiful.
“It can be done, though there is a chance I may need the aid of my apprentice to produce the final product. It certainly won’t be easy on my coffers, given the rarity of the materials and advanced precision it will require,” Doll admitted as he finally relented and saved the outline.
“You? Need your apprentice's help?” Korr asked incredulously.
Doll chuckled wryly and shook his head. “You do not understand, Korr, even after seeing her restricted files and the warnings within. The wonder that is that child.” Doll looked amused but serious as he leaned forward. “She is a creation of the Golden Age, one I strongly suspect may have been granted some form of implanted genetic memories inherent to the Daughter of Silver genome. It truly is a shame she was the only viable embryo from the remaining set.”
Korr frowned. “I understand she has talents, her profile has made that abundantly clear. She is a living, breathing piece of archeotech. I have my doubts about certain aspects, doubts which perhaps you could assuage?”
Doll regarded Korr for a moment. “You know, Korr, some might even go so far as to say that Nicole embodies the pinnacle of what all members of the Mechanicus aspire to be; true masters of the machine - even the dreaded silica animus.” Doll leaned back in his seat and steepled his immaculately crafted digits, “Korr, we both know you have invited me here to answer the questions burning in your mind. Are you absolutely certain you want to know? There is a bliss in ignorance. Nicole’s very existence is inherently divisive to our faith. You will have to take a side.”
Korr did not answer right away; instead, he pulled up a holo regicide table. “Let's play as we talk. I am a seeker of knowledge in all its forms, and I do not shy away from harsh truths. Tell me, Akellonon, just what it is you are trying to accomplish with that child?” Korr asked as he made the first move on the board.
Doll responded in kind and chuckled deeply, “You misunderstand me, Korr. All that I am doing is attempting to keep pace with that child. It has barely been a year, and I have felt my beliefs shaken to their foundations. She… terrifies me, Korr, her potential, what she might represent for us. You have seen the classified reports, but you were not there. I saw it, I felt it.” Dolls' voice turned reverent, “The abominable intelligence, a full-fledged Man of Iron, the very entity responsible for the warnings against silica anima… and I watched it tremble and beg for death in front of a child.”
Korr made another move, and Doll countered on the board, shutting down the Empress gambit. “I saw the reports and viewed the files. While I acquiesce that it was an incredible feat, it is also what she was designed for, is it not? Should we be surprised when a tool performs its intended function? The men of the Dark Age of Technology were capable of wonders we can still scarcely comprehend. They stood at the apex of human knowledge. We, meanwhile, are forced to scramble for their surviving scraps. I personally have reasons to believe it was not just the rebellion of the Men of Iron that set our civilization back and ushered in the Age of Strife.”
“A tool?” Doll shook his head and laughed, “Korr… I have seen her abilities grow over the past year. She progressed her capstone psychic output from Delta to Beta. She is a fledgling, she is still growing, still learning, and developing her abilities. Already, she can perform Technomantic miracles that would make most Magi weep. Divine future events and sway the most stubborn of machine spirits.”
Korr frowned, his moves on the game board were aggressive. “So what? Even if all you say is true. She was built by the Ancients to fulfill a specific, almost impossible task, and in that she succeeds – that is what is to be expected, both from her and the Ancients that made her.” Korr could see certain logical outcomes from the argument ahead, “Even if you disregard her role as a tool or a living weapon, she is human. She is a peer, our peer. Even if she is – for now – still just a Magos. We are Archmagi, individuals who emerged at the pinnacle of our current knowledge and understanding amongst billions, if not trillions. Do you know what is numerically superior? The number of Archmagi in the universe or the number of Astartes chapter masters? I do not, but the fact that the numbers may be closer than we think highlights my point. She is certainly special, but given her nature, in my eyes, you are being excessive in your praise.”
Doll shook his head and hummed, “Your Astartes analogy holds water here. If we are chapter masters, Nicole is one of the Omnissiah's ten thousand companions or even a Primarch. In that vein, she is a tool just as they are tools of the Omnissiah. Built for a specific task and expected to succeed in that task. However, I can also argue that she is blessed in so many ways. She may be the closest we have to a saint of the Machine God… Checkmate, you were far too aggressive – again?”
Korr clicked his tongue, annoyed at the loss, and reset the board, “Again.” He nodded, “What do you know of her true nature then? Get on with it and make your point,” He said testily.
Doll sighed, “Let me begin with a question: Do you recall when you first accessed the noosphere? How wondrous it was, but how clumsy you were? How little you knew?” He inquired poignantly as he made his opening moves.
“Of course,” Korr replied, gesturing for Doll to continue while he himself pivoted and chose to play much more conservatively this time.
“You had to learn to use the tools available to you. A whetstone to hone your skill as one would sharpen a blade. Nicole is still growing, she needs her whetstones, her baselines to identify the limits of her abilities,” Doll spoke as he moved, and Korr pounced on one of his pieces.
Korr struggled to see what Doll was getting at until he reviewed the restricted data again, and a tiny word stuck out in the report. Man of Iron: Contained. Not destroyed. Not terminated. Contained. “Akellonon… where is the Man of Iron?” Korr asked, horrified.
Doll raised an eyebrow at Korr, “The abomination is in stasis. We have allowed Nicole to use the Man of Iron to explore her abilities and allowed her to attempt to coax valuable information from it,” he admitted what many within the Mechanicus would consider a blasphemy, so casually Korr was momentarily taken aback. “Do not worry – if it was incapable of being controlled by Nicole, it would have escaped months ago and we would not be having this conversation. Plans for its eventual termination are underway. In fact, she has managed to utilize it much like a Murder Servitor or an Eversor to purge sufficiently dangerous targets, such as Astartes vessels,” he said wryly as he moved another piece, drawing Korr’s attention back to the board.
Doll mused, sacrificing one of his pieces, “Nicole trusts me, you know, and yet I know she has not told me everything or revealed the full extent of her abilities. I could send her a message right now and ask her if she knows the location of an intact and functional STC. She would probably answer me immediately, and that is part of what terrifies me, Korr,” Doll said as he stared into Korr's eyes.
Korr was flabbergasted, his mostly mechanical face twisted in confusion. “Why haven’t you asked her then?!” Korr’s voice synthesizer hissed as he claimed another piece on the board.
Doll shook his head in disappointment at Korr, “You don’t understand. That level of trust is not to be spent so frivolously. She has so much potential. Besides, even if I did there is a high likelihood that we could not make use of the information as we are now. You know as well as I what such information is worth. I expect she will tell me when the time is right.” His suite of dendrites gestured animatedly as he continued, “She pretends to act selfishly, but everything she has done since awakening from cryostasis has been to strengthen those around her or warn them of impending disasters: She is trying to save us from the enemies that besiege us on all sides. Machine Spirits love her. Her very presence is a soothing balm for the addled minds of ancient dreadnoughts,” Doll spoke, his voice full of wonder. “I want to see it, Korr. I want to see what she will show us when she reaches her full potential.”
Korr glanced down at the board, “Mate,” he said, having won the round, even if it didn’t feel like it. “Again.” He said as the board reset once more. “The Mechanicus has seen so-called blessed individuals before, individuals as close to sainthood as we consider them, and found them wanting. You should choose your words with more care, Doll. Are you trying to cause a second Schism?!” he snapped testily as the board reset, and he made the first move. “You are treading dangerously close to the domain of being labeled a Maletek or even a Heretek.”
Doll sighed, “No. I am not. For all that, my faith has been shaken and reaffirmed by my apprentice. Nicole is a firm and fervent believer in the Machine God.” Doll looked serious as he shook his head. “I do not doubt that some parts of the Cult Mechanicus would already claim her a saint – or a herald – if they knew her nature as I do, or if they knew what she has seen and experienced,” Doll spoke with a strange smile as they began again and cryptically added. "And what has been asked of her."
Korr pulled up that strange restricted title. Asked of her? Asked by whom? By what? “Doll… what are you referring to? One of her anomalous titles? What do they say?” He asked even as he felt a chill travel down his spine.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Doll whispered as he closed his eyes and muttered a long binaric prayer to the Omnissiah. Yet he moved his pieces with unusual surety. “But I can tell you, no one has the authority to edit that title, Korr. No. One.”
Korr scowled, “More vague secrets?” He probed “If you care for her potential so dearly, then why are you allowing her to prepare to walk her Engine to war?”
Doll’s eyes opened slowly and stared deep into Korr’s soul. “I already told you, Korr. She needs her whetstones. The galaxy is a cruel place. She will extinguish the lives of the enemies of the Mechanicus, of the Imperium, of Humanity, and the Machine God. Through their sacrifices, she will flourish and lead us towards enlightenment and the will of the Machine God.”
Korr briefly calculated the odds of trying to enter conflict with Doll at that moment. The prediction was unfavorable and an utterly asinine consideration. He hissed, “Why are you telling me this?”
Korr’s Noosphere pinged as he was given a heavily encrypted data packet from Doll. “Because you asked. Because over the next few months, as we linger here. Trading, growing, expanding. You will see her do strange and wondrous things, and you will remember this conversation. Because you are a man ready to entrust the sanctity of your brain to me for another step towards perfection.” Doll looked down, and his eyes twinkled with delight. “Oh? How rare… a draw.”
Korr looked down at the board and blinked in confusion. Korr quickly realized Doll had purposefully promoted a piece to trigger the exact conditions required for a draw. “You planned for this.” He shot Doll an accusatory glare. “I would like you to leave now,” Korr said with clenched fists, as his own dendrites writhed in agitation.
Doll rose smoothly and nodded as if he had expected this. “We can discuss your interest in some of the artifacts we’ve uncovered, another time. I will inform you when your commission is ready, Fabricator Locum.” Doll made the sign of the cog and bowed politely.
“Get. Out.” Korr hissed as he grabbed his staff and walked back to the window, and the door closed behind Doll as he was left alone once more. His thoughts were turbulent as he stared out into the upper Forge Spires of Cypra Mundi.
Korr steadied his vitals and injected himself with a custom chemical cocktail to mute his emotions as he processed the contents and outcome of the encounter with Archmagos Doll clinically. He unlocked the data packet and poured over the contents within.
Korr absentmindedly opened Nicole’s profile again and stared at that strange Seeker title. Then, before his eyes, he watched it flicker and unravel briefly, revealing the full title to him. Doll had been right; he wouldn’t have believed him if he had read it aloud.
Seeker: Chosen of the Machine God
Korr froze briefly, then he grabbed for a tiny ancient artifact, one of his most valued, one that could detect the most minor and subtle of psychic manipulations, and held it close as he stared at the words hanging in the Noosphere. He ran every check possible, and only once he exhausted everything he had did he look down. The device had detected nothing and remained nonreactive, and only then did the words begin to fade. “Frak.”
—----------------------------------------------------
POV: Rogue Trader, Lord Admiral Arken Drakios
Arken was in high spirits as he made his way into the private dining chamber aboard the Argent Drake.
The room was heavily warded, and only two others were present besides the main guests. The huge form of Baldos and a single member of Arken’s staff.
The ornate dining table had been prepared, it was an original from when the ship was built, wrought from some exotic metal, covered in a fine azure tablecloth, and arranged with fine crystal tumblers and gilded plates flanked by solid silver cutlery.
Doll was already seated, his face was exposed, and Arken could tell his friend wore a complicated yet positive look, and was oddly pleased about something.
Captain Bolaar occupied another seat, and the contrast between him and the Archmagos was stark. The Captain looked… diminished, in a way that had nothing to do with stature. The towering war-plate with its massive pauldrons was absent, in its place, simple, clean cloth robes hung from his frame. He appeared worn, the kind of fatigue that came from social exhaustion rather than physical strain.
Arken had heard reports of the gathering of the local Astartes Chapters. The return of their relics, by all accounts, had gone well, and then there was Nicole’s little addition.
The girl in question was seated in the fourth chair. She seemed relaxed, and in front of her on the table was an ominous black folder, flashing Arken a guilty smile that promised him nothing but a headache.
Arken slid into his seat at the head of the table with grace and cast his gaze around the table. “Good evening, everyone. I come bearing good news. I do hope you have also had fruitful endeavors recently.” He gestured, and the servant came over and started pouring everyone a glass of the local spiced rum from Agro Mundi. Bolaar, unlike the rest, got a special blend that was basically toxic to baseline humans.
“Congratulations, Arken,” Doll offered as he raised his glass. “I am eager to hear what hulls you have selected from your allocation. I myself have engaged in a trade and procured a Cruiser since we last spoke, it will be either a Mechanicus Gothic or Lunar-class.”
Arken took a sip of his rum; the potent spices burned on the way down, and he exhaled slowly. “Either would be a good fit. I have an upcoming engagement with Lord High Admiral Spire, where I intend to procure an additional escort, one that can utilize the Cypra-pattern drive and some of the other parts we secured in the Processional."
“Your fleet will be needing additional escorts depending on what you procured,” Bolaar commented as he tasted his beverage with a pleased expression.
“Yes, I heard about your upcoming dinner,” Nicole said in a tone that promised complications, tracing a finger over the folder. “I have something I need you to deliver later. But that can wait – don’t keep us waiting, what have you acquired?” She asked curiously.
“In addition to the Furious-class, I have selected a trio of Meritech Shrike-class Raiders, the Clever Current, Vicious Voltage, and Agile Amperage.” Arken smiled wryly, “I got them at a considerable discount.” He chuckled before continuing, “Spire himself came to negotiate the other three hulls – the least of which is a Dictator-class Cruiser, The Sovereign Huntress. She’ll be a fine ship, and I intend to promote the current captain of the Hunter's Lady to captain her. The parallel names seem… fated, and she’s proven herself capable and deserving of elevated responsibilities. In addition to the Dictator, I have secured a Murder-class Cruiser, the Tithe of Blood, and a Hecate-class Heavy Cruiser, the Blades of Glory.”
Nicole blinked and tilted her head. “That… is way over your tonnage allocation.”
Arken just smiled, “You are correct, they were willing to discount a few of the hulls in exchange for not pilfering their Battlecruisers. The older hulls were unfavored by modern Imperial Naval command and unlikely to be reactivated. Still, Lord Spire himself recommended the hulls in question as the best available.”
“A carrier, a striker, and another carrier? To go with the mixed carrier of your Furious, no doubt,” Doll predicted keenly.
Arken leaned back and nodded, “Yes, I think they will slot nicely in with our fleet, provided I can find suitable command crews for them all… I am afraid I’ll have to thaw out and break a promise to my former first mate,” Arken hummed. “Maybe he’ll forgive me if we stick him in one of those vats and get him a rejuvenat treatment,” He paused, “Actually, I might as well get most of my captains' treatments; I can certainly afford it at the moment.”
He glanced over as Nicole’s little psyber-familiar fluttered forward and projected a hologram, displaying detailed ship data and schematics. Nicole spoke eagerly as she tended to do when discussing technical topics. “The Shrikes are interesting… They need gutting and the internal components upgraded, but I think I have an idea for them if you’re willing to hear me out.”
Arken gestured for her to continue as Bolaar and Doll both leaned forward with interest.
“So the Meritech Shrike-class Raiders have had their old heretical cogitator systems ripped out, but the bones are there, the ships were originally designed for high levels of automation, and the system would only need some slight modifications. The difference between the old systems and some of the Archeotech systems used by Argent or Cobalt is a minor but important distinction. I think we may be able to set up a coordination system.”
“Please elaborate, Nicole,” Doll said as he studied the hologram.
Nicole nodded, “The easiest way to explain it is like… a Kastelan maniple. Instructions are fed into one and instantly distributed to the rest of the maniple, allowing them to coordinate. If Arken upgrades the internals, it will free up space for the cogitators, which can be linked to the Cobalt Coatl. This not only will allow her Spirit to coordinate the Shrikes, but it will also let Arken put the… less talented commanders and crews onboard them without unduly impacting the ships’ performance.”
Arken hummed and considered the proposition carefully. The idea of having lesser ships to shunt off troublesome crew was not a new idea by any means, but the system to have them effectively coordinated by the machine spirit was uncharted territory for him. “I am interested, but such a system will need to be thoroughly vetted and tested. I am hesitant to put my trust in a Machine Spirit to manage a full wolfpack.”
“I’ve said it before, but the topic of Machine Spirits came up while I was visiting Kiryu, who has a very potent and aggressive Machine Spirit, even for a Titan. It was only through my coaxing that he was kept from attacking everyone present that was not myself… or Baldos, when I woke him up. Kiryu’s spirit is stronger due to the special command throne and certain archeotech parts that were built into him. The throne was originally a part of the Golden Age space station where I was born. I believe it was meant to be used to both control the station and as a diagnostic tool for the Daughters of Silver project. Parts of that station were also used in the construction of the Argent Drake, though her spirit is far more hands-off than, say, the likes of Cobalt. If Argent detects an intruder, she’ll watch them but mostly leave it to the crew to find them on their own. If Cobalt detects an intruder, she will personally electrocute, blast them with the internal defenses, or space them out an airlock at her discretion. Cobalt’s hull is not built with modern redundancies, so she expects near-perfection from her crews and her performance. Her spirit has a keen mind for void combat, and letting her help manage the Shrikes would likely double their combat effectiveness,” Nicole explained, making Arken’s eyebrows rise.
“That does sound appealing. How much time and space would you need with and on board the Shrikes?” He asked and watched as Nicole winced.
“Time is… awkward right now. I have a week ‘till I need to go get Kiryu – I wasn’t kidding about the kill everyone thing. He was livid at having been neglected for millennia, and he will wait a week for repairs and no longer. I also have meetings planned with the local Titanicus Legios to trade my data, then I have to redo my Mechanicus Divisio tests, then we have the gathering of Dreadnoughts Baldos and Bolaar have arranged, where I will help tune them all up.” Nicole rambled before she seemed to remember something, “Ah! Master, I need the contact info for the Basilikon Astra Archmagos so I can trade her the data from B4-LT-Δ.” Nicole made a face. “I could probably get to the Shrikes in a… few months, at the earliest? I’d like to play it safe, so… about as much as the Cogitator Interlink system the Argent Drake uses. My schedule is really filling up, and I haven’t even started selling my services yet.” Nicole groaned.
Arken raised a manicured eyebrow. “Services? Nicole, you may wish to phrase that better in a setting with a more diverse company.” He chastised her lightly in jest.
“Yes, services like repairing machines, commissions, or consultations. Actually… with all the new hulls, we may need more Void Abaci or just more to sell. Despite providing the designs, both the Imperial Navy and the Mechanicus need as many as they can get right now.” She turned towards Doll, “Master Doll, if you can use the nanoforge to make the beads, I can produce the rest of the Abaci fairly easily using my… printers,” Nicole said while glancing at her familiar.
Doll sighed but nodded, “I will make time to do so. I shall also forward you Archmagos Croft’s contact information. I suggest you wait at least a few days before approaching her. The life support STC has already been shared.”
“Nicole only has herself to blame for being busy. Her recent actions have resulted in numerous chapters inquiring about her… divinations,” Bolaar growled, while giving Nicole a stern glance.
“Divinations?” Arken asked, and seeing Nicole wince again, he raised a hand placatingly. “Hold on. I need something in my stomach before I hear more.”
With a gesture, Arken summoned his servant, who brought them their meals, and only once they had departed once more, and he had taken his first bite, did he nod back at Nicole. “I am listening.”
Nicole poked at the meal on her plate and fidgeted in her chair as the table focused on her. “So, I might have been in a bit of a mood for divination. I informed the visiting Astartes of some important tasks or warned them of upcoming dangers.”
“I know not what words you exchanged, but the Dark Angels have altered their course and intend to take as much of their current fleet as possible to Vigilus,” Bolaar said incredulously.
“That… I was exploiting a particular fervor the Dark Angels have for a specific group of traitors. We are talking… Black Templar levels of fervor. I just so happened to know where one such traitor resides, and he is on Vigilus,” she said defensively. “Besides, I intend for us to intervene before the future I saw comes to pass in Nachmund.” She tapped the strange folder again.
“What… is that?” Arken asked, looking at the folder. It was pitch black, yet the longer he stared, the more a faint pattern seemed to dance just under the surface.
Nicole took a deep breath. “So… I have listed here the major threats that the Imperial High Command should prepare for over the next few years. As for the actual information, I have written it out on a special parchment I’ve made from Noctilith – more commonly known as 'blackstone. Its contents are not to be copied, are only to be read by an individual with a potent blank present, and the reader must be scanned for anything compromising – be it xenos infection or chaos, or even moral corruption – before they are allowed to read anything within. I made the folder in this manner to help obscure the contents, it along with my presence, should suffice, but as we saw with the cursed Astartes from Ur-Haven. They could hear all the lies spoken across the galaxy. There are strange abilities; a daemon that knows everything written down is not out of the question, and the more the information spreads, the less accurate the futures predicted become. However, some of these portents are dire enough that the information needs to be shared. So… I want you, Lord Drakios, to take the folder to Lord Spire and High Command.”
The room fell eerily silent as Nicole finished explaining. Arken set down his fork and grabbed his nearly full glass, draining its contents over several long draughts. “We are already struggling to deal with the Void Abaci issue, though the local Navis Nobilitate seem interested in possibly looking the other way in exchange for… genetic material. Now you want me to take that…” He gestured at the folder. “To High Command?”
Nicole wrinkled her nose but nodded her head. “Eww! But yes.”
“What is contained within, exactly?” Drakios asked hesitantly.
“It contains information on several major threats and areas of operation across the galaxy that I will not voice aloud. Without digging into the specifics, the future. I’ve included the main points within.” She said, tapping the folder.
Bolaar hummed, “If… the information within is anywhere nearly as valuable as you say, they will want to reward you for it. Imperial Command abhors debts, and favors are currency.”
Nicole shrugged, “If they must give me something… I’d take a planetary assault ship for me to gut and rebuild.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe some guard regiments? I could probably pick out a few from a list that would be useful. Though I am already getting ready to secure my own forces, hundreds of thousands of Secutarii and Skitarii troops for my House and Legio. There isn’t much I want from them right now,” Nicole admitted, shaking her head, “I want them to act on the knowledge and save as many people as possible. The contents… well… It’s bad.”
Arken took a deep breath. “I’ll do it. Is there a reason you’re not doing so yourself?”
“Besides being super busy? Having a buffer is likely to let the information be received best. They’ll hear about my predictions for the Astartes, and those with clearance will hear about the data I gave, Lord Inquisitor Striker. But it is for the best that I keep my distance as the source. Those familiar with divination or with high enough clearances will understand.” Nicole said wisely as she slid the folder across the table.
Doll nodded, “That is wise, though... Nicole, wasn't Lael supposed to join us?”
“Ahhhh… Right… So… I was playing with the Tarot in the baths and kinda predicted a Genestealer assassination on the Cardinal? Lael and the Sisters are going to… examine… his retinue and guards with one of the scanners,” she explained, waving a hand dismissively.
Arken, Doll, and Bolaar just stared at Nicole while Baldos burst out laughing behind them. “Bolaar, you whelp! Lost our bet. Again!”
Arken reached down and ran his fingers over the edge of the folder. It felt incredibly smooth, but it also sent an ominous chill up his fingers the moment he made contact.